The Bullfighter and the Lady [dir. Budd Boetticher]

I first came to experience the work of Budd Boetticher through the wonderful Ranown Westerns set Indicator put out some years ago. With that series of movies, Boetticher did for Westerns what Val Lewton did for horror - use the genre to tell thoughtful stories with layered characterization, and avoid being just cliched B-budget matinee fodder. So of course, when I heard that Boetticher was a fan of bullfighting as a sport and that he regarded The Bullfighter and the Lady as one of his most personal pictures, I was naturally eager to see it. My viewing was with the reconstructed 124 min Director's Cut (DC).

While American Johnny Regan (Robert Stack) is visiting Mexico with friends, he is taken up with the local bullfighting scene and meets with champion matador Manolo Estrada (Gilbert Roland aka Luis Antonio Damaso). He also locks eyes with the alluring Anita (Joy Page), engaged to one of the assistant bullfighters in Manolo's team. Possibly as a way to continue meeting with Anita, Johnny asks Manolo to teach him the art of bullfighting.

Thus begins a lengthy process of training and trials, during which Johnny develops his skill and also a meaningful friendship with Manolo and his wife Chelo (the queenly Katy Jurado, who has a showstopper scene when she tells off a drunk spectator that jeers Manolo into competing with an injured hand). The film's biggest strength is its commitment to showcasing the various aspects of the sport and not make it just a heroism gimmick. You don't see Johnny become a showboat expert after two lessons - he makes a mistake, learns, stumbles over something else, learns again. It is not dull repetition, but the thoughtful depiction of a sportsman's growth...and I mean sportsman in the best sense of the term. For it is not just technical skill that Johnny acquires, he also absorbs the patience, understanding and camaraderie that separates the great sportsman from the petty competitor. In parallel we follow his pursuit of Anita, including a misunderstanding that makes her reject him, and how they eventually reconcile. This is all one organic narrative, and the film is essentially one of deep human feeling.

Of course, this does not address the elephant in the room, or in this case the bull. In its loving documentation of the sport, the film talks about the selection of bulls for their 'bravery', and the admiration the matadors have for the beasts. All the same it does depict a form of bullfighting in which the animal is pierced with lances (that cause it pain and increase its aggression) and eventually killed by a sword. You could argue against the 'gentlemanliness' of a sport that involves such actions, but the film focuses on the art and skill involved in the sport and confers upon it a nobility of spirit.

The 87-min Theatrical cut I understand radically alters the film, chopping off many scenes of bullfighting and of Johnny's friendship with Manolo, making it a simple romantic tale of his pursuit of Anita. These cuts were apparently made to make the film more palatable for audiences by John Ford after he was invited by the film's producer, his buddy John Wayne. It will make for an interesting curiosity when I get to it.

A few words about the Powerhouse/Indicator blu-ray:

Video quality on the DC is variable. Most sequences appear solid enough, with a veneer of grain, but several shots have a softer look with blown out whites, density fluctuations and even a bit of wobble. These shots may be exclusive to what was used for the reconstruction of the DC, I'm not sure. The quality of the film itself is good enough to justify any deficiencies in the source. The (mostly) English mono audio is fine. The Spanish characters speak to each other in Spanish and these lines are not translated (but they are transcribed in full when you turn on the subs).

Extras-wise, I have not gone through them as yet but Indicator seems to have done another sterling job of compiling lengthy featurettes on Boetticher's life and movies, and the special place this film has in his career, and my copy includes the chunky booklet which I assume is packed with interesting content (the LE is still available for a very reasonable sum, and even without this booklet this can be regarded as a packed release and highly recommended).

Falbalas [dir. Jacques Becker]

Prior to watching Falbalas, I'd only seen Jacques Becker's Le Trou aka The Hole, his jailbreak drama which engrossed me thoroughly (reviewed HERE). I have also heard a lot of good word about his crime drama Touchez pas au grisbi. What I liked about Becker was that his work seemed to cover a variety of genres.

Falbalas (translated as Paris Frills) is a drama set in the Parisian fashion world. Raymond Rouleau (who reminds me of a young Michael Redgrave) is haute couture designer Philippe Clarence who periodically refreshes his fashion catalog...and his love life. Devoted solely to his art, Philippe is a cad who throws over a woman with little compunction once his interest is exhausted. The only constant woman in his life is his business partner, the elderly Mme Solange (Gabrielle Dorziat). Micheline (Micheline Presle) is the latest girl to catch his fancy. The fact that she is fiancee to his friend Daniel (Jean Chevrier) does not stop Philippe from making advances. When after being seduced by his attentions Micheline expresses her intention to break off her engagement with Daniel, Philippe squirms out of commitment, proposing a "friends with benefits" arrangement. Realizing his inner nature Micheline gives him the cold shoulder, which in turn rekindles his desire, and he begins to pursue her again.

There are a couple of things that make Falbalas stand out from the usual melodrama. The first is the immersive recreation of the fashion world in its depiction of Philippe's studio. The same dedication to verisimilitude that made Le Trou remarkable is also seen here. We go behind the scenes with the army of seamstresses and assistants that translate the designer's vision into reality; the film contrasts their conventional nature to the bohemian artist's personality. Also, Becker is not afraid to take the melodrama darker places. When Philippe resumes his pursuit of Micheline, his harsh uncaring words condemn his factotum and former lover Anne-Marie (Françoise Lugagne) to a cruel fate. Despite her spurning of his "friendship" offer, Micheline finds her physical passions aroused by Philippe, and she can no longer reconcile to marriage with Daniel. Philippe's obsession eventually descends into a spiral of madness that takes us back to the image of death we see at the beginning of the film.

There are several scenes where Becker shows his penchant for building tension. A wonderful example is when Micheline, after her betrayal by Philippe, comes home to a table-tennis game played by her family and refereed by fiance Daniel. Pestered mid-match by questions about the upcoming marriage, she remains silent, only following the ball's back-and-forth with her eyes until she can't bear it anymore and breaks down. Towards the end, an increasingly distraught Philippe locks himself up from the world, intently studying his mannequin draped with the wedding gown he had designed for Micheline, seeing it come alive in her likeness - this is more in the territory of Gothic fantasy. There are some snazzy visuals too - early on, the camera accompanies Philippe as he descends in the elevator while speaking out at Daniel. While not a masterpiece, Falbalas is an engaging feature that shows Becker (who also helmed Casque d'or and Touchez pas au grisbi) to be more than a maker of crime dramas.

