Thursday, March 31, 2016

Kapoor and Sons - Understated, Yet Emotional

One of the wonderful things about this movie is that no character in it is perfect.  They all have interesting, even darker, shades to them, just as all of us do.  The family is far, far from perfect, just like any of our families.  And yet, we come to like each of the characters in the movie quite a bit.  Especially the grandfather, Dadu (Rishi Kapoor), although he is too flamboyant, a bit like a peacock among pigeons.  However, we take him in stride as part of the mess that family and relatives are and can be. Maybe, especially because he is raucous, contradictorily, quietly so.  Although towards the end, the sudden bit of teary-eyed noise that he makes over the internet asking his grandsons to come back, is a little unconvincing. Yes it is after a death, and deaths change people, but I still felt that he would have done better doing a semi-naked jig with a young thing, that would have jolted his grandsons and forced them to come back and find out for themselves whether he has gone (completely) cuckoo. Would have been more in line with the character.  However.

The pigeons turn out to be kingfishers and bee-eaters. They each carry shadows, which inadvertently come out in the open when they all get together after a long time and stay home for a while.  Thank god almighty that it is not yet another Bollywood wedding that we are attending.  It is rather a more macabre situation of Dadu having had a heart attack that we are called hurriedly to. Just like this instance, I find much of the movie built around ordinary, usual middle-class family happenings and things and sink into it like into a bean bag with a sigh - death and heart attack, bickering over bills and money at the breakfast table, a father screaming at his younger son about not keeping his job, the seemingly perfect and responsible first child, the faded romance of middle aged parents hinting at a once-alive togetherness and harmony, sibling rivalry... In the middle of all this, bursts and moments of love, affection and connection - the quick hug that the mother gives her son, a shared look of understanding between them, the brothers starting to fight over who has their parents' affection but then suddenly laughing about the obvious reality that they both perceive, the grandfather's mischief with his grandsons (smoking weed, no less!), apple pie(!) and more, scattered across the film's duration.


I loved it that there were not primary emotions or themes that categorised the first and second half of the movie.  Although yes, the plot moved quite effortlessly, smoothly into conflict by the end of the first half, and the little moments and hints into relationships and characters gradually build up to this publicly disastrous breakdown wherein every person in the immediate family is furious or hurt about every other.  By "smoothly into conflict" (which sounds oxymoronic) I mean there was a logical sequence to the events and the movement into conflict did not look artificial and contrived. And so, while this sequencing took its time and got our attention, it somehow felt like, the resolution of conflicts, re-building of bridges and relationships, and life returning to a new normal, was not given enough space and work.  It all seemed too pat towards the end and a little too understated perhaps.  Despite this, it works, and I shed some tears and laughed a lot and felt much.



As a soppy, sentimentalist who wants happy endings all around, what I cant wrap my heart around is Harsh's (Rajat Kapoor) death.  Should we necessarily have some part of the ending sad?  Like in Shamitabh. Why was death so necessary for the conclusion of the film? That too when here, Rathna Pathak and Rajat Kapoor carry the burdens, the heavies and the lightnesses of their relationship with such aplomb, such sincerity, I feel their ache, that wispy thread of hope when they connect, the sense of utter hopelessness when the morning-after explodes in their faces, and then again, a tentative reaching out - the phone call, and then WHAM! why do film makers do that?

I felt much more for the older couple than the younger one, which is the one thing I have not mentioned at all until now - Arjun (Siddharth Malhotra) and Tia's (Alia Bhatt) romance. I somehow didn't feel the explicit need for a man-woman romance in the midst of the family drama (it already had its own romance - the larger kind), except that, hey, this is India, and this is Bollywood - what will we do without a woman to catch the attention of one of the protagonists and vice versa.  However, what can be said about it is that it is, like other parts of the movie, understated yet poignant in its own way.  It could also be that a Tia was needed to hold Siddharth 
to the place, to bring him back home again and also to bring out his softer side. Love / romance can do that.  And Alia Bhatt does a great job, carrying Tia's shadows and manifesting her own style of light.

The elder son's character is totally inspired! Fawad Khan's character is Rahul. I mean, Rahul! A name like that, and you've got to watch the movie to know why this character is a subversion of Bollywood.  Although, Fawad Khan takes some time to warm up to Rahul. His punch was greater in Khubsoorat, and it struck me that the mother and son duo was the same in that movie as well.


Speaking of subversions, I feel that there is much in this movie that subtly subverts Bollywood cliches while still being established firmly as popular, mainstream cinema. Bravo, Shakun Batra.


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