FOREVER SEASON 1: A QUIRKY MASTERPIECE

              

 ….And they lived happily ever after….This often written line, develops manifold interpretations when it comes to the latest series, “Forever” on Amazon Prime. The eight-part, half hour series of season one, is like the rare rainbow you spot in the skies. The rainbow evokes a state of stillness, wonder and deep fascination. Likewise, this series, created by Alan Yang (‘Master of None’) and Matt Hubbard (‘30 Rock’), is a fresh breath of magical air.

Let alone the premise, even the mention of a certain genre, would be a big spoiler. Suffice it to say it is an experimental comedy which constantly breaks all storytelling rules, with a clever mix of genres. The wry humour suddenly knocks you into a dark tunnel which actually gets brighter at the deep end. It is at once-- unusual, weird, bizarre, wildly imaginative, funny and a deep contemplation on life, marriage and the consequences of one’s actions and inactions. It’s deliberate slow pace is a craft in itself, as it effortlessly compels you to keep watching, and dive deep with the characters, without resorting to insane cliffs and cliffhangers.

For those used to an adrenaline rush from the likes of “Breaking Bad’ or “Game of Thrones” or addictive soap operas; ‘Forever’ demands and delivers a different viewing experience. Slow on the surface, nothing prepares you for the twists in the first three episodes. It appears to be a story of the monotony of marital life but underneath, it explores not just relationships but deep, existential questions on life.

We meet the central couple, June (Maya Rudolf) and Oscar (Fred Armisen) through a beautifully directed, smooth montage-like slideshow of their idyllic years together. They eat the same meals, always cooked and served with relish by Oscar. June is suitably appreciative and smiling but slowly and subtly we see the boredom on her face, unnoticed by the doting husband.

Oscar is the loving, non-confrontational husband (a brilliant dishwasher scene shows this flaw) who enjoys solving crossword puzzles. June is a perfect partner, who engages in conversations with riddles. Like a question she poses at a crucial juncture in their relationship: “What is the best beach food?” A simple question that leads to a beautiful, meaningful scene.

Oscar speaks in the gentlest of tones, so gentle that it starts getting annoying. It is little wonder that his preciseness of every action, designed to maintain a peaceful equilibrium, has the opposite effect on June. They go for the same walks, wherever they are (and that ‘wherever’ place is the most fascinating of all) and the same holidays. Until one day, June suggests a skiing trip to break the monotony and bring some adventure.

What happens next, is so exquisitely unpredictable and so thought provoking, that you follow them for the rest of the journey, discovering new perspectives, along with them. And what a journey it is.  Along the journey, Oscar and June meet delightful characters like a know-all adolescent, Mark (Noah Robbins, fantastic) whose first date we witness in the most unlikely and charming way possible, given the ‘unusual’ circumstances. Other relationship boundaries between same sex friends like the one with the bolder Kase (Catherine Keener), are explored, with an explanation that is probably one of the best lines in the series: “sexuality is a spectrum….”

At every turn, there is a deep life lesson. Like what happens when you summon up the courage to leave your secure zone. Things can get wildly uncomfortable and unnerving and the outcome may also seem like the worst nightmare. But you continue to walk past that and discover the hidden treasures on the roads not taken. Themes of letting go of attachments, of honesty and self deception, energy vampires, lost opportunities, of the real and the unreal, of tough life choices; are dealt in deft writing as smooth as a ski slope. However, the point again is not just the learnings or the destination sought by June and Oscar, but their wonderful, adventurous journey into the concepts of the term ‘forever’.

Interestingly, one of the best episodes has two fabulous actors: Jason Mitchell and Hong Chou, who take you completely away from June and Oscar and leave you wondering at the connection to the larger plot. Yet, that is the most enjoyable part with a good dose of wit, fun and romance along with a hint of modern racial views.

So, did June and Oscar live happily ever after….where the mundane is the constant challenge and conflict? Watch the time when Maya Rudolf’s June belt out, “This is how we do it” and maybe, just maybe, you will get some answers.