A brief word on the UK blu-ray of Falbalas from Studio Canal, available either individually or as part of an Essential Becker boxed collection.:

Video-wise the transfer is strong, with good contrast and grayscale. The sound (DTS-HDMA 2.0 mono) I felt lacked presence - whether it is a limitation of the source elements or aggressive filtration, I can't say. It's still okay, if you raise the volume. The optional English subtitles are clean and easy to read. Extras include a half-hour featurette with Becker's son Jean talking about the film, an interview with star Micheline Presle and a featurette about the film's influence on fashion designer Jean-Paul Gaultier. On the whole Falbalas was a lovely way to start off the Becker box. I'm looking forward to the other films.

Thiruchitrambalam [dir. Mithran Jawahar]

I'm probably shooting myself in the foot by saying this, but Baradwaj Rangan's review of Thiruchitrambalam gives a rather good analysis of what works and what doesn't in this 2022 Dhanush vehicle. With a piece that comes more than a year after the film's theatrical release (and a couple of months after it started streaming on Prime), I suppose I am rather late to the party. But then the film itself is drawn in good measure from Hrishikesh Mukherjee's cinema as well as the 90's Hollywood rom-com.

The Thiruchitrambalam of the title is the embarrassingly archaic name given to the characters of both Dhanush and his grandfather (played by director-actor Bharatiraaja, who in his heyday was known for his rural dramas and remarkable crime thrillers). Of course, almost no one calls them by this appellation. Instead, both are commonly addressed as 'pazham' (literally fruit, roughly translating as simpleton). It is a simplification that to some extent also defines how the world sees them.

Thiru Jr makes deliveries for a food aggregator app, while the retired grandfather takes care of the house. The third member of their home is the father (Prakashraj), a police inspector. At the beginning of the film, against visuals of an automobile accident, Thiru Jr monologues about how life is like a piece of glass even a single crack can destroy. The crack is reflected in the broken relationship between son and father. At home they either completely ignore each other or bicker using the grandfather as a go-between. In the first scene we see them together, the inspector father slaps Thiru Jr at the police station when he is taken there after having being dragged into a scuffle.

That's the other trait for Dhanush's character. Far from the archetype South Indian 'Mass' hero, he runs away from the mere whiff of confrontation (except his verbal spats with dad). His profession also becomes a source of awkwardness when he has to deliver meals at the homes of former college-mates, including the girl he had a crush on (Raashii Khanna). If Thiru Jr has any feeling of freedom, it is in the company of his neighbor and 3:00 am buddy Shobhana (Nithya Menen). As Rangan's review points out, Shobhana is in many ways Thiru's polar opposite. Where he is pessimistic and withdrawn, she is a bubbly go-getter. She lends Thiru a sympathetic ear and backs him up when he doubts himself, but is also brave enough to laugh at his confusions while giving him pragmatic advice. Given this is a mainstream romantic drama, one can see where this leads, but the writing and the chemistry between Dhanush and Nithya keep the journey interesting.

One way TCB deviates from the rom-com template is by allotting sufficient breathing space to the drama in Thiru's family. The animosity between father and son is not reduced to cute standoffs - When towards the interval point the father suffers a major health calamity, for a long time it is Thiru Sr who must serve his son's needs because the grandson cannot find it in himself to tend to the man he has thus far hated. Which is not to say that their lives are wholly grim. The vibe between the grandfather and the grandson remains a warm and humorous one. They share pints and opinions; Thiru Sr serves a similar function as Shobhana in the narrative: he's a sounding board, life coach and motivational speaker to his grandson; he even doles out love-life advice.

The little details, the dedication to keeping a low-key approach is where TCB shines. Where other films would make a huge do about the reconciliation of father and son, where the son getting over his timidity would be an extravagant 'HERO' moment with slow-motion, wire-work and guitar-driven BGM, the scenes here play out with a minimum of directorial fuss, and the characters remain within their skins. As writer and director, Mithran Jawahar deserves kudos for not stooping to incorporate the star mannerisms Dhanush employs in his 'mass' films.

Of course, there are flaws in the bigger picture. Rashii Khanna as a former classmate calls Thiru a topper that abruptly disappeared after college. Surely if you are in the same city, it can't be that hard to track a classmate, and even in the pre-smartphone days, news of family tragedies did travel. While class consciousness is a continuing sickness in our society, the way in which Thiru Jr's classmates openly jeer at his lowly occupation in public is a cheap way to garner sympathy for his character. The most significant "Tchah!" moment for me was late in the narrative when Shobhana is suddenly revealed to have been infatuated with Thiru right from their schooldays, as her brother claims, when he scatters a boxful of unsent Valentine's Day cards from her. It reduced her from the pragmatic, supportive friend to a stereotype wallflower from a more primitive age of Indian cinema. Thankfully it doesn't entirely take away from the charms of the film, which remains watchable.

I was pleasantly surprised to learn that TCB was one of Tamil cinema's big hits for 2022. That this breezy low-key character drama managed to stand well amidst the din of the adi-thadi (biff-pow) Ajith, Vijay and Kamal starrers is a heartening trend.

The Black Marble [dir. Harold Becker]

Harold Becker's The Black Marble - adapted by author and former LAPD detective Joseph Wambaugh from his own novel - is an odd movie experience in terms of tonal consistency. Sometimes it wants to be a screwball comedy, and at other times it steps into significantly bleaker territory. That said, the film has charms that keep you engaged even through its issues.

Robert Foxworth is AA Valnikov, a Hollywood precinct cop with Russian roots. At the beginning of the film, he staggers drunk into a church service and ends up snapping his cuffs on his own crotch. His previous partner is dead and he has recurring nightmares of a skinned rabbit; clearly, Valnikov is a man with problems.

This being 1980, the police department doesn't believe in recommending him for psychiatric counseling (hey, a burnt out cop with a service firearm - what could go wrong?). Instead they think it'd be a great idea to saddle Valnikov with a new partner, hard-nosed career policewoman Natalie Zimmerman (Paula Prentiss, channeling Margot Kidder's Lois Lane brassiness). Zimmerman's objections are pooh-poohed away with disturbing insensitivity, and even the script treats her as a bit of a joke. Apparently, all Mr. Valniknov needs to get over what's eating him inside is to pow-wow with the new colleague and introduce her to his borscht-serving family, until they inevitably fall in love, courtesy an extended nightcap session. It's a problematic concept for me, although Foxworth's performance and his chemistry with Prentiss are persuasive. He has a nuanced take on Valnikov - even in his frequently drunk state V is always polite, not the renegade asshole Dirty Harry stereotype.

