Open Tee Bioscope

Everything and everyone on this planet can be bracketed into two sub-species: the underrated and the overrated, depending on one's relative perception, going by the Pink Floyd sermon that "the sun is the same in a relative way". Be it sex or death, painters or pornstars. Well everything, except clichés. Clichés have more universal potency than scientific truths or cosmic occurrences. So, when when we say that our adolescent years were the best time of our lives, it's a cliché. It stays with us forever, and that's the magic and curse of adolescence. Because the adult life that follows can, and never will, match up, always ending up being a distant second. Open Tee Bioscope is a time portal that takes us back to our teenage years. We are the '90s kids. And we fucking owned the world. A marching band of memories crowd our heads, blowing trumpets of anecdotal sentimentality. Globalisation, even in its infancy, could not rob us of our silly and bold indulgences, naive dreams and cruel heartbreaks. The film triumphantly recreates a world that preceded Facebook and iPhones, a joyful ode to the '90s. But at the end of the day, it's a film and not skinny dipping/scuba diving lessons in the deep waters of nostalgia. It has to be judged on the parameters of cinematic aesthetics. The film has its heart in the right place but its head in all sorts of wrong places. The plotline is as thin as a cigarette rolling paper and as predictable as Congress' chances in the upcoming Delhi polls. Despite its honesty, it can be accused of recurrent dishonest attempts at emotional manipulation. The characterisation is plagued by mawkish caricatures. The editing is deeply flawed, with incoherent cuts' galore. And the banality of the finale. The overuse and abuse of slow-mo will give Bhaag Milkha Bhaag a run for its money. The acting from the young BFFs is worth mentioning, duly complemented by the strong supporting cast. But overall, the film left me disappointed. It's a decent watch nevertheless. Especially because it doesn't subscribe to the formulaic trappings of the new-age self-proclaimed avant-garde filmmakers. Where names are dropped like bombs and the mediocre are celebrated as genius.

Finding Fanny

Sexual intimacy with a new partner can be very intriguing, the anticipation as well as the indecisive hesitation on how to go about it. Whether to play your A-game right at the outset or to play the waiting game, to savour every moment like a playful tease and then go for the kill. In Finding Fanny, the motley crew of Naseer, Dimple, Deepika and Arjun can be bracketed as the slow starters. Much like wine and oral sex being acquired tastes, you eventually fall in love with these dotty, oddball characters. And then there's Pankaj Kapoor, turning it on from his very first appearance. He strips Dimple with his lustful eyes, and also partakes in the striptease - becoming Don Pedro and unbecoming himself. Quirky madcaps abound the cinematic milieu of Wes Anderson and Jean-Pierre Jeunet, but Homi Adajania's film falls short of weaving a story with these colourful characters. It's more of eccentricity for eccentricity's sake rather than eccentricity for art's sake. Too much quirk killed the story? At times, it becomes self-limiting with lots of mistimed gags and dispensable trivialities. Then again, the film's mojo lies in the acting adroitness of the ensemble cast. Dimple excels in her loudmouth windbag avatar - a pompous, self-obsessed widow with bloated ego and overbearing arrogance. Naseer fits the bill perfectly as a wobbly man-child, or to put it this way - a Prufrock caricature in Sukhen Das' shoes, on a mock-quest for his true love. Deepika scores high with her dazzling radiance, but her wardrobe scores a notch higher. Arjun is a revelation, and his unforced spontaneity comes as a welcome surprise. If I could bet on one person other than Robert Pattinson, with a katana sword pointed at my balls, who could NEVER act, it would be him. Pattinson too, unfortunately, came up with a stellar performance in The Rover this year. Thank god I don't take these bets, for the love of my precious balls. Finally, the two rockstars. Every frame of Anil Mehta's sumptuous cinematography is like a musical note or a brush-stroke. And the inimitable Pankaj Kapoor. A beast of an actor, whose theatrical grandiose turns him into an on-screen black hole, sucking up the light from all his luminous co-stars.