Filmi Geek

Delhi-6 (2009)

दिल्ली-६

Dir. Rakeysh Omprakash Mehra

A recent Outlook India piece by Sunil Menon (one that also happened to mention this blog, I'm delighted to say) lamented the absence of a sense of place in many Hindi films.  Traditionally, Menon argues, geographical realism yields to movie magic, be it in masala films that are "officially headquartered in cloud-cuckoo-land (with branches in Switzerland)," or even in more serious films that make only passing invocation of locale through picture-postcard shots of landmarks. 

But my own experience of Hindi movies of late has been quite different from this.   From Kahaani's vibrant Calcutta, to Chhoti si baat's bustling Bombay, and even Tere ghar ke samne's romantic traipse up and down the spire of Qutub Minar, I have felt exquisitely connected to locale in many movies I have watched in recent months.  Almost certainly this is a lingering effect of my first trip to India, taken earlier this year, which converted many of the colors and locales of the movies from flat scenery to real, swirling, sensual associations in my mind.  One of the most potent experiences I had - one that made India pop off the movie screen and into the rest of my senses - was a bicycle-rickshaw ride and walk through Chandni Chowk on just the second full day of my trip.  Rakeysh Omprasad Mehra's Delhi-6 whirls through those very same churning streets, and watching this excellent movie closes the feedback loop of my experience - watching Hindi movies has made India a fascination for me of limitless depth and life, and seeing India inperson has made Hindi movies breathe with a new vivacity.

Annapurna (Waheeda Rehman) has been living with her son and his family in New York for many years, but her only wish is to return to her home in Delhi and spend the end of her life there.  Her grandson Roshan (Abhishek Bachchan) takes her there, and meets the extended family of relatives and neighbors who welcome Annapurna back into their crowded Chandni Chowk lives.   Roshan is thrilled by the sensory overload of the neighborhood, the brilliant pageantry of the Ram Leela plays, the broad spectrum of people he meets there.  He makes a bumpy adjustment to the realities of life in old Delhi - city streets choked by the holy spectacle of a cow giving birth, the arbitrary exercise of power (and reaping of baksheesh) by the police.  He is caught up, too, in the fear and excitement that grips the city because of seemingly random capers of an enigmatic assailant, Kala Bandar (the black monkey).  As Roshan gets pulled deeper into the mystery of Kala Bandar, he becomes a part of Delhi 6, and Delhi 6 becomes a part of him.

Among the many pleasures of Delhi-6 is Roshan's broad sense of wonder as he greets the tumult of Chandni Chowk for the first time.  As Roshan gazes across the crowd and exclaims "Awesome!", I can't help but share in that wonder and relive it with him.  Roshan is a foreigner, despite his family roots in the community - he grew up in America, speaks Hindi only as well as is expedient for the story, and greets the city and its inhabitants with wide-eyed fascination (and occasional indignation) that is palpably identifiable to a firang like myself. 

The people Roshan meets there provide the texture that brings the location to life.  Central among these is a close family friend, the avuncular Ali Baig (Rishi Kapoor), one of the wealthier inhabitants of the neighborhood, who becomes a father figure and confidant to Roshan.  Rishi Kapoor is delightful in this role, a more natural performance than his scene-chewing in Luck by Chance.  Less loveable but just as compelling is the cranky Madangopal (Om Puri), father of Bittu (Sonam Kapoor), who hides her makeup and navel-piercing from her family and dreams of Bombay and stardom.  Madangopal's ambitious but somewhat stupid brother Jaigopal (Pavan Malhotra) teases the apparent simpleton Gobar (Atul Kulkarni), who of course turns out to be smarter and wiser than anyone gives him credit for.  A sinister money-lender (Prem Chopra) wields his power and influence like the jeweled walking-stick he carries.  The sweet-shop owner Mamdu (Deepak Dobriyal) greets Roshan with overflowing warmth and offers of sweets; he declares, "Bhookh mitane ke liye kutte khate hain - insaan khaate hain jodne ke liye." (Dogs eat to sate hunger - people eat to bond with each other.)

