If Sharat Chandra Chattopadhyay’s ‘Devdas’ could be drenched in hallucinogenics, mutated in to a stoned, outlandish avatar… ‘Hey Presto! You have DevD.
If not a debut, definitely the one which unleashed some hard core screaming celluloid for Mr. Anurag Kashyap. The man who penned himself many screen-scorchers such as Kaun, Satya, Yuva to name just a few.
DevD, here is the rapturous tale of Devdas, Paro and Chandramukhi, which has been filmed by many on celluloid, even lifted as slapstick BIG ideas in advertising, lampooning the nasal yester-years’ feel. Rest in peace Sehgal Saab!
But, here, we have DevD. A monster on the silver screen that has eaten in to the soft and fragile minds of Indian cinema goers. Shot in and around folksy environs where you have the ‘gaaon’ or the ‘pind’ feel. Sarson ke khet, strong beer guzzling gabrus and colorful salwar-clad desi chicks and behenjis.
The movie begins with shades of a Punjab-da-Huckleberry film chap, a lad who prefers calling his dad ‘Sattu’, the nomenclature being a derivative from the business the man engages in, vis-à-vis making Sattu (a cheap but very filling cereal, poor man’s wheat flour). On the parallel is the young Paro, the factory manager’s daughter, confidante to Dev’s ways, as she smuggles parathas for her young man to devour. She is equally ravenous in attitude and a fiery tounge as compared to the young Dev.
Well it doesn’t take much for Daddy-Sattu Dear to realize that his hopeless ward should better be packed in to ‘Vilaayat’ (popular name given to the domain of her majesty herself, namely UK).
We see the adult Dev, chatting up with Paro back home. Asking her to pose nude for him. In their jawaani ki aag, they declare to each other that they just can’t take it anymore.
Dev returns to homeland. It’s his brother’s wedding. The stage is set. And then the moment. Paro meets DevD. Fire meets fuel. Dowsed in flames.
But, the local mundas are just not willing to let go. They fill up Dev with tall-talk of how ‘palang-tor’ Paro is. How they could not budge their will for 48 hours post their post-coital moments.
Dev is ablaze. If Mr. Morrison woke up in the morning and got himself a beer. Our man, Dev-Abhay Deol-D wakes up every morning and rolls himself a joint. Perturbed having heard stories of Paro’s she-mojo, Dev steers away, calling her a slut.
And in the meanwhile enters another chicklet in the story, who is an able distraction for not just Dev, but by all means for the male cinema-goers. At the pre-wedding proceedings we see this lady clad in a blouse which leaves less to imagination and more to the eyes. So-with dangling breasts and fox eyes, she takes Dev away for a wee bit of fun. But Dev’s ‘antaratma’ curdles him. And he stops right at the brink.
Meanwhile this damsel’s businessman brother has developed a softie for Paro. Dev takes it all in, as if Lord Shiva, himself is guzzling the poison of the nether-world down his gullet.
At the night of Paro’s shadi to the businessman, Dev goes bottoms up, on not a drink but one full ripe bottle of Vodka. In his drunken stupor, as Harish Band belts out ‘Emosanal Atyachaar’ with Patna Ke Presleys on lead vocals, Dev trudges towards the dancing crowd, trying to reach Paro, pushing away the foxy damsel away from his path, only to land, crash, boom, bang with one grand finale of a ‘Thud’.
With that we then move to the third adhyay. That of Chanda-Lenny-Chandramukhi. A nubile schoolgirl at Delhi, daughter to a foreigner mom and a long haired Indian father. Lenny is the cool chick, who bikes around with a sleaze-ball of a boyfriend, whereas her peers ogle her in amazement waiting for the school bus.
Young experimentation, and again here, the confounded ‘jawaani ki aag’ lands her in a sleaze soup when her beloved films her on a mobile, shares it with the whole world, only to be nabbed later by Delhi Police.
But by then the harm’s done. Socially ostracized, openly proclaimed the cool slut, Lenny is in the ninth hell of shock and despair. Her parents ground her, take her to the hills. But running does not help to hide.