SANJU: I AM THE SON OF SUNIL DUTT AND I AM NOT A TERRORIST

Legendary lyricists--Majrooh Sultanpuri, Sahir Ludhianvi and Anand Bakshi played key influences in Sanjay Dutt’s redemption, as seen in the film “Sanju”. That is nothing short of ‘poetic justice’, considering Sanjay Dutt was born to the famous actors, Nargis and Sunil Dutt; and grew up in the world of Hindi cinema. It is only befitting that in the best scene in the film, Sunil Dutt (play by Paresh Rawal) stands with his son after midnight, at a dockyard and tells him his own story of disarming (pun intended) the terrifying underworld don, Dawood, with a Sahir Ludhianvi song. Soon both father and son (it is difficult to think of him as Ranbir Kapoor who is simply transformed into Sanjay) start singing the song with gusto. The next morning, Sanjay does the bravest thing anyone can possibly do. Walking into a house with his head typically tilted; his eyes and mouth as vulnerable and innocent as a child’s; he faces a local underworld guy to tell him that he will not make an appearance for the Ganpati visarjan, he has been ‘invited’ for.

Therein lies the power of Sahir Ludhianvi’s lyrics, wisely used by a truly great father like Sunil Dutt to guide his wayward son.  (interestingly, Sunil Dutt himself has enacted several songs written by Sahir Ludhianvi, including the popular 1963 song, “chalo ek baar phir se ajnabi ban jaaye…”).Therein also lies the power of the truth told from the heart, in storytelling, especially a biopic.

Leaving aside three to four scenes when the old lyrics are mentioned, the rest of the film is classic Hirani melodrama. Like all his past movies, there is plenty of  unsubtle emotional manipulation, with the characters bawling and in this case some tiger-rish growling that portrays Vicky Kaushal’s talent at par with Ranbir’s. Only, the humour this time , has completely dried out and fallen to taking pot shots at Indian accents. The effort to bring in the commercial entertainment quotient, is too obvious.

The subject on Sanjay Dutt’s life, by itself, is full of potent drama. As a line in the film says, ‘people who make bad choices, make great stories’. However, Hirani’s ‘Sanju’  is not a complete biopic. It is a rehash of the combined parts of Munnabhai’s core strengths and the story of Sanjay Dutt’s redemption. As long as it remains the Munnabhai version, it works big time, especially in the duplicating of a long father-son jaadu ki jhappi and an emotionally explosive friendship scene between Sanju and his intense savior friend—Kamlesh (Vicky) who of course replaces the more shadow-like, jovial Circuit.

The similarities are all there, throughout the film. Munnabhai  is the story of a goon who tries to get a MBBS degree in order to please his ethical dad. In Sanju, Sanjay gets lost in drugs, unable to live up to his upstanding father’s standards and image. In both the films, he has a best friend—Circuit in Munnabhai and Kamlesh in Sanju, with shades of the virgin Jimmy Shergill’s character, thrown in for some contrived laughs. While Munnabhai is a comedy and only fiction; Sanju is dark, intense and a  true story of father and son who lived through hell, together, thanks to Sanjay’s self destructive actions.

As long as the story remains about the emotional  and mental challenges, the duo face and the real conflicts,” Sanju” is a class act. But as soon as it shifts into propaganda mode of proving repeatedly, throughout the second half, that Sanjay Dutt was not a terrorist as claimed by the media, the film loses the core integrity of a Hirani film.  Just like Hirani’s previous films which are issue driven, be it the medical industry failings or religion superstitions as in ‘PK’; “Sanju” suddenly picks up the media issue, blaming everyone’s favourite scapegoat : the big, BAD newspaper headline and the entire media. The last 15 minutes of the film are as clumsily written as the first 15 minutes where the agenda is to prove that Sanju is not a biased story, thus introducing a curly wigged, blue eyed Anushka Sharma as an objective NRI biographer.

 By the end of the film, the actors suddenly seem to announce, “ let’s play the blame game together” and  both Sanjay Dutt and Ranbir Kapoor dance in the credit rolls, to the tune of ..

”….according to the sources…. abey chup”.  In an effort to silence the so called ‘rumours’,and drill down Sanjay’s version of the story as the true story, Hirani gives way to the mind and the mindless.

If only, they had stuck to the more honest and timeless, Sahir Ludhianvi lyrics as used in one memorable scene straight from the heart: ”……na muh chupa ke jiyo….”

OCTOBER: SHOOJIT SIRCAR AND JUHI CHATURVEDI’S FILM CONNECTS SILENTLY BEYOND A VARUN DHAWAN PRESENCE

 Juhi Chaturvedi’ script, “October”, directed by Shoojit Sircar, refuses to leave you once it ends. There is a contemplative, aching tone which seeps into your being like Shantanu Moitra’s soft soundtrack which is more silent in its approach; like the shadow of a tree getting larger while the tree stays still.