I adore this sort of neighborhood ensemble cast that brings to a movie a vibrancy, an essence, a palpable sense of life in a particular place.  This was something I loved, too, about Shyam Benegal's Welcome to Sajjanpur - and here, as in that movie, Divya Dutta once again utterly fascinates in a very brief but completely riveting role.  She plays Jalebi, a low-caste woman who collects trash and, with a compelling mixture of viciousness and sadness, harrasses neighborhood boys who cringe superstitiously away from her.  And she is a harbinger of the divisive mentality that lurks below Chandni Chowk's affable surface.

The people generate the pulse of Chandni Chowk, all these religiously, ethnically, economically diverse souls cramped together in the narrow galis of the old city.  And they live together in relative harmony, until the tension of Kala Bandar drives wedges between them, splintering the neighborhood.  Roshan, of course, ultimately helps to repair the shattered community.  But he is not so much the prodigal savior, as is Shah Rukh Khan's character in Swades.  Roshan is not a smarmy hero, swooping in with great knowledge from the West to rescue the backward locals.  Instead, he is something of an accidental savior.   After his initial tourist reaction to Delhi 6 subsides - and when internecine tension threatens to set the neighborhood ablaze - his first instinct is to flee back to the comfort of the US.  But finally, moved by love (both for Annapurna and for Bittu), Roshan sees, and takes, an opportunity for self-sacrifice. 

It is a very satisfying character arc, in a very satisfying movie.  Roshan's growth, the superb cast of richly diverse and colorfully sketched characters, the swirling sense of Chandni Chowk, the beautiful array of A.R. Rahman's songs, all combine and resonate with my own memories of Delhi, for a movie I am sure I will return to whenever I want to relive my thrilling afternoon in Delhi 6.

Luck by Chance (2009)

Dir. Zoya Akhtar

Irrational love for The Dirty Picture notwithstanding, I do not usually have much patience for movies that purport to be self-reflective about the movie industry.  Even the undeniable artistry of Kaagaz ke phool is somewhat obscured for me by that movie's whining about how haaaaard it is to be an artist in the crass, cold environment of commercial cinema.  My experience of Zoya Akhtar's otherwise very good Luck by Chance suffers a bit from the same affliction. 

Sona (Konkona Sen Sharma) is an actor with dreams of landing a big role and becoming a star.  She works tirelessly at bit parts in mainstream productions, and waits for the break she's been promised by a shady producer (Alyy Khan).  Sona meets another ambitious young actor, Vikram (Farhan Akhtar), and the two connect and start a relationship.  In the meantime, big-time producer Rommy Rolly (Rishi Kapoor) is trying to complete his next blockbuster, a star vehicle for the A-lister Zaffar Khan (Hrithik Roshan) and launch for newcomer Nikki (Isha Sharvani), the daughter of 70s silver screen legend Neena (Dimple Kapadia).  When Zaffar abruptly withdraws from the film, an opportunity arises for Vikram - he lands the part, and soon is riding the relentless scree of studio promotion, media attention, and superstar-level temptation.  Vikram's movie is a hit, but his relationship with Sona takes a hit. 

Laments about the hardships faced by industry outsiders do ring somewhat hollow in the all-Akhtar extravaganza that is Luck by Chance.  And in addition to a supporting cast packed with industry elder statesmen, the movie sports actor cameos to a degree not seen since Om Shanti Om - a sure sign of a moviemaker's movie if there ever was one (though I admit my heart broke a little when I spotted Manish Acharya).  Nevertheless, apart from a bit of eyerolling at this (and a slightly draggy middle section) Luck by Chance is a strong effort whose best points stand out much more than its weaknesses detract.  The contrasting arcs of its two principals - Vikram and Sona - are especially well-rendered.  Vikram's abrupt rise and equally abrupt - if predictable - fall serves a sharp counterpoint to Sona's hard slog through obscurity and squelched hope toward a peaceful and mature landing. 

