Blarg.

I have been blessed with a jolly Christmas cold.  Reviews will resume when I'm good and ready.

And then, for no good reason, an item number.

I am famously* okay with formulaic movies, as long as the formula is well executed, and Arjun Patiala (2019) does not just execute the formula well, it embraces the formula, celebrates the formula, and helpfully points out the bits of formula you might have missed.  Instead of footnotes, we have a framing story/occasional Greek chorus, in which an ambitious writer narrates the plot of his script to his potential producer (Pankaj Tripathi.)  He promises that the script is a "hero centered" movie for men, featuring violence, action, male bonding, romance, and space for a gratuitous Sunny Leone cameo.  The full package, in other words.

The script is about Arjun Patalia (Diljit Dolsanjh) an honest cop who won his posting in a judo competition.  he quickly assembles a supporting cast, most notably including Onida Singh (Varun Sharma) the station's loyal and gleefully corrupt Chief Constable.  And after a brief flirtation with beauty parlor owner baby (Sunny Leone in a gratuitous cameo) he falls hard for spunky reporter Ritu Randhawa (Kirti Sanon.)  And, as an Indian protagonist, Arjun also has parents; a dotty father (Ritesh Shah) and doting mother (Nirmal Rishi, who doesn't get to wave a shotgun around this time.)

But what about the action?  Arjun's superior (and childhood idol) Amarjeet Singh Gill (Ronit Roy) has a dream: a crime-free district.  And Arjun has a crazy and ethically dubious plan: convince Ritu to give him a briefing  on the local criminals, then use that information to manipulate them into killing each other.  (The crime wave is presented like a tournament in a fighting game, with brackets and onscreen scores and quite a bit of cartoonish violence.)  Everything would be great, except that Ritu is beginning to suspect something, and someone is clearly pulling the strings.

Everything proceeds pretty much according to the formula, with the framing story used to provide commentary and some of the better jokes.  Some of the later plot twists are explained in "deleted scenes," and there's a literal checklist of songs.  But while the metacommentary is fun, in the end Arjun Patalia is a pretty formulaic action-comedy.  And I'm really okay with that.

(*I am not actually famous for anything.)

No, the other Himmatwala.

When you are watching a Bollywood movie from the eighties, you have a pretty good idea of what to expect.  The fight scenes will be big and ridiculous.  Any character played by Shakti Kapoor is not to be trusted.  Somebody's wicked father will be offered forgiveness that he hasn't really earned.  And the hero's sister is going to have a very bad time.  Himmatwala (1983) is a perfect example; it's not just a product of its era, it really helped to define it.

Ravi (Jeetendra) returns to his home village after qualifying as an engineer, only to discover that things have gone wrong in his absence.  His mother Savitri (Waheeda Rehman) and sister Padma (Swaroop Sampat) are both living in poverty on the edge of the village, and the wicked Sher Singh (Amjad Khan), his spoiled and sadistic daughter Rekha (Sridevi), and his equally wicked accountant Narayandas (Kader Khan) are ruling the village like feudal monarchs.  After Ravi's mother explains the history of the situation, much of which he was actually there for, Ravi decides to take action, and the first thing he does is convince Rekha to abandon her evil ways by showing her the consequences of her actions.  Soon, she's given up the leather catsuits in favor of demure saris, and is singing romantic songs with Ravi.

But it's not all righteous vengeance all the time; Ravi is actually there to work.  The government is building a dam in the area, and Ravi is the man in charge, which means among other things, he's the one in charge of deciding where the dam will be built.  That could mean opportunity for Sher Singh and Narayandas, but Ravi won't be intimidated, refuses to be bought, and is easily capable of beating up a dozen armed me, so have no leverage.  And then they discover that Padma is in love with Nrayandas's son Shakti (Shakti Kapoor.)

Like a lot of Bollywood movies of the era, Himmatwala keeps changing genre.  Sometimes it's a revenge melodrama, sometimes it's a romantic comedy, sometimes it's a hard-hitting social commentary on poverty in the villages, and for one brief moment it's a disaster movie.  That's fine; the rapid genre changes are in fact a thing that I like about Indian cinema, but it does make our villains seem incompetent, since by the time they get an evil scheme rolling it's suddenly a completely different movie.

Still, you don't watch an eighties movie for competently and consistently implemented evil schemes.  This movie has ludicrous fight scenes, bright and entertaining songs, a few moments of genuine drama, and Sridevi.  I got exactly what I paid for.

The lack of diamonds should have been my first clue.

Bank Chor (2017) is, as the title implies, a movie about a bank robber, Champak (Riteish Deshmukh), an ordinary man forced into a life of crime, and his two Delhi-born accomplices, Gulab (Bhuvan Arora) and Genda (Vikram Thapa).  They have a plan, a gun, and cunning disguises.  Unfortunately, they are also idiots, and things immediately spiral out of control, leaving them with twenty eight hostages (with varying degrees of wackiness), a media circus outside the bank lfeaturing beautiful rookie reporter Gayatri Ganguli (Rhea Chakraborty), and a police operation which has been taken over by CBI officer Amjad Khan (Vivek Oberoi), a man who likes to shoot first and ask questions later, questions which mostly involve more shooting.

