Maat: Agonisingly Ineffective

By Praveen Lulekar

Cinematic clichés is a very funny thing. They are certainly an indication of lack of originality, but if used properly they can actually give birth to something seemingly original. Maat’s originality is limited to its casting. Its original story also has that quality (Setu by Tejaswini Dinesh Pandit), but that is a different piece of art altogether. In a complex arrangement of characters and narrative, Setu is probably as heart-wrenching as some of the dialogues in Maat. A lousy screenplay, a plain-faced leading lady and characters and scenes that give a déjà vu feeling make Maat agonisingly ineffective – agonising, because it could have been much better.

Maat tells the story of Rima Deshmukh (Isha Koppikar) and her deaf and mute daughter Mini (Tejashree Walawalkar). Rima is a model (she wins a beauty pageant named ‘Lovely Woman of India’) and Ajay (Sameer Dharmadhikari), her husband, is an ambitious architect. Ajay wants his daughter to be an engineer like him. As Mini’s disability is discovered, the couple shatters – Rima tries to cope up but Ajay distances himself from the family. With the help of her mother-in-law and a bunch of family friends, Rima tries to raise her daughter, sacrificing her career in the process. At a certain point, she discovers that Mini has a special talent for Chess and with the help of a reclusive grandmaster Raodatt Palkar (Suhas Palshikar) she takes Mini to new heights in the sport.

The story looks great on paper, doesn’t it? Well, on screen you see a father proud of his daughter’s drawing skills in an early age but thinks that Chess is not an intelligent person’s game. You see a model in an ad saying use ‘this’ face cream and the shot is Okayed without the name of the product. You meet supporting characters whose names you hardly remember when they appear in the next scene. As for their back-stories, one of them tells Rima that his wife is pained as they do not have a child and she pampers the husband sometimes to fill up the void; all this while the poor wife is sitting right there! Sensitivity anyone?  America represented by a single shot of the Statue of Liberty, Rima’s elbow fracture referred to as wrist fracture by the doctor, misplaced songs…the list can go on.

An important and potentially interesting part of the film is the Chess games. Palshikar in a suspender suit, a George cap, a beard and a Nana Patekar-ish madness breathes life into some scenes. His strong voice throw breaks the monotony of Koppikar’s plain expressions and Walawalkar’s repetitive loop of joy and disappointments (provided respectively by her mother and her father’s absence). The latter is a great talent with natural ease on camera; the director (Manohar Sarvankar) fails to tap it. In spite of the help of many actual grandmasters, we do not see any detailing in the chess games. Consequence – we do not enjoy Mini’s victory. The director’s failure comes to fore when Ajay transforms in the last scene after Mini defeats a robot (who enters the stage like a WWF star!). We do not get even one close-up of Ajay that shows his emotional turmoil during the game. 

Koppikar tries hard to look like a mother and moreover, to act like one. Her emotions never come full fledge and if she has purposely chosen to be silent, the pain she is suppressing is never conveyed. Some dialogues that had punch on paper are watered down by her language problems. We hear an effort in every word, every sentence that compounds her acting problems. Maat is an epic failure on the execution level. Neither the beauty of Koppikar nor the music of Dr. Salil Kulkarni could save it.

m4m Says: Watch at your own risk

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पितृऋण – भावनांची कसदार गुंतागुंत

प्रवीण लुलेकर                                                                                         

अगदी हूबेहूब तुमच्यासारखी दिसणारी एक व्यक्ती तुमच्यासमोर अचानक येते. यात तुम्हाला गंमतीचा भागच जास्त वाटू शकतो. ‘हम दोनो’पासून ‘जुडवा’पर्यंत आपण सिनेमात, अशा कथानकाला विनोदी ढंगानेच पाहात आलोय. मराठीत या बाबतीत लक्ष्याच्या ‘शेम टू शेम’ने असंख्य एकसारख्या दिसणाऱ्या जोड्या दाखवून कहरच केला होता. सचिनच्या ‘आमच्यासारखे आम्हीच’ची मांडणी थेट शेक्सपिअरच्या ‘कॉमेडी ऑफ एरर्स’शी नातं सांगणारी! अशा एखाद्या घटनेचं वास्तवाशी मुळातच नातं थोडं सैल. त्यातून तिचे गंभीर परिणाम तपासून पाहणं,मनोरंजनाच्या ठोकताळ्यांमध्ये सिनेमाला जमलं नसावं. सुधा मूर्तींच्या कथेवर आधारित नितीश भारद्वाज यांनी दिग्दर्शित केलेला ‘पितृऋण’ हा, मात्र वेगळा प्रयत्न करतो.

