Houseful: A review

I’m confused. Even though I sat through Houseful for a little over two hours, several questions still remain unanswered to me. For example,

1.    Can a weather-forecaster on a Bengali television channel ever manage to acquire bungla, gaadi and the works, within just six months on the job? By the way, how many Bengali channels employ a separate girl to read out the weather bulletin a la BBC?

2.    Is the film in question set during the monsoons? There are just two scenes in the film where it’s pouring. Both occur at the same place for the same situation. Only the callers are different. Are rains an essential backdrop for a ghost phone call, when the caller in question is an associate of a terrorist outfit? Or is this a Ramsay type situation?

3.    Why is it that hoardings of a film appear in Kolkata but the only place where the film seems to release is some godforsaken rural movie-theatre?

4.    Finally, is it okay to claim that you have made a movie when all that is apparent is your knowledge and optimum exploitation of the available technologies in movie-making today?

One thing I am sure of though — the character of the film director Nikhil Bandopadhyay in Houseful is the alter ego of its director Bappaditya Banopadhyay. Confused by the expression? But then, I have already confessed my own confusion.

But first of all a look at the star of the film – Prosenjit Chatterjee. I use the full name here on purpose. Because just Prosenjit is for potboilers and this one is not. In Houseful he plays Nikhil.

So what is it with Nikhil? Nikhil has quite a few similarities with the director Prosenjit Chatterjee played in Rituparno Ghosh’s Khela. He is stubborn, dreamy and impulsive, his marriage is breaking up and he can go to any extent to make a film. And wonder of wonders, he doesn’t shave — at least not regularly. One fails to understand why an ‘offbeat’ Bong filmmaker has to abstain from shaving. In Khela, he sported a full beard. Here, he sports stubble. Satyajit Ray, Mrinal Sen and Tapan Sinha have always been clean shaven. And the only photograph I have seen of Ritwik Ghatak – the maddest of them all as the legends go — does not give the impression that he despised shaving. But enough of trivialities in a discussion about a movie that addresses the serious issue of the pain of a creatively original mind in an increasingly philistine world.

The basic premise of the film is almost a Madhur Bhandarkarish documentary – the present state of Tollygunge and the Bengali film industry as a whole. It seems the only films that have any respect and prospect of running are direct copies of Tamil and Telugu potboilers (copyright can go to hell). It’s an industry whose audience has been so conditioned that they care a hoot about anything that even slightly challenges them into switching on their thinking faculties, where budgets are constrained, more so when the film is not ‘commercial’, where young actresses don’t even watch movies they have not acted in, where hall owners run a film knowing fully well that it may not even garner the running cost, where single screen movie-theatres are broken down and where stars still throw tantrums and choose films either for money or for awards. True, true, true and true!

Bappaditya, and it seems consciously, has used quite a few visual redo’s. At least two scenes are obvious. One in which the most successful Tollygunge heroine is introduced — where she stands in full bridal armoury with two paan leaves covering her face. Aishwarya Rai in Choker Baali. And then at the end, where Nikhil finally realises that Tamil copies are easier and more practical than Bengali originals, while watching the last scene of Houseful on a temporary screen, erected on a sea beach, shot in magic light. Prosenjit Chatterjee in Swapner Din.

But how do you weave a story around these facts? Do you focus on these aspects, or do you focus on the bigger aspect of apathy to everything as a whole — from terrorism, to the weather, to films, to relationships — in short the breaking down of the social fabric. Point is if you have your thoughts in place, you can comment on all that by focusing on just one. The problem with Bappaditya is that he carries baggage, and is never sure he has succeeded in putting his point through. It’s the classic case of a debater who after taking the podium and arguing his case goes on to wonder if he has covered all the points he meant to. The result, invariably, is a labyrinthine rambling that leaves the audience confused.  Right from Shilpantar, through Kaantataar to Kaal, this has been Bappaditya’s bane. And he has not been any different in Houseful.

The result: A narrative pace that stops, stirs, pushes, stops, grunts and goes through all sorts of kinetic things except pace up. Of course, the man named Deepak Mandal, the editor – could have done something about this. But as I said earlier, Bappaditya is a lot like Nikhil in his film, and Nikhil is stubborn. Still Rana Dasgupta’s camera does a lot to help. Actually, the best thing about the film is its use of technology. The treatments that have been used, changing the colour, the tone and at times, even the resolutions of the visual narratives in order to give an impression of how Nikhil is continuously in the cusp of the imaginative even in realistic situations is worth kudos. It’s bold, it’s been done with care and it’s been done well. Pity that all this effort wasn’t backed up by either a ‘figured out’ narrative, or a good script.

Of course, Prosenjit Chatterjee has done what he could. But whoever he had for company have fallen short. Especially the girls — Ushashie Chakrabarty and Rimjhim Gupta. After all they had got to share screen space with Bumba-da. They were overwhelmed and it showed. Rwita Dutta Chakraborty, however, was not overwhelmed. But then, she is the lone ranger. And one wonders about using Rachna Shah from Mumbai for the newscaster’s role, when her voice had to be dubbed and hers wasn’t even an important role.

Finally, an admission: I am still confused. Just like the spectators who talk to Nikhil after seeing Houseful towards the end of the movie. But kudos to Bappaditya for turning the joke on himself too. The only thing is, despite his wry sense of humour, he comes across as nothing more than another argumentative Indian.


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