Restrained performances by Shabana Azmi, Sonam Kapoor are the real winners of 'Neerja'

Neerja Bhanot died two days before she turned 23, on September 5, 1986. Her parents received her body in a coffin on her birthday.

Director Ram Madhvani, tells us a moving, poignant story of Neerja, the daughter and Neerja, the tragic hero, in his film starring Sonam Kapoor.

The silver lining on the grey Karachi cloud of the doomed September day, is that Sonam Kapoor, the sincere actress has been born. Especially when she eats a chocolate cookie. More on that, later.

Thanks to Madhvani’s vision kept simple, and a tightly written script by Saiwyn Quadras and Sanyukta Chawla Shaikh, the biopic has given the best possible rebirth to Neerja Bhanot. Both in our memories and in our hearts.

The facts are horrifying enough. Four armed terrorists hijacked Pan American Flight 73 at Karachi airport. Chief purser, Neerja, daughter of a Mumbai journalist, Harish Bhanot, saved 360 people while she bravely took bullets herself.

Before that, for a harrowing 16 hours, she served coffee and sandwiches to the frightened passengers, comforted them, shielded three little children with her body on her way to the exit. When the captain and his two-crew people escaped the plane, after she quickly alerted them of the hijack, Neerja in her first job as a head purser, is believed to have announced, “ The captain has left. I am the captain.”

When the ordeal was finally over, and the relieved passengers clutched on to their loved ones at Mumbai airport, Neerja came back to her heartbroken but proud parents and two brothers, in a wooden coffin.As evident, there is more than sufficient material for any inspiring and heroic biopic. But the true achievement of this film is in introducing us to both Neerja, the brave professional who died serving not just coffee but serving the nation and the world; as well as the doting daughter, her parents adored darling who they called affectionately: Laado.

Madhvani ties the film poignantly with Hrishikesh Mukherjee’s Aanand in its central philosophy spelt out by the memorable line, “ Babumoshai, zindagi badi honi chahiye…….lambi nahin (Life should be big, not long)” Showcasing Neerja as a die-hard Rajesh Khanna fan, he turns what could have been jarring moments, into the most deeply heart wrenching ones.

To understand this, watch how Sonam sings “mere sapno ki raani, kab aayegi tum…” to save lives. Or when Shabana Azmi, in her best performance so far (yes, that may be unimaginable, considering all her past glories), as the mother, Rama, repeats a certain Rajesh Khanna line, now mentioned in jokes. Both are moments when tears roll down, hearts break and heads and spirits are held high.

The latter, though, takes away from the film’s core subject of it being all about Neerja and instead becomes a film school on great acting by Shabana Azmi, complete with subtle Punjabi accent and tone. Madhvani, here, resorts to the classic syndrome of Bollywood Maa. The need and the greed for an emotional speech, is one big flaw that mars the film with unnecesarry melodrama in the epilogue.

Yet, there are moments and performances that stay with you. One of them is Yogendra Tiku as Harish Bhanot on the phone, at his office desk, when he informs his wife of the plane hijack, stuttering and helpless.

There can be countless scenes of panic, hysteria and violence that can build drama, given the nature of the real life hijack story.

But the one moment that beats all, is a long and lonely one when Sonam eats a cream biscuit. It’s the moment with least drama and no glycerine or tears. It’s a very fine moment in cinema, depicting both romance and deep strength.

Captured in the most heart tugging series of close ups , one lives through contrasting emotions of fear, desire, unfulfilled dreams, young romance, resignation, contentment and brave resolve in the most meditative full take of Sonam eating up both the biscuit and the most memorable, meaty role.

That silent moment of Neerja’s last supper is Sonam Kapoor’s finest salute to Neerja, the captain and the darlinglaado.

Fitoor is a tragedy depicting the death of Charles Dickens' Great Expectations

Charles Dickens’s Miss Havisham became the most fascinating character etched in Literature stone since his novel, “Great Expectations” made it’s place among unforgettable though melodramatic stories.

The wealthy spinster who lived in her bridal dress, was a character made of a volatile combination of glass like fragile vulnerability and bitter revenge. When jilted by her lover on her wedding day, she is understandably heartbroken. But, she is determined to create an entire legacy of heartbreaks by raising her adopted daughter, Estella as a seductive lethal weapon of her ultimate revenge on men. The unknowing victim is a poor little orphan, Pip who falls for the beautiful but cold Estella.