Vikram's arc, in particular, offers the incontrovertible stamp of a movie written by a woman.  Vikram is seduced by success in no time flat, and acts like a complete asshole, making not even an attempt to resist the artlessly forward advances of the vapid, unappealing Nikki.  Sona understandably grieves her lost love - but when Vikram begs for a second chance, she calls him out for the self-absorbed man-child he is.   In most movies written by men, self-absorbed man-children behave like complete assholes as a matter of course, and are usually forgiven and get what they want all the same.  Not so Vikram; Zoya Akhtar makes sure that his actions have reasonably satisfying consequences. 

As for Sona's arc, I wish the movie were less coy about the nature of Sona's quid pro quo with the producer Chaudhary who promises her a second-heroine role in a movie he is always on the cusp of making. It seems from the innuendo of the movie's opening scene that the arrangement includes Sona doing time on the casting couch, but the movie otherwise gives the subject very wide berth, and nothing is made of it after that exchange.  Where Luck By Chance is fearless about poking a stick at so many industry pecadilloes - from the favoring of talentless star kids to the out-of-proportion influence wielded by gossip rags - it is telling that the movie treads so cautiously on the subject of swapping sex for roles. 

It is perhaps redundant to praise a Konkona Sen Sharma performance, but I won't let that stop me.  She brings an outstandingly moving wounded delicacy to Sona.  As Sona's dreams fade she seems to become wearier and wearier; her posture droops and her expression takes on a more exhausted aspect.   Konkona also conveys the real work of acting - when Sona finishes a take, her face and body visibly relax. Always looking to improve her craft, Sona never fails to buttonhole someone on set and ask whether the take was good.  There is another contrast with Vikram here that is surely intentional.  Vikram studies also - he practices dancing and martial arts; he is chastised by a workshop instructor for being too understated in his delivery.  Vikram is studying to be a Hero, not an actor.

And as a hero, I am not yet fully sold on Farhan Akhtar.  He's a very good-looking fellow (just like his father) but his perpetually dazed expression does not convey a great deal of emotional range, and he speaks (just like his father) as though he's still finishing dinner and has a cold.  I will reserve judgment until I've seen more of his movies. 

The supporting cast lends a great deal of texture to Luck by Chance's portrayal of how the sausage gets made in mainstream Hindi cinema.  Dimple Kapadia is always riveting - sometimes I wonder if she is not simply the most beautiful woman in the movies, bar none.  In Being Cyrus, she made an aborrent character thrillingly appealing, and she calls on some of the same art for the slightly more sympathetic Neena, who is part over-the-hill superstar, part horrifying pageant mom.  Dimple brings a measure of subtlety to this blend that makes Neena the most compelling character in the film.  Rishi Kapoor, as the emotional producer Rommy, does a lot more scene chewing in a performance with a lot less depth, but he's nevertheless a lot of fun to watch. 

In sum, if you do not share my mild aversion to industry navel-gazing, Luck by Chance has a lot to offer.   Most movie lovers would be fascinated by the sort of insider peek it offers behind the camera and into production offices.  Toss in an excellent Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy soundtrack (including, over the opening credits, a moving montage of behind-the-scenes workers from set-builders to costume-tailors) and that vast menu of supporting roles and cameos, and on balance you have a well-made movie worth watching - even if it will never be a favorite of mine. 

Chhoti si baat (1975)

छोटी सी बात

Dir. Basu Chatterjee

Don't ever let anyone tell you, as one of my guides in India claimed, that all Hindi movies are the same.  We know better.  They are not all bombast and melodrama, improbable dance numbers and dishum-dishum.  Not that there's anything wrong with that!  But there has long been a place in Hindi cinema for sweet stories adorably and delicately told.  Taking pride of place alongside charming gems like Chashme buddoor and Katha is Basu Chatterjee's lovable, scrumptious, and hilarious Chhoti si baat ("a little thing"), truly one of the cutest, most delightful Hindi movies I have ever had the pleasure to see.

