What would mainstream Hindi cinema be without the mighty Amitabh Bachchan? He single-handedly holds up his new film, and gives it a texture and mood that would in all probability have been denied to it otherwise. Baghban, directed by Ravi Chopra, is an old-fashioned family drama with immense sentimental value. The terrific treacly sentiments could easily have toppled Ravi Chopra’s narrative into a mudlin ocean. Singlehandedly, the Bachchan dignifies the potentially overdone melodrama, confers on it a kind of sublimity denied to films about splintered family ties.
From the sumptuously mounted songs and dances to the emotional kernel of the plot when the protagonist’s offsprings spring a shocking disenchantment on their old parents, Baghban derives its nourishment, sustenance and inner strength from the Bachchan.
The film’s patriarchal pathos is as old as the hills. And yet the plot’s universal resonances carry the narrative forward in mellow movements that signify autumnal waves of leafy lyricism. Rustles of leaves, raindrops pelting down on grief-stricken faces, the sound of shattering hearts and broken dreams….such is the stuff that director Ravi Chopra instils into his noble melodrama.
Stretching into a long saga of music, sobs and comic intervention Baghban manages to pose its basic premise well: why do children find their parents such a burden in old age? And if they do, should parents simply wither away into a final darkness or make sure that they never reach such a state of despair in their lives?
Fortunately for us, Baghban never loses itself into a maze of pedantic posers. More than anything else, it’s a lavishly projected, charismatic family film which appeals in equal measures to the heart and eyes. True, the mind-quotient does get low in the scramble for emotional succour. But we tend to gloss over the film’s overt simplifications simply because this is a film we want to like immensely….
….And we don’t have to make much of an effort to do so. All we need to do is look into Mr Bachchan’s eyes to see how much he adores his screen wife. Hema Malini, still glowing with an intrinsic radiance that belies her years as well as her role of an ill-treated mother, complements Mr Bachchan to near-perfection.
Their elaborate songs and dances, fabulously put together by music composer Aadesh Shrivastava and choreographer Vaibhavi Merchant, are a treat to watch. Indeed, one of the many pleasures of seeing this value-based drama is the song-and-dance items. Holi khele raghuveera, Chali Chali and Meri makhna are among the finest moments of the Bachchan’s musical screen-life, on a par with the super-entertainer’s Khaike paan banaras wala and Rang barse decades ago.
It’s amazing to see the subtle skills with which the actor weaves the lighter moments with the tense, dramatic scenes. The drama of estrangement when the retired Raj Malhotra (Bachchan) is torn away from his life and breath(his wife) is enacted with breathtaking emotionalism by the Bachchan. There’s a beautiful melody that he sings telephonically to his much-missed spouse, which harks back to an early Bachchan film Mahaan, where he sang to Waheeda Rehman on the phone.
There, he had donned a wig and a frown to look like a troubled patriarch. In Baghban, the pain, wrinkles and the nostalgic longing are all palpable. Amitabh Bachchan lives every moment of his character. The sequence where he talks to his wife on the phone after observing the karva chauth for her, the tense climactic speech where he wonders why children can’t bear their parents’ final years, and most memorably his bitter solilquy in the dark after his son (Samir Soni) snubs him showcase Amitabh Bachchan’s talent for understated showmanship like seldom before.
Though the emotional power of the film is undeniable, one wishes it had avoided crudities and contradictions in the plot. Some of the more melodramatic moments (for instance, Hema Malini storming into the discotheque to ‘rescue’ her granddaughter from a cardboard cad) are downright embarrassing. Also, the drama’s turning point (the separation of the old couple after the patriarch’s retirement) is highly questionable since the old man leads a posh and economically independent life.
Posh production values, especially the outstanding cinematography by Barun Mukherjee, perform a strangely contradictory function in the plot. While they enhance the film’s viewability, they also erode the plot’s credibility. Fortunately, the music by Aadesh Shrivastava and the principal performance go a long into cementing the loopholes in the plot.
Besides Bachchan’s brillance, it’s Paresh Rawal and Lilette Dubey who, as a childless Gujarati couple, deliver heartwarming performances. Salman Khan, as the prodigal son who returns from London in time to put his parents out of misery, uses his huge expressive eyes to convey an almost unbelievable beta-ho-to-aisa goodwill. In their sequences together, Bachchan and Khan are like Dashrath and Rama doing a modern-day Ramayan.
Many of the supporting actors suffer from stereotypical characterisations. A competent actress like Divya Dutta is wasted as a shrewish daughter-in-law. You begin to wish the director had worked harder to give sharper edges to his tale. But then our attention is once again drawn to the centre.
We forget and forgive the plot’s impossible leaps of the imagination when the persecuted patriarch’s little grandson (Yash Pathak) turns to him and says, “Granddad, never come back to this house.”
It’s been a while since we visited this house of anguish. Baghban provides the cool, comforting hand of the familiar.
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