I have often thought about the field of astrology.
How does one chart out a career in astrology? There aren’t any courses or exams – how does one know if they have a knack for it? I have finally found the answer.
Kalank, the latest release from Dharma Productions – is the entrance test for budding astrologers. They should be made to watch the film, and predict what is coming next. The film’s script is so predictable, that if you can’t guess the ending, the pundit should give you a ladoo and say, “Beta, B.Com kar lena.”
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There are good films – that transport you and make you feel things. There are bad films – that make you laugh inadvertently. Then there are films like Kalank – the latest bullet point in Manish Malhotra’s impressive CV – that are simply lazy. They take themselves too seriously that there is no fourth wall to bang your head against.
Set in pre-partition India, it tells the story of a girl who is married off into a rich man’s family because the bahu is dying of cancer. “Mera pyar bikau nahi hai (My love is not for sale),” she says. And in the matter of one song, agrees to the marriage. Her husband is Aditya Roy Kapoor, and after the trauma of Aashiqui 2, is a stiff, sad man still in love with his ailing wife. His wife is Sonakshi Sinha who contracted a terminal illness in Lootera. To save time and effort, both the actors carry forward the same expressions.
Alia Bhatt is now in a loveless marriage and steps out of the palatial house and meets Zafar – a young Muslim man with an affinity for Set Wet Cool Hold Hair Gel. What follows is a love triangle so predictable, it could have been written by Pythagoras.
The story is based in Husnabad – which is an anagram for ‘A Husband’. Alia Bhatt has a husband, but she needs a ‘husnband‘, and is hence drawn to Zafar. Zafar is Stud Boy, who sleeps with the local women and fights CGI bulls on weekday matches for the Muslim Wrestling Federation.
Bas. Aur kya?
Pyar. Mohabbat. Ishq. Wafaa. Wafers. Dard. Pyaas. What follows is a three-hour Jashn-e-Rekhta that you hadn’t paid for. To bring in an authentic feel of pre-partition Pakistan, the writers pick words straight from Rapidex Learn Urdu in 3 Hours. The characters spout words like Aadab, Shadaab, Rooh Afza, Alif Laila for no reason whatsoever. Nobody in the films speaks normally to each other – they are playing Close Up Antakshari. Every line in the film is a dialogue. For eg.
“Hey! Where are you going?”
“Main uss makaam pe jaa raha hoon, jahaan aab-o-daana miley.”
“What will you have there?”
“Tashreef rakhenge. Chai peeyenge. Sutte ke dhuan mein khud ko jalayenge.”
If the dialogues don’t make you apply for a gun license, there are the costumes. Shot on such an opulent scale, the film makes you wonder if India colonised Britain. Madhuri Dixit plays a generic Kathak-dancing sad woman who had her heart broken in Devdas. Her residence is supposed to be a brothel but looks like the childhood fantasy of Sanjay Leela Bhansali.
We are often told that Indian audiences like escapist cinema. But I have often asked myself – how escapist are we talking about here? That we need to see people with gelled hair and cities replace light bulbs with designer torches?
The film will obviously earn 500 crores and Jeff Bezos will jack off to it, but I’m shocked how most Indian reviewers are calling it a good film with arresting performances. The performances are the weakest aspect of the movie. If you gave these sets and budget to Nawazuddin Siddiqui, he would send you home a different person.
Varun Dhawan essentially does two kinds of movies – one where he shows his abs, and the other where he acts. The two categories are mutually exclusive and Kalank belongs firmly in the first category.
Alia Bhatt who is effective in most films, doesn’t seem like herself. It’s like somebody used Polyjuice Potion on her during the shoot of Raazi, and masqueraded as her on Kalank. Sanjay Dutt is wrapped in an expensive shawl, but he treats it like an Invisibility Cloak, walking around the sets without being noticed.
The other thing that bugs me about recent films is the use of Madhuri Dixit. I get it – she’s a great dancer. But do we have to make her dance in every film? In her introduction song, she is dancing. In the next scene, she is dancing out of happiness. In another, she breaks down in pain – and runs to her house and starts dancing! When Mithun and Mandakini were dancing to Dance Dance Dance Dance is Life, they were referring to Madhuri Dixit in Kalank.
It is only Kunal Khemmu who bothers earning his paycheque – the rest are participating in the annual play of The Karan Johar School of Filmmaking. An hour into the film, you don’t give a fuck anymore. It’s like watching National Geographic late in the night – you know the tiger is chasing the deer, but you don’t give a shit because you’re not connected to either tiger or deer.
Kalank is such a terrible, shallow depiction of Indian history, it will make even Shashi Tharoor go ‘What the fornication!’.