The shadows of gloom follow her. Not able to bite the bullet, her father gulps the bullet by committing suicide. Lenny runs amock reaching her dad’s hometown, the same town where resided Paro, Dev, Sattu and the families therein.
There too she receives not better than abuses and blames by her granny for gulping down her dear ‘puttar’. Her uncle even suggests getting her killed and buried in the ‘sarso ka khet’. Lenny calls her mom for help. Mommy cries, does not talk. Li’l girl Lenny is lost.
She flees. Catches a train, the very same one, where sitting in front of her is Dev’s now-married-to-businessman-beau, Paro. They exchange pleasantries.
Cut to now in the national capital. Dilwalon ki cinematic Delhi. She calls friends. Everybody shuns her away. She is lost in the painted, painful, psychedelic streets of Paharganj.
With not enough money to even have water she eyes people at cafes munching away. A woman having her meal chances upon her, and makes friends. She initiates Li’l Lost Lenny to the world of quick money, sex, cocaine and alcohol!
Pony-tailed Chunnilal, the Black Mamba dude, at the same time spots our tragic hero DevD, lost, thirsty. Not for water, but Vodka!
They drink away till the wee hours of dawn, while the Twilight Dancers put up a splendid song and dance sequence. The flashy break dancing is reminiscent of the 90s and awesome. The wall behind the dance floor reads “LOADING. PLEASE WAIT.” Trippy!
Thereafter starts Lenny’s education. She learns the art of sex and at the same time is enrolled for graduation at Delhi University. While she studies her text books at college, at home and in bed she studies fantasies. Kinky-spanking, bondage, Moulin Rouge, French, Indian, Italian, Schoolgirl, Nurse, Tamil…sex in many languages and avatars, ribbed, flavoured, extended climax, etc. Funnier, than raunchier indeed!
DevD, meanwhile spots Paro in Delhi. He tries to get in touch. He does get in touch only to be shunned. Paro though comes to his pad. The one-roomer-stoners’-pad with countless bottles of booze, and a graffiti-adorned wall which actually has Goddess Kali with the head of George-frikkin-Bush…now beat that! Fire meets fuel. Sparks fly yet again. Paro bathes her man, washes his clothes, prepares to leave. Leaving behind the angry and enraged Dev.
Enter Chunnilal the Dragon, to the rescue. More booze. More cocaine. More blood. More pain. Tauba tera jalwa. Tauba tera pyaar. Tera emosanal atyachaar.
Dev, then goes through a wild spree. He’s at most times with Lenny. Not doing her, or anything, basically that becomes his crash-pad every dawn. Sweet emotions start to blossom within Lenny for this fallen man. She starts caring for him. They hang out. Have a good time. Go dancing, skinny dipping, good times a rollin!
But the cops nab Dev. His Dad ‘Sattu’ passes away. He’s in a mess. He gets ostracized from his family. All hell breaks loose upon him. While returning from Pind to Paharganj, his sardarji driver also cons him. Runs away with his money. Dev is alone, wasted, and guess what, on the hills.
From there he hitches a ride with a biker to reach Delhi. Mama Mia, he reaches Delhi, spots the surd who duped him. Takes his money back. Meets Lenny. Starts life afresh. With Lenny by his side, modern day DevD gets real. He is real. Paro, here, isn’t his muse-et-al. She’s Paro. Only.
Needless to say Abhay Deol as the joint smoking, e-pill popping, acid tripping, vodka downing, and cocaine snorting DevD has shattered the aura of even Matt Dillon of Drugstore Cowboy fame. Though it is the cinematography, the casting, the acting, the script, the dialogues, the music, in fact everything, every bit and piece of work, which has put together a movie experience that is hard to forget.
And by god, I have no clue how this hard core of a movie went past the Censor-frikkin-board. Abhay Deol has rolled, smoked countless joints in the film. You might debate, “Yaar woh to smoking tobacco roll kar raha thha”. Arey yeh public hai boss, yeh sab jaanti hai, kya?
As I was telling friends, you can either love this movie or hate it. There are no midways. Just can’t be. You can either say ‘Wow’ or feel sorry for wasting moolah-in-a-multiplex. Having read this, I leave it for you to decide.
