Deconstructing Dev D

Rarely while browsing through the mundane affairs in an old, abandoned magazine does one stumble upon an engaging nude and more rarely does one accidentally discover, in the midst of such activity of harmless ogling, the human face to that enticing naked body. Dev D is such an artistic nude in the middle of the moribund routine of Bollywood which makes a complete departure from custom and ends up as one of the most remarkable films made in recent history. Only it has a more than fascinating face and an infinitely tempting body.

Cinephiles of the blogdom were having words of praise for this movie when I decided to give it a dekko, albeit a bit gingerly after my last experience with Anurag Kashyap’s ‘No Smoking’ ending up in a hair-tearing frenzy of sorts. Before I launch myself into something with a semblance of a review let me thank Providence that Sarat Chandra Chattopadyay was born a Hindu and to the best of my knowledge died that way. If he would have been buried and not burnt the Bengali novelist would have surely launched into a bout of crazy somersaults in his grave by the manner in which the re-interpretation of his tragedy was executed with “carnal sins” as its new central theme. With unabashed vocalizations of every word/sound/noise related to S-E-X, Dev D has broken rules that might never get enforced in our films again. Every character in the film makes their candor on the issue of sexuality apparent within moments of their appearance. Even the hero’s father is emphatic in his displeasure over the “sooki sooki baans ki dandiyon” that his son is busy chasing, overlooking the “real” women in his vicinity. In a one-of-it’s-kind adaptation of Devdas - superbly superimposed on present social realities - Kashyap introduces us to a Paro unafraid of communicating her sexual urges and a Chandramukhi who is too-tough-to-be-torn by a society out to make her feel a miserable victim. The three main characters in unison make for an experience which is heady to say the least. Here are the highlights from my latest multiplex experience:

Parminder/Paro - She redefines “equality of the sexes” in a revolutionary manner as she eagerly seeks physical intimacy with her lover - more for her own enjoyment than toeing the “Boys love so that they can have ‘it’, Women give ‘it’ just to have some love” rubbish. She is in total command of her life and is unafraid in her attempt to pursue things which pleasures her the most. When a malicious rumor wrecks her love-affair she makes a desperate bid to make clarifications and sort things out but male-ego and frayed nerves become telling hurdles in her way. Hurt and insulted by the love of her life, that too on the basis of a flimsy rumor, she moves away without a word of reproach or spite. Instead, she wipes her tears, gets married to a respectable suitor and in general terms “moves on” with her life. While her feeling of being wronged by her lover fades into a wise acceptance of reality she also comes around as a woman of firm convictions as she is ready to help her old friend/lover in his hour of need (even with the chores) but not ready to cheat on her husband with a limp ‘for-old-time’s-sake’ excuse. There is sweet revenge at the end of the line for her when she shows Dev his real “aukad” not in any subtle terms but with considerable venom and bite much to the cheer of the audience.

Mahi Gill is the new find for the industry with this film. I agree with people already lining her up as the rightful replacement for Tabu. And that on her maiden film is saying a lot about her abilities. 10 on 10 for her Paro. I personally cheered for her on that “aukad” note.



Devendra/Dev – The maudlin hero who never valued what he had when he had it, the weak male with an inflated ego and a weaker spine to boot, a masochistic hedonist who escaped his troubles by drowning his consciousness in a flood of spirits - Kashyap’s Dev is an epitome of the Irresponsible for us. While trying to come to terms with Paro’s conjugal bliss he is driven more by jealousy than love when he decides to ask her to come back to him. Even when he gets a chance, he is quick to ask her to “make love” to him in order to reaffirm her allegiance without risking the spread of an elaborate apology for his past blunders himself. While displaying scant regard for emotional bonding he is unashamed in his wanton urge for flesh and hardly ever makes any bones about it. Though his self-destructiveness strikes a cord with Chanda, who eventually falls in love with him, he continues to remain the undeserving scoundrel with abominable aplomb. He is more of a chauvinistic demon than a tragic hero of any appeal. Though Kashyap cooks up a picture of the resurrection of Dev at the end of the story it somehow seemed unjust that the diabolical D must end up with the beautiful damsel in Chanda. Instead, he should have ideally choked on his “coke with vodka” concoction and died in the hole he dug for himself.

Abhay Deol might never see the lights or the cameras of the Chopras and the Johars but he is one incredible actor who will continue to make ripples with his association with “different” films. Considering he was great in his last release - ‘Oye Lucky, Lucky Oye’ too one can expect a world of good from him in the future. He brings to life Dev in all his morbid glory.



