Nothing Veer about it. Lots of Mel about it, and yes, it’s Gibson we are talking about. The hero and his family spend plenty of time thumping biceps, getting dunked in wells while an inanely smiling Nina Gupta looks on, over-dressed in some Lambadi or Rajasthani clothing. The Pindaris(prideful, brave, nationalistic, brave clan, we are told – history said something else: but we shall revisit to give Salman the benefit of doubt), in the meanwhile, spend their time looking tough, uncouth, drinking some obviously alchoholic stuff from ceramic beer mugs, dancing to the strains of Russion or European sounding string instruments in European-looking wooden barns, wearing fur-lined(er… yes) fur-lined waistcoats, capes, etc. in what is THE MOST ORIGINAL take on Indian history certainly.
Cause there are villainous Englishman, a villainous-looking raja played by Jackie Shroff with a golden arm that was cut off by Veer’s(Salman’s) dad Mithun Chakraborty(sadly misused and miscast) in a battle that was to change all their lives forever!!!!
Whatever, Veer’s a script that’s nothing new, not even in the Karina Kaif(minus the size zero) look-alike who is supposedly a Rajasthani princess and daughter of Jackie but who appears in badly-stitched Western gowns and gloves in purple-mauve or buttercup yellow, and who, in the trite regressive thinking of badly made cinema, correctly appears in a neatly draped saree only in a moment of Indian-sadness and widowhood. Her claim to ‘acting’ is pricelessly parted trembling lips that could, at a pinch be interpreted as ecstasy, happiness, love, sadness, tragic… a la Barbara Cartland – the liberty is yours dear viewer depending on how you feel at that particular moment in the movie.
So what was Salman thinking when he made this movie where Jackie Shroff looks more impressive than the duh Veer who relies on stock expressions to get through the film? The Englishmen depicted in the film seem even more moronic and flat. Not a single character stands fleshed out in this cinematic attempt full of paper tigers. Puru Rajkumar looks promising, but I suppose Salman-Veer, recognising the challenge to his non-acting from that particular quarter, shoves him atop a sharp spike?sword? and finishes him off. So, that’s that and the rest of the film is soooooo blah the only thing missing are the kabutars. With Puru gone and Jackie relegated behind the curtains of history only to be brought back in order to be killed towards the end, there’s nothing for you to look forward to except cringing when Salman makes a hash of everything else trying to be Mel G - swagger and expressions. But the immaturity shows.
Ideally, I should begin my take on the movie speaking about the breathtaking sweep of the narrative and the story that spans the deserts of Rajasthan(?) and a very cardboard-cutout London(hark to the days of painted backdrops) where everyone looks at Salman with doe eyes despite him looking like a barbarian with outlandish clothes(nothing Indian about them thank you). He even has a dream song set there.
Story in a nutshell:
Pindaris attack train. Salman sees Katrina clone. Falls in love. Comes to London aided by some random Padre, as part of a Brit mission to educate natives and make them think like them!!!! And… pls. don’t bother to hold your breath – there he bumps into Katrina-clone on the street in a carriage; runs about like a madcap looking for her, when he should not have bothered because surprise of surprises, she is studying at the same school/college as he.
Katrina-clone is most un-patriotic and swans about togged in Brit-apparel and our patriotic-Veer finds it offending not.
The other parts of the Veerdom are random takes on oaths to finish enemy raja(who is also Katrina-clone's dad(yawn)) who is cozying up to the Brits and who once betrayed the Pindaris. Never mind. You can imagine the rest but what I promise you that what you cannot imagine is the ending, which is sheer brilliance of Bollywood invention when the well of ideas falls dry.
Makes you wonder:
Is Salman still living in Maine Pyaar Kiya when the rest of Bollywood is fast catching up with the rest of the world? Not all brilliant films certainly but Bollywood is on the ball with some interesting storylines, original characterisations and out-of-the-box thinking…
Even a Dance pe chance, or was it a Chance pe dance? – was slickly made, well-edited with fair characterisations despite a trite and wafer-thin storyline. It did not cast aspersions on our very intelligence by pretending to be what it is not.
A self-indulgence indeed, narcissistic to boot – and the bottomline is, don’t believe all those polls that bill you as the sexiest or most good looking guy on the planet. Everything is subject to the intelligence of the viewer, not merely their hormones.
Made all the more difficult since the ‘hero’ in question is shadowed by a personal past so wasteful it make you wonder if there is a thinking public out there at all – alleged to have hunted and eaten a blackbuck(a protected species, so how ‘heroic’ does it sound to hunt and eat one?) and alleged to have mowed down sleeping pavement dwellers in a nightly caper.
Can’t popular art throw up some real heroes please, and let’s not call him Veer.