Arun (Amol Palekar) is a mild, bashful accountant with an all-consuming crush on Prabha (Vidya Sinha), a woman who works in a nearby office building and takes the same bus as Arun to work.   Arun can't bring himself to speak to Prabha, but his adoring gaze on the bus - and his habit of following her all the way home - tips his feelings to Prabha.  She indulges him, and even seems rather to like him - but she can't resist teasing him a little, too.  Soon, though, a rival arrives on a shiny yellow scooter and forces Arun's  hand - the breezy, confident Nagesh (Asrani), a lawyer in Prabha's office who takes an obvious shine to her and leaves Arun in the dust.  Desperate, Arun turns to a famous fixer, retired Colonel Julius Nagendranath Wilfred Singh (Ashok Kumar), who dishes out advice to everyone from lovelorn office workers to superstars like Amitabh Bachchan.  The Colonel takes a fatherly interest in Arun's case, and gives him a month-long crash course in suavity and confidence.  But it remains to be seen whether following the Colonel's sometimes questionable guidance will do the job to help Arun turn the tables on Nagesh, and win him Prabha.

If I weren't already firmly on the Amol Palekar train after Golmaal, Chhoti si baat would certainly have done the trick.   The guy is flat adorable.  From his first appearance minutes into the movie, with his sweet anxious demeanor and nervous smile, I was grinning like a dope and didn't stop until long after it was over.  He renders Arun's docile sweetness just perfectly, and is a complete delight to watch - and to root for - as he stumbles through his courtship of Prabha.  Palekar brings a charming physicality to this role, adjusting his posture and mannerisms almost continuously as his confidence grows and wanes and grows again.  And Arun's Walter-Mittyish fantasies add to his charm and make him thoroughly relatable to a daydreamer like me.  In one fantastic sequence Arun, in a cinema hall, watches a song featuring Dharmendra and Hema Malini.  He squirms jealously in his seat as Hema morphs into Prabha in Dharmendra's arms - and then relaxes into a contented smile as the image of Arun takes Dharmendra's place.

 

Vidya Sinha brings her share of adorable to the show, too - Prabha sports a magnificent smile (not to mention a vast collection of fabulous sarees), and it's not difficult to see how Arun could be utterly besotted by her.  Especially charming are the scenes where she recounts Arun's fumbling attempts at stalking and courtship to her coworker (Nandita Thakur), who cracks slightly racy jokes as the clearly smitten Prabha blushes.  Indeed, most wonderfully portrayed is that Prabha actually likes Arun, right from the very beginning, and is fairly unwavering in that - Nagesh's smooth talk and slick scooter may seem a threat to Arun, but the audience is in on the secret that as far as Prabha is concerned, it's Arun all the way.

The best treat of all, though, is Ashok Kumar, who is simply hilarious as the avuncular Colonel Julius Nagendranath Wilfred Singh (I never tire of that name, and neither does the movie).  I chronicled my ever-growing appreciation for Ashok Kumar when I recently wrote about Ek saal - it's hard to imagine a more different role from that of the Colonel, but here he is just a riot.  He spews an endless stream of advice that is somewhere between platitudes and complete nonsense, and then chides Arun for answering "yes" when the Colonel asks "samjhe?"  "Khak samjhe!" the Colonel spits, "main khud nahin samjha maine kya kaha!" ("Like hell you understand! I myself don't even understand what I said.")  And as humorously and broadly-drawn as he is, the tenderness with which the Colonel realizes, toward the end of the film, that he might have steered Arun wrong is genuinely touching.

