Pari is a fiery tale drenched with blood


As ironical as it may sound, you know a horror film has achieved its purpose when the audience breaks into fits of laughter or giggles as a desperate attempt to camouflage their fear or shock. The laughter or giggles of such sort are the best compliments debutant director Prosit Roy can ever hope to earn with his film, Pari – Not a fairytale.

A genre done to death, resurrection and exorcisement, horror films either tread the Ramsay route or Ram Gopal Varma way. Either ways, the story has never really mattered much. A person is wronged by someone and the tormented soul torments others until a Tantrik or Priest pops up to everyone’s rescue, including the audience.

Even the experimental ‘Ek Thi Daayan’ and ‘Ragini MMS’ resorted to similar clichés of Tantrik Babas rising to the occasion. Pari, in that sense, is indeed a commendable film that breaks such stereotypes and humanizes the ‘ghost’ and presents a new ‘variety’ of ghosts, Ifrit, for instance.

Ifrits find mention Arabic literature and also in Qur’an, Sura An-Naml, wherein King Solomon seeks its help to get the queen of Sheba and the Ifrit obliges him instantly, within the split of a second. Ifrits are a type of Djinns, who cannot be seen, only heard and generally take form of recently deceased person.

Thankfully, director Projit Roy doesn’t venture the Ifrit tutorial territory or the mandatory ‘Ghost Background Story’. He instead focuses on his lead characters, Rukhsaana, ably played by Anushka Sharma, who has also co-produced Pari and Arnab played to perfection by Parambrata Chatterjee.

Anushka Sharma owns the screen in almost every frame and makes her character believable and strangely, relatable too. This is quite a feat, especially because a character with such complexity can seldom evoke empathy and even sympathy from the audience. I mean, when was the last time you rooted for a ‘ghost’ or ‘witch’ in such kind of films?

Parambrata Chatterjee reprises his ‘sweet guy’ character that he essayed in Kahani. So this role, despite being up his alley, has many layers to it, which is completely justified by the actor. The expressions of fear, apprehension, love, and resolve that Parambrata portrays within the 2 odd hours of the film is indeed worth a mention, and applause.

Piyali (Ritabhari Chakraborty), the prospective bride of Arnab is a redundant character of this film and even the actress seems to be desperately trying to find her footing in a film already crowded with humans, witches, sorcerers, ifrits and ghouls.

The ‘Tantrik’ finds a new avatar here as a ‘revolutionist’ professor from Bangladesh, where Rajat Kapoor makes his presence felt and leaves an everlasting impact. Interestingly, his is the only character in Pari which will leave the audience petrified and baffled, in the same breath. For instance, in the first half, you detest him for what he does and in the second half, you want to like him for what he does but are still not able to do so. It’s a tricky character to portray with conviction, and Rajat Kapoor wins hands down.

Pari, though begins on a nervous note, gains confidence once it finds its voice in the wilderness of West Bengal, followed by umpteen scenes gory enough to irk you, irrespective of the fact that you’ve watched the entire ‘Saw’ series with wide-eyed enthusiasm. It’s not just the sight of blood and gore, but the indulgence in them that irks you to the core.

After a point of time, such scenes lose their gory charm and so does that awkward love triangle that make you wish you had a fast-forward option available in the multiplex (Ah I wish!). In spite of all this, one would still not write Pari off because of the intricately woven story by Abhishek Bannerjee and Prosit Roy, compelling camerawork by Jishnu Bhattacharjee and slick editing by Manas Mittal that rids you of the constant ‘mobile peeking’ habit while watching a film on big screen. Not to forget the background score by Ketan Sodha who practices restraint and spares your eardrums from loud notes during ‘jump scare’ scenes.

Pari, to sum it up, is a fiery tale that will always be remembered as a precursor to some ‘hatke horror films’ hopefully on the anvil. Fingers (minus the blood-stained nails) crossed.



Indian Dream Weavers of the Web


With the advent of OTT i.e. Over The Top, wherein you watch content through subscription, there is a sudden gush of Indian Web Series all over the virtual world. The fight is tough as the benchmarks are escalating day-by-day, thanks to the GoTs and Narcos of this world. If standup comedians, TVF and AIB are creating sketches, the film directors are busy exploring this newfound terrain free from the shackles of censors and certificates.