Then we have everyone's favorite character actor Harry Dean Stanton as Skinner (a reference to the rabbit in V's nightmare?). Skinner is a pet store / shelter veterinarian who schemes to kidnap a rich girl's miniature Schnauzer for ransom to pay his massive gambling debts. Only, it turns out his victim Madeline (Barbara Babcock) may not be so rich as he imagines - she just happens to live in a large Hollywood home, and struggles to pay her bills. There's an engaging banter between the two, as Skinner tries to assert a tough guy demeanor he cannot truly embody, and she pleads her financial woes to him. It's funny till the dog loses an ear, and then I couldn't laugh at it anymore (even though the injury is only implied, and we later see the animal unharmed, apart from a bandage covering the ear).

In a meeting where the intimacy certainly crosses the line for a professional interview, softhearted Valnikov vows to find Madeline's dog. Zimmerman's jealousy is aroused by his show of concern, even if she has a steady boyfriend, as she frequently reminds V...and herself. She gives vent to it by rolling her eyes and emitting disparaging remarks to the victim about the fuss raised for a dog. You can tell that sensitivity training wasn't big for the Hollywood PD, at least in 1980.

But if there are significant tonal discrepancies, the film also has some endearing quirks. Stanton's Skinner is a layered character - he's not an evil man, he's just desperate. The climax where Valnikov goes after Skinner is probably one of the more unique action movie showdowns, taking place in the pet shelter. Skinner's comeuppance in a way mirrors Valnikov's  handcuff accident at the start.

A young James Woods has a two-scene appearance as a street musician.

 

A few words on the blu-ray from Kino Lorber:

The transfer comes off a recent 4K restoration and the bulk of it looks very strong, with robust colors and fine grain resolution. Some shots are softer, but it may be a product of the original shoot. The dialog and Maurice Jarre's romantic score have decent presence in the DTS-HDMA 2.0 track, but I still had to use the optional subs to get some of the slang and Foxworth's mumbled dialog. The not quite plentiful extras consist mainly of a director's commentary and the feature trailer.

Piccadilly [dir. EA Dupont]

I became interested in 1929's Piccadilly after seeing Chinese-American star Anna May Wong do a pivotal role in the Douglas Fairbanks' 1924 version of Thief of Bagdad in which I thought her slinky spy a much better match for the hero than the milksop princess. Here Wong plays Shosho, a pretty young girl that goes from dancing in the scullery distracting the kitchen staff to becoming the star dancer of the titular Piccadilly club run by impresario Valentine Vilmot. Of course, her ambitions go beyond Mr. Vilmot's club, she must conquer the man as well. And if that means cutting out his current flame Mabel from his love life after displacing her as the main attraction in the club, well, that's just tough for Mabel.

Piccadilly has some pretty good things going for it. For one, I was surprised to see a movie of that vintage showing its Chinese-British characters in a non-archetype way - they are not rendered as ponytail wearing, traditionally garbed laundry-operating chopstick users. They are also not shown as subservient to the white characters (except for money, but that's a universal trait).

The movie is a great showcase for Wong too - although you never get to see the super-racy avatar the poster tempts you with, her glamorous presence and commanding attitude get center-stage. It was lovely to also see her in a pre-glam avatar as the young ingenue who is confident in her ability to mesmerize men. Jameson Thomas as the club owner who is smitten by her and Gilda Gray as the rival dancer who finds her position eroded away by Wong's magic form the other angles of a contentious triangle in which love, lust and ambition collide. The great Charles Laughton has a one-scene appearance as a disgruntled drunk patron who makes a scene about dirty dishes early in the film.

The race angle is hinted at indirectly, like in that powerful scene when Wong and Thomas go out to a pub and are rattled by the sight of a black man being thrown out for dancing with a white woman (she was the initiator). But rather than explore it more deeply, the film shrinks back into the safety of a conventional melodrama with a bunged in murder. 

E.A. Dupont's direction has a reasonable amount of visual style - I like the opening credits which are presented as bus hoardings, and there are some interesting tracking shots and camera angles. But I wonder how much more ravishing it might have come across if a G.W. Pabst (Pandora's Box) had helmed the same material (or a better script that took the race bull by the horns).

Ohm Shaanthi Oshaana [dir. Jude Anthany Joseph]

I think the best and worst thing you can say about Ohm Shaanthi Oshaana (OSO, not to be confused with the overhyped Farah Khan movie) is that it is a pleasant film (ditto the director's later effort Sara's). Told from the POV of the heroine Pooja (Nazriya Nazim) - the young daughter of a doctor who develops a schoolgirl crush on a local farmer and tries to win his love even after he dismisses her crush as a temporary infatuation - it has a whimsical take on first love and how it endures all manner of obstacles to be finally fulfilled.

The good stuff first: a romance story told entirely from the POV of the girl is a refreshing experience. OSO is breezy and family-friendly throughout. The script emphasizes that life does not stop and take a break when love happens - Pooja's romantic arc starts when she is still a uniform-wearing schoolkid. All the while that she nurses her crush on farmer and local do-gooder Giri (Nivin Pauly), she still goes through her medical education and works on her internship - her career path is not some pointless namedrop, unlike say Madhuri Dixit's "computer student" from Hum Aapke Hain Kaun. While the romance is between a Christian and a Hindu, religion is never a hurdle to their companionship. Critical for a romance, lead actors Nazim and Pauly have strong chemistry (they also vibed well in the watchable thriller Neram). The screenplay has some playful and inventive visual ideas that directly address the audience and poke fun at cinematic romance idioms - for instance, after Giri shunts off to China to "learn kung-fu at the Shaolin temple (yep)", Pooja has a disturbing dream of him in stereotype oriental getup speaking in Chinese to his native wife. 

The not-do-good: OSO is divided between its sincere romance and whimsical spoof elements. It simultaneously wants to poke fun at the romance drama genre and revel in its excesses. In a shorter (90 min) film, the whimsical 4th wall breaking aspects, well-done by themselves, would have been the punchy USP. In its current longer avatar, they sometimes seem like mildly annoying distractions from the narrative. Certain plot elements like the hints about "other women" in Giri's life are unnecessary cliches that suggest a kitchen sink approach rather than focus on how Pooja grows into adulthood while being steadfast to her first love.

Also the film is not clear about its stand on Pooja's tomboyish nature. When we first see her in the home of her indulgent parents, we learn that she loves to ride bikes, wear pants, practice archery, whistle and slide down bannisters. In her quest to win Giri (and his mother) she shifts to saris, and later sits behind Giri on his bike in the traditional sideways female pillion rider position. What does that say about her true inner nature and what her life is going to be post-marriage? Has she "matured" into the subservient Indian bride whose own preferences and expectations must take a backseat to her husband and family? Of course, there are hordes of feisty independent women that wear traditional clothing etc, but the lack of clear rationale behind these kind of deliberate changes in a film that is very vocal about championing the woman's desire leaves one dissatisfied.