Chhoti si baat offers some visual treats too, including a fun hillside trek through Khandala.  And, of course,  there are marvelous street scenes of Bombay that made me long for more time there, after my very abbreviated visit a few months ago.  These are crowned by this wonderful sparkly poster for an Amitabh and Saira Banu film that adorns the bus stop where Arun and Prabha meet:

Among Chhoti si baat's pleasures are a number of cameos, including a hilarious appearance by Rajendranath as a fake sadhu who pulls out a lemon out of his rear with a ridiculous "look what I did!" grin, bilks Arun out of a tidy sum, and steals his pen to boot.  I first saw Rajendranath in his riotously cute role in Tere ghar ke samne, and I laughed like a loon through his entire scene here.

What can I do besides gush?  Chhoti si baat is a thoroughly delightful film, one I'll watch over and over again, and one that is available in reasonable quality with subtitles on YouTube.  What are you waiting for? 

 

Band baaja baaraat (2010)

बैंड बाजा बारात

Dir. Maneesh Sharma

It isn't often that a new film makes me wonder how it will be remembered in 30 years.  Even most good movies are looked back on with affectionate nostalgia; only a few attain the status of classics, elevated in memory to a cultural touchstone, something more than a nice way to spend a few hours. Before you decide that I have lost my mind: I am not quite ready to say that Band baaja baaraat ("band, fanfare, wedding procession") is such a movie, though it is delightful and extremely well-wrought.  Yet, just like the business created by its protagonists, Band baaja baaraat is a synergy, more than the sum of its parts -  enough so to make me wonder whether more might be going on here than just the best-made love story of the past few years.

Shruti Kakkad (Anushka Sharma) is a young woman with a plan.  Fresh from college, she has a vision of building the biggest wedding planning business in the country, and is not afraid to work for it.  Her classmate, Bittoo Sharma (Ranveer Singh), talks Shruti into a business partnership, if only to buy some time before his father drags him away from the excitement of Delhi, and back to the family farm.  Shruti and Bittoo take to the work like demons, putting in long hours together and working their way up from small celebrations in dingy chawls to the grand prize of wedding planning - giant, multi-day, estate home affairs.  Their style is unique, colorful, and fun, and their business - Shaadi Mubarak - has arrived.  But the growing attraction between Shruti and Bittoo sours the laddoo; Shruti's rules of business don't leave any room for passion, and Bittoo sees himself too much the gadabout to let love tie him down.  Shaadi Mubarak bends and breaks under the strain, and each of the partners tries, unsuccessfully, to carry on the business alone.  It is going to take near-divine intervention to get Shaadi Mubarak - not to mention Bittoo and Shruti - back on the right track.

Band baaja baaraat is, most importantly, a ton of fun, well-paced and colorful - and cleverly constructed with built-in excuses for multiple wedding songs without turning the movie into Hum aapke hain koun.  It is a cute, shiny entertainer - accessible, charming, and funny, and blessed with lots of terrific music.  Shaadi Mubarak's signature style is described in the movie with the words "chatak" and "dhinchyak" - both rendered in the subtitles as "kitsch" - which lend the whole film a wonderful shimmering color and energy that is exactly what makes this kind of Bollywood movie so immersive and fun.   

But for all of that delicious sparkle, Band baaja baaraat is also a lot richer and more character-driven than most love stories.  It isn't just two hours of stalling to see how the principals find their way to each other; there is a strong character arc for each of them, a process of maturation that is very satisfying to watch.  The movie gives them a few lucky breaks - the one that brings Shaadi Mubarak back together after the rift, in particular, is a little too far on the deus ex machina side of things - but it also never shies away from showing just how much hard work Shruti and Bittoo pour into their business. 

As a modern, independent young heroine, Shruti is even better than Jab We Met's Geet, strong-willed without being reactionary, visionary without being flighty.  She is far from flawless - she has eye rolling down to an art form, and it is clear from the beginning that she will need to develop some flexibility and a sense of humor before movie's end.  But develop she does - her speech to Bittoo in the movie's climax nearly made me stand up and cheer - how refreshing to see a young woman in a movie, after suffering a heartbreak, dust herself off and prepare to get on with her life!  And at the resolution, she accepts him without compromising her strength, noting that "uske tang tod dungi, partership nahin" ("I'll break his legs, but I won't break the partnership").   

