Bollywood Movie Review - Kites

DIRECTOR: Anurag Basu
ACTORS: Hrithik Roshan, Barbara Mori, Kangna Ranaut, Nicolas Brown, Kabir Bedi, Yuri
RUN TIME: 140 mins
CERTIFICATION: U/A

After being bombarded by endless marketing, the much awaited bollywood movie Kites remains a disappointing film, despite the heavyweights involved. Right from superstar Hrithik to producer Rakesh Roshan, who has himself delivered a series of hit films, to Anurag Basu, a competent next generation director not to forget Barbara Mori, the latest of a seemingly endless series of firangis who demand our attention with their curves and carefree ways. Hey, hang on, what happened to all our beautiful Indian actresses, huh.

The major problem with bollywood film Kites is its mixed parentage, which leaves you feeling cold as a viewer. The film lacks soul, while none of the characters really reach out and connect with you. That’s probably because the film is a mix of Hindi, English and Spanish with subtitles, while it has a story that has been told often before. The only difference in Kites is that the film is totally situated abroad, but the story is the same old Bollywood yarn shot in fancy locations stuffed with cool looking people in designer clothes.

Hrithik plays Jay, a Los Angeles based hustler with a hat, who teaches dance by day, song coming up, while waiting to strike it rich at the casinos. As he looks for the jackpot, he sells DVDs and for a fee, marries immigrants looking for a green card. So far he has done 11 fake marriages. One of his ditzy students, Gina Grover [Kangna Ranaut] falls for him, and proceeds to reveal it in true psychopathic style. One evening Hrithik lands home to find Kangna there. Turns out she stole his key, made a copy, broke in and now wants to clean up his dirty house. Whaaat? A zapped Hrithik thows her out, till he sees her stretch limousine parked outside. Oooh, she is loaded, being rich casino owner Bob Grovers’ [Kabir Bedi] daughter. So he starts wooing Kangna for her money.

Hrithik gets invited for Kangna’s brother’s marriage to their fancy palace by the sea. Brother Tony [Nicolas Brown], who speaks and dresses like a real bad dude, is about to wed the luscious Natasha [Barbara Mori]. Turns out Barbara was earlier Linda, a Mexican immigrant, and one of the 11 women Hrithik had married. Well, now he falls hopelessly in love with her, for reasons unexplained. Since Barbara only speaks Spanish and the couple can’t even have a basic conversation, my guess is it’s pure lust, surely a worthy cause. So they run off, leaving an enraged Tony to chase them all over America. Now, for the rest of the film, there are non-stop action sequences, as Tony and his thugs chase the runaway couple. Kangna disappears, while the couple get involved in a bank hold up, a hot air balloon ride till they finally end up being chased by bounty hunters, cops and brother Tony. In between, the duo romance in a jungle, even get married in her village in Mexico, but their romance doesn’t quite spark off. After lots of repetitive sequences, the film ends with our hero denied his victory.

Kites is shot beautifully, produced lavishly and has some decent action sequences. However, the music remains average, while the background score is a bit too operatic. The major problem however, remains the ordinary story, and the garbled screenplay that follows. Hrithik looks and acts like a bronzed god, Barbara sizzles in the right parts, while Kangna should stop playing psychopathic any more, though she is clearly a natural. In the end Kites suffers from trying to cater to a diverse audience, Indian and international, which is the latest fad amongst the big boys of Bollywood. It’s a bit like eating makke ki roti with salsa, which may be novel, but is definitely not tasty.

-- REVIEW BY: MINTY TEJPAL

kaminey - Bollywood movie reivew

I was one of the invitee for the premier of one of the most awaited film of the year. After watching bollywood film 'Kaminey' only i could atter, ' wow, what a film'.

This is surely film with brain. A movie which makes u think, concentrate on each and every scene.

A story of twins who decided to depart but circumstances makes them to come toghether. Sry for my awful english, but all I can see is its a must watch film. Kaminey is not for dump people.

I must say about the peformance of the lead actors. Shahid and priyanka were brilliant. But eventually Kaminey a director's story. Vishal Bharadwaj excels in screenplay, and one liner dialogues.

Kaminey is a heady vodka martini, leaving u both shaken and stirred. Take a bow guys. Brave new Bollywood is here.