Bheemante Vazhi aka Bheema's Way [dir. Ashraf Hamza]

In Bheemante Vazhi, Bheema aka Sanjeev (Kunchako Boban) is a bachelor living in the village with his aged mother. After an incident in which he had to struggle through convoluted narrow lanes to get her to hospital, he takes on the mantle of getting a road through his neighborhood. This requires him to obtain permission from all the neighbors to allow part of their property to be used for the road, and adhere to the necessary bureaucratic protocols necessary to get the job done.

But the movie is not just about our hero achieving this task. It is also about his personal life - specifically, his outlook on sex and romance, and his phobia to commitment in a relationship. When the movie begins Bheema is in a regular sexual equation with a girl neighbor. When she gets a proposal, he is the one who smooths the way for her marriage, even if later he remarks to his BFF Maharshi (Chemban Jose Vinod) about the unemotional way in which women change partners. Later, he forms a deep mutual attraction with a Kannadiga railway engineer Kinnari (Megha Thomas). But when, prior to embarking on sex, she talks about marriage, he backs off immediately.

Bheemante Vazhi is remarkable in how liberated it tries to portray itself. Especially considering the insular rural setting, the attitude towards the female gender is incredibly forward. Except for one representative villain Kostheppu (Jinu Joseph) who makes lewd remarks at women AND puts various obstacles in the matter of the road-building, women are treated without prejudice. They can guzzle beer with the menfolk at the local bar or have casual sex without society chee-chee-ing them. It's a nice wish fulfillment exercise, even if it doesn't seem to mirror the reality of small town India (I would love to be corrected about this, if anyone has a perspective they want to share).

Bheemante Vazhi has a pleasant, unhurried beat and mostly likable characters. It however doesn't take enough trouble to keep the details of Bheema's mission interesting. Some of the technical and bureaucratic hurdles Bheema faces are not explained clearly and it became a little hard to comprehend the sequence of events in that regard. Problems arise and are sorted in a very deus ex machina fashion. The climax doesn't make much sense - if beating up the bad guy solves the legal problems, it could have been done a good while back. Also the manner in which the film resolves Bheema's Lothario status at the end ignores some of the beautiful character writing up until that point, and just feels cheap and random.

While not as well-worked out as it should have been, Bheemante Vazhi is, with sufficiently tempered expectations, a watchable enterprise.

 

Fuku-Chan of Fukufuku Flats [dir. Yosuke Fujita]

Yosuke Fujita's movie Fuku-chan of Fukufuku Flats seemed like it could be an interesting entry in the laidback whimsical movie mold, like Katsuhito Ishii's The Taste of Tea, which I enjoyed a lot. The story revolves around Fuku-chan aka Fukuda (Miyuki Oshima), a shy and pudgy bachelor that lives in a blue-collar apartment complex and makes a living as a wall painter. Fukuda's single status is worrying his closest friend Shimacchi (Yoshiyoshi Arakawa) who keeps trying to arrange matches for him. These attempts are firmly rebuffed by Fukuda, otherwise an easy-going and good-natured person that quickly makes friends, even with decided oddballs like the neighbor with a python and another who is constantly visiting shrines as penitence for having once been a panty-stealer.

One day Fukuda meets the woman Chiho (Asami Mizukawa) who in the past had done him a wrong that scarred him for life, but is now determined to make amends for her mistake. The rest of the film is about how the friendship between Fukuda and the woman is gradually nurtured, and the change it brings into their respective lives and the people around them.

The ingredients are there for a modern Ozu-like feature with some surreal elements. But while The Taste of Tea captured a wonderful souffle like delicacy, Fuku-chan... falls below those heights; the relation between Fukuda and Chiho is handled with less skill, showing a more turgid sentimental touch, which never feels truly earned. Some parts, like the curry house episode in which they are almost murdered by the curry house owner simply because they asked for water to quench the hot curry, feel bizarre for bizarre's sake.

Still, most of the film is sufficiently watchable to recommend this on the whole as a relaxed one-time diversion. Curiously enough Miyuki Oshima, the lead actor playing Fukuda is actually a woman, with her hair cut really short and wearing men's clothes. Perhaps the director felt she had the right face for the part, even though she is not very convincing as a male.

Hotel du Nord [dir. Marcel Carné]

In Marcel Carné's Hotel du Nord, young lovers Renée and Pierre (Annabella and Jean-Pierre Aumont) take a room at the titular canal-facing working-class hotel. It turns out they are not out for a spot of private necking, but for reasons not explicitly spelled out, a double suicide. After some flowery last words, Pierre fires a pistol at her, then chickens and runs out. Turns out she is not dead either, and recovers in hospital while he turns himself in to the cops. Renee does not bear a grudge but Pierre loathes himself and treats her meanly when she visits him in prison. In the meanwhile she earns her keep as a waitress at the hotel, where her good looks mean that she attracts the attention of other men.

The film also focuses on another pair of guests, Mme Raymonde (Arletty) – a middle-aged lady of the night – and her pimp and lover Edmond (Louis Jouvet, whose face bears some resemblance to the German star Conrad Veidt). They have a more cynical and tempestuous relationship, which generates a lot of the spice and humor of the film. Then Edmond falls in love with Renee in a manner that breaks through his hard-boiled front. Apart from these two pairs, there's an ensemble supporting cast composed mainly of the people staying in or working at the hotel.

If Hotel du Nord is one thing, it is romantic. This is most apparent in its treatment of the young lovers. Annabella as Renée was very obviously chosen for her ethereal looks, and she is always made up and photographed in the manner of classic Hollywood stars. There is an element of theatricality in the lines she shares with her lover. In contrast, the repartee between Mme Raymonde and Edmond has a street-wise staccato rhythm. The film plays indulgent observer to these couples and their interactions with each other and with the other characters.

Hotel du Nord has all the hallmarks of a classic melodrama – romance, humor and tragedy – which it delivers with a sincerity and controlled passion that transcends cliche and keeps the viewer hooked. The actors nicely reflect the chemistry between their roles. There are some interesting nods, like a gay character who is referred to in a very progressive, non-judgmental way. The hotel and its immediate neighborhood, created on a set, make for a very well-etched setting. The cinematography (Louis Née and Armand Thirard) has luminous night-time visuals and there are some lovely overhead and crane shots, especially towards the end depicting the 14th of July celebrations. I was initially a little worried about whether it would not be a too old-fashioned maudlin drama, but Hotel du Nord is surprisingly nimble and manages to convey its air of doomed romance without a heavy-handed treatment.

