Growing up
as a Bengali, (or as Bhaskor Banerjee would put it, “Ha, Bangali”..) there are
certain archetypal cultural expressions and feels that I can’t help but habitually
get connected with. Despite our distinctive proclivities, we are just peas in a
pod when it comes down to being overly sentimental about Aloo posto, being passive-aggressively involved in the timeless
Mohunbagan-East Bengal debate or never questioning the seriousness of
constipation as a major health issue. Piku is that film which touches upon some
celebrated Bengali stereotypes like the ones aforesaid but triumphs in not
overstating them. While Bollywood keeps on thriving on its fetish for clichéd
exotic orient of Bengal, Piku takes the-road-less-travelled-by and shows that
there is more to Bengal than rosogolla, taanter sari, misti doi and Durga Puja.
It is about the countless Pikus, Bhaskors and Chabi Mashis around us who fit in
our imagination as naturally as Isab Gul, Ghee er sishi (a container of Ghee)
and Telegraph fit in every Bengali household.
Once in a
blue moon, there comes a film that completely restructures and magnifies the
existing paradigms of commercial Bollywood and needless to say, director Soojit
Sircar’s latest offering is exactly one such directorial. From sperm donation
to constipation, Sircar has proved yet again how pathos and humor can go hand
in hand in portraying a serious subject-matter on screen with absolute ease and
that too, without the slightest hint of pretense and superficiality. Even
though Piku cannot be catalogued as a typical road trip movie or a generic
romcom but the subtlety with which it establishes the significance of the
journey over the destination resulting to an emotional revelation for the
characters took me back to recalling the myriad of emotions I reeled through
while watching “Little Miss Sunshine”. From
a chuckle to moist eyes, you experience it all in that 120 minutes.
Irrespective
of a peerless star cast, Piku’s USP lies in the sheer honesty of its narrative
and its ability to become evidently impactful without being remotely preachy unlike
most of Raju Hirani films (No offence meant). From the very onset, the
simplicity, ingenuity and upfront hilarity of Piku makes you fall for it
instantly. There is nothing unimaginably dramatic or pot-boiling about the
screenplay (kudos to Juhi Chaturvedi for such triumphant writing). There is
neither any forced catharsis nor any jaw-dropping revelation. The film sets in
and ends as subtly as just another a day in any regular Indian household. It is
an amalgamation of all the sublime moments that we generally don’t take a
notice of and regret later.
The
unremitting conviction of the story and the characters makes the film
believably human and entertaining. It is an unmistakable emotional connect that
you feel with each of the film’s character- from their distinctive charms to
eccentricities, quirks to misgivings. Be it the stubborn, irritable and hypochondriac
Bhaskor Banerjee of 70 (played, or rather to say immortalized by Amitabh
Bachchan) who spends a good share of his day pondering over his arch
nemesis-constipation or his single, hyperventilating, architect daughter Piku
(Deepika Padukone)- every character is as normal and as dysfunctional as we see
ourselves to be. For Bhaskor, the core of his life’s philosophy revolves around
his bowel movement- its color, texture, and consistency thus making his
daughter simply tired of his SHIT.. Like literally! What truly is commendable
of the director is how he uses some casual, laugh out loud ‘potty’ humor
without making it sound gross or redundant (True that to Motion se hi Emotion).
The
pot-bellied, monkeycapped Bhaskor in his ill-fitted kurta is sure to remind you
of your grandfather or that uncle who has an unapologetically cynical (or
better to say “brutal and honest”) viewpoint about everything in life and yet
possess a heart of gold. While Piku is that girl in all of us who desperately
seeks for a few ‘Me times’ in between juggling her professional life and taking
care of her ageing and ailing parent. She does not shy away to admit herself
being more temperamental and weirder than her father. There is also the cab service
owner Rana (played by Irrfan Khan) with whom Piku shares an unarticulated
romantic connection and who is indifferent, disturbed but emotionally sorted in
his own way or Moushumi Chaterjee as Chabi Mashi who is visibly a prototype for every over
-snooping Bong mashimas/ Kakimas/ pishimas (Bengali for aunt) whose favorite
line to you is “beta, shaadi kyon nahi
kar lete?” (Why don’t you get married?)
It is
admirable how the film uses a constant frenzied interplay between the father-daughter
duo to toss up some significant societal concerns like the indispensable duty of
a child to become a ‘parent’ to his/her old parents and how much nerve does it
take to do that . It however does not try to over-emphasize the subtext or appear
as a melodramatic social commentary. Piku is a refined celebration of all the
flaws and frustrations that makes us human and easily identifiable. (It is
exactly as Anupam sings in the film:
“Ab galatiyan jo maan li toh theek hai”)… B-town has surely got it once again
that if they try, it can actually move over the oh-so-perfect, morally-upright,
demigod-like Chulbul Pandey and Rowdy Rathore to the flawed but one-off
protagonists like Rani (Queen) and Piku.
Now coming
down to the performances, I guess there can be no better commendation than just
be shut up in absolute awe. The thundering trio of Deepika-Amitabh-Irrfan do not
let you take your eyes off them. (Like we even expected any different!) Deepika
in her deglamorized, unkempt look is absolutely spot- on and the impeccability
with which she skins in the realism, insecurities, irks and charm of Piku worths
all the accolades. Even with few lines and limited screen space, Irrfan re-attests
why he is regarded as one of the greatest character actors of all time but it
is the Shehanshah of Bollywood, the eternally vivacious Big-B who forms the crème
dela crème of the film. Whether it is twisting his legs to “Jibone ki pabona”, humming “Ei
poth Jodi na sesh hoe” or riding a bicycle through the streets and by lanes
of the city of joy, the 72 year-old Amitabh is inseparable from the carping, hypochondriac,
irritable yet endearing Bhaskor Banerjee whom you would love to hate and hate
to love. To me Bhaskor is what Sheldon Cooper would have been provided he was
70, Bengali and… yups, constipated.
However, just
as a few unfitting ingredients can mar a great broth, Piku too is not devoid of
loopholes. The Bengali accents of both Deepika and Amitabh appear to be a
little stressed and imprecise. The
second half fails to deliver as much punch as the first and the ending itself seemed
a bit rushed and mainstream. But on the whole, the narrative, performances and music
are so engrossing and appetizing that they outweigh every little miss and slip.
Piku is a
family entertainer in every true sense of the term that you should and must
watch with your parents, especially your Dad. (I feel lucky to have done that).
It brings back all the throwback moments and memories you had with them. It makes
you feel complete for being blessed with the world’s greatest possessions- Ma
and Baba. And by the time the end
credits roll in and you have this overpowering urge to hug them, that is when
you know how much you loved Piku and her Baba…