चित्रपटाची कथा सांगताना परीक्षण थोडं बोथट होतं. ‘पितृऋण’च्या बाबतीत, तर असे अनेक बारकावे आहेत, जे चित्रपटगृहातच पहावेत. व्यंकटेश कुलकर्णी (सचिन खेडेकर) या पुरातत्त्वशास्त्राच्या प्राध्यापकावर असणाऱ्या त्यांच्या वडिलांचं एक ऋण, अशी एका ओळीत, या चित्रपटाची कथा आहे. हे ऋण अर्थातच छुपे आहे. त्याचा शोध लागताना होणाऱ्या गंमती, त्यामागच्या रहस्याचा उलगडा होताना, होणारा मानसिक त्रास आणि ज्या भूतकाळाचा शोध कुलकर्णी घेत आहेत, त्याच्या दोन अधुऱ्या, अतृप्त बाजू – भागीरथी (तनुजा) आणि कुलकर्णींची आई (सुहास जोशी) हा चित्रपटाचा प्रवास.

भागीरथीचा मुलगा हा, हुबेहूब कुलकर्णींसारखा दिसतो. त्याचे नावही व्यंकटेशच! (योगायोग!) दोन्ही व्यंकटेशांची एकमेकांशी भेट आणि भागीरथीने प्राध्यापक कुलकर्णींना सांगितलेली, तिची पूर्वायूष्याची कहाणी, याने चित्रपटाचा पहिला भाग व्यापलेला आहे. इथे कथेची गती, अगदी साहित्याच्या अंगाने जाते. एक एक पात्र, हळू हळू पुढे येतं, आजूबाजूचे सगळे दृश्य महेश अणेंचा कॅमेरा व्यवस्थित टिपतो, कौशल इनामदारांची गीतं, गावकरी व्यंकटेशचा निर्मळपणा, भागीरथीच्या कथेतला शृंगार, स्वरबद्ध करतात. एकूण संयत गतीने सगळी पार्श्वभूमी प्रस्थापित होते. पण इथे काही (अगदीच बारीक) तपशील चुकतात आणि ते लक्षात यायला वेळही मिळतो. इथेच कथेचा एकूण बाजही लक्षात येतो.

‘पितृऋण’ हा गंभीर असला, तरी वास्तववादी सिनेमा नाही. हुबेहूब दिसणाऱ्या दोन व्यक्ती, ही मुळाशी असणारी परिस्थितीच आधी म्हंटल्याप्रमाणे काहीशी अविश्वसनीय आहे. या कथेचा गाभा तिच्यातील मानवी भावना आहेत, ज्या अगदी अस्सल आहेत. तीनही प्रमुख कलाकारांच्या सुंदर अभिनयामुळे, या भावना आणखीनच भिडतात. भागीरथीची वेदना हा, खरं तर कथेचा सगळ्यात चटका लावून जाणारा भाग. ‘तिच्या डोळ्यांत मी अशी शांतता पहिली आहे, जी फक्त तीव्र तिरस्कारातून निर्माण होते’ असं जेव्हा प्राध्यापक कुलकर्णी, तिच्याबाबत म्हणतात, तेव्हा ते थेट मनाला भिडतं. कारण चित्रपटात तनुजा, त्यांच्या डोळ्यांत ती शांतता खरंच घेऊन वावरतात. ‘झाकोळ’ या त्यांच्या शेवटच्या मराठी चित्रपटात त्यांनी अशाच एका नात्याची दुसरी, उद्विग्न बाजू उभी केली होती. ‘पितृऋण’च्या निमित्ताने त्याच धाग्याचा दुसरा किनारा बांधला जातोय!