A film meant for the masses, with emphasis on asses

KAMBAKKHT ISHQ - Movie Review

DIRECTOR: Sabbir Khan
ACTORS: Akshay Kumar, Kareena Kapoor, Aftab Shivdasani, Amrita Arora
RATING: **

As the gay community celebrates a long overdue judgement, Indian cinema too displays its special brand of “inclusiveness”. A week after the serious New York released, comes the totally ludicrous Kambakkht Ishq, which is set in good old Hollywood. While New York relied on logic and fact to grapple with new world terrorism and identity issues, Kambakkht Ishq bets on double entendres and buffoonery to grapple with the age-old battle of the sexes.

Kambakkht Ishq is what is called a masala film — an extravagant production filled with slapstick gags, furious action and music videos, wrapped around a size zero story, as befitting its lean mega stars. It’s a film meant for the masses, with emphasis on asses. The kind of film where the costume has more importance than the story — there’s nothing happening in this scene, so lets throw in some bikinis! The film credits four screenwriters, but clearly the producer has finally stitched the film together with parts picked from each one.

Kambakkht Ishq breaks new ground in “hip crassness”, which could well make it a hit. Starting with Akshay and Kareena, who expressively call each other Dog, and Bitch, followed by dialogues like, “Women are only good for two things” and “I will make sure she sleeps with me”. How cool. To induce humour, the film resorts to the worst clichés — amnesia, Viagra overdose and a set up date. The mood of the film is set during the first song, as Akshay’s sidekick keeps getting repeatedly slapped while he imagines women stripped down to their lingerie. Then Amrita Arora gets farted on her face. Later, a woman throws up on Aftab Shivdasani. A fat black woman shoves her fist up Akshay’s backside as he screams in pain. Not funny, dude, it’s just gross.

However if you like this kind of inane humour, then go for it. Akshay plays a stunt double working at Universal Studios in Hollywood, while Kareena is a surgeon and part-time model. Oh, that’s rich. Further, modelsurgeon Kareena is called Bebo, with a personal soundtrack which follows her around. Bebo mai bebo, dil mera le lo. Seriously. So anyway, Akshay randomly sleeps around while arrogant Kareena hates men, specially duplicates. One day Aftab Shivdasani, Akshay’s brother gets married to Amrita Arora, lingerie model and also Kareena’s friend. Akshay and Kareena square off in a battle of the sexes, and that’s the beginning and end of the story. The novelty factor in the film really kicks in when Kareena operates on Akshay and leaves her musical watch in his appendix. Oops. The watch plays a catchy tune, Om Mangalam Mangalam, leading to all kinds of stupid situations. A few, like the operation theatre scene, are hilarious.

In between all this nonsense, Brandon Routh, Denise Richards and Sylvester Stallone pop up. Denise looks old and wasted, while Stallone still commands a presence, specially in the elaborate Kodak theatre sequence. Vindu Dara Singh as the sidekick who keeps getting bashed up is stupidly goofy, but another trio of talent is just wasted.

Jaaved Jaffrey is once again acting in his own film, which has no connection to the main plot, while Kirron Kher is irritating as Dolly aunty, and Boman Irani comes in for a forced, wasted scene.

Kambakkht Ishq makes no pretensions to cinema, and sets out to be a entertainer. I hope it’s a hit — only when enough people see drivel like this, will they yearn for that special, different film. Hopefully.

Movie Review - SORRY BHAI

DIRECTOR: Onir
ACTORS: Sanjay Suri, Sharman Joshi, Chitrangada Singh

Afamily of four in this this film - father (Boman Irani), mother (Shabana Azmi) and two grown male siblings (Sanjay Suri, Sharman Joshi) - should ring a certain bell of truth at most nuclear homes with the same demographic.

The parents rarely display their affection in public. Their unconditional love is a given, but rarely said. The mother is inevitably a strict voice with a veto power on all matters at home. The father makes light of many things the mom often takes too seriously. Between them, the family swings on a sweet balance. The kids know what they can get away with whom.

The elder brother is usually the righteous one. He is born to greater expectations. When he doesn’t meet them, it hurts the mother much more. Sanjay Suri’s Harsh had gone abroad to make a living. He never found time to return home in two years. At one point the mother admits, “Had it been Siddharth (the younger one), I would’ve been disappointed much less.”

This family is now finally together for the elder one’s marriage in Mauritius. The groom merely informed everyone of his decision over the phone, one fine evening. This has the mother sulking even more. She grudgingly decides to participate in the wedding. The reluctance is a bit of a sham.