In such scenario, there are writer-directors like Mayank Sharma, who boost the online content quotient with a web series like ‘Breathe’ on Amazon Prime starring R. Madhavan and Amit Sadh. ‘Breathe’ is indeed a breather after a long gap since the equally brilliant and relevant-for-our-times Indian web series like ‘Permanent Roommates’ and ‘Bang Baja Baaraat’, ‘Tripling’, and the recent ‘Inside Edge’, ‘Bose’ and ‘The Test Case’.

While faintly reminiscent of ‘Breaking Bad’, the web series ‘Breathe’ is a fresh tale of loss and inner turmoil, narrated with the fervor of a thriller and spirit of a drama. Right from the writing, cinematography, editing to direction, this is something you just can’t afford to miss, apart from the upcoming ‘Sacred Games’ starring Saif Ali Khan and ‘The Ministry’ starring Irrfan Khan.


Furthermore, if Vikram Bhatt and Ekta Kapoor have perceived this platform as an extension to their brand of content with ‘Tantra’ and ‘Dev DD’, Ram Gopal Varma seems to have gone full monty, in metaphorical sense for him and literal sense for his muses, thanks to the lack of intervention from the censors or the fresh crop of senas.

Speaking of ‘senas’, one strongly recommends this word to be included in the Oxford Dictionary and its time MS Word doesn’t underline it red, as it’s already a blood-strewn word. It’s quite an irony that on one hand Padmavati gets its ‘i’ butchered by the censors and sena, and on the same day, Ram Gopal Varma releases his short film, ‘God, Sex and Truth’ starring a naked porn star with an effortless ease.

The writing is loud and clear on the wall – Internet is the only place where democracy exists in its true sense. Wait, there, too, you run the risk of being lynched by some Senas who might be ‘offended’ by your social media post. Well, at least the filmmakers do have the freedom to make the kind of films they want, at least till now.

One wouldn’t be surprised if Sanjay Leela Bhansali announces his next historical saga to be released online, minus any cuts and full title, mind you. Perhaps he may go ahead and re-release ‘Padmavat’ with the extra ‘i’ and those 70 cuts, and who knows he just might include a bonus feature of that rumoured ‘dream sequence song’ featuring Ranveer Singh and Deepika Padukone.

What’s more, the digital platform won’t make a certain wannabe-feminist actress feel like a female genital and compel her to write open letters anymore. After all, it’s a democratic platform and one could make regressive, progressive, depressive, aggressive, inclusive, abusive, or any darn ‘sive’ kind of film as one may please.

Come to think of it, the ‘Big Bollywood Struggle’ would become a thing of the past. Filmmakers like Rajat Kapoor, who is currently crowd-funding to realize his most ambitious film, ‘RK/R Kay’, can utilize the garnered monies to spruce up the production values and content of his film rather than promotion, which constitutes huge chunk of a film’s overall budget.

Amitabh Bachchan once quoted in an interview that these days, he finds film promotion more tiring than shooting for films. Agreed, the Netflix, Amazon Prime, Hot Star, Eros, Alt Balaji and other digital platforms do charge for showcasing a film or web series, but the stakes surely aren’t as high as a big budget film.

Let’s not forget the fact that there have been multiple films which got made but were never released, owing to censors, Senas or lack of funds. Digital films would empower every filmmaker worth his/her salt to be able to make films they believe in, without worrying the uncertainty of its theatre release. This would ease the box office performance pressure off their shoulders and enable them to focus on content and production values.

After all, content is the king, at least in the digital space, unlike those films from the 100-crore ilk which are more about packaging than packing a punch. These films are a ‘chaar din ki chaandni’, from Friday to Monday, where they hammer the songs and trailers on your head and pique your curiosity so much that you end up spending a bomb on the exorbitant tickets and doubly exorbitant popcorns and colas. We would see more fresh talent cropping from varies cities, not just those hunks with six-abs or anorexic babes.

Local talent will get the much-needed boost and each state of our diverse nation will surely have a fresh story to tell about their land and culture. Look at the kind of cinema made in Marathi, Bengali, Assamese and Malayalam, which despite being brilliant films barely find takers in the multiplexes.

Digital platforms can offer umpteen opportunities of online film premieres, where the film’s crew would interact one-on-one with their audience and seek their feedback right there after its first day, rendering those ‘intellectual’ ‘Fellini worshipping’, ‘screenplay revealing’ or ‘KRKish’ movie critics redundant.