The movie's excellent handling of the sexual facet of Bittoo and Shruti's relationship is refreshing, poignant, and thoroughly relatable.  It is not sex itself that throws a wrench in Bittoo and Shruti's works; it is their failure to honestly acknowledge and communicate their feelings about it and about each other.  Band baaja baaraat does not have even the scent of a morality tale, in which young people's ambitions are driven off the rails by sex.  No one's life is ruined by sex - in particular, Shruti's life is not ruined.  The message here is only that one should be as mature and forthright about matters of the heart as one is about matters of business - but in neither sphere is it necessarily a bad thing for a woman to be aggressive about getting what she wants.  

With all that richness in Shruti's character arc, Band baaja baaraat would have been a good movie even if Bittoo were merely a cipher or a foil for her development, but he too gets a satisfying character progression.  He starts the movie as a bit of a feckless loser with more strut than substance, and a capacity for lying under pressure that, one feels, will cause him more trouble than it gets him out of.  But Shruti's steadying influence puts his natural (if rough) charm and fast-talking ability to its best possible use, and there is much delight in watching Bittoo coming to understand how he needs her.  

As such a character-driven movie, Band baaja baaraat asks much more of Ranveer Singh and Anushka Sharma - a newcomer and a near-newcomer - than most light romances demand of their young stars, and part of what makes it so good is that the two of them are more than up to the task.  And that is where I start to think about where Band Baaja baaraat will end up after a few more decades of filmi history.  There is something about its electric young jodi that reminds me of the thrill with which folks remember star-launching romances like Bobby or Qayamat se qayamat tak.  As a work of filmmaking craft, Band baaja baaraat is far better than either of those.  But even as the decorations get taken down and the bleat of horns fades into the distance, the question lingers: are Anushka Sharma and Ranveer Singh a nascent powerhouse jodi? 

And  beyond just the power of the pairing, Band baaja baarat offers a bold, empowering, reflection of the industrious, young population of urban India - it's like Rocket Singh with sex and without the questionable business practices. (It's no small matter that Shruti is explicit in her conviction that Shaadi Mubarak distinguish itself from the prevailing wedding-planning practice of cheating customers.  Band baaja baaraat strives to show an alternative path to success besides beating the establishment at its own game.)  The segment of middle-class society portrayed so positively in Band baaja baaraat is, in no small part, the folks  who get to decide which of today's movies are tomorrow's classics.  So, does this movie capture a watershed moment in the development of the Republic?  That is a grand and heavy load for a light, comedic romance to carry.  If any movie can shoulder that load, though, Band baaja baaraat is it.

 

Kahaani (2012)

कहानी

Dir. Sujoy Ghosh

Sujoy Ghosh's outstanding new thriller is taut, compelling, and very satisfying.  Kahaani ("story, tale") careens through the living streets of Calcutta, offering a palpable sense of that vibrant city.  Toss in an engaging mystery, a female lead who is both strong and likeable, and some excellent performances, and the result is a simply superb movie.  

Vidya Bagchi (Vidya Balan) arrives in Calcutta, heavily pregnant, to search for her husband Arnab, who left her behind in London a month previously for a work assignment.  Arnab, she tells a young police inspector, Rana (Parambrata Chatterjee), phoned her several times a day during the first few weeks of his time in Calcutta, but then the calls stopped abruptly.  Vidya can't get a straight answer from Arnab's employer, nor from the guest house where he was staying.  Frustrated, Vidya launches her own investigation, with Rana's help.  She soon learns that her husband is a dead ringer for a mysterious figure named Milan Damji.  Vidya convinces Rana that tracking down Milan Damji will lead her to Arnab.  But her investigation of Milan draws the attention of an obstructive federal intelligence agent, Khan (Nawazuddin Siddiqui), as well as other, even more sinister characters who don't hesitate to use deadly force to block her leads.  Vidya's peristence brings her into the crosshairs of thugs, contract killers, and even domestic terrorists - but the danger won't deter her from the trail of the man she came to Calcutta to find.

