Barfi- Movie Review

If one asked me what was the story all about, I might be confused but I would still say the flick was worth watching, for the impeccable acting of the protagonists. It is simple and probably that makes it appealing. At many scenes the theater would roar in laughter and at others one will hear sobbing of people. The movie does not make any statement as such but it is far away from the hushes and rushes of the modern world where larger than life “hero” takes in charge to make everything perfect and fine. It could be you and me but fortunately (someone might think unfortunately after watching the simplicity of poorly developed brain) most of us are able-bodied. Again the story is around three characters, tender moments of joys holds the audience into the movie and the incidents that happens make you feel sorry for the generous souls. In the first scene of Priyanka when she pronounces “Baaa-r-Fi” with indifference of autistic person she makes her presence felt. Whatever she does is a treat to watch whether its her attempt to sing, her anger when kids laugh at her, at moments when she cautiously holds Ranbir’s little finger. Ranbir’s character is witty and the wittiness has been delivered in action without the help of a single word. His innocent acts to make Priyanka happy definitely make him look better and selfless than most of us. When most of literate, conscious and clever people miss the real love of life, a deaf and dumb character sees it and claims it. Priyanka has never hidden her fondness for Shahrukh Khan and I was fearfully wondering if she tries to do anything similar to the loud, too artificial act of Khan in the movie titled “My name is Khan”. Thanks to the director Anurag Kashyap he has made Priyanka genuinely autistic. Ranbir Kapoor who creates such mess and carries out mischief in the small hill station of Darjeeling finds solace on the belly of his father which he uses as pillow. The movement of his head with the breathing action of his father is well shot and these are the small things in the movie that leaves an impression.

The shots have been brilliantly shot by the maverick director. When the camera catches the ear-ring of Priyanka, her shoes, the way she relates Ranbir’s character with the upward throw of shoes, the knee length undergarment wow what a treat to watch. The way Jhilmil’s (Priyanka) character gets irritated when mud sticks to her shoes are so well acted that you really fall in love with the character. In Bhandarkar’s Fashion one would despise Priyanka’s character when she makes mistakes but her its her mistakes that makes the audience fall in love with her.

Ranbir has a way to go and audience will leave the theatre already waiting for his next release. Ileana D’cruz is the able-bodied protagonist, she fall prey to time because being of sound mind she looks for logics. Her work is commendable, her acting skills are good and we can hope she will get other assignments to prove it further. She is portrayed as a modern, kind girl of her time i.e. late 70s. She is innocent enough to fall in love with a mute character yet chooses what looks rational just to realize rationality does not always bring the most desirable results. He tests of persons honesty and belief is simple yet charming still highly effective, though I won't carry out similar tests on my friend not only because there are no wooden lamp posts to cut but I fear few friends that I have might just leave my hand when the lamp falls. His interpretation is simple, those who leave his hand when the lamp post falls won't stay with him through the thick and thin of his life.

Few things do look contradictory because in one situation Ranbir’s character is shown instructing his friend to write a letter and at another he and his same friend cuts pieces of letters from newspaper to write a letter but the audience can let go of it thinking the character did so, fearing the recognition of the handwriting. The elderly portrayal of Ileana’s character looked unconvincing to me but that is entirely my evaluation yet that is not the fault of Ileana.

One should watch the movie to watch for Kashyap, Priyanka and Ranbir. Unfortunately this is not a movie for those who love genres of action, sci-fi, run off the mill kind of love story. It is just a portrayal of one shade of life with no “masala” no running around the tree songs.

A challenge

Blurred image of my mother’s face, washed in tears was the only thing that was visible amid white abstract visions. The background was noisy, I could only hear “son the doctor says you can’t be treated here.” I was blinded once again, the shots of anesthesia had left very little consciousness. What came to my mind was the picture of my then 8 months daughter’s laughter. They say one can see picture of god, here I stand as a proof, I saw god. I saw god in my child, in that smiling image, I felt the delicate gouch of the brightest skin, saw a glimpse of life in those sparkling eyes. She extended her hands and in my subconscious I leapt forward and it was dark again. I opened my eyes in an obscure environment, my tears gathered disturbing sounds, noises, I was in another hospital, in the emergency ward. The pain that had made me wish death was not there or probably I was not in a state to realize that. I looked for the image again, I tried to make that image, it was more blurred, I could only make a guess of my god. I could remember what my mother had said earlier “son the doctor says you can’t be treated here”, I thought I was dying or may be I was already dead. When I would try to open my eyes, the bright light from the fluorescent bulb irritated me. So many things ran across my eyes, some of them real perhaps and some of them hallucinations. Yesterday I filed a complaint at my office citing my dissent on the way promotion had been granted a month back. A month had elapsed and the turbulence had torn me apart. Some nights I slept and some nights passed awake. I would woke up with headache, with hopelessness with confidence that was fading everyday. I would look at my daughter’s eyes in apathy. She would leap forward to play with me, I ignored her. The decision to file complaint was not easy, putting my career at stake was not easy, the uneasiness at workplace was predictable. I knew and I had convinced myself that they will leave me to rot in the same position without any increment, without any motivation till uncertainty. With rampant abuse of authority and lack of transparency in the decision making process, I would be tagged as someone who had challenged the unchallengeable management, to bow before their altar. With rules made to be broken to leave room for them to do whatever they want they will try to wring the neck of my career. Then once again in memory I found myself in the subconscious state in the hospital. I remembered what I saw in the reverie. When at the point, when I thought I was dying I didn’t think of anything but my daughter what is there for me is to loose. Death is universal, I skipped it then but I won’t be able to skip it forever. I know if I had to die this very moment I won’t again remember my job, I won’t regret promotion, so what is there to worry about it so much. Then, if I had to remember one thing I could be proud of I would have nothing. The gold medals won, the rewards received, the certificates of appreciation they won’t make me proud then. I remember once I was walking with mum, I was peeling off an orange but a small girl, a beggar extended her hand not much younger than me. I don’t know why but I had a strong urge to give that orange to that girl and I just gave the orange to the little child. She took away with a fulfilling expression. I was probably not even 10 at that time. That was only moment in my entire life of which I can feel proud. At the age of 30 I have just one moment of pride, one moment of glory, what a waste of life. In the life once lived there is just a single incidence of glory, what a pity? I suffered in indecision, should I fight against what I think of as injustice. No, at the death bed I do not think of job and what is there to regret even if I loose it, at least I will add another incidence of glory. The result is not important but what is important is the fact that I fought for what I think is right. The notion of right or wrong is just interpretation, what I interpret as right can be interpreted as wrong by another. Sticking to an idea despite knowing it is wrong is a bad idea but sticking to it with belief that you are right is courage, for this I have decided I will fight.