And at this point I was left wondering what on Earth I could say about the movie; if you've seen one wacky crime farce, you've pretty much seen them all, so you may as well sit back and wait for the climactic chase scene.  But it turns out that Bank Chor is not a wacky crime farce, it's a gritty neo-noir crime drama involving a corrupt politician (Upendra Limaye) and an actual bank robber (Sahil Vaid) who is happy to kill everybody if it gets him what he wants.  Our heroes just happen to be in the wrong movie, still cracking jokes and bumbling around while the universe around them plays it completely straight.

And even after the big twist, I still don't have a whole lot to say about Bank Chor.  It plays fair; all the movie's twists, including the big one and the other big one, make sense based on what has come before.  It's a rare example of a successful cinematic bait and switch.

Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love.

Padmaavat (2018) opens with a disclaimer, and I shall do the same.  The movie's release met with a great deal of controversy, and I am not really going to touch on any of it; I am just an American guy who likes Indian movies, and I am not remotely qualified to comment on whether legendary and historical characters are being portrayed accurately and with respect or whether this is a suitable adaptation of an epic poem I have never read.  Instead, I'm just going to focus on the movie as a self-contained story.

The story begins with Alauddin (Ranveer Singh) and his rise to power.  To say Alauddin is ambitious would be an understatement; he claims that every beautiful thing in the world belongs to him, which is an attitude that will get him into trouble someday.  Still, he rises.  He captures an ostrich in order to marry Mehrunissa (Aditi Rao Hydari), the daughter of Jalaludin (Raza Murad.)  He helps Jalaludin win the throne of Delhi, gains great renown by successfully fighting off a Mongol invasion, then, with the help of loyal and cheerfully murderous slave Malik Kufar (Jim Sarbh), he murders his father-in-law and seizes the throne for himself. 

Meanwhile, Sinhalese princess Padmavati (Deepika Padukone) is doing princess stuff, which in her case mostly means living in the woods and being young and carefree and sure that nothing will ever change.  She's one cute animal sidekick short of being a Disney princess.  One day while hunting she accidentally shoots Ratan Singh (Shahid Kapoor), king of Mewar.  She nurses him back to health, then accompanies him home as his bride.  Everything is wonderful - until the happy couple catch Ratan's guru Raghav Chetan (who isn't credited in the IMDB) spying on them.  Padmavati insists that Raghav should be exiled, and so he is.  he swears revenge, but goes away.

In short order, Raghav makes his way to Delhi, where he arranges to be discovered by Alauddin.  He tells Alauddin of Padmavati's legendary beauty, convincing him that he is destined to rule the world, but only with her at his side.  Since Alauddin's philosophy is that every beautiful thing belongs to him anyway, he promptly takes his army to Mewar to claim his prize. 

Padmaavat sounds like a historical epic, and I suppose it is, but it plays out more like a fairy tale.  The princess is beautiful and noble and spirited and kind, the villain is consumed by greed and wickedness and dresses like heavy metal Dracula, and the handsome prince and his people are Movie Rajputs, pure of heart but completely dedicated to a rigid code of honor.  The movie even looks like a fairy tale, with the scenery ranging from pretty to stunning and otherworldly, while still remaining more grounded than the giant statues and impossible cliffs of Baahubali.

It also plays out as a tragedy, and I have mixed feelings about that.  I can follow the characters' reasoning and motivation, even though I don't agree with them.  I understand that there is cultural significance behind the final act of literal self-sacrifice, and the scene was shot and performed beautifully.  It was also a really jarring moment of culture shock for me.

Ultimately this is Ranveer Singh's movie.  The other leads are perfectly good and convincing as they stride toward their various noble fates that probably could have been avoided with a little forethought, but from his humble beginnings onward Alauddin is a terrible person, and Singh still manages to make him compelling and believable as he schemes and murders and fights and sneers and swoons and dances.  And when he dances, he really, really dances.

You know, for kids.

I have very eclectic tastes when it comes to Indian cinema, but I have to admit I've got a  soft spot for the Bollywood romantic comedies of the nineties and early oughts. They really don't make them like that any more, but luckily for me, they made a lot of them like that at the time, and I've got a backlog of movies I haven't seen yet. I can scratch Hum Hain Rahi Pyar Ke (1993) off the list. 

After the death of his sister, Rahul Malhotra (Aamir Khan) has taken charge of both the family garment factory and her three children, Vicky (Shahrokh Barucha), Sunny (Khunal Khemu, who years later went on to co-write and star in the slacker zombie comedy Go Goa Gone), and Muni (Baby Ashrafa).  Rahul is basically a good guy who's trying his best in a difficult situation, and the kids are little hooligans, who keep pelting the servants with eggs.  Clearly Rahul needs help, and he's not going to get it from Maya (Navneet Nishan), an old college friend who clearly would like to be more, but doesn't want to deal with the children.