This is the sort of home I know; or actually live in. The film certainly starts off with a natural connect. To this, one could singularly credit the brilliant actors on screen. Each of them lends an easy emotion, backstory and humour to their roles that I’m willing to believe cannot be entirely written. With such a lovely setup, the movie could have smartly paid off any way. It doesn’t. It merely tells you that these four actors are better than their screenplay.

Siddharth, the younger one, is a serious budding physicist. He seems to have developed a scientific theory called ‘Everything is alive’, which in his case, means he can make a toydog fly. He is at a conference of institutional scientists who could grant him a fellowship to further research his theory. All he takes to the life-defining meeting are not theoretical proofs or mathematical models, but the toydog. He keeps staring at it, hoping it would fly. “Data errors,” he says, and gives up. A girl in the corner gives him a knowing smile. She believes in his theory. The lunacy of that first scene, you don’t realise, would explain the rest of the film.

Harsh, the elder brother, is to marry his girlfriend of five years Aaliya (Chitrangada Singh). She hangs out with his younger brother over five days that he’s there for the wedding. There is not even a hint of chemistry between these two relative strangers. They never make half an interesting conversation. Everything is either inexplicably implied, or merely in the script.
The two brothers on the other hand share a very strong bond and a superstition over swearing on their mother: the words ‘Maa kasam’ from a Dharmendra film, which proves important to the story.

Aaliya, in one scene, appears equally inspired by another Dharmendra movie (Sholay). She looks into the mirror in the girls’ loo and questions, “ Tera kya hoga Aaliya.” She is fatally attracted to Siddharth. She says he doesn’t know what pleasures she can give him. The turning point is an evening she watched him play the saxophone. There is a monologue that runs through her mind where she either speaks of drowning someone in water, or taking off on her mother-inlaw-to-be. She couldn’t care less that her boyfriend is going through a financial crisis (Stock-market crash, everyone keeps yelling throughout). She follows her new hero instead around jungles trying to steal a kiss, while he shows disinterest.

I’m not sure whether this studboy Siddharth should allow this erratic, psycho girl to marry his brother and ruin his life, let alone, save her for himself. It would still be fine was this a goofy-flick, like the Cher-starrer Moonstruck (1987), of the same premise.

It takes itself as a supremely serious, heart-rending romantic comedy. In a nation of exaggerations, it’s one thing to allude to a pretty, dusky actor as Smita Patil over two movies. It’s quite another to give her similar roles to live up to. Unfortunately, her hare-brained character is pretty much the inconsistent movie. The rest you can feel sorry for.

Movie Review - OYE LUCKY LUCKY OYE

DIRECTOR: Dibakar Bannerjee
ACTORS: Abhay Deol, Paresh Rawal, Neetu Chandra

About the time of Dibakar Bannerjee’s fine debut, reading a Delhibased columnist Mahmood Farooqui refer to Khosla Ka Ghosla as K2G, I remember feeling strangely envious of a delightfully cheesy acronym I hadn’t thought of myself.

That doesn’t explain the silly abbreviation on the headline above. It’s just to call attention to the film’s firstrate title, Oye Lucky Lucky Oye; words skillfully repeated the same way many Delhi-ites, particularly Punjabis, are known to in their everyday speak.

The film itself seems a warm trip back from the many LIG, MIG and HIG (lower, middle and higher income group) residential colonies that the nation’s capital is a grimy cluster of.

Paresh Rawal plays three unrelated characters in the film. He lends instant familiarity to each, in a manner that it appears only this rare superstar character-actor could. To be fair, every part in this movie, especially the inspired walk-on ones, let alone Rawal’s, have been petted and smothered with such genuine affection for minor nuances, you’d think you’ve somehow met them all before.

Or maybe, I have; growing up in Delhi. This shouldn’t exclude others. All universal films, to start with, are specific by nature.

One of Rawal’s main roles is that of Goga Bhai, a jagran singer. He has a thickish double-chin. He wears hair dyed in henna, and a flashy sarong around his shoulders. Loud all-night jagrans are roughly to Delhi, what the dandiyas are to Mumbai, though the former can inconvenience neighbourhoods any time of the year. The picture of Goga immediately brought to my memory, one Narendra Chanchal, whose mildly scary banners would decorate gullies of several LIG or MIG colonies while I was around. I don’t know if Narendra Chanchal still is.