Lenny/Chanda – A girl who is a victim of urban voyeurism defies desertion from her own family and friends and discovers the most tangible reality of life a la Frost “That it goes on”. And with this earthy demeanor she tames her ghosts to submission and how! Fighting a lone battle from upon a tightrope of survival she has a handy lesson or two for all and sundry in the throes of depression. She is not in the slightest bitter about the treatment she has received and remains unapologetic for morphing into the “All America Schoolgirls” “CSW” with time and necessity. Bright and lively on the outside, she too nurses feelings of pain and hurt in the deepest corner of her heart that makes her so believably human. Though it takes Dev to unearth those feelings from within her neither once does she submit to the sway of her emotions nor give in to tears – not even when Dev leaves her in a huff. The scene where Dev first meets Lenny is full of sparkling conversation, not very conducive for ears accustomed to conventions of levity or innuendo though easily making for one of the highlights of the film. Chanda comes across as the strongest of the three characters as she inspires with the poise with which she handles her ‘situation’ and ultimately ends up to be the proverbial guiding light to the reckless ways of Dev. She is bold yet mature, ravishing yet restrained though all through there is this abiding subtext that it is the sheer suffering she undergoes that eventually moulds her into a superior individual by a slow, tortuous process – a true woman in the garb of a wide-eyed girl.

Kalki Koechlin, I doff my hat to you. She is the true star of the film. Having taken the film’s flow by the scruff of the neck she makes every viewer become engrossed into the machinations of her mind right from when she emerges on the screen. She is vivacious, thoughtful, emotive and a complete natural with the camera. Her depiction of the girl with a quiet sense of assurance and control that defines Chanda is so potent that it sweeps one off his feet. Doubtlessly, she scintillates with her brilliant performance though one cannot really put his finger on that-one-thing which really worked for her in this film – My guess is it was she, herself.


Coming to Mr. Kashyap, I think as a film lover I can discount him half-a-dozen of his ‘No Smoking’ duds for this one piece of pioneering work. Dev D is a bold undertaking delivered with consummate grace and a killer style. The popularity of Dev D can truly spark off a change in the way ‘the message’ part of ‘classics’ is redone to give a look of contemporary relevance and present them with fresh perspective and insight. No doubt we have a moody maverick inMr. Kashyap; we only hope we find him in his creative best (also tangible/comprehendible best) in Gulaal.

I for one will be watching out, waiting to be impressed once more.
The teasers seem delicious enough.

Slumdog Millionaire - My Views

“A film which transcends boundaries of mediocrity while portraying the conflicting realities of an inferior universe – Slumdog Millionaire goes probing into the minds and hearts of the millions who jostle for existence in the dark crevices of Mumbai’s underbelly, nourishing dreams of a brighter tomorrow and a better deal from life and ends as a rewarding experience for all who decide to give the film a chance to exhilarate in all its ornate glory. It is a film which installs its protagonist Jamal Malik as a hero who emerges from destitution and homelessness to become a millionaire by virtue of destiny and little else. Slumdog Millionaire is a riveting depiction of harsh truths of life in an unforgiving city yet provides for the scope of human hope and love to thrive and blossom, thus, attaining its due share of greatness even without asking for it.”

Oh, how I would have liked my impression of Slumdog Millionaire to read like this. But no, my take on the film does not even step on the fringes of the above exaltation. That does not mean that my ‘real’ opinion of the film is the exact opposite of whatever is written within the quotes. In reality I found it to be a strange film which had enough cinematic cunning in it to keep me interested till its end. It did annoy, at some places disgust, but the queer mix of “all-that’s-Indian” cliché hung to it like an insistent moth craving for attention from the amused audience I provided it with last night. There are hundreds of detailed reviews doing the rounds in the cyber-space so I would not torture my solitary reader with specifics. I would rather put down in as less words as possible those attributes of the film which amused me with such unpleasant regularity.

First and foremost I think the film would have been far less ‘incredible’ if shot flat-out in Hindi. Seasoned actors like Saurabh Shukla, Irrfan Khan and Anil Kapoor look horrible caricatures of their true self while mouthing the average Indian’s Ingg-lissss. In one sequence Jamal, a slum-dweller since birth swears “Maa Kasam” in perfect phoren accent to his blind beggar friend who surprisingly knows Benjamin Franklin just from description. In hindsight one feels what a great relief it was that Surdas’ bhajan was not tampered with Beyonce-an wisdom to imbibe more cinematic meaning to the context.