So when you have these timeless characters and the story revolving around the romantic idealist, Pip who has already made a place in your hearts, there is more than sufficient Raj Kapoor kind of material to recreate the magical world of love and pathos on Indian and Bollywood canvas.

Sadly and heartbreakingly, director, Abhishek Kapoor, who moves from anything but literary in Chetan Bhagat’s Kai Po Che! (The Three Mistakes of My Life) to heavyweight Dickens in Fitoor, fails to meet the towering expectations. The story begins really well in establishing the themes of social hierarchy in a snow-clad Kashmir, but falters and appears as dead and wooden as the initial hollow relationship between Pip’s Noor (muscular and awkward Aditya Roy Kapur) and Estella’s Firdaus (red haired Katrina Kaif).

There are moments in the second half, when the narrative takes you into the icy, captivating beauty of Kashmir, cinematically captured like a painting by cinematographer, Anay Goswami. The emptiness of the upper strata of society is symbolised beautifully by haunting, silent mansions and giant doors closing and locking in tragic lives. The rest of the visual appeal rest on magnificent paintings in a London exhibit, exquisite costumes and Katrina’s flaming red hair.

The ultimate nail in the Dickens coffin comes from the complete lack of intensity in Pip’s Noor played by Aditya Roy Kapur and the criminal atrocity of a changed ending, which takes away from the very pain of heartbreak that defines the original work.

When Tabu takes on the daunting and delicious role of Miss Havisham as Hazrat Begum , there is tremendous anticipation. And she meets it occasionally to the best of her capacity, in the way she carries the weight ofSo when you have these timeless characters and the story revolving around the romantic idealist, Pip who has already made a place in your hearts, there is more than sufficient Raj Kapoor kind of material to recreate the magical world of love and pathos on Indian and Bollywood canvas.

Sadly and heartbreakingly, director, Abhishek Kapoor, who moves from anything but literary in Chetan Bhagat’s Kai Po Che! (The Three Mistakes of My Life) to heavyweight Dickens in Fitoor, fails to meet the towering expectations. The story begins really well in establishing the themes of social hierarchy in a snow-clad Kashmir, but falters and appears as dead and wooden as the initial hollow relationship between Pip’s Noor (muscular and awkward Aditya Roy Kapur) and Estella’s Firdaus (red haired Katrina Kaif).

There are moments in the second half, when the narrative takes you into the icy, captivating beauty of Kashmir, cinematically captured like a painting by cinematographer, Anay Goswami. The emptiness of the upper strata of society is symbolised beautifully by haunting, silent mansions and giant doors closing and locking in tragic lives. The rest of the visual appeal rest on magnificent paintings in a London exhibit, exquisite costumes and Katrina’s flaming red hair.

The ultimate nail in the Dickens coffin comes from the complete lack of intensity in Pip’s Noor played by Aditya Roy Kapur and the criminal atrocity of a changed ending, which takes away from the very pain of heartbreak that defines the original work.

When Tabu takes on the daunting and delicious role of Miss Havisham as Hazrat Begum , there is tremendous anticipation. And she meets it occasionally to the best of her capacity, in the way she carries the weight ofpain in her eyes and body. She revels in the glory of dramatic tragedy and makes it her own, just the way she did in Vishal Bhardwaj’s Haider. Meena Kumari would have found a very satisfying descendant in Tabu.When Katrina Kaif plays the beautiful and enigmatic and cold Estelle, there is zero expectation. However, she surprises and delights with a terrific translation of her Estella to the composed Firdaus who stands as tall as Tabu’s manipulative Ammi.

While director, Abhishek Kapoor makes a laudable effort of bringing in art and politics in the land of turbulent Kashmir, the film staggers under the weight of vague resemblance to Hollywood remake starring Gwyneth Paltrow.

When a big Bollywood star appears in the most heart wrenching, crucial and turnaround moment as Magwitch, the flat expression and his sudden last appearance end up as the most miserable joke of a scene.

As for Aditya Roy Kapur’s Pip, he is nothing more than a Kashmiri looking ghost wandering aimlessly and cluelessly staring at Kaif who keeps repeating, “mujhe ghoorna band karo (stop staring at me)”

Well, there is little else to admire in Dickens’s tomb called Fitoor.

Film buff, con master, filmmaker: Meet Ram Gopal Varma through his book 'Guns and Thighs'

A magnificent Jackie Shroff in brown clothes and boots, stands on a vast desert land, looking like a hunter king. Gold dust from the sprawling sands, blend with warm sunlight , forming a fantastical picture with A R Rahman’s gentle music creating an intriguing mood.