At the risk of sounding too optimistic, I would assert that digital platform would transcend our smart-phones, i-Pads, laptops and smart televisions and go on to become ‘Digiplex’, a multiplex that would stream films and web series, the censors and senas notwithstanding.

Even theatre is embracing the digital revolution through CinePlays, albeit with little success, as such content neither remains a play nor cinema, robbing the medium of its ‘live’ feeling as a medium. There’s a difference between listening to Indian Ocean band live at a concert and watching them perform on television or phone. Hope you get the drift.

Nonetheless, if you are willing to sacrifice the ‘live’ experience and are curious to watch those award-winning plays without travelling all the way to Mumbai’s Prithvi and NCP or Delhi’s Shri Ram Centre, CinePlays should work just fine for you.

While talking about experience, watching plays or cinema in a theatre is a unique experience, which is slowly but surely dwindling, blame it on easy accessibility to entertainment. The maxim of ‘Go Solo’ promoted by Hot Star has become a reality today. We are becoming all the more ‘anti-socializing’ offline and hyperactive on social media.

Even our idea of a perfect date is to order something on Zomato or Swiggy at home and enjoy amid cozy company of close friends or loved ones. Just like smart-phones and LCD TVs becoming cheaper, wireless home theatre systems, too, would become easily affordable. Who knows the next Digiplex would be located right inside your home, spelling a doom to those insanely priced movie tickets, popcorns, colas, censors and Senas? Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake. Fingers crossed.


Mukkabaaz perfects the Paintra of narrating a blood-blended love story


Who in his sanest mind would have ever imagined that out of all those Barjatyas, Chopras and Johar, Hindi cinema’s one of the finest love stories would be narrated by Anurag Kashyap, someone known for dark themed films? Mukkabaaz is far from the underdog-fights-the-system-finally-emerges-winner kind of cliché we have been watching in the name of sports film genre. Here, boxing is a metaphor for the key character, Shravan’s struggles in life, right from his home, heart and boxing ring.

“Apne talent ka praman patra lekar society mein jhanda gaadhne nikle ho?”

Vineet Kumar Singh is sure to leave an indelible mark on your mind, making you question everything about our films, right from those stars, perfectionists to method actors. To be precise, how far would you go to make your dream come true? Vineet Kumar Singh, though distantly related to Anurag Kashyap, never had it easy. Years ago, he approached Anurag Kashyap with his script, only to be told that he will have to become a real boxer if he wants this film to see the light of day.

“Zyaada important hai tum kisko jaante ho, kisko pehchante ho,
kaun tumko jaanta hai, kaun tumko manta hai.”

At 36, when other boxers generally retire, Vineet Kumar Singh went on to pursue his career in boxing. He sold his belongings, gave up his filmy ‘struggle’ and moved to Punjab to live an anonymous life of a guy who keeps training and boxing like a man possessed. After watching Mukkabaaz, you’d scoff at those ‘training montage songs’ of Sultans and Dangals of this world.

The film’s boxing training not only makes Vineet look convincing in a boxer’s role, but depicts the ‘hunger’ that he as a person has to make his dream come true. This hunger couldn’t have been depicted on his face without dedication of such mammoth level. No actor worth his salt could ever do that unless it comes from within. The five-year training is no marketing gimmick, but an earnest and organic way of infusing life in one’s performance.

“Aur bade ghar ki kanya paane wala funda to hai yeh.”

Debutant Zoya Hussain is no ‘hero’s morale booster’ here. The strength of this character lies in her eloquent eyes and muted lips. It is indeed no wonder she’s called Sunaina here. Not someone to cow down before her speech disability, Sunaina is fiery young woman with oodles of charisma and chutzpah. The husband-wife tiff, especially where she asks Shravan to learn sign language and her ‘conversation’ with mother are stuff legends are made of.

The other actor to watch out for is Jimmy Shergill. His character of Bhagwaan Mishra isn’t your Amrish Puri type of villain. There’s a line in the film that defines his character: Khud to kuch karte nahin, aur agar dimaag ghoom gaya to kisi aur ko bhi kuch karne nahi dete. This stubbornness i.e. ‘zidd’ of this character is the film’s villain, not just the person. The film’s last scene subtly hints at this fact, if you care enough to notice.

Ravi Kishan, as a ‘Harijan boxing coach’ lends support and the much-needed balance to the film’s narrative, as well as protagonist. This underutilized gem of  an actor makes his presence felt, despite a brief appearance and makes you wish to see more of him. Kudos to Mukesh Chhabra’s excellent casting, right from the lead actors to the supporting ones, especially the actor who played Shravan’s father.

