KHALEIN HUM JEE JAAN SAY

aja Sen reviews Khelein
Hum Jee Jaan Sey. Post
YOUR reviews here!
My favourite moment in
Ashutosh Gowariker's [
Images ] new film comes
when a bunch of
schoolchildren are lying in
an open field, exhausted,
limbs heaped atop one-
another's, looking up at
the clouds and trying to
assimilate the patriotism
they've just been injected
with.
One wonders what Vande
Mataram means, and --
even as a few profess
ignorance and one finally
reveals that it is a
salutation to the
motherland -- a chubby
youth smiles and
comments, simply, that 'it
feels good to say it, doesn't
it?" and repeats the battle-
cry, finding adulthood,
hero worship and
camaraderie all at once.
I confess that despite my
last name, I wasn't very
aware of the Chittagong
uprising in a corner of
Bengal, in which freedom
fighter Surjya Sen and his
companions led over fifty
teen boys in violent,
elaborately-planned
anarchist revolt and struck
an impressive, Empire-
halting blow for the
motherland. It is a critical
incident, one ignored by
centralised History syllabi
and a story that definitely
deserves telling -- and for
this, Mr Gowariker, do take
a bow.
That appreciation aside,
Khelein Hum Jee Jaan Sey is
a clumsily structured,
unevenly paced film, with
very few moments to
match up to the
aforementioned scene. The
first half unfolds like a
school play -- all stilted
dialogue-delivery, self-
aggrandising smug smiles
('look Ma! I'm playing a
freedom fighter!'), and
white kurtas borrowed
from a Rin commercial --
and, quite frankly, like any
school staging which
doesn't feature a relative
on-stage, the film lulls you
to perplexed sleep.
There is period detailing,
sure, with square-edge'd
badminton rackets, vintage
cars and picturesque
calendars telling us that
January is ticking away, but
between the wooden
dialogue and the
unspectacular acting, this is
simply a school play with a
good art teacher in charge.
It is the second half of the
film that then hits you
straight in the solar plexus,
because after that soporific
opening, here we have
wall-to-wall action. The
Chittagong Uprising makes
for a smashing narrative,
and Gowariker plays it
loyally enough. It isn't
subtle and the direction is
straight out of the Jingoism
Manual, but because the
story itself has such
immense meat, it's hard to
not get sucked in as you
watch it unfold.
The film's own soundtrack
is an ineffective one, but by
the time the end rolls
around, Gowariker falls
back on Vande Mataram
and it unfailingly gets the
job done. It is still a school
play, but a school play with
a big enough budget to
show lots of action
setpieces, and I daresay
we'd all be okay with that.
Surjya Sen's fundamental
masterstroke, that of using
teenagers, is a scandalous
choice, and one that can
rightfully kick off, as the
nation seems fond of
saying this week, 'a larger
ethical debate.' Is it right
for a schoolteacher to
incite young minds and
involve minors in a
revolution? He fought for
freedom, but who draws
that line for an easily-
impassioned child? Is it
okay to put them fatally in
the line of fire just because
the children themselves
agree? And who decides
how old is old enough?
These are loaded questions
and one doesn't expect this
film to answer them, but a
film on the subject needs
to explore the children's
psyche, see what is going
through their mind. They
are the story, and this film
cruelly sidesteps their
innards.
In the second half, as the
young revolutionaries are
scurrying for cover and
shuffling into position, they
respond to military
commands just like their
adversaries. 'Company, fall
in line' has the same effect
on the kids as it does their
bulldog-moustached
British adversaries, and it
would have had a far
greater effect on us if we'd
have seen the senior
anarchists teach their
teenaged charges these,
seeing them make the
decision to follow the
opposition's process to
match them. Instead, we
are treated to repeated
scenes of boys lifting
barbells.
The boys themselves aren't
bad, though there aren't
any standout performers.
Among the revolutionaries
leading the charge is
Ganesh Ghosh, played by
Samrat, a stout-necked
slab of muscle who, in the
film's finest performance,
brings both credibility and
craft to the table. Vishakha
Singh does very well as
Pritilata Waddedar, the
film's heroine who handles
not just romance and loss,
but also defiant
martyrdom. It was also
most refreshing to see Rishi
Sethi pop up for a scene,
the veteran bit-actor -- and
Prakash Mehra's [ Images ]
onetime assistant -- who
hung around so many
Bachchan-Mehra films,
from Zanjeer [ Images ] to
Namak Halaal [ Images ] to
Kaalia.
Abhishek Bachchan [
Images ], however, is
woefully miscast in the
film's leading role. Content
to oscillate between a
'thoughtful' furrowed-
brow look and a creepy
smile in the first half, the
second sees him scurrying
for instruction from his
colleagues and hardly ever
assuming control. This is
not an inspiring leader of
men or boys -- like Aamir
Khan [ Images ] in Lagaan [
Images ] or Rang De
Basanti, or Ajay Devgn [
Images ] in The Legend Of
Bhagat Singh -- but instead
just another one of the lot.
Shreyas Pandit as the
bespectacled but
unflinching Ambikada,
Samrat's Ganesh or even
Maninder's Anant Singh...
all have take-charge
moments better than the
hero, and history suggests
Surjya deserved better. It is
also rather disconcerting to
see the actor unable to say
Bengali names with the
right inflection, his
climactic struggles with the
name Kolpona ('Call-
punna', he wheezes)
especially laughable. His
Bengali mother must be
mortified. Abhishek might
have the most loaded last
name in Hindi cinema, but
clearly it takes more than
that to pull off a Sen.
Rediff Rating:
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Raja Sen
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