Somewhere in Time [dir. Jeannot Szwarc]

I don't seem to have spoken about it here before, but some years ago I had seen Jeannot Szwarc's 1980 fantasy romance Somewhere in Time (SiT). Last night I revisited it when I felt like indulging in some Christopher Reeve.

SiT is scripted by Richard Matheson, based on his own 1975 novel Bid Time Return. The movie has a 'meh' rep from several critics including Roger Ebert and my favorite fantasy film reviewer Richard Scheib. To be sure, the brickbats are not unfounded. The mechanics of time travel are pure bunkum - no particle physics or quantum mechanics at play here, you just will yourself strongly enough to be in a specific time (right down to the exact date) and pouf, there you are! 

Playwright Reeve is the one that undergoes this bargain-basement DIY form of time travel, in search of an actress (Jane Seymour) he has fallen in love with from a vintage photograph. Well, not just that; it appears that he has previously encountered this woman, albeit a much older avatar in which she pressed a fob watch into his hand with the words, "Come back to me". Although his effort to track the woman in the present reaches a literal dead-end (she having passed away some years ago), Reeve is convinced that they somehow knew each other in 1912. Armed with some decidedly hokey advice from a philosophy lecturer, alongside a vintage-era suit and a few coins of the period, he embarks on the trip through time to meet the love of his dreams at a specific moment in the past.

As previously stated, there is zero science to the process, and even after the time travel has occurred, the expected anachronism plays little part in the events that follow. But to the people that love this film (and there can be no middle road here, either you love it or you think it's tosh), this doesn't matter a whit. The core engine powering SiT is a chaste, delightfully old-fashioned and therefore timeless romance between Reeve and Seymour, that works like poignant wish-fulfillment. Reeve was not the most versatile actor, but when he played a gentleman, be it as a super-powered Kryptonian or this dashing scribe, he conveyed a wonderfully warm chivalrous presence few other actors can hope to match. And Seymour's actress is his equal: she has on her side ethereal beauty, complemented with a rare grace and suggestion of deep inner passions. With chemistry like this, who cares about narrative superficiality and hansom-sized plot holes? Christopher Plummer is the third angle, as Seymour's manager who is obsessed with his protege's career on the stage and sees Reeve only as a danger to his precious find. It is suggested, though never substantiated upon, that Plummer may know more than he lets on about Reeve's sudden entry into her life. All three (along with John Barry's memorable score and Isidore Mankofsky's evocative cinematography) give life to a film that shamelessly, but also gloriously, defines romantic melodrama.

It is also interesting that while a flop in the US, the film was apparently a big hit in Hong Kong. One wonders if it is because Asian audiences are more used to the idea of reincarnation and saw the film more as a (p)reincarnated love story than finding fault with the science of the time travel.

PS: Just so you don't think I am a lonely champion for this film, there is a society called INSITE (International Network of Somewhere In Time Enthusiasts) dedicated to celebrating and keeping alive the memory of this film, who put out a newsletter, arranged reunions of cast and crew and even tours of the major shoot locations.

PS2: People who liked this film (and/or Matheson's novel) should check out Ken Grimwood's 1987 book Replay, which may have been inspired by this, but takes the idea to another place altogether, and was justly included in publisher Gollancz's Fantasy Masterworks series.

Holiday [dir. George Cukor]

Holiday, the 1938 George Cukor film (based on a Philip Barry stage play) with Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn, is a fine social satire meets comedy of manners. A young maverick Cary Grant barrels into the home of the girl he fell in love with on vacation (Doris Nolan) only to find she belongs to a wealthy upper-crust family. The father (Henry Kolker) is a proper prig who values money and privilege above all, and her brother (Lew Ayres) whose creative interests were cut short by dad, has become a depressed drunk (in old-skool Hollywood manner, meaning he pleasantly slurs out what the other characters demur from openly saying). But all is not gloomy, there's the lively sister (Hepburn) who refuses to abide by the house rules, and is one of the few who understands Grant's desire to concentrate on making life meaningful rather than slog for money and possessions.

Right from the early setup we know how this is going to turn out; there is no doubt that Grant and Hepburn are made from each other, and since it's not a David Lean film, it is unlikely to end in bittersweet parting. Such predictability does not however reduce the fun. The writing has the efficiency of clockwork and characters are drawn and acted in a hugely likable manner, even the snobs (I do feel for poor Henry Daniell, served up with a caricature similar to the Belknap-Johnson role from Ruggles of Red Gap, and unworthy of that actor's brilliance). The repartee is snappy and the chemistry is hot. Heck, Grant even turns cartwheels and Hepburn does a tumble trick, that's value for money right there.

It helps that even though Grant's character wants to please his bride-to-be's family, he is at no point willing to be a doormat. Hepburn's otherwise feisty character is less believable when she's suppressing her own emotions to try and get her obviously less interested sister together with Grant, and the climax could have been in less of a tearing hurry to get our leads to kiss behind the 'The End' titles, but these are minor quibbles for such an giddily charming film.

Eeda [dir. B Ajithkumar]

Indian cinema owes a debt of gratitude to Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet; that tale of star-crossed lovers is almost its own genre in this land. The hearth of the Great Indian Melodrama has in turn given back to the source by way of variations on the theme. As I recall in the bard's original script, the background for the feud between the Montague and Capulet families is never particularly elucidated and we are to take for granted their sworn enmity that forbids the romance of their children. In our film adaptations wealth/social divides, histories of revenge and even language/cultural barriers have been woven as the backdrop of clan animosity against which our young lovers revolt in the avowal of their love.

B Ajithkumar's Eeda (2018) introduces political conflict as the new ground for the discord. Our Romeo and Juliet are Anand/Nandu (Shane Nigam) and Aishwarya/Ammu (Nimisha Sajayan), natives of Kannur who first meet - appropriately - in the midst of a curfew. Their encounter is not a peaceful exchange of sweet nothings: Nandu is tasked with taking her home on his bike while avoiding rioters, and they have a tense exchange about his choice of unfamiliar routes. The selection of the leads and the manner in which this whole sequence is captured sets the tone for the film to follow. While Shane (also seen in the enchanting Kumbalangi Nights) has a Ranbir Kapoor-esque appeal that may set teenage hearts aflutter, neither he nor Nimisha in this film are given any kind of gloss or halo separating them from the rest of the cast. Nandu's entry and his manner of rescuing Ammu are never adorned with the HERO treatment. Her fears about being led by a stranger on an unknown route are sympathizable, and their ensuing arguments not the exaggerated blow-ups that are precursor to cloying romance. When Nandu drops her off at her destination, there's no grand moment of chivalry or macho posturing.