Across town, Vaijanti Iyer (Juhi Chawla) has her own problems.  Her traditional Brahmin father (K. D. Chandran) is determined to marry her off to someone of her own caste, but the best he's been able to find is an oily dancer (Veeru Krishnan), to whom she takes an instant dislike.  Vaijanti runs away and hides out in a nearby fair.  Meanwhile, Rahul's charges have also crept out of the house to go to the fair.  They meet Vaijanti, and after some hijinks, the theft of a harmonica, and an impromptu musical number, they become fast friends. 

Since Vaijanti has nowhere else to go, the children decide to sneak her into the house, without telling Uncle Rahul.  Now you may think you know where this plot is going, but you are completely correct.  There are humorous misunderstandings galore, followed by valuable life lessons and our young attractive protagonists falling in love and not bothering to say anything.

Meanwhile, cartoonishly evil businessman Bijlani (Dalip Tahil) has placed an order for 100,000 shirts, an order which Rahul's late brother-in-law has failed to deliver because he died.  According to the terms of the contract the brother-in-law signed, if the shirts are not delivered in fifteen days, Bijlani will take possession of the factory and the family home.  (That is some contract.)  Bijlani is willing to be merciful, but only if Rahul agrees to marry Maya, who happens to be Bijlani's daughter.

Hum Hain Rahi Pyar Ke was an enormous hit when it was released, and I can see why.  There are no  real surprises here, but that's part of the charm.  This is a movie that chooses its formula and then executes it well.  The leads are charming, the villain daintily nibbles on the scenery, the gratuitous comic relief (Mushtaq Khan) is only kind of annoying, and Juhi wears an array of dowdy dresses in a rainbow of pastel colors, as if a closet full of Sunday dresses and a basket of Easter candy were fused together in a transporter accident.  It may sound like I'm damning with faint praise here, but I love this stuff.  It's cinematic comfort food.

He's a chicken, I tell you! A giant chicken!

Kanthaswamy (2009) (or Mallama, as the Telugu dub I just watched is titled) is a movie about a man who dresses up as a rooster in order to fight crime.  Yes, it is a deeply strange movie, but probably not in the way that you're thinking.

It starts with a temple devoted to Mallama (who as the film points out is known by many names, perhaps most widely as Kartikeya, but here he's Mallama).  A woman who needs money for her husband's operation ties a prayer to the tree, and that night a bag of money is placed at her door.  She's suspicious and brings the money to the police, who "confiscate" it, by which I mean the station head takes the money for himself.  That night, though, he's confronted by a masked, crowing, occasionally flying figure who claims to be Mallama himself.  The money's retrieved, and the woman's husband is saved.

This Mallama is actually a CBI officer named Mallama (Vikram), who has assumed the god's identity in order to better steal from the rich  and give to the poor.  In this case, the specific rich being stolen from are the wealthy tax cheats Mallama encounters during his day job, and the poor he gives to are the devotees who tie their prayers to the temple tree. He does not have any superpowers, and instead performs his amazing feats with the help of a dedicated team of helpers, practical effects, and literal wire-fu.

Mallama's current target is PPP (Ashish Vidyarthi), who starts off smug but winds up faking a stroke mid raid in order to get out of answering questions.  He is very devoted to the fake, pretending to be partially paralyzed, and doesn't even tell his daughter Subbalakshmi (Shriya Saran) the truth, so she in turn attempts to take revenge on Mallama, first by accusing him of rape and then by trying to make him fall in love with her.  Mallama isn't fooled for a second, but decides to play along anyway, because this is a movie and that is what you do in movies.

This is a long movie, but instead of filling out the running time with padding, it fills it out with plot - PPP isn't even the main villain!  Okay, there is a comic relief subplot which wasn't even subtitled in the version of the film I saw, and I don't think I missed anything, but apart from that there's a lot going on.  And throughout all that, Mallama actually spends relatively little time dressed as a chicken; most of his heroic deeds are performed in his real identity.

Beyond that, he's an odd superhero in other ways.  Mallama the "god" is cocky, graceful, and does everything with theatrical flair, while Mallama the CBI officer is dour, cranky, sarcastic, and totally focused on the job at hand.  It's like if Spider-Man was secretly Bruce Wayne.

Mallama is also a superhero who focuses almost entirely on white-collar crime, specifically money laundering and  tax evasion.  Mallama is deadly serious about this Robin Hood business, and speaks often and eloquently about income inequality and how much good the corrupt billionaires he targets could be doing with their money.

But the really strange part of the movie is Mallama and Subbalakshmi's relationship.  It is blindingly obvious that they're going to wind up together; several minor characters point it out as the the plot progresses.  But she's kind of a terrible person, and he's really mean to her.  Does Subbalakshmi becoime good?  Does Mallama become nice?  Well, kind of.  But they still need all of the therapy, and a prayer tied to a tree probably wouldn't hurt.