“Isko kehte hain Paintra.”

The team of choreographers i.e. Rajeev Ravi, Shanker Raman, Jay Patel and Jayesh Nair capture the romance with as equal passion as they do in sparring and training sequences, making them seem so seamless you won’t believe the story is being narrated through four pair of eyes. Aarti Bajaj and Ankit Bidyadhar cut the film with such adroit precision that not a single scene seems to drag or indulge. Case in point, the cow vigilant scenes and the scene where Bhagwaan Mishra asks Shravan to gulp his urine to secure his entry into boxing at district level.

The soul of Mukkabaaz, however, lies in its music. The song, ‘Bahut dukkha mann’ rendered by her and Dev Arijit will linger on your mind for hours together after leaving the auditorium, compelling you to look up for the Mukkabaaz album online. The other songs like ‘Chipkali’ (A beautiful montage that encapsulates passion locking horns with profession), ‘Mushkil hai apna mel priye’, ‘Haathapai’ and the popular ‘Paintra’ by Nucleya and Divine are intricately woven into the film’s narrative. Music director Rachita Arora take a bow.

“Chance humko bhi mila tha lekin netikta ke chh** mein mistake ho gaya.”

Rising light-years above his debacle of the forgettable ‘Bombay Velvet’, Anurag Kashyap is back in his form here. Mukkabaaz is where Anurag Kashyap in his rawest glory, maneuvers through the familiar lanes of Dev D and Gangs of Wasseypur, assimilating with producer Anand L. Rai’s school of cinema in Raanjhana. What you get is a romance as rustic as Nagraj Manjule’s Marathi masterpiece, ‘Sairat’, and boxing as real as Sudha K. Prasad’s ‘Saala Khadoos’ with broad strokes of blood-blended hues of love.

While summing up, one is suddenly tempted to read between the lines of the protagonist being christened as Shravan and antagonist being called Bhagwaan. Anurag Kashyap once quoted that he is an atheist and believes only in one god i.e. cinema. Is Mukkabaaz an atheist director’s way of portraying the conflict of a sincere devotee Shravan (named after the pious character in Ramayana who was sincerely devoted to his parents) with the almighty (who nurtures the devotee as well as spells doom for him). Perhaps, yes. After all, ‘No Smoking’, too, was about human and the almighty and smoking was a mere metaphor, just like boxing in Mukkabaaz.

In a nutshell, Mukkabaaz perfects the ‘Paintra’ of narrating a blood-blended love story on the silver screen and surely deserves your time and money.

“Experience share kar rahe hain, lena hai to lijiye, warna sarakiye…”




Bareilly Ki Barfi is a clean and toothsome indulgence


We are living in times when the concept of independent women and feminism has been largely misinterpreted. The problem with every female-oriented film, be it NH 10, Pink, Angry Indian Goddesses or the recent Lipstick Under My Burkha, is that they portray their male counterparts as dumb, fickle or lusty creatures. Thanks to Ashwiny Iyer Tiwari for coming up with a film that depicts its female lead as an independent woman minus the usual trappings of ‘feminist films’.

Bareilly Ki Barfi revolves around a small-town girl Bitti, played to perfection by Kriti Sanon. The male characters of this film, i.e. Chirag Dubey (Ayushmann Khurana) and Pritam Vidrohi (Rajkummar Rao) have their own set of attributes as well as flaws, which make them more endearing and humane. This is a kind of love triangle where you’d stay invested so much in the lead characters that it would be difficult to root for any of the two prospective grooms.

Loosely based on H. Bruce Humberstone’s ‘Happy Go Lucky’, a British Musical Comedy of the 50s, which inspired many a film like Sajan, Sapnay, Ghajini, to name a few, Bareilly Ki Barfi takes the story a notch above the mistaken identities. It lends an Indian charm to what transpires after the obligatory ‘adlaa-badli’ of the author who penned a flop book, Bareilly Ki Barfi. Now who’s the author and who’s the imposter and who ultimately wins the girl are things best left for you to discover in the auditorium.

The icing on the cake is Javed Akhtar’s voiceover as the film’s witty sutradhaar, which is reminiscent of Hrishikesh Mukherjee’s ‘Baawarchi’. For a change, this sutradhaar doesn’t appear only at the film’s beginning and the end, but stays with you throughout, often taking pot-shots at the film’s characters and situations. It’s time we bring this old-fashioned narration back to our films.

