REVIEW: Khelein Hum Jee Jaan Sey

IN SEARCH OF GRANDEUR

If Sanjay Leela Bhansali imagines himself as an auteur in the fashion of Kieslowski, Ashutosh Gowariker perhaps aspires to be India's David Lean. Both seem unaware of the fact that intent alone isn't enough. While Bhansali continues to churn out elegiac set pieces bloated with self-importance, Gowariker blazes ahead with mammoth 3-hour long wannabe epics that barely come alive, despite the larger-than-life canvas and fervent background music. His latest, a cinematic recreation of a little-known chapter in India's freedom struggle and based on a book by Manini Chatterjee, is no different.

The problem begins with the flat, one-key screenplay which unfolds like the pages of a state board history textbook. The entire first half is spent introducing a plethora of characters and in the planning the attacks. Not one of them stands out as an individual you'd remember after the film is over. Sadly, this includes the protagonist, Surjya Sen (Abhishek Bachchan, earnest but lacklustre), the revolutionary leader who inspired the Chittagong uprising of 1930-34 and rallied a bunch of teenagers to participate in his zealous endeavour to launch a nation-wide revolt.  

If the filmmaker had pegged the story on the life of one of the characters and narrated it from his point of view, there would have been a hook for the audience to identify with events being depicted on screen. Particularly if it were one of the impressionable teenagers who first approach Surjya to help them rescue their football ground from the British troops who've arbitrarily taken it over to establish a camp. Surjya uses these young boys' infectious vigour to his advantage and enlists them in his Indian Republican Army. Two local girls, Kalpana Dutta (Deepika Padukone, unimpressive) and Pritilata (Vishakha Singh), again without any backstory, decide to join Surjya's group, that already comprises a band of loyal friends including Nirmal (Sikander Kher) and Anant Singh (Maninder Singh, the film's only notable act).

The plan is to launch simultaneous attacks on five key British posts in Chittagong including the railway line, telegraph office, armoury, cantonment and the European Club. Just as we learn little about the key players involved in the revolt, we know absolutely nothing about the British officials and families living in the town. In fact, the basic rule of dramatic conflict is violated by keeping the adversary as merely an assumed entity -- we see nothing of the ruthless Empire that the freedom fighters are so determined to drive out of the country.

The second half, where the actual attacks are carried out, is livelier and at least manages a few inspired moments. A group of boys who prefer to commit suicide than get caught, a stakeout at a railway station where Anant and his group engage in a bloody shootout, are moving pieces. As is an earlier scene where the boys, after a hard days work at arduous physical training, are lying under a tree discussing the meaning of the phrase, 'Vande Mataram'. One of them offers the literal meaning 'I bow to thee motherland', while another says, never mind what it means, it just sounds so good. And so they chant in unison. 

If the screenplay is literal, so is the film's visual design. Neither the cinematography, nor the editing can rescue it from a uniform sluggishness. Imagine a scene where the boys disrupt the railway line by blocking the tracks. An oncoming train crashes into the barricade and, instead of the grand explosion that should have ensued, the screen goes blank! The only notable feature then, is Nitin Desai's art direction, which gives us an authentic glimpse into the period, down to the last detail like the faded calendar on the wall. 

Ashutosh Gowariker can always be lauded for intent--his films aspire to propagate cherished values such as honesty, patriotism, commitment to a cause etc. Sadly, the execution is just too heavy-handed to get the message across.