I Hate Luv Storys (2010)

To quote 27 Dresses, "A man who doesn't believe in marriage? How refreshing!"

Yeah, it's not a new idea. And the filmmakers were clearly aware of that. They intentionally play off every cliche in the book.

And they try to spin it off a little, but it doesn't really work. It ends up okay. Nothing great, nothing terrible.

Jay (Imran Khan) is assistant director to the director of great love stories, Veer (Samir Soni), but Jay is not a believer in love. So when he has to work with the love-obsessed set director, Simran (Sonam Kapoor), they don't see things eye-to-eye at first. But then they become friends, and then love happens, although Jay is somewhat romantically retarded and it takes him forever to realize and accept the fact. And then a bit for Simran to decide to go with it, too.

My favorite part is Rajiv, the guy who plays the actor in the film they are making. In spite of being rather self-absorbed -- he stops Jay outside an elevator at one point to point out to him how good his own tight jeans make his butt look -- he is also a good friend to Jay. He pulls him aside and gives him encouragement and advice about love when he realizes Jay is in love with Simran, telling him that girls are like buses -- they come and go, but only one bus will take you home.

And my favorite part of the whole movie, by far, actually, was when Rajiv gets Jay admitted to the party where Simran will be at the end, and Jay runs and gives him a big hug and tells him thank you in the best way he can.

Rajiv looks surprised at first, but immediately smiles and accepts the compliment.

I don't know what that tells you about me, but that was the only thing in the movie that surprised a grin out of me, (partially because I love Rajiv's response -- I think it's adorable. For some reason, there are few things I find as delightfully whimsical as narcissism. In films anyway, and when used for comic effect.)

Well, that's about it. Other than that I wish Bollywood (and Hollywood, too) would get tired of the Casanova hero, because I am.

Sawaal (1982)

Cast:
Earnest and boring police officer: Inspector Ravi Malhotra (Shashi Kapoor)

His innocent baby-faced girlfriend: Sonia Mehta (Poonam Dhillan)

Her effervescent brother: Vicky Mehta (Randhir Kapoor)

Vicky's fiancee: Reshmi (Swaroop Sampat)

Vicky and Sonia's mom: Anju Mehta (Waheeda Rehman)

Their evil smuggler dad: Dhanpathrai Mehta (Sanjeev Kumar)

His evil co-smuggler (and Reshmi's brother): Shamsher Singh (Prem Chopra)

A smuggler team man who wants to go straight: Madan Puri

I have never seen any actor as bored with his role as Shashi is in this movie, and it's no wonder, because his part must be unbearably dull to play. He is a "serious" police officer, who never smiles and runs around capturing bad guys and giving dialogues filled with righteous indignation.

He fights evil.

And he has a girlfriend.

And apparently a dad? (who shows up for about ten minutes as a plot device and then never appears again, in spite of being left in the hospital the last we see him?)

But essentially Shashi only plays the foil to Sanjeev Kumar's wonderful wickedness. Sanjeev even gets better theme music. And a really cool icon collection.

The other noteworthy things: Prem Chopra shows off his eyebrow skills. (And he dances a little bit. I think this is the first time I've seen the bad guy dance. Usually you can tell who's actually a good guy by whether they hop up and join the dancing. Don't let this fool you; Prem stays evil-evil-evil.)

As you might have noticed from the cast descriptions, there is a potential conflict between Ravi, the super-righteous and humorless police officer and Dhanpathrai, his super-evil prospective father-in-law. And yup, that is a problem. Eventually, Dhanpathrai realizes he has to choose between his career and his kids.

The ending seems pretty abrupt to me, like they realized nothing was going to save this and they might as well cut it short. Still, it's not that bad, and if you're a Sanjeev Kumar fan, this film might be worth watching for you -- his part is pretty cool. Or if you have an unusual love for Prem Chopra, he gets a lot of screen time. But if you're a Shashi fan, don't bother.

Pinjar (2003)

I've watched this movie now at least four times, but I still can't decide whether I like it or not. In order to discuss it here, though, I'll have to give more plot details than I like to have before I watch a movie, but I'll try to keep it from being too spoiler-ific.

Puro is the one on the top left.

Puro (Urmila Matondkar) is a carefree, wealthy Hindu girl in 1947 India with a loving family and special relationship with her brother, Trilok (Priyanshu Chatterji). The family lives in Amritsar but returns (without Trilok, who is finishing exams) to their ancestral place, Chattoani, to find a groom for Puro. They choose Ramchand (Sanjay Suri), a mild scholar from a kind and wealthy family.

This is Puro's friend giving Ramchand a hard time. As per tradition, Puro doesn't get a good look at him yet.

But one day out in the fields, Puro runs into a Muslim man, and he seems bowled over in more ways than one. In the days following, she notices him following her everywhere, staring intently at her.

