"Bombay" (1995)

Two star-crossed lovers divided by two feuding families. Sound familiar? Of course it does, as this standout Bollywood film demonstrates, formula works. Especially the archetypal "Romeo and Juliet forbidden love affair", as is implemented here along with the familiar "futility of religious violence" territory. But at least, in the case of Indian filmmaker Mani Ratman's award-winning 1995 feature "Bombay", they both work. Though drenched in Bollywood cheese and cliche, "Bombay" is a well-made, well-rounded flick.

When the film opens, we get the look and feel of somewhat of an older picture than one that was shot in '94/'95. The picture is slightly washed out and grainy, as if it had suffered from one or two generational losses, but I figured this may be attributed to the more destitute country in which it was made. We are introduced to our not exactly classically handsome protagonist Shekhar (played by Arvind Swamy), a journalist studying in Bombay, who is son to a hardcore Hindu, and, as we soon see, Hindu tradition is uncompromising and unforgiving. Our Shekhar stumbles upon a most comely young woman, Shaila Bano (played by the very attractive Manisha Koirala) who of course, happens to be on the other side of the religious fence; she is Muslim. And in India, unfortunately, Hindus and Muslims DO NOT get together. And so hard does Shekhar fall, and we watch the mustached, husky man chase little-miss-play-hard-to-get around. And interspersed here are your obligatory random Bollywood music/dance number, replete with bad lip synching, extras in garish, wild wardrobes and high pitched Indi women's vocals. These dances are shot in a classic low budget music video fashion, and the singing and lyrics simply serve to parallel the story and current situation.

Now we enter the central conflict, when Shekhar aims to marry Tamil (must be a love at first sight thing, as the two really don't even know each other) but both families will not have it. Tamil is set up to marry a Muslim man, of course her father will not have it any other way, and pushes to expedite this forced union. And Shekhar's father, well, he will pretty much disown him. So what do you do in this situation? Take off, of course. Shekhar decides to flee their little seaside village to the big city of Bombay (known today as Mumbai), much to the chagrin of both families. But this is no matter, as they are happy and madly in love and starting a new life. Though Shaila is a bit overwhelmed by the city, she quickly adapts, and the two tie the knot. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby (or in their case, babies) in the baby carriage. The lovers twin boys are raised neutral, as both Muslim and Hindu. Shakhar and Tamil just have no idea just how complicated these two opposing Indian dogmas will soon pose for them.

The film's third act centers around actual events that occurred in Bombay from late 1992 into early '93. Our new family, after years of having settled down in their nice new apartment, with Shekhar continuing work as a journalist and Shaila at home raising the kids, now find themselves in the heat of religious extremism. Religious riots break out in Bombay, leaving hundreds of Hindus and Muslims dead. How utterly inane; civil war amongst the same people, with dead men, women, and children left in its wake. And now our loving, handsome young couple's livelihood is in jeopardy, a target of violence from both sides, and the safety of their two young boys is promptly at stake. The film takes quite a turn here, going from a relatively quiet love story, to dramatic chaos and violence. It is this latter half of the film that makes it border on epic; hundreds of extras in turmoil amongst the grimy Bombay streets. Gritty and realistic, well choreographed, convincing riots abound; mosques are set ablaze, people are beaten, trampled over, burned alive, and to add to the horror, Shekhar and Shaila's boys get swept into it all and wind up separated, not only from their mother and father, but from themselves. And it is all very dramatic, as the wildly distressed couple bravely venture out into the rioting streets to locate their separation-anxiety-ridden children, all the while not knowing if they are alive or dead.

It's the film's depiction of such inter-religious relations and religious riots that make it a much more significant film than what we expect from the outset. Ratman is criticizing and focusing blame on the very manipulative Indian government, who seems to be responsible for influencing such hatred between the Hindus and Muslims for their own greedy causes. This is evident in a final scene, where a hysterical, angry and despondent Shekhar throws himself in the midst of a group of rioters, aghast at the death and destruction they have yeilded, and ironically pleads with them to burn him alive. Shekhar subsequently rants and raves about the stupidity and futility of people of the same race and country fighting against each other, and how they've all been brainwashed by the government. "Politicians are taking advantage of you to serve their seats of power!", he shouts. It is a powerful scene, and very well acted by Swamy. Of course Shekhar and Shaila find their boys, and all is well in the end. The message here, of unity and hope, and for all to coexist in peace and harmony with one another no matter what religion, is pretty universal.

The film apparently enjoyed great success shortly after its release, and that does not surprise me, considering the overall quality and scale of the work, particularly in it's second half portrayal of the infamous Bombay riots. The film gradually moved away from the Bollywood romance cheese territory that had me smirking in amusement during its initial half hour, and I was subsequently impressed by the overall scale and quality of the production during its eventful third act. My only complaint was that, after a point, the high drama and musical-number moralizing pushed the film's message maybe once too many, and I quickly grew bored and wished for the film to start heading to a close. Overall though, I must say that "Bombay" is a fine gem of Indian cinema, and is definitely worth a look for any Bollywood fan or foreign film fan in general.

"Dreams" (1990)

Most famous for his 50's-60's era samurai classics such as "Shichinin no Samurai" (aka "The Seven Samurai"), legendary, late-great Japanese filmmaker Akira Kurosawa conceives a swan song art-house piece simply titled "Dreams" in 1990 at the ripe old age of 80. Apparently based upon the director's own actual dreams, "Dreams" is comprised of eight short segments, one for each dream. This is not a collection that gives us a cohesive story. It is simply an eclectic mix, generally, of what I would call "lesson" segments, only loosely tied together through similiar, recurring themes.