If not a debut, definitely the one which unleashed some hard core screaming celluloid for Mr. Anurag Kashyap. The man who penned himself many screen-scorchers such as Kaun, Satya, Yuva to name just a few.
DevD, here is the rapturous tale of Devdas, Paro and Chandramukhi, which has been filmed by many on celluloid, even lifted as slapstick BIG ideas in advertising, lampooning the nasal yester-years’ feel. Rest in peace Sehgal Saab!
But, here, we have DevD. A monster on the silver screen that has eaten in to the soft and fragile minds of Indian cinema goers. Shot in and around folksy environs where you have the ‘gaaon’ or the ‘pind’ feel. Sarson ke khet, strong beer guzzling gabrus and colorful salwar-clad desi chicks and behenjis.
The movie begins with shades of a Punjab-da-Huckleberry film chap, a lad who prefers calling his dad ‘Sattu’, the nomenclature being a derivative from the business the man engages in, vis-à-vis making Sattu (a cheap but very filling cereal, poor man’s wheat flour). On the parallel is the young Paro, the factory manager’s daughter, confidante to Dev’s ways, as she smuggles parathas for her young man to devour. She is equally ravenous in attitude and a fiery tounge as compared to the young Dev.Well it doesn’t take much for Daddy-Sattu Dear to realize that his hopeless ward should better be packed in to ‘Vilaayat’ (popular name given to the domain of her majesty herself, namely UK).
We see the adult Dev, chatting up with Paro back home. Asking her to pose nude for him. In their jawaani ki aag, they declare to each other that they just can’t take it anymore.
Dev returns to homeland. It’s his brother’s wedding. The stage is set. And then the moment. Paro meets DevD. Fire meets fuel. Dowsed in flames.
But, the local mundas are just not willing to let go. They fill up Dev with tall-talk of how ‘palang-tor’ Paro is. How they could not budge their will for 48 hours post their post-coital moments.
Dev is ablaze. If Mr. Morrison woke up in the morning and got himself a beer. Our man, Dev-Abhay Deol-D wakes up every morning and rolls himself a joint. Perturbed having heard stories of Paro’s she-mojo, Dev steers away, calling her a slut.
And in the meanwhile enters another chicklet in the story, who is an able distraction for not just Dev, but by all means for the male cinema-goers. At the pre-wedding proceedings we see this lady clad in a blouse which leaves less to imagination and more to the eyes. So-with dangling breasts and fox eyes, she takes Dev away for a wee bit of fun. But Dev’s ‘antaratma’ curdles him. And he stops right at the brink.
Meanwhile this damsel’s businessman brother has developed a softie for Paro. Dev takes it all in, as if Lord Shiva, himself is guzzling the poison of the nether-world down his gullet.
At the night of Paro’s shadi to the businessman, Dev goes bottoms up, on not a drink but one full ripe bottle of Vodka. In his drunken stupor, as Harish Band belts out ‘Emosanal Atyachaar’ with Patna Ke Presleys on lead vocals, Dev trudges towards the dancing crowd, trying to reach Paro, pushing away the foxy damsel away from his path, only to land, crash, boom, bang with one grand finale of a ‘Thud’.
With that we then move to the third adhyay. That of Chanda-Lenny-Chandramukhi. A nubile schoolgirl at Delhi, daughter to a foreigner mom and a long haired Indian father. Lenny is the cool chick, who bikes around with a sleaze-ball of a boyfriend, whereas her peers ogle her in amazement waiting for the school bus.
Young experimentation, and again here, the confounded ‘jawaani ki aag’ lands her in a sleaze soup when her beloved films her on a mobile, shares it with the whole world, only to be nabbed later by Delhi Police.
But by then the harm’s done. Socially ostracized, openly proclaimed the cool slut, Lenny is in the ninth hell of shock and despair. Her parents ground her, take her to the hills. But running does not help to hide.
The shadows of gloom follow her. Not able to bite the bullet, her father gulps the bullet by committing suicide. Lenny runs amock reaching her dad’s hometown, the same town where resided Paro, Dev, Sattu and the families therein.
There too she receives not better than abuses and blames by her granny for gulping down her dear ‘puttar’. Her uncle even suggests getting her killed and buried in the ‘sarso ka khet’. Lenny calls her mom for help. Mommy cries, does not talk. Li’l girl Lenny is lost.