Cut to Urmila Matondkar looking like a seductive apsara in deep red ghaghra choli, swaying her luscious figure, sending the temperature soaring higher than the desert degrees. Rahman’s soft music suddenly changes to a faster beating rhythm. Jackie, seen in a long shot, is now galloping on a horse, as if chasing a vision. He stops. The camera stays for a brief second on his face, capturing his look of excited anticipation.

Cut to a closeup of Urmila swaying her neck, her beautiful kohl eyed eyes wild and more seductive than the hint of cleavage seen in the frame. Rahman’s changing tempo is matched by shadowy lit frames of Urmila dancing. Cut to Urmila and Jackie’s faces close to each others and the magical lyrics by Mehboob take on a fiery quality with Rehman’s haunting tune along with Hariharan’s and Swarnlatha’s voices, “hai rama yeh kua hua, kyon aise yeh humein satane lagey…”

On re watching the song, one can see how Ram Gopal Varma’s directorial skills further enhance the theme through the locale, cinematography, choreography, costumes and the capturing of super hot Urmila’s neat curves and mesmerizing dance moves. The rest of the unbeatably, glorious song of lust and passion is history along with Varma’s only romantic comedy, Rangeela in 1995.

Twenty years later, Ram Gopal Varma describes how his vision of raw, animal passion was translated by Rahman into a masterful, sensuous piece, in his book, “Guns and Thighs: The Story of My Life”. (Varma was deeply influenced by Bachchan’s gun in Deewar and Sridevi’s thighs in Himmatwala, hence the title).

Both Urmila and the film are responsible for making me a fan of Ram Gopal Varma once upon a time, to the extent of forgiving the unforgettable Aag. I have distinct memories of sitting torturously through the latter with a friend, out of sheer loyalty to Varma, not Bachchan.

While Varma has made his mark with crime and gangster films like Satya and Company, Rangeela was the film that woke me up to the sensation called RGV who had stormed into the film industry with Nagarjuna and Urmila starrrer, Shiva in 1990.

By his own admission in the book, Shiva was a copy of Bruce Lee’s Return of The Dragon. What makes the narrative of how his first film got made, more fascinating, is his candid and brutal honesty of his own manipulation of the producer and the stars involved in giving their first nod to a new entrant who had zero experience but plenty of passion. Here we meet RGV- the con master, the liar and king manipulator.

The book does what Varma does to the women in his films. He strips off layers of his psyche, sometimes with his own fascination for himself and sometimes, like a cold, detached observer.

At first he covers up with his typical, headline making statements, starting with his dedication to Mad magazine, Ayn Rand, Urmila Matondkar, Bruce Lee, Amitabh Bachchan, porn star Tori Black and ahem… “ a few gangsters”. It is another matter that there is only one page devoted to Matondkar , none to Ms Black but a certain Ms Rifle and plenty of space for Ms Rand and Bachchan.

“My world consists of powerful music, intense music, sexy women, vodka, gangsters, ghosts and philosophies which I can twist and turn to my convenience….social responsibilities and family values are lofty ideals”. While this may be true, Varma doesn’t really did dig deeper here except for the music and gangsters. Instead, he wastes a good number of pages to clear controversies, which frankly his movie audience doesn’t care about.

Throughout, you get acquainted with his numerous sides. There is Varma, the analyst who sees “flops by intent and success by accident”, Varma the brutally honest filmmaker who cuts egos to size, right from Anurag Kashyap to Ismail Durbar. A particular anecdote reveals how a certain visiting card retrived from his dustbin, changed a career path. As he puts it, “the whole point is that I am so fascinated with how the cycle of fortune keeps on throwing people in and out of dustbins.”

Surprisingly, you see flashes of Varma the human being who shows respect to Basu Chatterjee, remorse and guilt over certain actresses’ failures and his own deeper emotions connected to his family. His first story on M M Kreem, gave me goosebumps, despite a deliberate nonchalant tone of writing. Varma can be not just dismissive of everyone around but also his own inherent sharpness and insight for real talent and regard for the same.

Then, there is Varma the fan. The title of the book refers to Sridevi’s thunder thighs which drove the whole nation queuing up to watch the infamous Himmatwala. Varma describes Sridevi’s star status very vividly by narrating an incident of how thousands of people followed Sridevi’s car in the remote area of Nandyal, in her early days. Calling her one of his “Gods” in the index of his chapters, amongst Rahman and Bachchan, Varma puts up Sridevi on a pedestal and insults her husband, Boney Kapoor at the same time in the inimitable way, only he can.