In hindsight, this is the right time to rediscover the roots of Indian films, taking a leaf from stalwarts like Bimal Roy, Satyajit Ray, Hrishikesh Mukherjee and Basu Chatterjee and reintroduce their style to the current generation, rather than relying on those DVDs of Korean films.

There’s no doubt Ashwiny Iyer Tiwari is already championing this cause with her films like Nil Battey Sannata and Bareilly Ki Barfi. Her experience in advertising is evident in the brevity of scenes and putting a message across without lingering over the issue for a long time.

The film’s writing is top-notch. Kudos to writers Nitesh Tiwari (Director of Dangal and the director’s husband), Shreyas Jain, and Rajat Nonia. The songs, ‘Sweety Tera Drama’ by Tanishk Bagchi and ‘Nazm Nazm’ by Arko Pravo Mukherjee are sure to stay on your playlist for a long time. Gavemic U Ary, the cinematographer captures the beauty of a small town without distracting the audience with ‘beautiful’ shots.

Among the actors, Kriti Sanon is spot-on as Bitti. In fact, she will now be remembered as Bitti rather than Kriti. The actress internalizes her character so well that her eyes reflect the angst as well as joy of Bitti. The equation that she shares with her father, played by the gem of an actor, Pankaj Tripathi, is quite rare in our films. Devoid of an iota of melodrama, the father-daughter scenes touch you to the core, which are further well-contrasted with the mother-daughter kich-kich. Seema Pahwa is a delight to watch here and so is the one-sided conversation of Pankaj Tripathi facing the ceiling fan.

Ayushmann Khurana delivers an earnest performance and ably portrays the grey shades of his character without going overboard. All said and done, it is undoubtedly Rajkummar Rao who steals the show, not just because he’s a talented actor, but also because of his author-backed role. The role of Pritam Vidrohi is written so well that the actor laps it up and clearly revels in each scene. Pritam Vidrohi is a character you’ll carry with you home after watching Bareilly Ki Barfi.

The film’s director once quoted in an interview: “I am not saying independent means being feminist. I am not saying independent means not listening to your parents. It is about finding your space and finding your identity, which is a huge thing in our country.” Thanks, Ashwiny Iyer Tiwari for setting the record straight, teaching us the true meaning of women being independent and feminist, especially in the times when words like these have been hugely misconstrued in our films and literature. Folks, indulge yourself in this clean and toothsome delicacy that leaves a sweet aftertaste even after days of watching it.

A hate note for Bare Bones

I hate you Bare Bones. I really hate do. Since the time I have watched your series of short plays at Vasvik Auditorium, Vadodara, I haven’t been able to forget the invaluable lessons your characters taught to my subconscious mind. Whenever I doubt my abilities, a voice invokes hope and mutes the whispers of negativity that haunted my mind.

Whenever I decide to buy something, a voice tells me that possessing something can only offer me easy access to it and shall add no value to it. Whenever I glance at the Christ’s image, Joshua kneels in front of me, reminding of the last words of the hermit, compelling me easily forgive those who wronged me.

Whenever I decide to get drunk with a friend, a voice tells me that the ‘knight’ in me just might show up, revealing well-guarded secrets and exposing the real person lurking behind this facade. Whenever I decide to explore the world and worry about economic crisis, a village bumpkin laughs at me, asking if the crisis would stop the sun from shining, the breeze from blowing and flowers from blooming.

Whenever I decide to follow my mind rather than heart, your character, heart speaks to me in her lilting voice, “I want to meet you without any reason” and keeps staring at me until I turn away from her in discomfiture. Whenever I decide to kill some time by doing nothing, your restless character of Time makes an appearance and urges me to rather make it stop for a while through meditation rather than killing it mercilessly.  

Whenever I decide to weave stories set amid rich ambience and golden lights shimmering through glittering backgrounds, your director Kamlesh Acharya convinces the writer in me that it’s possible to offer thrills minus the frills, sans those elaborate costumes, lavish sets, indulgent lightings, make-believe makeups, and overzealous actors wearing loud expressions spouting profanities for the ‘real’ effect.