Secondly, Danny Boyle, the now-acclaimed Golden-Globe winning director never misses a trick when drawing from the bag of The Great Indian Tricks – the one that holds all the hackneyed clichés and worn-out stereotypes that are associated with a resurgent India - A nation, which to the Wise Wise West, remains blissfully ignorant of the rot that ails the occupants of its vast netherworld.

According to the film:

1. Mumbai is just a vast slum, complete with railway tracks criss-crossing their ways to reach VT. It is only recently that slums have started to make way for high-rises like “Javed Heights” under the supervision of the local mafia.

2. It is common for slum-kids to go snorkeling into shit-holes just so that they can get Amitabh Bachhan’s autograph. Hygiene? Human sense of self-worth? No, sir. This is India, where people are crazy about cine-stars and they would do just about anything to catch the glimpse of their hero.

3. Slum-kids are taught of Athos and Porthos from “The Three Musketeers” at school without having the faintest of idea of how the Taj Mahal might look like. Feigning ignorance of the great edifice, “slumdogs” are prone to mistake it for “heaven” or worse, “some hotel”. Globalization anyone?

4. One fine morning, there are communal riots without an inkling of suspicion or rumors doing the rounds. As a fall-out two Muslim boys (Salim and Jamal) and a Hindu girl (Latika. If that’s not an obvious Hindu name, what is?) get thrown in together to rue their fate and later, share their lives which are so inextricably entwined by fate. The lesson - Peaceful co-existence. Narendrabhai, are you listening?

5. Poor Indians are crafty little crooks who swindle rich gullible American tourists off their dollars, steal their shoes and pretend to be guides and ‘recycle’ mineral water bottles in their own ingenious way.

6. There are well-groomed, English speaking chaiwallahs who fill-in for their employers in Indian call-centers. Now Mr. Bob or Chuck will know the real reason behind the poor service that he receives whenever he needs help with his vacuum cleaner or dish-washer.

7. Mafia dons in Mumbai have mistresses for making unpalatable sandwiches for them and little else. RGV, your khallas days are numbered!

8. Beware of the jealous quiz-show host! Don’t win large sums of money to invite his wrath. If Amitabh Bachhan had pondered on this point he would not have been there in London promoting the film. After all he hosted our own “Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?” for real. Did he not? Any news of the winners since then?

9. Victoria Terminus is the new lovers’ spot in Mumbai. If you are looking forward to moments of pushing-shoving-hassling induced togetherness in the anonymity of a “spirited” crowd, here you go!

10. No film on/around/in/about/above/beneath/between/over India can ever be complete without the happy couple celebrating their reunion (in short – Destiny) by dancing on railways platforms, accompanied by hundreds of co-passengers doing their jig. Spirit of Mumbai? Naah, A Spirited India, I would say. High spirits at that. White rum, maybe.

I don’t have much to complain about the film. Its mode of narration- that of flashbacks between quiz-questions is a sort of welcome innovation. Some of the actors and child actors perform startlingly well. A.R Rahman’s music is foot-tapping, no wonder even he was surprised by the amount of re-touching done to the tracks. But inspite of all these virtues Slumdog Millionaire remains just a well-packaged product far removed from the altar of greatness or the praise of posterity. In its attempt to show-case hope amongst ruins it has turned the spotlight to filth and necessity, hunger and helplessness. Not that the India of today has moved beyond the grasp of these evils but surely it has moved out of their grip. And that is where the film fails. It fails in portraying the follies that are the bitter fruits of transition in any vibrant state and instead focuses on the age-old belief in Destiny and Fate being the only agents of change and reform. The avid film follower is bound to draw parallels from films as conjoined in conception and as disparate in delivery as Salaam Bombay, Tropa de Elite and Cidade de Deus – all wonderfully made films depicting grim reality of an alternate social setup in different countries, but Slumdog’s treatment of poverty seems prematurely poised towards garnering attention and awards leaving very little scope for cinematic subtlety to emerge and enthrall. It rankles to think how complete the film could have been with a bit of genuine intent, a slice of directorial integrity and a generous pinch of Life to it. But then, I believe a film on ‘hungry, naked Indians’, shot in English, directed by a British director, laced with intermittent Hindi mouthed by native actors help so much more in bringing out that desi flavour – that sure-shot ingredient to charm the Western audience with, win four Golden Globe Awards and pitch for the Oscars all at the same time.

images: sulekha.com