Khelein Hum Jee Jaan Sey
| Khelein Hum Jee Jaan Sey |  | |
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The story chosen (a true story of the 1930 revolution of Chittagong, the then part of India) is unique, untried and more or less an interesting story to remake on celluloid. Besides, this is an adaptation of a book, which should have been even challenging for the makers. And for those who have read the book, they might find the on-goings interesting. I personally haven’t read the book but I have ample knowledge of the uprising and I’m pretty sure characters wouldn’t have been as overdramatic as they’ve been portrayed in places. Apart from the portrayal of the characters of Surjya Sen and Kalpana Datta (well-written and restrained for the most part) the other characters are either too moody or nahin-kehdo-ki-yeh-jhoot-hai types. The patriotic fever is correctly captured without the convenience of xenophobia in the screenplay, and Gowariker should be commended for that. But despite that, the movie lags in the pre-intermission reels, so much that the normal viewer will pull their hair out and wonder if a movie could be any slower.
And for some scenes, it’s like the makers really want to force-feed us – and this unfortunately happens in those scenes where this isn’t needed. Take, for example, the first scene, where they spend a minute and a half showing the kids playing football, and the conflict taking half a minute more, with prolonged discussions about getting their lands back adding up to another minute and a half, making the whole scene very wordy and lengthy. After this there’s Surjya Sen’s extended introduction and the fact that he “loves his friend to death”. In that scene, his friend suddenly turns up and they have a discussion about how he was beaten to death and all he said was “Vande Mataram.” Surely there’s at least five better ways to write and emote that dialogue!
The other odd thing about the film is the timing of the songs. Post Nirmal’s meeting with Sen, he says he’s going to meet his girlfriend Pritilata, and then out of nowhere a song breaks out before they play badminton – oh and wait, that’s lip-synced! And the songs keep coming during the pre-intermission phase, acting like speed-breakers to an already slow-moving car. The worst part during this phase are the glitches in setting the base of the world which the viewer should be transported into. Chittagong was part of Bengal, and despite that Surjya Sen writes the plan on the blackboard in Hindi to explain to his “comrades” five days before the plan’s commencement. And I wonder why; is it because they suddenly forgot Bengali? People will argue with me regarding this, telling me that they would have wanted everyone to understand what he had written, but this certainly takes out the authenticity in the film, thus making it a flaw.
Besides that, there’s the characters trying to overdo the accent as far as names are concerned. Poor Padukone keeps shifting between “Pritilata” and “Pritilota” to call her friend (played by Vishaka Singh) in the film. And even though she has done an otherwise excellent job in the film, her accent is off the mark. Kalpana is herself forcefully called “KolPona” when her name is casually pronounced “Call-pona”. Details like this should make a period film stronger and the audience tends to forgive you on the pace, but then when both pace and detailing are uneven, people tend to notice while biting their nails waiting for something to happen. Once the intermission arrives you breathe a sigh of relief, wondering if the second half will be as slow.
Thankfully, the film isn’t as slow in the second half – in fact, it suddenly picks up pace out of nowhere and proceeding move to the nail-biting pre-climax portion, finally reaching the climax, where – again – Abhishek decides to talk to the English judge in Hindi. I’m sure the director must have imagined a scene of two different ideologies where language differences act as testimony, but this just felt awkward. But this is easily ignored as pronto comes a profound climax that disturbs you but at the same time, makes you proud of what the “real” revolutionaries might have done to fight for the freedom of India. However due to the above reasons you still leave the theater with mixed emotions as far as the film is concerned.
What redeems the movie somewhat are the performances. Abhishek Bachchan is powerful as Surjya Sen, but you wonder if his one dimensional expressions throughout are indicative of his wider limitations as an actor. In fact, surprisingly, post the unconvincing act in Break Ke Baad, Deepika Padukone here outsmarts Bachchan as far as the acting is concerned. Sikandar Kher is mind-blowing. His emotions are powerful, especially in scenes of shootout. This guy is a terrific actor and need good roles to showcase his immense potential to rise up the ladder. Others are convincing.
To conclude, what was expected to be a fervent exhilarating patriotic movie turns out to be more of a documentary, which makes the movie feel like a history lesson so after the first few minutes don’t be surprised if you find yourself distracted (either fidgeting with your hair or picking your nose or looking around the class for something more interesting than the teacher yakking) and wondering where the entertainment quotient was to be found. Mr. Gowariker, we hope you get back to the form that brought us the likes of Swades and Lagaan, not in comparison perhaps but in treatment at least.
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