From within brief snippets of his journey, the real gems are about how certain characters like Bhiku Mhatre and Kallu Mama from Satya, were born and fine and funny moments like Munna’s (Aamir Khan) bright yellow outfit scene in Rangeela, evolved. A trip down memory lane to a theatre in Vijaywada and his tryst with a certain manager, is like a starry eyed scene straight from the movies .

A hilarious narrative on a train accident and a death reveals Varma’s sense of humour, something he could well explore by making a dark comedy. He is quite capable of evoking inappropriate laughs in the particular chapter appropriately titled, “A Tragicomedy”.

By the time the racy 200 pages end in an entirely unnecessary long ramble against the media, one is left with some entertaining read on his risk taking and lying abilities, his idea machine mind, his adventurous jail lock up episodes and a random dissection of his films that leave you wanting for more.

Just like Ram Gopal Varma's silence on Urmila Matondkar, who he calls a “simple sweetheart”.

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Awards season be damned: Why Ranbir Kapoor is the real hero this year

(First published on Firstpost.com)

Ranbir Kapoor takes risks. Ranbir Kapoor dares. Ranbir Kapoor really acts. Perhaps that’s the reason he didn’t win a Filmfare award or any other award this year. Not even in an “aiynwain” category, as they jokingly mentioned at Filmfare awards event screened on television last night.

The rest of the nominees and winners are performers, be it on screen or on stage. Sometimes they even overdo it, giving sobbing speeches of endless gratitude to mummy and papa who sit nonplussed, bravely facing the television cameras and lights creating the illusional halo of their two minutes of fame.

So while Ranveer Singh makes the most of his hard-earned glory, owning the stage and the mike, he also charms every senior actor in sight, does everything possible to entertain, does the finest job of mimicking Anil Kapoor, wins every single best actor award at every event for Bajirao Mastanialong with several hearts and laughs in the audiences; there is no sign of the quieter and the less flamboyant talented counterpart: the elusive Ranbir Kapoor.Both the actors performed opposite Deepika Padukone this year, who has shone brighter than ever with three mega roles that pack in much power. Be it Piku, Tamasha or Bajirao Mastani, she outdoes herself in each.

But when paired opposite Ranbir Kapoor in Tamasha, Deepika is at her best. It seems to escape the jury that the reason for this may not be the so called chemistry they have together, but Kapoor’s own willingness to sidestep from screen space owing to his written character. This is a trait not too many leading men possess.

So when Ranbir stylishly flicks his wrist and shakes Deepika’s hand and calls himself ‘Don’, you feel the thrill of this fun, mysterious character. Or when he does a Dev Anand head shake, you enjoy the Bollywood blood in him. Or when he switches to the tortured salesman who rests his head on a table, defeated and heartbroken, you feel the angst (gem of a scene by director, Imtiaz Ali).

Or when he feverishly changes from the normal, sane man to the mad, uncontrollable Ved, at the brink of insanity, you believe in him despite the jarring digression and the melodrama in the script. That’s the brilliance of Ranbir, who also took a backseat to Arjun Rampal in the experimental Roy and invested himself completely in a misplaced belief in the mega crore film, Bombay Velvet.

Meanwhile, the rest of the nominees like Bachchan and Ranveer Singh won both hits and awards. Not to say they didn’t work any less for it or they didn’t excel in their roles. But lady luck and the lady in black favoured them more because their movies turned out to be more popular. Ironically, it is Bhansali who was responsible for Ranbir’s first flop, Saawariya and Singh’s two hits—Ram Leela and Bajirao Mastani.

Within this larger context of each one’s contribution in terms of risk and talent, one can’t help missing Ranbir in the awards game, which have become the real tamasha on TV.

The only gratification award comes from watching Ranbir’s scene in Tamasha when he says in an emotionally choked voice, “Papa, main kahani suno, haan? Bahut pehle ki baat hai, ek aadmi hua karta tha. Uska naam tha…. Hero (Dad, can I tell you a story? It's an old one. Once upon a time there was a man... let's call him Hero”

We miss you, Ranbir.

SAALA KHADOOS: DECENT BUT UNDERWHELMING DESPITE A ROCKING MADHAVAN AND A SWEET RITIKA

There are many things to like about the Hindi- Tamil bilingual film, Saala Khadoos (also releasing as Irudhi Suttru) starting from the perfect title, the simple concept by director, Sudha Kongara who has debuted with a Tamil film earlier, the very credible co-producer, Rajkumar Hirani and it’s realistic cast.