It is difficult to write about a current thriller without spoiling its surprises.  I cannot even name other thrillers with which I think Kahaani shares a kinship, or to which it pays explicit, deliberate homage, without giving too great a hint towards its climax and denouement. But since I want to urge all readers to see this splendid movie, I'll choose to steer clear of much discussion of the finer points of its plot.  (This is one reason I prefer writing about older films - I worry less about spoiling those!)  Many reviews I've read since seeing the movie pick at the plausibility of its details.  I find these criticisms shallow and beside the point.  Perhaps Kahaani's  twists and angles would not stand up to repeat-viewing scrutiny, but few films do.  And among the multi-layered significances of the movie's title is the straightforward interpretation that Kahaani is a story, not real life.  No matter how realistically they are portrayed, stories by their very nature reside at the fringes of credulity, exploring the improbable.   

Like its Bengali characters with their good names and pet names, Kahaani sports dual identities - it adopts the pacing and format of a slick western-style thriller while remaining a thoroughly Indian movie.  Even the movie's denouement, which practically quotes one particular Hollywood thriller, follows a climax that is set among swirling clouds of vermilion in a swarming Durga Puja celebration, and that neatly parallels the mythology of Durga - such allegory is a hallmark of a certain kind of Indian movie, and disarms the criticism one sometimes hears that modern Indian cinema is too keen on courting a western audience.  The teeming streets of Calcutta are more than mere backdrop - these are not mere postcard-flashes or scene-setting, but a strong sense of place.   The grimy alleys, worn awnings, and cobbled streets lined with tea and snack vendors strongly evoke the feeling of an Indian city, while the scenes in the city's metro and streetcars add a sort of kineticism that is unique to Calcutta, making the city a character in its own right.  A cast largely populated with Bengali actors - rather than a truckload of Bollywood stars transplanted to an exotic location - enhances that strong sense of place. 

Nearly all of the actors give terrific performances that help keep Kahaani immersive and engaging.  The movie is driven by a wonderfully physical performance of Vidya Balan who, even playing an enormously pregnant character, is smartly sexy and confident.  Her pregnant-woman waddle is in counterpoint to a kind of nervous energy, a straining fidgetiness that conveys the anxiety of her situation.   She shifts from impatience to tenderness, stern anger to sorrowful exhaustion, always broad and screen-filling, never simpering or hyper-feminine.  Female characters with grit and power, who are not bitchy and not secondary to a male lead, are rare in movies of any language and particularly thrilling in Hindi movies; Kahaani has given me a thirst for more of Vidya Balan that will take quite a few of her movies to slake.  Parambrata Chatterjee, too, as Vidya's would-be protector (Rana's good name, Satyaki, refers to a warrior in the Mahabharat who was a friend and protector of Arjun) is tender, idealistic, and sympathetic.  The only performance that verges on scene-chewing is Nawazuddin Siddiqui as the bombastic Khan; even the contract killer Bob Biswas (Saswata Chatterjee) is weirdly appealing as he offers his deferential "Namaskar" to each of his victims.   

While Kahaani, like many post-modern multiplex era Hindi films, lacks song-and-dance in the traditional mold, its soundtrack is dynamic, with songs that enhance mood and feeling when they are used.  The gritty energy of "Aami shotti bolchi" is the perfect complement to manic scenes of Calcutta's rush.  Rabindranath Tagore's pensive poem "Ekla cholo re," sweetly arranged by Vishal-Shekhar and competently performed by Amitabh Bachchan, provides a moment of calm before the film plunges into the churning roil of Durga Puja for the climax.  Like the best songs in the best movies, these add more color to an already compelling movie that is everything a thriller should be.