I hate Harsh Shodhan, who articulates his emotions through the timbre of a voice so well-pitched that he speaks volumes even in muted conversation, rendering all those dubbing technology as mere gimmicks. I hate Denisha Ghumara, who wears her heart up her sleeves and never needs to ‘act’ on the stage. She becomes the character she portrays and does it with such effortless ease that would put the so-called ‘big actresses’ to shame.  

I hate Kamlesh Acharya, who triples up as a writer, director and actor with such a chameleonisque way that makes one seriously doubt his production, Bare Bones just a six-show old toddler. He makes me question all those beliefs that a guy in Ahmedabad can never write flawless English and people of Gujarat will never accept English plays. I have stopped waiting for that elusive producer to help me share my stories.

Bare Bones, you have no idea how much I hate you because your short plays have made me incapable of hating anyone. 

Toilet: Ek Prem Katha is endearing

Beyond the jacuzzies and bidets, there’s another India where people have an easy access to 4G network, but toilets remain a pipe dream. A nation of paradoxes and a land of jugaad, India must perhaps be the only country to inspire a love story revolving around toilet. Director Shree Narayan Singh’s film, Toilet – Ek Prem Katha encapsulates jugaad and toilet in a heart-warming love story, along with an important message peppered with generous dose of humour.

Akshay Kumar’s Keshav is jugaad personified, which is an image that suits him to the T, case in point, Khiladi, Aflatoon, Garam Masala, Hera Pheri series, Tees Maar Khan, Housefull series, Entertainment to Jolly LLB 2 (Phew! That’s almost his filmography). The character of Keshav is someone for whom jugaad is a way of life and is a solution-based guy who doesn’t shy asking his cousin to elope with the guy she loves. On the other hand, Bhoomi Pednekar’s Jaya is a well-educated girl with an unmistakable feminist streak.

Director Shree Narayan Singh concocts his love story around these two disparate characters and the villain, for a change is the ‘soch’, not ‘shauch’. The ‘soch’ is personified by Keshav’s father, brilliantly played by Sudhir Pandey. Topics on toilet have the trappings of either being replete with toilet humour or being too preachy. Toilet-Ek Prem Katha, unfortunately gives in to the temptation of creating awareness, albeit with restraint.

In hindsight, one feels that the film knows its audience well and articulates its message to them in the language they understand. A morning ritual which is something we seldom bother about, unless there’s a water scarcity or bowel issue, is magnified here to create the urgency the issue deserves.

The recent cases of rape and molestation of women defecating in the open and especially the lynching of a man who tried stopping the government officials from clicking pictures of women squatting behind bushes is saddening and films like these need to be made so as to change the mindset of rural populace.

Akshay Kumar shines here with a performance that ranges from comedy, dejection and anger with effortless ease, especially in the scene towards the film’s end. Divyendhu Sharma is fantastic as the chota bhai wala role and makes his presence felt amid the veterans. Bhoomi Pednekar, despite sharing the right chemistry with Akshay Kumar, falls short of nuanced performance, which becomes quite clear in the intense scenes.

Anshuman Mahaley seems to know the rural landscapes well and his frames take you to the labyrinthine lanes of the village, capture the Lathmaar scenes beautifully without inspiring an awe of ‘look how brilliant the camerawork is!’ Right from Hrishikesh Mukherjee to Rajkumar Hirani, editors turning into directors have an edge over others through their inherent quality of brevity. Director Shree Narayan Singh doubles up as an editor here and knows where to cut a scene and where to begin the next transition, thanks to his hands-on experience as an editor of films like A Wednesday, Rustom, MS Dhoni, etc. 

To sum it up, Toilet Ek Prem Katha is an endearing love story and this toilet surely deserves a visit. Unfortunately, such films will always be branded as propaganda films. Sigh.


‘Chor Bani Thangat Kare’ will steal your heart 

A day of dreams brimming with reality. A day of hopes finding happiness. A day of sweat on the brow shining against the sun of fame. A day of darkness bowing to the arc lights. A day of confidence. A day of goosebumps. A day of bouquets. A day of brickbats. The day of Chor Bani Thangat Kare’s release isn’t just another day for someone like Rahul Bhole, a Vadodara-based filmmaker who started out with short films.

Before we proceed with the review, a digression here: There are around 100 Gujarati films currently being made and the average cost including marketing and release per film is about two crores. With almost one or two Gujarati films releasing every weekend, the industry is growing exponentially to be reckoned as a 200-crore industry and still growing. Despite such encouraging figures and films like Kevi Rite Jaish, Bey Yaar and Wrong Side Raju (All from the same stable of CineMan films) already set higher benchmarks, Gujarati films seldom draw the audience to the theatre.