The first two dreams involve a boy (I'm guessing a young Kurosawa), and although they are two disparate adventures, they involve the same boy and a similiar structure. With these two segments we immediately get a taste for the film's style , which is a minimalist surrealism, with meticulous cinematography and a grand display of film school "mis en scene". Unfortunately, what we are also introduced to is, a painfully slow pace. Now film guru's are obviously accustomed to your typical snail-paced, indie arthouse fare, but here, it's well, flat and uninteresting. These two segments, involving a procession of dancing "foxes" (a parade of choreographed actors in mask and costume) slowly advancing in some strange, carefully synchronized movement through the woods, and another large ensemble of actors (this time representing tree spirits) in ceramic doll get up doing a sort of interpretive dance amongst stagey looking levels of land. These opening vignettes, though lacking in clarity and focus, seem to be an allegory of sorts in regards to the mystique of nature and the power it wields and the respect it commands, which paves the way for the latter half of the film's in-your-face motifs of mankind's recklessness and foolishness in regards to nature and the environment.

An interesting second-half segment involves its recurring thirty-something, perpetually bewildered looking Japanese wanderer. He is in an art museum, perusing a wall of Vincent Van Gogh paintings, and soon, courtesy of George Lucas's Industrial Light and Magic effects studios, gets sucked in to one of them and wanders through a succession of paintings in those familiar deep focus long shots that Kurosawa seems to be quite fond of in this film. The man eventually stumbles upon non other than Van Gogh himself, played by a virtually unrecognizable (both visually and sonically) Martin Scorsese, who goes off on a didactic babbling of the creative process, as the man just looks upon him in bewilderment and continues following him around (this pretty much sums up what this actor will be doing throughout every subsequent piece). If it weren't for Marty's entertainingly punchy delivery and a darkly pleasing piano score, this could have been the most trite, banal, and just god awful short of the lot.

After this, is simply a whole lot of cautionary preaching and long winded, didactic passages that honestly had my eyes rolling and mind wandering every so often. We have "Mount Fuji in Red", a 'fallacy of man harming the earth through technology' segment, where the dangers of nuclear power are brought to light. I definitely got the allusion to Hiroshima and Nagasaki and the not only immediate but more long term subsequent damage from the infamous WWII A-bomb attacks: "It makes monstrosities", and "Man's stupidity is unbelievable", says the one guilty surviving man to the other (none other than our lanky, perpetually bewildered wanderer). Then comes "The Weeping Demon", yet another cautionary tale on the hazards of nuclear power that puts us in a strange, post-apocalyptic wasteland with our bewildered meanderer. Again, we have a succession of deep focus long shots of the man wandering the barren, nuclear-afflicted terrain. And he eventually stumbles upon the "demon", who is in fact a former human turned horned monstrosity, a casualty of the supposed nuclear attack. Through the demon's subsequent lecturing of the horrific state of the union, we again get an allusion to A-bomb WWII. "The nuclear missiles", he says, and points to the gigantic "Monster dandelions". The preposterously enlarged flowers, as a result of the missile attacks, is definitely a play-off of Japanese post WWII fears of the effects of nuclear radiation (i.e., Godzilla). Again, the horrors of, mistakes and mishaps of man: "Stupid mankind did this", says the demon. And an interesting visual scene is where the two overlook a large group of suffering "demons", all tortured moans and wails, writhing and staggering in pain amidst a hellish valley. It is man condemned to see himself as the monster that he is in regards to the sins he has committed in life. They have nothing but the company of their rotten selves for all eternity, which is essentially what hell is. God is nature. Hell is the separation from god.

As if we aren't getting the message, Kurosawa relentlessly pounds these 'man against nature' motifs into these drawn out dream sequences. Man pays for their sins, their sins against nature and the environment. Yawn. And in the final, lofty (though welcomingly serene) sequence, "Village of Watermills", we recieve more criticism on humankind and technology. The recipe for what follows our perpetually bewildered recurrent wanderer stumbling upon the wise old man, is: Native American outlook mixed with a little 19th century transendentalism, and 60's hippie movement. Visually, we get some nice eye candy: lush greens and pastels, beautiful shot composition, and an overall Thomas Kinkade aesthetic. It truly is pleasant to look at. So, of course, the wise old village man utilizes nature the right way, out of respect for it. During his overlong monologue, he says, "We try to live the way man used to...that's the natural way of life", as the wandering man (guess who) just sits and attentively gawks, soaking in Wise Man's didactic preaching. He continues, "People today have forgotten they're really just a part of nature...yet, they destroy the nature on which our lives depend." Noted. And I think the audience gets the point by now. I sure did. And I sure as hell didn't want to get any more.

Overall, we know great directors tend to meander and experiment with age. And here, in the case of "Dreams" and Akira Kurosawa, is no exception. The film was a bit too preachy for me. The work as a whole comes across as self-indulgent and pretentious, and the moralizing could have been done in a more discreet, creative way, particularly in "Village of Watermills", which contained just a little too much sentimentality and preachiness. And the preceding "Mount Fuji in Red" and "Weeping Demon" both laid Kurosawa's sermonizing on thick as well, and "Village", hot on their heels, was a bit much to take. For me, a message loses it's affect once it has beaten me into submission. If you're going to lecture me, at least make it entertaining. And I believe Kurosawa has failed in that department.