Subhash K Jha speaks about Halla Bol 
By Subhash K. Jha, January 12, 2008 - 12:05 IST
Some filmmakers entertain. Others tend to inform. A handful of celluloid visionaries do both. Raj Kumar Santoshi belongs to that rare breed of
filmmakers who opens up thought- processes about the state of the nation without losing the 'cinematic' element in his cinema.
Halla Bol belongs to the same unique hard-hitting gut-wrenching genre of cinema as Santoshi’s Damini, Ghatak and the under-rated
Lajja. The overall product lacks finesse, yes. And parts of the plot (e.g Devgan peeing on the primary paapi's Persian rug) purport to be
purely puerile. But the message that the masses need to arise from slumber, rings out loud and largely clear. Brutality is often superimposed on a
laidback lyricism in Santoshi's not-so-mellow-dramas. He sees the middleclass as a collectively cowardly mass waiting to be prodded awake. Earlier
Sunny Deol used to serve up these wakeup calls. Now it's Ajay Devgan for Santoshi.
In Halla Bol the actor gets to grab a glorious graph as he goes from committed street –theatre performer to corrupted celluloid superstar to a
socially -conscious citizen who stands up to fight a worthy cause…or shall we, say a wordy cause? Rhetoric (articulately written by Santoshi) flows
out of the script with unstopped passion. Scenes come alive through the characters' ability to transcend the occasionally trite material and
communicate the gripping drama of social awakening through words and expression that suggest a link between pop art and a socio-political
manifesto. Disembodied news clippings from news channels coalesce urgently with the larger picture as Santoshi takes stinging wipes at the
establishment.
The rise and fall and rise again of the small-time actor ‘Ashfaque’ to ‘Sameer Khan’ is peppered with arresting interludes from the entertainment
business. The buzz and the bitching, the hypocrisy and the promiscuity….they all get a wide margin in the cannily written plot that weaves a
conscience into a tale with a frisky flair. While Devgan gets seriously explorative once again, playing a character who goes from vain and libidinous
to repentant and heroic, it's Pankaj Kapoor playing Devgan's guru and conscience-keeper who gives a sterling stand-out performance. Supremely
confident in his space, Kapur plays a street-theatre artiste who once was a dacoit. It's by far one of the most interesting and multi-layered characters
written for a character actor, and one that gives this under-used actor a chance to deliver rabble rousing rhetoric without getting pulpit-friendly.
In a plot that favors the male actors Vidya Balan makes silent space for herself. She has just three major sequences and she embraces all of them
with unconditional pride.
Halla Bol towers over the average potboilers. It puts across home truths in a language that tends to get shrill but never shallow. The caucus of
villains strike distinctly caricatured poses (and it's embarrassing to see Darshan Jariwalla who was Mahatma Gandhi in Gandhi My Father give a
hammy account of his talent). But the impotent silence of the mute junta as it watches mob injustice on the streets comes across in sweeping
movements of pain and anger.
All of Santoshi's films have scenes showing the brutal mauling of an individual in a public place. The war cry comes in a raging spurt of indignant
creativity in Halla Bol. Effectively scripted and with dialogues that propel the plot to a climax without moving ahead of itself, the narrative simmers
with discontent.
On this occasion, Santoshi has a lot to say about the conscience and the celebrity. Also about, the misuse of the minority card by politicians makes
a rather subtle entry into the second half of the drama. Though shot with an eye for personality-defining details by cameraman, S. Natarajan
Subramaniam some portions of the tale appear tacky when compared with the enormity of the theme. Maybe the editor Steven Bernard needed to
exercise more economy of expression.
Halla Bol may not strike you as being the epitome of subtle social reformism. Its tone is more of a street play than a Sunday-evening curio at
Prithvi Theatres. What's truly remarkable about Santoshi's cinema is the multiplicity of ideas and themes on contemporary India that come into play
through distinctly cinematic devices.
If on one end you hear Jackie Shroff discussing Aamir Khan's run-in with the Gujarat government on the other end we have Sayali Bhagat popping
in for an item song. The spectrum is vast and baggy. And yes there are strong words against the politics of minorities and the cult of
celebrity-bashing.
You may think Raj Kumar Santoshi has bitten more than he can chew. But that's a fatal mistake. This filmmaker can create tensions in the plot
without allowing the pressures of balancing the 'formula' with 'ideas' to show up in the end product.
The product never actually ends. For Santoshi's morally conflicted protagonists there is always another beginning.
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