There is a khadoos and bitter boxing coach—the usually pleasant Madhavan now sporting a beard, long unkempt hair barely revealing his eyes and lots of bulk, along with a constantly growling voice---and there is an untrained but God gifted fisherwoman—a real life kick boxer and a non actress, Ritika Singh  ---- who thinks nothing of blowing some fists at anyone in sight, including her insufferably rude coach.

Madhavan’s Adi and Ritika’s Madhi are a refreshing sight in their shabbiest best. Unlike Priyanka in Mary Kom, there is not an inch of make up on Ritika’s face. Instead, there are all kinds of expressions, ranging from raw anger to more anger, unbridled joy and love to determination and triumph.

Saala Khadoos follows the regular Sports film format- that of an underdog trained by a wronged and embittered former boxing hero who could have won a championship. The underdog appeals that much more because it’s a woman and that too from a very poor family fisher people in a village in Chennai. There is a rival coach (Zakir Khan) and head of Sports Association, who is the enemy from the past. There is a nice ally, a junior Chennai coach (Nasser) who brings in some melodrama along with Madhi’s sister (Mumtaz Sorcar) in a nice but predictable subplot.

All these put together, start off really well against the backdrop of a rustic Chennai, with a smattering of some funny dialogues. But soon, each scene gets clichéd and the focus shifts dangerously towards romance. The conflicts are too blah and seen before.

One keeps waiting for the adrenalin to kick in, the kind that gives you a Sports film high, the old wounds along with the new, in boxing rings which should get the blood to boil; the challenging, harder blows inside boxing rings that should bring out cries of ‘oh no’. Unfortunately, there are very few boxing match sequences and the film moves directly to the grand finale, without giving us the satisfaction of the mean and tough fight.

So, when the eventual blood and glove moment comes, you don’t exactly cheer. Instead, you mildly tear up when Madhavan in his finest moment, chokes, “Meri Mohammad Ali.”

Kyaa Kool Hain Hum 3 review: Riteish's special appearance the only cool thing in this awesomely boring sex comedy

(First Published in Firstpost)

The first thing you see on screen are two oranges. Lemons and oranges are the oldest tricks in the trade for attempting adult humour at a woman’s anatomy. You yawn and wait for the banana in the third installment of Ekta Kapoor’s Kyaa Kool Hain Hum 3.

Instead you see crows and parrots and dogs and rats. Oh, there is also a screwdriver.

And of course, the most inane and lamest of three actors Tusshar Kapoor, Aftab Shivdasani, Krishna Abhishek — all of whom seem willing to hang upside down, do anything to be the joker which of course involves constantly taking off their pants — is Kapoor.

In Kapoor’s case, it also involves donning a red saree and constantly going cock eyed. Not sure if that would make you laugh or cry. More likely— SCRAM AND SCOOT.

For those interested in Big Boss's popular participant Mandana Karimi, yes she is seen in bikinis but she only flutters her pretty eyelashes and nothing more. However, in the movie there are three other women willing to show their cleavage and do only one constant act — that of lusty pouts and purrs.

Gizelle Thakral has a name like Meri Lee and Claudia Ciesla is Suckoo — short for Shakuntala. Writers Milap Zaveri and Mushtaq Sheikh must have exhausted their creative juices while thinking up those suggestive names because they had nothing left to offer by way of story line or dialogues. The story is crappy and lines are crassier. The third lady in the film is Meghna Naidu, who plays Kapoor’s masi lusting after Aftab’s Rocky.

So there are these women flaunting and throwing themselves at men’s feet (there is one even washing Abhishek’s feet) and on their beds. Oh, there is also a fourth entrant— Sushmita Mukherjee in a spoof on Black’s Rani Mukherjee who plays dumb, makes noises (no, not those, you naughty people), which her poodle interprets and barks and which in turn is interpreted by someone who looks like Johnny Lever.

Eventually, she too lusts after one of the men. It’s difficult to remember who, since by now one is only gazing at the huge parrot carried by Kapoor’s would be father-in-law Darshan Jariwala who is named Surya Karjatya (writers so clever about spoofing on Barjatya). One can only marvel at all these actors who work seriously hard at being funny and miserably fail to evoke a single smile if not a giggle. How uncool is that?

Apparently, Abhishek’s Mickey believes that Kapoor’s Kanhaiya and Rocky have umm… a “special talent”. So he calls them to Thailand (where else for sleazy humour) and makes them act in his porn films.