Goga Bhai’s night-job is a front for a crime syndicate. One of his star-employees is young Lucky (Abhay Deol; characteristically calm and affable). Lucky steals from Delhi homes with the gaudiest décor. He himself bears no home address: “ Jiska pata nahin hota; uska pata nahin hota (No address is best for no whereabouts).” The retort directed at him is right, “ Bahut jald duniya tumhara pata poochhegi (Soon the world will care for your whereabouts).”

Another time Rawal appears on screen as the hilarious Handa saab. He’s the sort of networking pest, always ready with their business cards, that you would’ve surely bumped into at the an airline-seat next to yours. So does Lucky. Handa saab, a veterinarian, has a sociable Mrs (Archana Puran Singh). They want to get into the “restara” business. Lucky wishes to legitimise his life; gentrify his existence. They could work for each other. They do. Or actually they don’t. Inevitably Lucky realises the superficially cultured world before him is in fact far more crooked than his unpretentious profession. This question of class is in fact the perennial undercurrent of this truly urban film.

You sense it most unsubtly when the confident swindler takes his sweetheart (Neetu Chandra; naturally innocent) out on a coffee-date. She mocks a group of Modern School girls for the skirts of their uniforms so short; they’d rather not wear any. You must’ve worn them to school too, he asks. We wore salwar kameez, she says. That’s why you’re jealous, he jokes.

In fact the way little Lucky (Manjot Singh) grows up is of its own a movie of the caliber of City Of God. If not, this is the closest we’ve come to an adaptation of Kiran Nagarkar’s novel Ravan And Eddie (a script still waiting to be filmed). Li’l Lucky, under an uncaring father (Rawal again) and his mistress, mother, siblings, TV antennae, electrical poles and wires of the quarters in East of Kailash, grows up to become a thief. It’s alarming, if not unrealistic, the ease with which he robs anything he can lay his hands on.

But his inexplicable modus operandi isn’t the point. This is an altogether atmospheric film; the sorts where the sum of sweetly stirred parts and details is so much superior to the whole. How often do we watch a Mumbai movie whose setting alone we can smell from our seats. It’s the cheapest ticket to experience another place. We should feel lucky to have this.

Review: Kidnap is a big yawn

Movie
Kidnap

Director
Sanjay Gadhvi

Cast
Imran Khan, Minissha Lamba and Sanjay Dutt

When you carry the baggage of super-successful films such as Dhoom and Dhoom 2, the expectations from your subsequent outing is bound to be gargantuan. Unfortunately, Kidnap falls short of expectations. You expect a seven- course meal, but you're served mere crumbs.

Where does it falter? The boy versus man concept holds tremendous scope and writer Shibani Bathija could've come up with an enthralling revenge drama. But Kidnap fumbles, stumbles and falls on its face. The cat-n-mouse game is hardly enticing and that is its biggest drawback.

Kidnap comes close to Zinda in terms of plotline. There're similarities between the two films. But Kidnap isn't as dark and gruesome as Zinda. Also, Kidnap loses focus after a promising start.

The hallmark of any revenge fare is the suspense quotient. In this case, there's a motive behind what Imran does. And money is definitely not the motive here. So far, so good. But the purpose of kidnapping the billionaire's only daughter as also the chain of events that lead to the culmination is such a put-off. Things keep deteriorating as they reach the finale.


The culprit? Obviously, the writer of this lifeless, unexciting and tedious drama. Shibani seems to think that the audience is pea-brained.

Silver lining or just dark clouds? Imran Khan's splendid act acts as a soothing balm, but if the pudding is tasteless, no amount of dressing can salvage the situation.

When Dr Mallika (Vidya Malvade) asks her daughter Sonia (Minissha Lamba) what she wants for her 18th birthday, Sonia tells her she wants to meet her dad, Vikrant Raina (Sanjay Dutt). The mother and father of this kid have separated, we're explained at the very outset. After a spat between the mother and daughter, Sonia walks off in a huff and doesn't return.

Mallika panics when she gets a call from a stranger that he has kidnapped Sonia. The kidnapper, Kabir (Imran Khan), has only one demand -- he will negotiate with nobody but Sonia's father, Vikrant.

Reluctantly Mallika brings Vikrant back into their lives to save Sonia. But Vikrant chokes at the thought of taking orders from a criminal. But Kabir holds the trump card - he holds Sonia - and Vikrant knows he has no option but to toe the line.

