A stark opening
sequence meandering through the caves of Afghanistan
Grainy flashbacks
Handheld shots in the houses and gullies of Chandni
Chowk
Hopelessly tacky attempts at sync sound
A simmering protagonist who says not more than
20 line of dialogue
Not one big Bollywood star
 These
are not elements you’d expect in a mainstream
Subhash Ghai Bollywood film. His claim to move
to “real-to-life cinema from larger-to-life
cinema” is clearly based on making a film
that looks like a low-budget independent film.
He chooses a difficult and vitally important topic
to tackle, making his venture that much more complicated.
Unfortunately, aspirations do not a film make.
Black & White falters, and falters
badly, in trying to make its point. The biggest
obstacle is of course that final frontier of Bollywood,
the script. But in this case, the problem starts
at a higher level. Black & White’s stumbling
block is the choice of topic. Issues of communalism,
Islamic fundamentalism and political prejudices
are hugely relevant ideological questions. Posing
them on celluloid requires tremendous restraint,
sensitivity, and balance, because they do not
have answers in black and white. Above all, it
requires the people asking – the writer
and director – to have an unfettered and
clear opinion on not only where he or she stands
on these issues, but why. It requires tremendous
personal objectivity and clarity. Mere intent
to tackle these issues is not sufficient.
There are moments you feel that the film could
have been a brave beacon for other films to be
made in the same genre. The first half moves slowly,
but there is an absence of drama and overt chauvinism
about it that makes you feel you are being setup
for a promising second act. Truly, the lack of
action does increase the anticipation of things
to come. But the script flatters to deceive, as
the second half falls apart, giving way to irrelevant
plot points and snippets. Qazi’s love track
is in tatters, the much expected ideological stand-off
between Anil Kapoor and new comer Anurag Sinha
never happens, and the climax doesn’t come
because we do not empathize with Numari Qazi’s
transition; there is just no arc in his character
to make this sudden change in his character at
the end of the film believable!
A major flaw in the film is its protagonist, Numair
Qazi. It is unfortunate that we do not get a glimpse
into his psyche, to be able to understand his
motivations. For example, it’s not too much
to want to see a suicide bomber to worry about
his impending death, even if in a moment of weakness.
But the film never ponders on his internal angst,
and therefore fails to arouse any sympathy for
him. And because it never explains its protagonist
to you, the film fails to make its point in a
cohesive and convincing way. Paradise Lost, a
remarkably intelligent and sensitive film on Palestinian
suicide bombers is an excellent example of how
a small and intimate film was able to address
complex issues, because it focussed on things
we, the audience understood: human relationships
and emotions.
The lead performances are strictly ok. Anil Kapoor
tries hard to rise above constraints beyond his
control, but a sketchy screenplay lets him down
repeatedly. There is very little space for him
to build his character as the story progresses.
Shefali Chayya is surprisingly loud and cliched,
and this is definitely one of her lesser performances.
She’s played what should have been an obvious
character wrong, and comes off as irritating rather
than lovable. Anurag Sinha looks promising, but
we just don’t know how good he is. It’s
one thing to play the brooding, dark, anti-hero,
but that is exactly how he is in every situation
in the film. With not one variation in his acting
ouevre on display, it’s safer to hold judgement
on him for now. It’s only stage veteran
Habib Tanvir, playing the dry witted geriatric
Urdu poet Gaffar Bhai who gives us one excuse
to watch the film. His performance is like a breath
of fresh air. His thin frame belies a voice that
commands respect, and makes him a presence in
every frame he is in. He is definitely the best
thing in Black & White.
Often, vast questions and conflicts are best
answered with simplicity. The Bicycle Thief is
a great example of this. Maybe this is something
Black & White should have aspired
for. One of the villians in the film asks the
policeman come to arrest him a very pertinent
question: Why does someone become a terrorist?
Such are the wonderful complexities of film and
reality, for all the writers and the director
of the film had to do was ask themselves of this
same question. The answer is not obvious, perhaps
not even answerable right away. But they could
have taken a stab at answering it, or provide
us with enough fodder to let us form our own answers,
and made a much better, maybe even a brilliant
film. They did neither, and like the person asking
the question in the film, it becomes a mere footnote
at the end of the day.
|