The “special talent” is explained by two crows propped up in a swimming pool, several inches away from the two naked men positioned in the water carefully. So that explains the crows in the movie.

As for the rat, where do you think it was? Of course, in Kanhaiya’s pants, doing its own little dance.

Which leaves the best part: the screwdriver. Since this movie attempts to pathetically spoof on various Bollywood movies within the short porns made by Micky and that includes Sholay as Kholay and even Mughal e Azam; there is also one movie involving Riteish Deshmukh and a screwdriver. While Deshmukh sensibly avoids featuring in one of the ‘porns’, he appears at a mall and does a Rowan Atkinson from Love Actually.

Now, if you are still interested in the nuts and bolts of all these animals, go ahead. But if you want to see Tusshar Kapoor running in a red saree to the tunes of The Dirty Pictures, escaping from his own father (Shakti Kapoor) lusting after her/him, removing oranges from his blouse, stripping on a beach, it’s entirely your funeral….sorry…call.

Airlift review: Thanks to Raja Menon's skilful direction, this is Akshay Kumar's 'Chak De India'

(First Published in FirstPost)

Fifteen minutes into Airlift, in a very simple, quiet, slow motion sequence, a defeated looking, bearded Indian man drives past the burning city of Kuwait.

Young Iraqi army men, barely in their teens, are out on the streets, guns in their hands, with the power of Saddam Hussein’s terror in their walk. The torturous sights of a city under siege continue to be seen in the rear view mirror of the car. One of the first thoughts you have as a viewer is that Camerawoman Priya Seth’s story-centric cinematography is deeply compelling in Airlift.

Just the night before, the Indian chauffeur was driving a man along with his wife to a party. The man is now huddled at the steering wheel, sobbing. His name is Ranjit Katyal.

By now, you have forgotten he is Akshay Kumar, the action hero who was last seen performing a rocking bhangra, with a vibrant turban on his head, in Singh is Bling. Kumar is an ordinary looking Katyal, and this itself is a huge achievement for someone of his star stature, thanks primarily to the smoothest direction by Raja Krishna Menon.

There is no unnecessary dramatic build up of any kind of commercial heroism, despite a few seconds of Kumar breaking into both Bollywood dance steps as well as a tiny fight sequence. It’s not just about the way Kumar performs and keeps it subtle and silent. It’s also about the way Menon reveals his character without going overboard. The very tone of Airlift is devoid of any drama, right till the last frame. The music supports the subtext, the camera is unobtrusive and the film simply lets the story flow. Right into your heart and your conscience.

This is Menon’s third film after Bas Yun hi (2003) and Barah Aana (2009). It is also one of the finest films based on a real event, after Shimit Amin’s Chak De India. If the Indian flag in Chak De India arouses tearful emotions of joy, pride and redemption, the same flag seen in Jordan, at a certain point in Airlift, is bound to bring a similar lump to the throat.

And it’s not just the big moments that are poignant. It’s a given that the main story based on the historic incident of rescue evacuation of Indians from Kuwait during Hussein’s attack in 1990, has all the makings of the most inspiring piece of cinema. But the script’s charm lies in the smaller stories within the larger picture.

Small subplots like that of Ibrahim (Purab Kohli) looking for a missing newly wedded wife, is made more touching by simple quiet exchanges with Katyal. Another powerful thread pertaining to the Indian political machine and one bureaucrat’s vital role and its treatment, brings in the right kind of realism to the story. Kumud Misra chews this part with the ease of a hungry dog and meaty bone. Other minor characters play the voice of a common man looking out for their selfish needs in moments of crisis. One such person, George, is played brilliantly by Prakash Belawadi. Inaamulhuq plays the loathful Iraqi villain with conviction and relish, his slim frame notwithstanding.

Nimrat Kaur, who won many hearts in The Lunchbox, is more of a distraction in her glamorous look and is the weakest link in the film despite having a long speech moment.

Ultimately, it’s the heartwarming story of achieving the impossible and larger human conscience in Airlift that rules. What do you do when, in the words of Katyal, “Saddam hamare ghar ghus aaya hai?"

Well, as two real life heroes, Matthew and Vedi did -- you make calls and more calls for days to the passive Delhi Government office, patiently negotiate with frightful people like Iraqi generals and bravely travel to Baghdad. You use your mind as the only weapon and most importantly, your conscience. Then, all it takes are around 500 airlines, a few good men in the ministry to practically airlift around 1, 70,000 Indians from Kuwait to Mumbai.

Kudos to Menon for giving us Akshay Kumar’s Chak De India.