Kabir tells him they are going to play a game - just the two of them. Vikrant has to play by the rules set by Kabir and he has to play alone. He has to play to save his daughter. If he even utters the word 'police', it will be bye-bye for Sonia!

Because his daughter's life is at stake, a reluctant Vikrant agrees to obey Kabir's orders…

Never judge a book by its cover. This adage suits Kidnap to the T. One look at its promos and you know what the story is, but the screenplay is so amateurish, even lifeless at times, that you scream in pain!

Gadhvi and Shibani open the cards at the very outset. The sketches at the very beginning as also Minissha's kidnap within 10-minutes of the start compels you to think that the follow up should be equally exhilarating. But things start going wrong from this part onwards.

Imran's clues for Sanju, the first in a train and later at an engagement ceremony, make no sense. Later, Sanju and Vidya Malvade's entry in the jail is bizarre. This part takes you back to the cinema of 1970s and 1980s, when nonsense dominated.

Later, when Sanju refuses to take Imran's call, Imran lands up at his house. Which kidnapper, in his right senses, would ever do that? Even the flashback - Imran's childhood portions - are just not impactful. The same goes for the climax. The shootout at the New Year party is ridiculous. Seriously, the writing is pathetic!

Sanjay Gadhvi is letdown by a script that easily ranks amongst the worst of 2008. Pritam's music is another sore point. Barring the Mit Jaaye track, the remaining songs are lacklustre. Bobby Singh's camerawork is first-rate.

Kidnap belongs to Imran Khan. Watch this youngster take giant strides and you know that he has arrived. He carries the cold look effortlessly. Sanjay Dutt looks disinterested, as if he is about to break into a yawn. Minissha Lamba is miscast. She doesn't look like a 17-year-old in the first place. Also, the generous dose of skin show doesn't gel with someone who's held captive.

Vidya Malvade is efficient. Reema Lagoo is a mere prop. Rahul Dev's character looks forced.

On the whole, Kidnap fails to grip you and that is its biggest flaw. At the box-office, Kidnap, being teen sensation Imran Khan's immediate release after the blockbuster hit Jaane Tu..Ya Jaane Na, would ensure a strong opening weekend but the poor merits are sure to take a toll once the initial euphoria subsides. Disappointing!

verdict: two stars

HIJACK

Feel like a jackass!

DIRECTOR: Kunal Shivdasani

ACTORS: Shiney Ahuja, Esha Deol

It’s only words. How can they quite adequately sum up an unimaginable hilariousness healthily reproduced for your viewing pleasures alone? That’s why, I’d prefer if you didn’t laze around this review, and watched this film instead. It’s serious fun. It starts off as that (which I shall concentrate on), and trust me, never disappoints you thereafter. We’re seated across a table with the home minister of this nation; the three service chiefs; and a gentleman, who appears more important than all of them, the head of India’s Anti-terrorism Squad. The gentleman shows us clips of an egghead with black fungus pasted from ear to ear, grinning and grimacing over taking control of the whole world some day. He is behind bars. A turbaned man in the room, the super-boss of India’s police, looks mischievously away from the camera and blurts to the effect, “Shod vee ancounter heem?” No, suggests the ATS chief. He’s behind blasts at several European capitals. We need to find out his future plans.

It may beat most that no one has ever done a background check on the ATS chief himself, this sole keeper of our nation’s security. This Mr Kumar could well himself be a top-shot terrorist Sheikh Abdullah or Shiraj-ud-Daula or any other Muslim name, which this Islamophobe flick makes a dictionary of. The home minister incidentally has a sexy secretary Simone. She figures out the gentleman’s identity quite easily. If you suspect a spoiler in here, do not fret. The more I let you in on the secrets, the more eager you’re likely to get to catch this movie’s precious treasures.

The film is called Hijack. You know there’s going to be one. You also know the egg-head will ask to be released in exchange of hostages on a flight that, for some reason, is kept unnamed. A tragedy of such magnitude needs to be humanised. So we watch a kid at a night-club making travel plans with her three friends without her parents knowing about it. A little later (after an ‘item number’, of course), the night-club is blown into bits. A blast comes cheap; it costs only some computer-generated images. We could do with more. Never mind the bomb, the four buddies somehow land up in the said flight. Life is normal, along with the other bunch of abnormal people on the plane that shall remain unnamed.

