Missing the Mark
Film: Udta Teer
Cast: Ayushmann Khurrana, Sara Ali Khan, Rahul Bose
Directed by: Akash Kaushik
Duration: 2 hours 17 minutes
Rating: * *
Directed by writer-turned-director Akash Kaushik, Udta Teer wants to be a Dhurandhar when it comes to patriotism but a comedy when it comes to everything else. The result is a film caught between two incompatible impulses. One moment, it is a straight-faced spy thriller invoking ‘desh bhakti’ with songs like ‘Jai Hind gaaye’; the next, it breaks into comedy, as if it cannot bear to take itself seriously for too long. While some of the humour lands, the patriotism is largely performative, playing to the gallery without making much of an impact.
The film might have been better served by embracing its lighter, more irreverent side and emerging as a crisp comedy. Instead, its Dhurandhar-esque ambitions get in the way. The premise of a double agent who loses his memory and forgets which side he is on has the makings of a taut, The Bourne Identity-style thriller. But the relentless tonal shifts rob it of any sustained tension, leaving it neither a convincing spy thriller nor a consistently funny comedy.
The film opens with a shootout involving Pakistani terrorists. Before that, we are told how dreaded a terrorist Azhar (the late Mukul Dev) is. The next moment, however, we find him swiping through profiles of burqa-clad women on Hinder. It is an odd introduction to a supposedly formidable terrorist. The juxtaposition might have worked as satire, had the film known what to do with it. Instead, it punctures Azhar’s menace before he has had a chance
to establish it.
What follows is a rather prolonged chase that raises an equally pressing question: is the considerably overweight terrorist running unusually fast, or is the supposedly fit agent chasing him unusually slow? Eventually, Indian agent Vikrant (Ayushmann Khurrana) nearly apprehends him, only for the film to reveal that the man is actually Bilal, a Pakistani operative working for the ISI. The twist adds another layer to the spy games, but the narrative’s increasingly farcical treatment of espionage makes it difficult to invest in the stakes.
The Indian intelligence agency, meanwhile, has more than one Pakistani spy in its midst, including the Defence Secretary, who diverts money into shell accounts and is blackmailed by Bilal. Rahul Bose plays the head of the Indian spy agency, who ends up literally speechless and hospitalised while trying to expose Bilal. “Aapne kaha tha ki yeh vegetable state mein hain, lekin yeh to mixed vegetable state mein hain,” quips a character. The hospital sequence delivers a couple of chuckle-worthy moments of slapstick, but the humour is more successful at puncturing the film’s seriousness than at building a coherent comic rhythm.
By this point, our double agent has also lost his memory, conveniently wiping out his love for Pakistan. Apparently, amnesia can do what an elaborate patriotic lecture cannot.
Vikrant is married to Yamini, who works at the desk in the same intelligence agency. Their marriage is on the rocks, with divorce looming, but she remains oblivious to her husband’s double life. It is a potentially interesting domestic subplot, though the film has too many other identities to juggle to give this one much room to breathe.
Across the border, the Pakistani Army chief (Gulshan Grover) behaves as though he is God, except when the Chinese President calls. Ram Kapoor plays his subordinate, who oversees the country’s espionage operations. Then there is the Pakistani Prime Minister, a rather sad, helpless and perpetually disconsolate figure, waiting for an appointment with the Army chief. The character dynamics are so broadly drawn that geopolitical power struggles begin to resemble a workplace comedy.
The film’s biggest stumbling block, however, is its inability to reconcile its two competing personalities. Its patriotism feels forced, its humour often arrives at the expense of its own narrative, and its abrupt transitions between the two are jarring. A spy thriller needs tension; a comedy needs rhythm. Udta Teer compromises both in its attempt to be everything at once.
There is a potentially entertaining comedy buried somewhere beneath all the patriotic posturing and espionage theatrics. But the film seems too enamoured of its own grand ambitions to let that comedy breathe. It wants to be funny without sacrificing its seriousness and patriotic without earning its emotional heft. The trouble is that it is too funny to be taken seriously and too serious to be taken lightly. In trying to have it both ways, Udta Teer ends up missing the target altogether.
Hope for the best!
