LSD – Sach ki Hawas

Love Sex aur Dhokha is the nightmare you have after sleeping on a Sunday marathon of shuffling through reruns of Emotional Attyachar, India TV and Splitsville – while stuffing your mouth with bowls full of spicy nachos and gulping down diet coke. It's honest, and hence it's upsetting. And for that, God bless Dibakar Bannerjee to have claimed this subject before the ever so realist Madhur Bhandarkar and crew zeroed down on this topic from their 101 schoolboy essays book. Lest we’d have seen a film thoughtfully titled as ‘Hidden Camera’ offering us a guided tour into the world of video shooting with the who’s who of the industry.

Dibakar Bannerjee yet again takes an objective stance while he blows up the hypocricies and idiosyncracies from day-to-day lives to a 35mm screen. To a level where all its oddities and quirkiness become evident with a tinge of tongue in cheek subtlety. If Oye Lucky Lucky Oye was one such dark satire, LSD goes a step further by being a brazen, in-your-face comment on a society’s obsession with the truth – which is better when naked and scandalous (like the Loki Local song in the film). But beyond the sensational title and promos, edgy mode of digital camera shooting and camera angles mocking at established convention, LSD does come out as a very sensitive film and is disturbing for the same reason. The credit for which goes to the characters conceived by Dibakar Bannerjee and Kanu Behl and executed equally well by the fresh recruit of actors. As has been with his earlier films, each character is very well thought of and seem to stick with you till well beyond the film. Be it the ostentatios father, the yet another delhi girl in the other assistant in the mall, or the Bhojpuri touch in Naina….all had a touch of brilliance about them. I also paused at the name of Raj Kumar Yadav in the cast– which sounded strangely familiar, and on recollecting, I remembered why

Cut to about four years back when I landed up at the gates of FTII for a play being put up by their final year acting students. Unprepared as ever, my friend (yes I have one I promise!) and I didn’t have the passes which the guard was adamant on for allowing us entry that day. While we were trying to coax our way in, there was this guy hanging about at the entrance with his friends who, seeing our predicament, came up with a scheme of telling the guard we were there to meet someone in the hostel, and then asking us to take his name at further checkpoints till we finally infiltrated our way to the auditorium on campus. And as we went, we were followed by many more people using the same name. The result was an overly packed audi filled beyond its capacity, with a certain Raj Kumar Yadav to thank. I’d use this name further during my subsequent visits to FTII (and once elsewhere) in the event I was ever questioned by the guard about the person to meet, and so while the face faded away in my memory, the name stuck with me. It was pleasing to see the same name finally appear in credits and seeing the (t)humping start he got in his career. (ok bad joke)

Coming back, the question of LSD being a good or a bad film lies secondary to the fact that it’s a significant film. To get a mainstream release for an experimental whim of a director is one thing, but to have Balaji backing a venture such as this is triumph enough for the industry seemingly coming of age.

baKHAN: Once upon a time in India

Kachra can spin the ball, yet cannot be picked because the Zamindars and the Mukhiyas of the land do not approve of his caste. One man rises to open their eyes and after a long melodramatic speech, the people are miraculously transformed to a tear-jerking climax.

And while Aamir Khan could only have pulled it off onscreen, it takes the King/Dr./Lord Shahrukh Khan to do it in real life. It’s a different matter that he might have earlier retorted to Shobha De questioning his silence on 26/11 about how he’s an actor and not a person to opine on political matters, this time it indeed was grave. For it was cricket. It’s also a different matter that his upcoming film was banking heavily on overseas south asian audience....but then isn't co-incidence the only logical explanation too for lets say the sudden big bang or even perfect solar eclipses?

So it was only fair that the King Khan tweets (pun intended) his bold ‘Pakistani players should have been chosen’ statement. At first, you can’t help but appreciate his celebrated tongue in cheek witticism when he said that. Almost as ironical as his trying to look macho while saying ‘Mardo waali strong cream’ in a men’s fairness cream advert, for this was coming from a man who himself was part of the auction that happened. But that initial snigger is broken by the realization…’hold on…he’s serious?’

So he was. But where he’d have expected his mumbling to reach the other side of the border under the covering fire of cacophony of the governments fighting over the same, he seemed to get caught at the wrong end. Like that kid in school whose voice is just part of the classroom noise till without warning the class inadvertently goes quiet leaving his voice exposed. This is where the old dying tiger smells its prey which has mistakenly stumbled up right in its den. And the Thakreys rise from their deep slumber to pop their knuckles and crack their necks. What follows is an exchange of messages little fiercer than love notes where the media plays the messenger and the country nods its head left and right in the tennis match that follows.

The situation builds up to the notes of beethoven’s symphony#9 and as with its ending crescendo, Ruckus is created, police step in, and Mumbai is yet again put at war with itself to determine its identity. MNIK stands symbolic of this identity and the fight is now to save it from becoming the property of the goons. It finally releases amidst the chaos and ends up opening to packed houses across the country.

This is the happy ending. Our hero and the director celebrate the success of their film over champagne in their bubble bath, the new recruits of sena finally got a practical intro to their course ‘Tearing posters 101’, and the general public sleeps well after having ensured the success of the film in their fight against tyranny. This was easier than buying the Che Guevara T-shirts. This was rebellion delivered right at the doorsteps. That leaves just the Pakistani players, but they can always wait for the next IPL.

All is now well in this country.