The film has a stunt-hero swinging from a helicopter, who’ll rescue the hostages: another thing the promos tell you. They may not have shown you how he chases the aircraft on the runway hanging on a mobile staircase, before he calls in a helicopter in a matter of seconds.
This brooding loner of ours (Shiney Ahuja) is the source of most fun actually. Even Rambos have a past. This one imagines the first time he bumped into a random girl at a bar. She left in a hurry. She never gave him her phone number. But they began singing and wining and dancing and bearing a child in a rare dream-sequence within a flashback.

That wife is no more. The child, in a boarding school now, is going to board the ill-fated flight. “You must fasten your seat-beats,” the father dutifully informs her over the phone. We sit warned.

The plane is made to forcibly land at the same airport where our champion leading-man is the top mechanic. He gets in drilling a hole into the plane. He first knocks down the hijacker who’d smuggled in a gun in his Haldiram Bhujiawala packet. He takes on the other one as well. There are two more bumbling beards to go.

By now the air-hostess on board (Esha Deol) just cannot take it. She finally nasals in, on behalf of her audience, “Do you know what a hijack is? Do you know what a hijack means?” Most would look up a dictionary. Our hero tells us he was once the pilot of a plane that was hijacked!
Alright, amigos. Unimaginable as it were, someone actually filmed this stupendous toy-shop. Someone actually funded it. The least you can do is take along a group of giggles, grab the frontrow aisle seats, and enjoy.

TAHAAN

DIRECTOR: Santosh Sivan

ACTORS: Purav Bhandare, Anupam Kher, Sarika

Alone bird falls dead to the ground as a little child and his grandfather walk up the hills. The boy appears puzzled. The grandfather (Victor Banerjee), before burying the dead, suggests the bird’s maqsad or purpose in life must have been accomplished. This is why it’s no more. Everyone, he says, must have a mission, else life would appear pointless.

The little boy has a maqsad. In his case, it is to get back his pet donkey, Birbal. The family had sold it off to protect their home. The boy, Tahaan’s grandfather dies shortly after. His mother (Sarika) is mute; sister, unmarried; father, missing among many in Kashmir. He is still determined to be with his soul-mate, the little donkey. He plants himself by Birbal’s side, helping an old man ferry goods across the valley.

Along the way the film says a lot, without quite saying much, which is what all artistic filmmaking is all about. The kid fleetingly enquires about deserted homes from where the Hindus have fled away. He observes little children in the mountains whose pastime is playing ‘terrorist-terrorist’ with each other. The game is a lot like hide-and-seek, except they kill each other with fake guns, an inspiration from their own childhood.

He asks quite often who owns the mountains. The old-man (Anupam Kher), his boss, tells him the mountains own us. They will survive, while we will all move on. Our existence is a very small thread of nature’s much larger story.

Were it not for the child’s name, I would have mistaken him for one of those rose-cheeks picked up from a kahwa shop in Kashmir. But the film itself isn’t about performances alone, though almost each stands out. Few directors appear blessed with a visual sense of Sivan’s. His cinematography may have entirely set a new path for camerawork in Hindi cinema after Roja (1992), or maybe even Raakh (1989), his debut. Many have imitated his slick shots since (and most for the wrong reasons). Yet, the Valley in Sivan’s Kashmir here, though lyrical and in its natural best, appears in a strange way, sullen and unhappy. You observe them like you would appreciate good actors - never drawing attention to themselves.

This is quite unlike Terrorist (1999), Sivan’s early film as a director, where the tightest close-up of water dripping from a little girl’s hair actually seemed to take away from the intimate story of a suicide-bomber that it was. In fact, the last few years, as a director and already a much proven cinematographer, Sivan has seemed more interested in the subject than cinema in isolation. Navrasa (2005), his docu-like account of the eunuch community didn’t need much photography at all.

Life goes about its own usual ways even in times of bombs and terrorism. It does for Tahaan’s Kashmir. As it does for all conflict zones of the world, from whose life Sivan has suitably borrowed to tell this sweet, subtle, sensitive story. It’s the human, apolitical nature of this quiet film that instantly draws you in. The subject may be intensely political. The picture isn’t.

At some point, entirely avoidable according to me, little Tahaan meets the militants. A terrorist-outfit, sensing the kid’s resolve toward his mission, hires him to ship a handgrenade in return for the donkey. The eventual message is still of choices and hope. All is not lost; thanks for letting us know. This film deserves immediate shelf-space among the senselessness around.