Cast: Prosenjit Chatterjee, Aparshakti Khurana, Aditi Rao Hydari, Sidhant Gupta, Wamiqa Gabbi Director: Vikramaditya Motwane Language: Hindi Spoilers ahead Searching for novelty isn’t difficult when you have something that can transport you back in time. Of course, the era of the pre and post-Independent Indian Cinema is not known to us, but we can enjoy the movies of the lost times and feel fresh and novel. That’s precisely why the opening credits of
Vikramaditya Motwane ’s Jubilee sucks you into its world. We see black-and-white visuals and names powered by Amit Trivedi’s background score. Motwane and Trivedi is a match pulsating to the core; the latter’s musical pieces always succeed in echoing the former’s vision as a filmmaker. Within the first 15-odd minutes of the series, Motwane and creator Atul Sabharwal show us the retro world of film auditions and Bollywood parties. Nostalgia is an emotion supposed to cheer us up and make us escape from our gloom, but the world of films seems to be just as dark nearly 75 years ago, if we buy into the world the filmmaker, along with Soumik Sen, has imagined and created. Because we also see extra-marital relationships, a greedy film financier (a cussing Ram Kapoor), and Motwane also throws references to the partition and the horrific visuals of the tragedy. [caption id=“attachment_12363522” align=“alignnone” width=“640”] Jubilee[/caption] There’s a supposed reference to the legendary
Dilip Kumar too. In one scene, Aparshakti Khurana, who’s clearly enjoying himself in the role of Bengali manager to Roy Talkies’ honcho Srikant (played by
Prosenjit Chatterjee ) who later becomes a star, says ‘Khan hero nahin bante, isiliye unhone apna naam change kar liya.’ He’s talking about Roy’s new discovery Jamshed Khan, rechristened as Madan Kumar. The scene also becomes amusing and ironic the moment Khurana mouths this dialogue, given how the Khans seem to be ruling the roost post the era of the 70s. Only if Das Babu could see the irony. For all it’s charm and craft, Jubilee is a series that I couldn’t binge-watch (only the first five episodes have premiered so far); the first episode itself is nearly 63 minutes long, with at least three key moments that act as cliffhangers to make way for the next one, but Motwane chooses to end the opening episode his own way. And given he has been an assistant director to Sanjay Leela Bhansali on Devdas and directed Lootera too, he definitely understands grandeur and ambition. He also understands silences, which was one of the biggest strengths of that underrated, gorgeous film. Khurrana, who suddenly becomes the hero of Roy’s film, struggles to get the take right, and the camera runs out of magazine when he nails it. He gets his 41st chance and finally everything falls into place. But we never get to see that take, all we see are close-ups of excited, somewhat exasperated faces when he’s performing. They have found their hero. The bells donging in the background add to the pulpy scene and pulsating silence. Look at the title of their film- Sunghursh. Literally everyone associated with this film is struggling, from the producer to the actress to the financer to this unlikely hero. [caption id=“attachment_12363442” align=“alignnone” width=“640”]
Aparshakti Khurana[/caption] However, it’s not like the filmmaker has reserved his sprawling shots only for the glittery world of films, cinematographer Pratik Shah uses his lenses to give us some visuals of the catastrophe of the refugees in August 1947. The sight is overwhelming. What also catches your attention is the subtle role reversal between a father and his son. This is a rare piece of work where the patriarchal figure encourages his son to pursue his dreams in the times of horror, and the son gives him a reality check of how writing scripts and narrating dramas can’t feed an empty stomach. And actor Sidhant Gupta is appropriately cast as this torn, bruised, and conflicted son. His character arc and emotional graph take a major metamorphosis between episodes one and two. [caption id=“attachment_12363462” align=“alignnone” width=“640”]
Sidhant Gupta[/caption] There’s little bit of deja vu of
_Gangubai Kathiawadi_ too, with a sex worker, played by Wamiqa Gabbi, sucked into the world of flesh trade by subterfuge. But the next time when we see her, she’s getting intimate with Ram Kapoor in his car; we never know how she escaped from the clutches of that barbaric brothel. We don’t know where Kapoor disappears midway through the series, we never get to see his reaction when Khurana nails the audition. There are certain loose ends despite some impressive performances and scenes; what’s also impressive is how Motwane adds shades of grey to nearly all characters. Binod always finds a way to get his job done to the point of blackmailing a film distributor, Jay agrees to kill an unknown man to feed his family, and Sumitra devises new schemes every time to not let Binod enjoy his share of success and glory. The setting doesn’t matter after a point, anyone half aware of the film world would concur this is how it all happens 75 years later too. And it’s refreshing to see Hydari in a role that digs deeper into her emotional psyche and not just caricaturize her into a gorgeous mess. It’s equally interesting to see Khurana enjoy his moment of glory not once but twice. Once as Khurana himself, and then as Madan Kumar. Look at his breathlessness outside a cinema where his debut film plays, it could be Khurana standing there himself, waiting to comprehend the audience’s response. This is just half of it, the remaining five episodes drop next week. But Jubilee does affirm we may have traveled from black-and-white to colour, the shades of grey continue to stay intact. Maybe 50, or more.
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