Umrao Jaan - Movie Review
FILM: Umrao jaan
DIRECTOR: J P Dutta
ACTORS: Aishwarya Rai, Abhishek Bachchan
There is a Sarat Chandra Chatterjee (Devdas, Parineeta) moment in this film that you rightly assume pivotal to the story. The rich, bratty son of a Nawab (Bachchan) clashes with his father over a tawaif, Umrao (Rai), who he fancies more than his inherited wealth. The father, an unknown actor who's made to appear a minion, hurriedly displays his anger and instantly throws his son out the window, because I guess, he's found the girl cozying up in the bedroom. The severity of the situation is lost on you; the sequence disappears from the screen in a matter of seconds; the Nawab's son shifts to his friend's house instead; life moves on. The problem with that scene is the problem with this film: it shows a lack of talent or patience with creating convincing, dramatic moments or characters.
It was just a few minutes before that you'd have wondered how Umrao's undying passion for the hero must have developed over verbal acquaintance of the one night that the brat chose to pay for her virginity. He had several other bidders to compete against. She was expecting an old, doddering cripple to be her love at first night. Of course, he also disowns her much later almost as hastily as they'd fallen in love. You're not likely to care much for this love of theirs, or much else. I sense the film wishes you did.
If you're still up, even as Umrao pardons a helpful friend for having raped her in a fit of sorts, you can tell that nothing but the effort to gallop to the next page of an enormously thick and colourless screenplay is of importance here. The purpose is not to engage, leave aside entertain. It is to breathlessly narrate, plot after plot after plot, as two dozen performers get their 15-second walk-on parts and Umrao remains battered yet again: another Nawab who turns out to be a dacoit (Sunil Shetty) falls for her; she is shunned by her boyfriend; her family refuses to accept her back; the Brits have begun to burn Lucknow….
The Economic Times recently organised a talent-hunt among business schools and colleges where the business ideas generated by students ranged from high-end robotics to retailing. One of the entries, I am told, was from a student who wished to set up a company that sold 'Lucknowi Tehzeeb'. The entry was instantly rejected. I think this film's makers could have done with such a specialized shop though.
Exuding the ethos or feel of old-Lucknow cannot be as easy a bunch of wonderful lines in chaste Urdu, and a claustrophobic, derelict shamiana-set that the film rarely moves out from. You just observe an uneasy dullness in the air. Nothing, it appears, can enliven the spirits. Not for sure the rank average soundtrack of this supposed musical. Not even Shabana Azmi who brilliantly repeats the role of a courtesan-queen from Shyam Bengal's top-rated Mandi.
The result is as pale and bland as the leading actress of this film; as boring and belaboured as Dutta's last test of audiences' patience (LOC). Period.
DIRECTOR: J P Dutta
ACTORS: Aishwarya Rai, Abhishek Bachchan
There is a Sarat Chandra Chatterjee (Devdas, Parineeta) moment in this film that you rightly assume pivotal to the story. The rich, bratty son of a Nawab (Bachchan) clashes with his father over a tawaif, Umrao (Rai), who he fancies more than his inherited wealth. The father, an unknown actor who's made to appear a minion, hurriedly displays his anger and instantly throws his son out the window, because I guess, he's found the girl cozying up in the bedroom. The severity of the situation is lost on you; the sequence disappears from the screen in a matter of seconds; the Nawab's son shifts to his friend's house instead; life moves on. The problem with that scene is the problem with this film: it shows a lack of talent or patience with creating convincing, dramatic moments or characters.
It was just a few minutes before that you'd have wondered how Umrao's undying passion for the hero must have developed over verbal acquaintance of the one night that the brat chose to pay for her virginity. He had several other bidders to compete against. She was expecting an old, doddering cripple to be her love at first night. Of course, he also disowns her much later almost as hastily as they'd fallen in love. You're not likely to care much for this love of theirs, or much else. I sense the film wishes you did.
If you're still up, even as Umrao pardons a helpful friend for having raped her in a fit of sorts, you can tell that nothing but the effort to gallop to the next page of an enormously thick and colourless screenplay is of importance here. The purpose is not to engage, leave aside entertain. It is to breathlessly narrate, plot after plot after plot, as two dozen performers get their 15-second walk-on parts and Umrao remains battered yet again: another Nawab who turns out to be a dacoit (Sunil Shetty) falls for her; she is shunned by her boyfriend; her family refuses to accept her back; the Brits have begun to burn Lucknow….
The Economic Times recently organised a talent-hunt among business schools and colleges where the business ideas generated by students ranged from high-end robotics to retailing. One of the entries, I am told, was from a student who wished to set up a company that sold 'Lucknowi Tehzeeb'. The entry was instantly rejected. I think this film's makers could have done with such a specialized shop though.
Exuding the ethos or feel of old-Lucknow cannot be as easy a bunch of wonderful lines in chaste Urdu, and a claustrophobic, derelict shamiana-set that the film rarely moves out from. You just observe an uneasy dullness in the air. Nothing, it appears, can enliven the spirits. Not for sure the rank average soundtrack of this supposed musical. Not even Shabana Azmi who brilliantly repeats the role of a courtesan-queen from Shyam Bengal's top-rated Mandi.
The result is as pale and bland as the leading actress of this film; as boring and belaboured as Dutta's last test of audiences' patience (LOC). Period.
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