There is no plot, no action, no entertainment, not even a second-long emotional melodrama given the premise of a tragic event changing the lives of those around. There is no hero and no heroine. There is no Varun Dhawan (for the fans). There is no villain.

There is a lost 21-year-old boy: Dan (Dhawan). He is a Hotel Management trainee who doesn’t want to clean bed sheets. His father is based in Jammu and he has come to Intern at a 5-star hotel. He wants his own Start-Up some day and constantly whines about being given useless work of vacuum cleaning the hotel rooms.

There is a 20-year-old, bright and sincere girl called Shiuli (Banita Sandhu). Shiuli does her job really well and is always given the more popular responsibilities of serving the hotel customers at reception desks. She doesn’t take Dan’s digs at her personally. “Itni intelligent hai to scientist kyon nahin bani…hotel management kyon kar rai hai…” ,he objects rudely to the seniors who praise her. Shiuli simply ignores him, even when he mocks her fondness for collecting her favourite seasonal October flowers: Parijat ( Coral Jasmine).

The flowers are the only predictable symbolic objects here. The tree is called the ‘tree of sorrow”. When first seen through Avik Mukhopadhyay’s lens, they look like a hazy and beautiful early morning dream. The screen looks magical with trees bearing the fresh and pure white flowers. We see them through Shiuli’s wondrous eyes and we are filled with the sense of wonder ourselves. Later, the flowers make occasional, fleeting appearances as a reminder of what October is all about: fleeting seasons of change and the beauty of each and the inevitable sense of waiting and sorrow.

Waiting is all one can do, when the course of life changes its turns, just like the course of nature. So Dan waits. Along with Shiuli’s mother, sister, a teenage brother, for Shuili to move a muscle, to simple twitch her jaw or shift her eyeballs: left to say ‘yes’ to the doctor’s question, right to say ‘no’. Her still form, lying in a hospital bed is an excruciating sight to behold. It is merely addressed by the most inane conversation that only two scared and ignorant youngsters can have.

“There were 19 tubes on her body.’

“Tune gine?”

……..tu kabhi ICU gaya hai?

Main do baar gaya hoon

Kab?

Kal ur aaj.”

…yaar meri hawa nikal gayi thi…”

Light, shallow, realistic moments like these, ease the pain of waiting and watching. But the film does not shy away from the helplessness of it all. There is no attempt at heroic drama of Dan turning into the star Varun Dhawan who will suddenly claim to fall in love and magically find the resources to fly Shuili out somewhere in Karan Johar’s world of “Kal Ho Na Ho” or the tragic interplay of lost love. Instead we see Dan simply searching for his visiting card under Shuili’s hospital bed just as a visitor friend would, inquisitively looking at the bottle of urine under the bed and discussing it with the nurse and even finding hope in the body continuing to do its function while the brain may take its time to respond.

And just like that, without a major, dramatic turning point, the mood of the film changes from the mundane of hotel laundry and vaccum jobs to a shocking life event to endless and futile human queries at a hospital to the only one wonder of life : HOPE.

Hope in the form of a urine pouch filling up more as days go by; hope in the form of Jasmine flower petals bringing the sense of smell alive, in an otherwise lifeless body; hope in the form of a positive change coming over a lost boy who sees more meaning in simply hanging out with a family waiting at a hospital, than in trying to keep his job; hope in the form of a mother reaching out to another (devoid of histrionics and yet leave you moist eyed);  hope in the form of colleagues connecting at the only level which matters—that of being simply human.

“October” may not entertain or engage like Shoojit and Juhi’s “Vicky Donor’ or “Piku”, but it makes that deep human connect, without the laughter or tears, a single playing-to –the-gallery dialogue or songs. Only one simple line matters here: “Where is Dan?” It’s an almost perfunctory question which changes the way a man perceives himself. It does a classic job of showcasing the ultimate human need to be needed, to be noticed, to be given the importance he craves.

In its gentle, flowing narrative and meditative contemplation of life and its coming of age journey with apt rest house locations of a hotel and a hospital with the beautiful tree providing the answers, the stillness travels with you outside the theatre, onto the desperate busy streets. And you take that time to stand and stare, smell that rose, smile at that stranger and talk to a friend with more empathy.

That lasting, much needed theme of empathy is “October’s true and meaningful gift.