In Mysore, just a bus-ride away but a different world altogether with its cosmopolitan air, the two later meet again as regular young urbanites - she is a student in the university while he works for an insurance firm. The same groundedness and attention to small details underlines the romance that develops. How rare and refreshing it is to come across an onscreen depiction of budding love that respects the spaces, silences and the awkwardness which define that sweet ache of courtship. Like how the late Sachy's Ayyappanum Koshiyum reinvigorated the revenge drama by its organic building up of one sequence upon the other, Eeda's script and direction encrust the romantic narrative with a realism that overrides any sense of déjà vu. Even the scene where Romeo's famous balcony climb is referenced is not a quick stunt moment; you can feel Nandu's trepidation and physical struggle to reach Ammu's window. It is precisely because they are relatable ordinary people whose emotional attachment transcends their fears that their bond emerges as a powerful entity which justifies what happens later.

The third major character here is their hometown in Kannur, a constantly simmering pot of tense relations between the Marxists and the Right-wing. Here politics is not an abstract concept or a matter for leisurely teatime discussion among gentry, it is a vital, visceral force running through the populace, gripping entire families (womenfolk included). For each faction, the 'Party' is like a collective that governs the fates of its members and their kin: an individual may on orders cheerfully walk away from a kabaddi game to prison, or a marriage alliance may be fixed as per their directive. And from time to time, each tribe demands its quota of blood. While Nandu and Ammu's romance would be an unquestioned fact in Mysore, it is a different story in Kannur: here, they belong on opposite sides in a conflict they want no part of, but which is determined to bend them to its will. There are few obvious villains here. Nandu's uncle Govindan cares for his followers even as he orders them to perform violent acts, while Ammu's mother obviously loves her, but will not support her defiance of the party's ditkat. Keeping stereotype hysterics to a minimum, Eeda steeps us in the enveloping quicksand of violence and dread that strangles the dreams of our young lovers.

While retaining its credibility, Ajithkumar's script aims for more a mythic touch in its final act. Nandu and Ammu's more pragmatic visions of a joint future are shattered, but in a knowing reprisal of the circumstances of their first meeting, the lovers are determined to be together even if their fate has already been sealed. It is a fitting conclusion to a heart-tugging journey.

Rio Grande [dir. John Ford]

1950's Rio Grande isn't quite the throwaway picture it could have been given the story behind its making - what director John Ford really wanted was to mount his passion project, the technicolor Irish romance drama The Quiet Man, but Republic Pictures put up the funds on the condition that Ford first make a crowd-pleasing Western for them with the same cast - but it's not top-tier Ford either.

The picture begins well enough with a majestic scene showing the return of a US cavalry regiment, after a skirmish with native Americans, to their frontier outpost near the Rio Grande river. Lasting several minutes without any dialog, we see the procession led by Col Kirby Yorke (John Wayne) slowly ride in, dust billowing all around them. The rider's faces are lined with sweat and disappointment. The outpost women look expectantly at the mounted party (and the wounded being brought in on stretchers) to ensure that their beloveds have returned. No words are spoken but much is conveyed about the life of the people in this settlement. The evocative feel and flow of this episode undoubtedly influenced some of the opening shots in Akira Kurosawa's movies. The sombre mood is continued when Kirby's commanding officer Sheridan (J Carrol Naish) laments the limitations placed on the US forces by the government, restricting them to stay within their borders, while the guerilla natives go back and forth between the US and Mexico. This has been taken up by critics as an analogy to the US government's handling of the Korean conflict, which had begun around the same time.

Chafing under restrictions which hamper their tactics, Kirby is a frustrated commander with an inadequate fighting force. A request for an additional 180 men is answered with a supply of 18...and one of those is his own son Jeff (Claude Jarman Jr.), who enlisted as a soldier almost immediately after failing the officer's commission at the military academy in West Point. A conversation between Kirby and Jeff in which they let each other know that no favors will be given or accepted reveals that the father has been away from his family for 15 years. This estrangement was mainly perpetrated by the incident during the American Civil War when Kirby, following Sheridan's scorched earth policy, ordered the razing of the farms and homestead of his Southern origin wife's family, and in the process his relationship.

Thus far we have a strong dramatic picture, boasting finely etched characters, each battling their inner demons. Alas, this is soon lost. In an earlier address, Kirby tells the new recruits, "...each of you will have to do the work of ten men. If you fail, I'll have you spread-eagled on a wagon wheel. If you desert, you'll be found, tracked down and broken into bits." This creates expectations of a frank and harsh depiction of life for the soldiers. But apart from when the natives attack, they appear quite  comfortable. We hardly see them do any chores, and the atmosphere is like that of a rather pleasant Boy Scouts camp. Within no time, Jeff makes himself one of the men as they sing inside their tents under starry skies. Then there's Victor McLaglen's comic relief Sergeant, who dispels all notions of the hard-nosed disciplinarian.

Kirby's personal life intrudes further into his domain when wife Kathleen (Maureen O'Hara) turns up unannounced, determined to drag her son back to the safety of an officer's commission. Between Kirby's obsession with duty and Jeff's own stubborn pride, she is not to have an easy time of it, and must stay back till she gets her way. This in turn rekindles the feelings between the couple (at a hosted dinner, she makes a toast "To my only rival, the United States Cavalry."). Rendered in smoldering glances and subtle gestures, the chemistry between the actors is palpable. It's a lovely path for the film, seeing these middle-aged people, not just as parents of a strong-willed adolescent, but as an intensely attached pair who despite their differences, love each other with a passion.

It is what comes to the picture's rescue when its take on the conflict with the natives is the old cliche of soldiers vs savages. Kirby gets his redemption when Sheridan orders him to declare an all-out-attack on the the Injuns, even if it means going over into Mexico ("I want you to cross the Rio Grande, hit the Apache and burn him out.")  Unlike Ford's own previous Fort Apache, this film refuses to acknowledge the natives as more than stock villains that deserve to be shot down in the admittedly exciting action sequences. Even children are made part of the propaganda machine (fronted by an irritating cutesy Karolyn Grimes). But if you are willing to excuse its faults it is still acceptable as an emotional romance drama in a military setting.

The Ghost and Mrs. Muir [dir. Joseph L Mankiewicz]

For a good while I had my eye on the Indian (Excel) blu-ray release of The Ghost and Mrs. Muir (G&MM), especially since the US release from Fox wasn't much cheaper even for a 2013 release. But I was not sure if the Indian BD would carry over the 2 audio commentaries included on the US disc, and so when I had the chance to order stuff from Amazon US to Singapore in time for my vacation there, I snagged the US BD.

