 "<b>Movie review: </b> Too much <i>tamasha</i>, too little narrative")
What do you get when you put together Rockstar, Love Aaj Kal, Jab We Met and a dash of Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani? You get a self-indulgent, longer-than-needed Tamasha. For about two months leading up to the release of the film, the lead duo, Deepika Padukone and Ranbir Kapoor, had been selling their romance to fans, masterfully playing up their past relationship. There’s no doubt that the two share a sparkling chemistry on-screen, which keeps me glued to the screen through the length of the film. But sadly, that’s about it.
What you see in the trailer is what you get in most of the film, with only a few surprises that barely qualify as entertaining. Tamasha has Imtiaz Ali, its writer-director, written all over it. After giving his audience memorable characters in Jab We Met, Ali attempted to repeat his success with Love Aaj Kal, where he succeeded only partially. While Rockstar slightly deviated from his usual plot trajectory of “find love, lose it, get it back”, Tamasha goes squarely back to it. There’s possibly just one added layer here — find love, lose it, find it, lose it, find yourself and eventually find love again. All this, while falling in love with the idea of emotional turmoil.
The plot is basic and spoilers are a constant danger here since anything I say about it will more or less give the plot away. Ved Vardhan Sahni (Kapoor) and Tara Maheshwari (Padukone) meet in Corsica, a breathtakingly beautiful location in France. They decide not to share their real identities and fall in love despite trying so hard not to. The holiday ends and they go their separate ways. They meet again in New Delhi and the saga begins. All this in little over one hour, with three songs and repetitive scenes rehashing the same idea just in case you didn’t get it the first time. The highlight of the first hour is Piyush Mishra as the storyteller in Shimla, reminding me of my school’s librarian who, much like my own grandmother, had an uncanny knack for weaving stories. Ali brings in the idea of a “tamasha” through a Shakespearean “all the world’s a stage” format, introducing a technique that’s quite in vogue with film makers today — meta theatre, where theatre draws attention to the very fact that it is theatre through, well, theatre.
Tamasha seems to be an ode to Kapoor, with Padukone’s character only meant as an accessory to pierce through his armour. It is almost as if Ali cannot write about love from a different trope. He tried to step out of the mould with Cocktail, but then fell right into the trap with the film’s second-half. Tamasha, too, has its moments, especially when the camera pans to Padukone. Both Kapoor and Padukone are the life of the film, undone by an almost non-existent storyline. The direction, location, cinematography and even the costume design are beautifully executed, only to result in an empty offering. If you walk in thinking of Tamasha as a musical rather than a film, you might enjoy it better, thanking A R Rahman profusely for at least giving you that. I, for one, expected more and thus came out shrugging my shoulders in dismissal. As I write this, my mind has already begun to forget scenes, tropes and dialogues.
What you see in the trailer is what you get in most of the film, with only a few surprises that barely qualify as entertaining. Tamasha has Imtiaz Ali, its writer-director, written all over it. After giving his audience memorable characters in Jab We Met, Ali attempted to repeat his success with Love Aaj Kal, where he succeeded only partially. While Rockstar slightly deviated from his usual plot trajectory of “find love, lose it, get it back”, Tamasha goes squarely back to it. There’s possibly just one added layer here — find love, lose it, find it, lose it, find yourself and eventually find love again. All this, while falling in love with the idea of emotional turmoil.
The plot is basic and spoilers are a constant danger here since anything I say about it will more or less give the plot away. Ved Vardhan Sahni (Kapoor) and Tara Maheshwari (Padukone) meet in Corsica, a breathtakingly beautiful location in France. They decide not to share their real identities and fall in love despite trying so hard not to. The holiday ends and they go their separate ways. They meet again in New Delhi and the saga begins. All this in little over one hour, with three songs and repetitive scenes rehashing the same idea just in case you didn’t get it the first time. The highlight of the first hour is Piyush Mishra as the storyteller in Shimla, reminding me of my school’s librarian who, much like my own grandmother, had an uncanny knack for weaving stories. Ali brings in the idea of a “tamasha” through a Shakespearean “all the world’s a stage” format, introducing a technique that’s quite in vogue with film makers today — meta theatre, where theatre draws attention to the very fact that it is theatre through, well, theatre.
Tamasha seems to be an ode to Kapoor, with Padukone’s character only meant as an accessory to pierce through his armour. It is almost as if Ali cannot write about love from a different trope. He tried to step out of the mould with Cocktail, but then fell right into the trap with the film’s second-half. Tamasha, too, has its moments, especially when the camera pans to Padukone. Both Kapoor and Padukone are the life of the film, undone by an almost non-existent storyline. The direction, location, cinematography and even the costume design are beautifully executed, only to result in an empty offering. If you walk in thinking of Tamasha as a musical rather than a film, you might enjoy it better, thanking A R Rahman profusely for at least giving you that. I, for one, expected more and thus came out shrugging my shoulders in dismissal. As I write this, my mind has already begun to forget scenes, tropes and dialogues.