सगळ्यात कमी वाव मिळणारी भूमिका, कदाचित सुहास जोशींच्या वाट्याला आली आहे. पण भागीरथी इतकीच त्यांच्या पात्राची कैफियतही लक्षात राहते. ५५ वर्षांच्या विफल, प्रेमहीन संसाराचा सारा उद्रेक, त्यांच्या शांत मुद्रेत कुठूनतरी डोकावत असतो. मुद्राभिनय आणि संवादफेकीच्या बळावर सुहास जोशी, हे पात्र जिवंत करतात. सचिन खेडेकर, प्राध्यापक कुलकर्णींची घालमेल तळमळीने रंगवतात. आपण कथा त्यांच्या दृष्टीने पाहत असल्याने रहस्यात आपल्याला ओढून नेण्याचं काम त्याचं आहे. हे काम ते सचोटीने करतात. हे रहस्य, तसे फारसे आश्चर्यकारक नाही. पण दुसऱ्या भागात घटनांच्या तुफान गतीने, तसेच पात्रांच्या आणि त्यांच्या नात्यातील गुंतागुंतीमुळे शेवटाकडे जाताना प्राध्यापकांसह आपल्याही भावनांचा निचरा होतो. पूर्वी भावे (कुलकर्णींची मुलगी), केतकी पालव (तरुण भागीरथी) आणि इतर तरुण मंडळी मात्र काहीसे फिके पडतात.

Read English review here

http://moviekatta.blogspot.in/2013/12/pitruroon-chords-of-human-emotions.html

                                                                                                                           

                                                                                                                        

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Pitruroon – chords of human emotions

Reviewed by Praveen Lulekar

In about fifteen minutes after the intermission, Ptiruroon became another film for me. The meticulous affair now startled me with its speed, the obvious looking suspense became thicker thanks to the shades of the characters and without giving any time to think, the story wrapped up with the same, predictable but now impactful end. In his unique way of story-telling, director Nitish Bhardwaj has built up a film that is not flawless but is an experience that touches many chords of human emotion. To top it, are performances from three reliable actors – Sachin Khedekar, Suhas Joshi and Tanuja.

Pitruroon, as the title suggests, is the story of a father’s unpaid debt which a son – Vyankatesh Kulkarni (Khedekar) has to pay. The film is based on a story written by writer Sudha Murthy and the first half moves with the pace of literature. The unhurriedness does not make it slow as such, but establishes background for the edge-of-the-seat effects of this whole setting up. I was lost on the micro-elements in this part. There is a forcefully established character of the daughter of Kulkarni (Poorvi Bhave) as a photographer. She has a camera in hand even on the breakfast table. As the daughter and father (who is a professor of archeology) set on a journey to an archeology site, we see attempts to show how candid their relationship is. Some skillful still photography works here but artificiality creeps into these scenes owing to their typicality.

On the way, Kulkarni meets his look-alike of the same name as his. We then come across a village where humour is attempted. The other Kulkarni has a dance to perform which has practiced ‘steps’ and as he sees his look alike, he faints and falls, again, in a very artificial manner. We meet Bhagirathi, the villager Kulkarni’s mother (Tanuja) who narrates her tragic past to her son’s look-alike. We see a light-eyed Ketki Palav playing the younger part for Tanuja – the veteran who speaks a lot through her eyes, black eyes. Professor Kulkarni now begins to doubt if there is some connection between him and the other family. The doubt grows as the story moves forward and we see the mystery unraveling.

If you have read your Chandamas as a child, you will sync with the story immediately. There is a fantasised background and simple moral coming out of the complications. Nothing is preachy or intellectual. The film considers realism as elemental. Bhardwaj understands that details are not the crux of the story. It is the pain of Bhagirathi, who comes out flawlessly in the form of the experienced Tanuja, in the doubt eating the professor’s mind about his father’s past and in the agony of the professor’s mother (Suhas Joshi) who has had a futile relationship with her husband for 55 long years. Khedekar, as the protagonist, takes us into the maze of a riddle that starts haunting us like it does to him. Joshi’s character has a chance of fading away but with a constant spite underlining her everyday behavior, she makes her presence felt strongly.

Kaushal Inamdar’s music has held the film together with a lot of grace. The violins at the background bring the pain of the characters to fore. Mahesh Aney’s camerawork captures the moods of the story and the same locations change faces as the situation changes. The product becomes high in quality due to such contributions. What you will take away is an emotional experience with a tinge of melancholy that complicated human relationships and emotions create. That is the realism, and the success of Pitruroon.

M4M Says: A Must Watch

       

Read Marathi review here
http://moviekatta.blogspot.in/2013/12/blog-post.html

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