G&MM is an old-fashioned story of love and friendship between the titular characters. Lucy Muir (Gene Tierney) after her husband's death decides to leave her in-laws' home and make her own with daughter Anna and faithful caretaker Martha. Conscious of not having thus far led a life of her own, Lucy acts on impulse, renting a cliffside cottage that appeals to her despite strong misgivings from the buffoonish house agent, only to discover that it is haunted by the ghost of its former occupant, the salty seaman Captain Gregg. As played by Rex Harrison, Gregg is first seen as a bluff petty-minded bully, determined to drive out all tenants and preserve his home. But he quickly takes a shine to the young widow, and we see the beginnings of a (heavily sanitized) romance across the pale. When Lucy is hard-pressed for the rent he comes up with the idea of her writing a book out of his racy memoirs (called Blood and Swash). In the course of getting the book published Lucy meets with another man, a cheeky handsome writer-artist (George Sanders) who charms her off her feet and gives the spectral captain a bout of distinctly corporeal jealousy. What ultimately becomes of Lucy forms the remaining part of this whimsical story.

Despite the idea of a lonely house haunted by a blasphemous mariner's ghost, Philip Dunne's screenplay (based on a novel by Josephine Leslie, writing as - heh, heh - R.A. Dick) is not a stormy supernatural thriller, but a gentle funny romance. Captain Gregg's language may have raised polite brows in the early twentieth century setting of the story, but even in the 40's when the novel and film were released, his "blasted" exclamations would have been more cute than shocking. Without the use of special effects to depict the ghostly element, the real magic in G&MM is the chemistry between Tierney and Harrison. Never even implying the crossing of any taboos, there is an appealing sweetness in their scenes together. Captain Gregg is an under-written character with little nuance, but Harrison is energetic and, when needed, tender. Tierney gives a mostly good account of the widow who looks first for freedom and then for love. The other big stars of the film are Charles Lang's wonderful chiaroscuro cinematography (only a few years before he had captured The Uninvited) and a lush romantic score from Bernard Herrmann, very different from his compositions for Alfred Hitchcock.

Even at a little past 100min, the film goes on for a bit more than it should have, but it offers relaxing old-fashioned good-natured amusement and should bring at least the occasional smile to even the dyed-in-the-wool curmudgeon.

The stray bit of speckling aside, 20th Century Fox's blu-ray gives a luminous video presentation of G&MM's shadow-dappled visuals. The English audio is presented as lossless original mono or a respectfully repurposed 5.1 track that mostly gives additional space to Herrmann's music. I have not as yet heard the two commentary tracks, will try to update this review when I do.

Emmanuelle [dir. Just Jaeckin]

Whatever I expected from a film described on the back blurb of the blu-ray case as "the seminal soft core porn classic", it certainly wasn't hearing a wholesale ripoff of legendary prog rock band King Crimson's Lark's Tongue in Aspic Part II used as a soundtrack theme. Stealing it was, but I have to admire the gumption of (ha!) composer Pierre Bachelet to imagine that gnarly intimidating track as a serenade to nearly every major sex scene in the film, and some of the reworkings using flute and acoustic percussion ain't half bad.

 For the rest, Emmanuelle sets the E(u)rotic movie pattern. The titular heroine (Sylvia Kristel, very easy on the eye) is the archetype fish out of water in exotic Thailand where she has come to join her husband Jean (Daniel Sarky) - as Roger Ebert describes in his review "a world of wicker furniture, soft pastels, vaguely Victorian lingerie, backlighting, forests of potted plants, and lots of diaphanous draperies shifting in the breeze". Add to that description, a batch of native servants who like to spy on their employer's sexual activities and in turn carry out their own physical comedies.

Jean claims to want Em to not feel tied to him, and to try out any sexual experiments she wants. But it would appear in fact that little Jean wants her to be liberated only in the shallow unromantic manner he and his society of expats indulge in. When she ignores the clique of bored grope-happy neighbors and falls for a winsome lady archeologist (Marika Green), he shows himself a jealous husband like any other. Sylvia's scenes with Marika are some of the best in the film, sexy, funny and carrying a palpable sense of romance. Most of the sex thus far is of the tame variety, pleasant to look at without being outright fap material (unless you're in your teens, in which case little isn't).

After she is sent off by Marika, Em returns to Jean who then coaxes her to go with aging Casanova Mario (Alain Cuny). Mario looks somewhat like David Lynch and talks like you would expect Lynch to, if you knew him only from his movies, a lot of solemn balderdash. Mario's ideas of sexual liberation take the film into queasy territory, including a gang rape sequence and later one where Em is made the prize of a Thai boxing bout. She accepts these situations with questionable equanimity and we must believe that they contribute to her erotic awakening. Maybe it's just me, but I find the frank exploitation scenes of Zakhmi Aurat or Savage Streets more palatable than such arty rape fantasies.

Still, for most of its running time, Emmanuelle is a pleasant trip with good looking actors, ravishing locales, lovely soft focus photography (Richard Suzuki)...and yes, large swathes of Larks Tongue in Aspic Part Sex.

Age of Consent [dir. Michael Powell]

Michael Powell, especially in conjunction with his partner Emeric Pressburger, made films across genres and in a variety of styles, but in each film there was a unified vision, a fidelity to the theme that marked their genius. Even in Powell's solo output, Peeping Tom was a product of that same consistency of design. Which is why I find Age of Consent somewhat puzzling.

There's the central story of a aging jaded painter trying to find himself again and the young (underage, the film repeatedly reminds us) girl who becomes his muse, and in the process discovers her own womanhood. This is done with an admirable delicacy of touch and aided by the involved acting from James Mason and a very brave Helen Mirren in their respective parts (of course the sense of taboo is mitigated by the fact that the frequently naked Helen doesn't look remotely like the underage girl she is supposed to be, or perhaps that was just the gin-soaked tyrant grandmother's attempt to delude the girl and rein her in as a continued source of income).

What jars here is the mixture of the bawdy comedy track, majorly from the scenes with Jack MacGowran as a money and "bird"-fancying moocher. It seems at odds with the central narrative, looking more like an attempt to inject some crowd-pleasing laughs to keep the film from becoming too serious. The film is otherwise fine in its low-key manner (very low-key, I thought the death of a certain character would have more melodramatic consequences, and the film ends all too abruptly, leaving pertinent questions about the equation between the painter and the girl unanswered). There's terrific location and underwater photography capturing the beauty of the Great Barrier Reef, and a hypnotic score by Peter Sculthorpe. And yes, a terrific performance by the dog Lonsdale that plays Mason's companion Godfrey (Powell was apparently miffed that none of the critics at the time mentioned the dog in their reviews).

The credits specify that "Miss Mirren is a member of the Royal Shakespeare Company", probably to establish her respectability and discourage anyone only interested in the naughty bits.