Film: Hope
Cast: Hwang Jung-Min, ZoIn-Sung, Michael Fassbinder
Directed by: Na Hong-Jin
Duration: 2 hours 35 minutes
Rating: ****
Forget K-dramas and K-pop. The real deal is here. Directed by Na Hong-jin, Hope is reportedly the most expensive Korean film ever made, and it shows. Unlike many Hollywood films that rely heavily on CGI, Hope combines computer-generated imagery with real action to deliver some astounding chase sequences. The film makes a compelling case for how to spend big bucks on an action thriller, with is fingers pointing towards Hollywood- this is how you do it.
The film premiered in competition at Cannes earlier this year, a rare distinction for an action film involving extraterrestrials. I liked it so much that I watched it twice at the festival. I then had another opportunity to revisit and dissect its thrilling first hour, and naturally, I took it.
Na Hong-jin may not be the most prolific Korean filmmaker, but whatever he makes invariably attracts attention. Hope opens in the sleepy coastal town of the same name, where police chief Bum-seok (Hwang Jung-min) is called to investigate what appears to be a bizarre incident. Led by his cousin, local hunter Sung-ki (Zo In-sung), a group of men report that a cow has been mauled to death in the middle of the road, its carcass bearing enormous claw marks. Sung-ki and his friends initially tease the chief with an outlandish theory: a tiger has travelled all the way from Siberia, through North Korea, to their tiny settlement. Their joke, however, soon takes a terrifying turn as more destruction comes to light.
Sung-ki and his companions discover a barn reduced to rubble, a human arm dangling ominously from a tree, and a trail leading deep into the forest. Meanwhile, the police chief heads into town, which looks as though it has been struck by a tornado, an asteroid and an earthquake all at once. In one striking shot, a building has a gaping hole torn straight through it. Something has clearly ripped its way through the structure, leaving devastation in its wake.
The chief’s growing anxiety is entirely justified as events rapidly spiral out of control. With reinforcements unavailable because of a nearby wildfire, he is forced to navigate the devastated neighbourhood alone. Director Na Hong-Jin keeps the source of the carnage tantalisingly out of sight for nearly an hour, building tension through a series of increasingly bewildering incidents. As bicycles and cars begin flying through the air, frequently crashing into civilians, Bum-seok finds himself hopelessly out of his depth and in very real danger.
What on earth could be causing all this? The film shifts into high gear without ever taking its foot off the accelerator, delivering some incredibly staged car chases along the way. Na’s apparent mission is simple: Let me show you something you’ve never seen before. I suspect the behind-the-scenes footage will be almost as exhilarating as the film itself.
Hwang’s portrayal of the panicked, petrified police chief is both commanding and unexpectedly funny. His frantic energy provides much of the film’s nervous comedy, even after he teams up with an archer who has encountered the creature.
The escalating madness is heightened by cross-cutting between Bum-seok, Sung-ki and, eventually, Sung-ae (Hoyeon), an officer whose formidable presence is as exhilarating as it is amusing. When the lady officer made her stylish entrance, the audience at Cannes erupted in whistles and applause, much like Salman Khan’s entry at a single-screen theatre. It was one of those moments when the audience’s enthusiasm became part of the spectacle.
After an extended pursuit of the colossal creature terrorising his hometown, Bum-seok finally tracks it down. Thankfully, the revelation of its identity—or, at the very least, its physical appearance—lives up to the anticipation generated by the prolonged buildup.
Real-life couple Michael Fassbender and Alicia Vikander also appear in roles that render them virtually unrecognisable. Their names may look impressive in the credits, but one can’t help wondering whether actors less illustrious could have performed these parts just as effectively, given that they primarily involve motion capture.
Hope initially derives much of its suspense from the fear of the unknown and subsequently from the sheer scale of the threat confronting its characters. Even after the monstrous intruder and its equally wild companions take centre stage, the film remains gripping. Its relentless momentum is essential, particularly because there is relatively little thematic depth beneath all the spectacle.
Having set the bar so high in the first hour, however, the film does lose some momentum as it progresses, and the conclusion is far from perfect. That said, there is no shortage of things to appreciate, even if the film doesn’t offer much to ponder over. Of course, one can always find a deeper meaning if one looks hard enough. The closest the film comes to making a statement is through the town’s proximity to North Korea, emphasised by a pointed sign warning residents to “protect the nation from infiltration.”
Beyond the spectacular car chases, the film features some brilliantly choreographed sequences involving galloping horses. The sheer scale and audacity of these set pieces are breathtaking, making most blockbusters look decidedly modest by comparison.
The director has apparently already written the sequel. Here’s hoping there’s more to come!