She flees. Catches a train, the very same one, where sitting in front of her is Dev’s now-married-to-businessman-beau, Paro. They exchange pleasantries.
Cut to now in the national capital. Dilwalon ki cinematic Delhi. She calls friends. Everybody shuns her away. She is lost in the painted, painful, psychedelic streets of Paharganj.
With not enough money to even have water she eyes people at cafes munching away. A woman having her meal chances upon her, and makes friends. She initiates Li’l Lost Lenny to the world of quick money, sex, cocaine and alcohol!
Pony-tailed Chunnilal, the Black Mamba dude, at the same time spots our tragic hero DevD, lost, thirsty. Not for water, but Vodka!
They drink away till the wee hours of dawn, while the Twilight Dancers put up a splendid song and dance sequence. The flashy break dancing is reminiscent of the 90s and awesome. The wall behind the dance floor reads “LOADING. PLEASE WAIT.” Trippy!
Thereafter starts Lenny’s education. She learns the art of sex and at the same time is enrolled for graduation at Delhi University. While she studies her text books at college, at home and in bed she studies fantasies. Kinky-spanking, bondage, Moulin Rouge, French, Indian, Italian, Schoolgirl, Nurse, Tamil…sex in many languages and avatars, ribbed, flavoured, extended climax, etc. Funnier, than raunchier indeed!
DevD, meanwhile spots Paro in Delhi. He tries to get in touch. He does get in touch only to be shunned. Paro though comes to his pad. The one-roomer-stoners’-pad with countless bottles of booze, and a graffiti-adorned wall which actually has Goddess Kali with the head of George-frikkin-Bush…now beat that! Fire meets fuel. Sparks fly yet again. Paro bathes her man, washes his clothes, prepares to leave. Leaving behind the angry and enraged Dev.
Enter Chunnilal the Dragon, to the rescue. More booze. More cocaine. More blood. More pain. Tauba tera jalwa. Tauba tera pyaar. Tera emosanal atyachaar.
Dev, then goes through a wild spree. He’s at most times with Lenny. Not doing her, or anything, basically that becomes his crash-pad every dawn. Sweet emotions start to blossom within Lenny for this fallen man. She starts caring for him. They hang out. Have a good time. Go dancing, skinny dipping, good times a rollin!But the cops nab Dev. His Dad ‘Sattu’ passes away. He’s in a mess. He gets ostracized from his family. All hell breaks loose upon him. While returning from Pind to Paharganj, his sardarji driver also cons him. Runs away with his money. Dev is alone, wasted, and guess what, on the hills.
From there he hitches a ride with a biker to reach Delhi. Mama Mia, he reaches Delhi, spots the surd who duped him. Takes his money back. Meets Lenny. Starts life afresh. With Lenny by his side, modern day DevD gets real. He is real. Paro, here, isn’t his muse-et-al. She’s Paro. Only.
Needless to say Abhay Deol as the joint smoking, e-pill popping, acid tripping, vodka downing, and cocaine snorting DevD has shattered the aura of even Matt Dillon of Drugstore Cowboy fame. Though it is the cinematography, the casting, the acting, the script, the dialogues, the music, in fact everything, every bit and piece of work, which has put together a movie experience that is hard to forget.
And by god, I have no clue how this hard core of a movie went past the Censor-frikkin-board. Abhay Deol has rolled, smoked countless joints in the film. You might debate, “Yaar woh to smoking tobacco roll kar raha thha”. Arey yeh public hai boss, yeh sab jaanti hai, kya?
As I was telling friends, you can either love this movie or hate it. There are no midways. Just can’t be. You can either say ‘Wow’ or feel sorry for wasting moolah-in-a-multiplex. Having read this, I leave it for you to decide.
1 comment:
Its the most spaced out and elaborate movie review i have ever come across. I can well imagine all that played in your mind while you viewed it on the movie screen, excited at the avant-garde Bollywood movie. Sure, I agree its more than trippy....the best thing i loved about the movie was breaking all conventions of a typical suffering DevDas to showing of a DevD who can deal with reality well and "move on"...
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