Manorama, six thumbs up - the sequel

Update (31 Oct 2011): WOGMA, the film review site is running "The Reel-Life Bloggers contest" on occasion of the site's 5th anniversary. Since the prizes are tempting and it gets me to pseudo-update my long-forgotten blog, I'm entering some of my reviews there. WOGMA is organising this with Reviewgang. Go visit them, and if you are the reviewing type, send in an entry.

This is about the time I went to see the desi noir Manorama 6 Feet Under the evening India was playing Pakistan in the inaugural World Twenty20 Cup. That meant a near-empty hall, an eerie suspense drama, and listening to an old couple discussing the movie. Read on.

Instead of reviewing Manorama Six Feet Under in detail (as many have done on PFC with noble intentions) and giving away plot points that could distract you from the actual viewing, I thought I'd just write about the 3 hours before, during, and after the film.

Yesterday turned out to be an unintended holiday thanks to local traffic being allergic to local festivities. There was a long day ahead and it was time to catch a movie on what should have been a working day. Sweet. Ideally, I would have liked to see the film early in the morning (no crowds, cool mornings, total peace) but no shows existed in the pre-noon section. So 4:30 pm it was.

Turned up early, so had time to kill. I have been to this multiplex on weekday afternoons, but even by those standards, the place seemed deserted. The unfulfilled recurring nightmare came to mind: that they will pull the plug on the show because I'm the only one who bought a ticket. I overheard one staffer tell another that there were 17 people for the show, which seemed to scrape past the quorum, 'cos here came the show. Great seats for anyone who wanted one, of course.

The lack of people only seemed to further increase the possibility that the movie would be good - such is my taste in films, I suppose. A couple of students took up seats, Munna-in-Rangeela style, next to me. To the left, an elderly couple eased themselves in. The students pulled out a packet of chips. I'm slightly condescending towards those who have formed an unnecessary association between movies and food, but soon, the smell of the wafers just got to me. Just as the movie began, the uncle on the left pulled out a packet of chips of his own. Darn.

The ants and Yana Gupta later, here was a look at a new-look Abhay Deol. He has earned enough goodwill for us to watch movies based merely on his presence in it, such is his taste in movies too. In his desert glasses and stubble and once-proud moustache, he looks like a father of one. Is this the first time we have a dimpled couple on screen? I wonder. I also think I spotted a dimple on the little boy who very effectively plays their son - if that's true, then give a bonus to the casting director. Some matter-of-fact comments about nano-scale corruption later, here is Sarika, and off we go.

Now, I haven't really seen any noir films before, so this is it. I know the story is heavily inspired from the Polanski classic Chinatown, so I turned down an offer to watch that film before I watched this one. Just like that. And what is that? Abhay D is watching a movie on the telly featuring Jack Nicholson. That has got to be "Chinatown" (it was). Nice touch, with that acknowledgement. Some more points for writers Navdeep Singh and Devika Bhagat.

It's been an hour and I have completely enjoyed myself. Vinay Pathak is having a great time crunching out some terrific dialogues by Abhinav Kashyap (last seen by self in Yuva), and Manoj Tapadia. Of all the Miss Indias in the last 15 years, I think Gul Panag's put on the best acting performances. Quite a surprise packet - Nagesh Kukunoor has done a magic turnaround with her. Here comes pretty Raima Sen.

The uncle-aunty nearby belong to the old school of cinema-watchers, who get totally involved in proceedings. They "ooh" and "aah" when things happen. They react loudly to plot twists and character allegations (which means a noisy hall in a noir film). In short, they keep the soap operas in business. I have uncles and aunts like that, so I'm used to it. Then the aunty asks: "yeh Satyaveer Randhawa kaun hai?". The uncle patiently explains: "woh jo hero hai." Aunty says: "yeh sab apne liye naye hai.n, na? kabhi dekhaa nahii.n in logo.n ko." Yes, and the new kids are doing a fine job.

I'm genuinely caught up in the suspense now. I cannot think of another Hindi film with such a good suspense plot, especially since "Ek Hasinaa Thi". The execution is impressive. Finally, it's come to end, all threads, old and 11th-hour, tied up nicely. Except for the last minute. I enjoyed 134 out of the 135 minutes - the last minute could have been different. Drat. Anyway, credits roll and I'm collecting my thoughts. Theatre empties soon and the vacuum guys are here. I stand in the aisle waiting for "The End". For such a small crowd, there is a lot of litter around. Shocking.

Out I emerge into the light. It had been slightly drizzling when I came, and it's been a cool, cloudy week. Perfect conditions for a film like this. I come home, and then the final thread is resolved. The Twenty20 final was not at night - it started at 5:30 pm, explaining why "things are not what they seem in the desert". Still, I only missed the uneventful Indian innings. It had already been a good day.