Back
New Delhi
A streetcorner story, and some doses of nostalgia... .
ZIYA US SALAM
His films are his echo, his quiver; not someone else's thought, ready at a moment's notice to drip. If his "Chandni Bar" and "Page 3" had their own exquisite moments of joy and faint angst, "Traffic Signal" is more of the same.
A shade wistful, a little tardy, "Traffic Signal" at its core is a critique of the non-stop cycle of urban development and the consequent dislocation of the have-nots. A nice insight into our times when wealth has increased, prices have gone up, and values have all but disappeared, it is ironically not among Bhandarkar's best forays. That the film still holds interest is a tribute to the man. Even when he is a notch below his best, he is pretty good.
Why? Because Bhandarkar is no trader of sorrow. So even if greys and ruins evoke the poet in him, the realist sandpapers away the anguish with a dash of satire, some black humour that tells you that even in the worst of times it is possible to smile. Boring is not a synonym for realism in his craft.
In this film, he talks of the beggars, those calloused hands and anonymous faces that greet you when the traffic signal turns amber or red. Their voices, often rehearsed, are ready with a tale of sorrow.
Somebody claims to be lame, another with a pregnant woman ready to deliver. Yet another seeks alms for the cremation of his dead father.
Each has his tale, each his invention; yet each his sad song too.
Then Bhandarkar takes in his grasp those small-time salesmen at the intersections ready to sell everything, from a pirated edition of the latest best-selling book to sunscreens.
Inexplicably, yet inevitably, their fates are intertwined.
And all the helpless souls you see and walk or drive by at the intersections are actually controlled by an extortionist mafia. The rupee you dole out to wash away your sin or to dry clean your conscience is actually just another coin in the coffers of the well heeled. The beggars are but a pawn.
So are the salesmen. There is always the "hafta", always the fear of competition from the guy at the next intersection.
Not to forget those mutterings of the heart, that longing of the body, that makes its own demands which even poverty fails to douse. It is a world that exists in front of us, yet a world we seldom take note of.
Here the story is the king. No big stars in the film. With the cast boasting Konkona Sen Sharma, Kunal Khemu, Ranvir Sheorey and Neetu Chandra besides Sudhir Mishra as the surprise packet, "Traffic Signal" for all its flaws remains a director's film.
So what are the flaws? Well, for one thing, the film lacks in momentum. It is like those exasperating times at the traffic signal on your way to office when you feel that the light never turns green! The characters take so long in building up that half the film is lost.
The narrative is a shade tardy. Some of the dialogue, particularly the part surrounding the male sex worker, loses its import because of the innuendo.
And the film's music remains peripheral. A film that talks of the sorrow of the deprived needed music that would touch the heart. Not so in this case.
Where Madhur Bhandarkar scores is in keeping everything reined in. There is no attempt at aggrandisement, no attempt to make a pillar out of pathos.
His characters have their own stories of deprivation, but they also smuggle in a moment or two of delight.
There is never an overwhelming aura of sadness here.
The film moves without reducing you to tears.
He seeks to revive the heyday and affirm the illusion of lasting youth with this story of a boxer who wants to turn the clock back, take on the reigning world champion, and prove to the world that once a winner always a winner. It is the story of Rocky, the boxer. And could well have been the story of Sylvester, the artiste, fast losing the box office battle to younger, fitter men. Vanity does not always come for a fleeting visit!
The story of one swallow for a lifetime makes for attractive possibilities, and compulsive viewing. As the old warhorse gets down to building up his firepower again, get the abs taut, those biceps in shape, many a heart prays for him. As Sylvester gets into the ring to take on the current champion, the crowd wants only one winner. Nostalgia is a nice emotion to nurture, even if it clouds judgment. And so it is as we end up with a movie that is delectable when the action gets going.
There are a couple of jarring points; bruises, so to say. The film has predictability written all over it. From the first frame you can be a step ahead of the director. And that is not such a nice feeling when you are watching a film, and want to be surprised!
The uncalled for romantic asides, the youngsters' little asides could have been avoided. And the little restaurant business seems more of a sham for a former champion than a worthy occupation for a man who could make mincemeat of the best in the ring. Watch "Rocky Balboa" as the parting signature of a great artiste in a great series. It may not be yesterday any more. But Sylvester Stallone still packs a punch.
© Copyright 2000 - 2009 The Hindu