Mukkabaaz [dir. Anurag Kashyap]

From an auteurist point of view Mukkabaaz represents one of Anurag Kashyap's biggest compromises to the mainstream Bollywood formula. Far from the audacious ideas of No Smoking and Dev.D and even the sprawling excess of the overrated Gangs of Wasseypur, this film sits so firmly in the masala entertainer mold his Dabangg brother Abhinav may well feel threatened for his livelihood (or whatever remains of it after the loud and offensively stinky fart called Besharam). But you know what, that's not necessarily a bad thing, because while AK here chooses to work within the limitations of the 'safe' formula, he gives it a welcome texture and relatable context that has been missing from traditional big-budget Hindi cinema, which usually takes place in an isolated fantasy land where none of the real-world issues we see occur.

The story of the underdog boxer / sportsman making his way to the top (and sometimes falling off it) is an old one in movie history, but 1976's Rocky landed the big punch in Bollywood, which briefly added pugilism to its existing potboiler template to churn out Main Intaquam Loonga (1982) and Boxer (1983). Boxing made another entry in 2014's rah-rah biopic of Mary Kom. While Kashyap's movie features boxing, a good deal of it, it is not a sports film or a biopic. Mukkabaaz's outline fits the typical Hero-Heroine-Villain-Supporting Cast framework of Hindi 'Phillum': Shravan Kumar (even the names of the characters are almost deliberately bog standard) is in love with Sunaina but falls foul of her autocratic uncle Bhagwan Das who goes on to lay obstacles galore and make life hell for the young couple and everyone around. Romance, Action, Dialogue-baazi, Music, The Works. Boxing is simply the medium by which the heroic underdog rises against his oppressors, whether literally in the film's several punch-up sequences in and out of the ring, or in terms of the prestige the sport gives him.

But Shravan Kumar is not just an upstart boxer hero, he's a Rajput with the audacity to desire a higher-in-the-hierarchy Brahmin girl. Uncle Bhagwan Das is a casteist Hindutva torchbearer that gets his goons to conduct "beef lynchings". Sunaina is a mute, but that doesn't make her silent - she is educated and feisty, and wants to make her 'bindaas' way in the world. She has no feeling of cringing gratitude for the man who "accepted" her. And Kashyap's film is not just about boy bagging girl. We also see Shravan struggling between the demands of job and sporting career. In the "railway job" he bags through sports quota he is made a dogsbody by his sarkari babu superior (a coach even laments that most youth that take up sport only do it for the quota). Early on in the film a boxing tournament is conducted on a makeshift stage because the sports venue has been usurped for some minister's family wedding. Even the climactic national championships are staged in a realistically modest stadium, with few audience members apart from the fighters and the coterie that arbitrarily decides their futures.

It also helps that while there is simplification, there is no condescension towards the film's mainstream sensibilities. The actors are sincere, with Vineet Kumar Singh utterly believable on-screen as the titular boxer and terrific chemistry from Zoya Hussain as the girl that drives him to win her. Other characters are solid if stock (I regret an actor of Jimmy Shergill's caliber reduced to playing a single-note blackguard like Bhagwan Das but he is game, while Ravi Kishan provides able support as the dignified Harijan coach who trains Shravan Kumar to go up against his opponents). The film is shot with an emphasis on naturalistic atmosphere; special mention goes to the boxing ring bouts which carry a ring of authenticity, and even the standard lone-hero-against-horde-of-henchmen battles eschew the cliches of slow-motion or wire-work.

I do hope that Kashyap's commercial picture gets at least a fair proportion of the box-office success that mainstream Bollywood movies get, so that a) more people in the mainstream industry are inspired to inject social observation into the fabric of their scripts without the need for specific message movies b) he gets the financial freedom to come up with more 'out-there' ideas for his subsequent projects.

Dum Laga Ke Haisha [dir. Sharat Katariya]

Oh for the 90's, those wonderful years of cassette tapes and Kumar Sanu songs...er right, some things have definitely changed for the better. But that doesn't deny this nostalgia tinged rom-com its charm. And Dum Laga ke Haisha (DLKH) has attractions other than its period setting. In the bad old days, the only alternative you had to the hero-oriented chauvinistic sagas were the equally screechy heroine sagas (cue Rekha in bizarre costumes), or worse, the hyper-maudlin “family drama”. But in the recent years, Hindi cinema has seen movies scripted around women protagonists that attempt to skirt these stereotypes. Whatever their individual flaws, films like Kahaani, English Vinglish, Bobby Jasoos, Queen at least showed a heartening trend of interesting roles for women. DLKH is the next step in this evolution of the Bollywood product, because unlike the previously mentioned films that relied on the presence of established stars, it dares to totally stake its bets on the script – the lead actress Bhumi Pednekar is a complete newcomer and, with her plump homely appearance, as far from the archetypal film-star mold as possible.

At the start, Ayushmann Khurana, who plays the school dropout son of small-town tape shop owner Sanjay Mishra, is bullied into marriage with the portly Pednekar, who is a graduate with a B.Ed. Between his disgust with his wife's physical form and inferiority complex at her education, Khurana feels rather cut up about the railroading and after a round of awkward adjusting, has a showdown in which he openly insults the woman. The rest of the film deals with how he learns to respect and love her. Traditionally, this would have involved showing the woman dropping her pounds and glamming up, thereby becoming “deserving” of her spouse's attraction. Thankfully that's not the case here. Right from the start, Pednekar is shown to be a woman that is comfortable with herself (catch her unselfconsciously executing the wedding jhatkas) and while she does her best to please her husband (including arranging for a satin nightie and a private TV-VCR to watch “English” films to inspire her spouse in bed), she refuses to take any bullshit from him. After the aforementioned showdown, she packs off and files a case for divorce, and it is the eventual change of heart in the husband that saves the relationship.

It is to the script's credit that it manages most of this without getting preachy and dogmatic about female equality and liberty. This is not to say DLKH is an unqualified classic. While the initial awkwardness and the rift between the couple is well-depicted, the scene which signals the first stirrings of change in the husband hits the right notes in terms of being low-key, but is rather pat considering what has passed till that moment. There is also a Macguffin competition that makes little sense other than having a contrived “win” moment in the end. That's the weaknesses, now about the strengths. The chemistry between Pednekar and Khurana on account of their investment in their respective characters is excellent, and the main reason why you would sit through the film. The supporting characters are also well-etched and acted. The production design does a great job of recreating the 90's in a small-town scenario without going overboard with the references. Surprise, surprise, even Anu Malik's score has some very interesting stuff (and not just in terms of recreating his 90's sound).

All things considered DLKH is a very decent film to take a partner or a mum to.