It begins to give her nightmares, and when her mom asks her to go out and get some vegetables from the fields one day with her sister Rajjo, she is frightened to go. She goes out anyway, which ends up meaning that Rajjo gets to watch as the man rides up on a horse, grabs Puro, and rides off. Rajjo runs home and tells her family, who are devastated.

The man, as it turns out, is Rashid (Manoj Bajpai), whose family has an old grudge against Puro's. Many years before, when Puro's clan was stronger and Rashid's weaker, Puro's uncle had taken Rashid's aunt, kept her for several days, and then abandoned her. Her family then could do nothing about it, but they had sworn to take revenge in the next generation, and Rashid's family had determined to abduct Puro, whether he would do it or someone else.

On top of that, as he tells her, he had fallen in love with her. So he carried her off, knowing full well that this would cut her off from her former life, her relatives, her friends, her religion, her social standing, her wealth, her freedom, her "honor," and everything she held dear.

This makes no sense to me, and if it weren't for similar stories (like Dinah and Shechem in the Bible) I would think it totally unbelievable. It's like a boy admiring a beautiful bird flying in the sky and deciding (because he loves it?) to shoot it down. Then, in this case, he tries to nurse the bird back into health and turn it into a pet. How is this love?

(This bird analogy is really supplied by the script, not me. Trilok calls Puro "Kooggi," which I think means "Love Bird," from the subtitles of one of the songs. "Pinjar" also means cage, or skeleton. There is quite a bit of bird imagery for Puro in the beginning.)

There is some ambiguity, perhaps just because of the subtitles, but I think Rashid does not actually rape her at that point. He just keeps her in his house for several weeks, so that no one will accept her again as she was. Eventually he tells her they are getting married, "honorably," and although Puro is frantic and horrified at the thought, she finally realizes that she has essentially no other choice. (It is clear, though, that whether or not he raped her at that point, she considered the whole situation, the whole marriage to be rape. When she conceives later, she calls the baby "the burden of his sin.")

But Rashid really does seem to love her, and his gentleness and penitence, his great guilt, make me want to forgive him at once.

Which is the crux of my problem with this movie. Rashid, who was horribly creepy at the beginning and who forcibly took from Puro all she loved, by all rights ought to be considered unforgivable, and I think Puro thought this as well for a long time.

Yet as a Christian, I have to believe in forgiveness, even for this. I think forgiveness is the message of the movie, and it is a good message for everyone.

But in India, where women are too often treated with disrespect, it makes me dreadfully uncomfortable to have the message be: "it's alright." Because it isn't. It isn't right at all.

I think it's curious the way the families of the men involved in rape and the families of the women handle the matter. When Puro manages to escape and return to her grieving mother and father (before her marriage), they turn her out again (sorrowfully, but mercilessly).

Rashid's family, on the other hand, celebrates her entry to the family and congratulate themselves on her sweetness. Later on, the mother of a different man who had kidnapped a woman can't seem to understand why the stupid girl looks upset all the time and won't smile at her son. Imagine that. (Yikes!) I just don't understand the disconnect. How can you realize that rape is totally depraved when the victim is your daughter, aunt, or sister and not see it when the criminal is your son or brother? How can you be so heartless to the innocent victim and so forgiving to the perpetrator?

Puro's dad (Kulbhushan Kharbanda) writes her off as soon as he realizes he can't get her back the same day he lost her. (I do understand his reasoning, and I also appreciate the cultural differences between 1940s India and 2000s America, but that doesn't mean I think it's right.)

Puro's brother, Trilok, on the other hand, never stops looking for her once he finds she is missing.

I do appreciate that, but his reaction has some flaws, too -- like the way he completely ignores his bride in his obsession to find his sister, and the act of vengeance he commits later in the movie. Ramchand's response is much better than I expected, both at first and later on.

Puro had every part of her identity taken away, even her name. But when Partition happened, Puro found reasons for living. Puro's position in the Muslim world enables her to help her family after Partition rips everything apart, (rather like Joseph in Egypt in the Bible). She finds things she can do that give her life purpose, and she begins to recover and to lose some of her bitterness. And in the very end, she realizes that she has a choice about the way her life will go. (It's nice that the plot (and some of the men in it) make this obvious for her.) There is no happy way to end this story, but I think it works out as well as it can.

And Rashid, I do forgive Rashid. He treats her as well as he knows how, I think. And when Partition happens, he rises to the occasion and unselfishly helps her help those she loves, even at great risk. Even when it might mean he could lose his life, or lose her. Even before the final scene, he has let her go in a way -- opened the door of the cage, so to speak. And so I forgive him. (This part reminds me very much, actually, of the story of the Marriage of Sir Gawain, which is a story I like.)

Even having forgiven Rashid, though, I still find the ending problematic. I don't normally like problematic movies, and as I said, I'm not entirely sure whether I like this one or not, but I do think it is worth watching. It's a good look at a fascinating part of history, and it is very thought-provoking. If you haven't seen it yet, you should.