What keeps them away from Gujarati films is perhaps the kind of clones being churned out every Friday with films revolving around a group of friends (With toilet sense of humour), a girl (Wearing an expression of ‘what am I doing here?’), bootlegger (Dry-sigh state), jugaad for money (After all, Gujarat is a business-centric state so no films can be made without money being the core theme), and of course, Garba (Drone shots. Masked dancers’ shots. Flirting shots. Check.).

This is where Chor Bani Thangat Kare scores. It steers clear of all the clichés associated with Gujarati films and even if it does touch the ‘daaru’ aspect, it makes sure that the scene is an integral part of the film’s narrative, rather than just another dry state gag. What really works here is the engaging screenplay peppered by hilarious dialogues and a cast that essays characters you’d root for, despite the predictability.

Rajkumar Trivedi, aka Robin suffers from kleptomania, a psychological disorder that makes him a compulsive thief without him realizing it. The biggest obstacle this character must brave through is the ability to make people around him understand the fact that he is not a chor i.e. thief. Amit Mistry plays Robin with a gleeful ease, so much so that he might be christened as Robin after this film. This gem of an actor literally ‘stole’ the show in the second half of Bey Yaar and choosing him to play Robin is the best casting decision of the filmmaker.

Well, as karma would have it, here another actor steals the show from Amit Mistry (not that he would mind, as he is a character you’d never forget after watching the film), who is none other than Ojas Rawal. An actor who began with a rather serious role in Tejas Padiaa’s Gujarati film debut, Polampol, goes for a complete spin here by playing two hilarious characters, one being a local chor and the other as a lookalike of Baba Ramdev. Ojas is a sheer delight to watch and each time he appears on the screen, you’re already hoping for an encore.

Bijal Joshi, as the actress does a decent job playing a character which seems to be written in haste. Despite being a pivot to the film’s plot, she fails to leave an impact, blame it on the passive treatment her character is lent. There isn’t a single moment in the film where she is assertive and comes on her own and is always pushed to action by someone, either the lead actor or her grandma. Even the old Nokia and backstory is reminiscent of Kareena’s character in 3 Idiots and doesn’t add anything to the narration, except the predictable utility of her phone in the film’s end.

Prem Gadhvi impresses with his character of Lenti, a friend who is always by the side of Robin through every thick and thin. The actor has grown with each film, to become an essential part of every Gujarati film and already has a large fan following, which is evident when the audience cheers for him during his entry scene.

Manan Desai, an ex-RJ turned stand-up comedian and curator for India’s best talents in comedy, makes an interesting cameo as a terrorist with an ability to make the cops apologize for hitting him. No matter how farfetched this may sound, but the actor does it with a conviction that will leave you in splits. Chirayu Mistry, a popular stand-up comedian of Vadodara plays an interesting role of an instalment collection executive carrying a saw. These are one of those rare cameos that go on to prove that the length of an actor’s role doesn’t matter, if it has been written and portrayed well. Other stand-up comedians like Aariz Saiyed and Preeti Das show up as news anchors too.

The music by Sachin-Jigar is soothing and lends the film a much-needed breather (how long can you keep laughing continuously?). Speaking of songs, this is a film where the songs are seamlessly woven into the narrative. ‘Bhuli jau chhe’ and ‘Mauj-E-Dariya’ (Benny Dayal’s first Gujarati song) are tracks you’d look up on iTunes and listen on a loop.

Like any other film made on a limited budget (the production values are top-notch, mind you), few scenes do stick out as sore thumb, especially the yoga session that is supposed to have 3000 participants, while what barely hundred show up and the terrorists keep insisting that they are 3000. But thanks to Ojas Rawal, whose performance as the Ramdev Baba lookalike prevents you from noticing such slipups. Even the terrorists are replete with stereotypes (Why are the walls of their rooms always green?).

The film’s basic premise of a reluctant thief itself gives way to multiple possibilities, which the writer-director Rahul Bhole explores to the hilt, thankfully, without going overboard. The smartest thing that he does with the plot is to focus on one story and throw in an ensemble of madcap characters. It wouldn’t be surprising if Rahul Bhole comes up with a sequel of Chor Bani Thangat Kare. We’re already waiting.