Saawariya Music Review

Alright, hype aside, let the inspection begin, song by song.

1. Saawariya: Melodious, soulful, yet foot-tapping and fresh. Visibly passionately composed and sung and oh-so-memorable. Barring the minute air of familiarity embedded in the tune (not the execution), and the occasional whiff of country that may allude to westward bound wannabeism, this one is a classic. Rarely does a song come along that is instant magic, and has the potential to eternally retain that magic. Well done, Monty!

2. Jab Se Tere Naina: The orchestra backing this one engages, tickles, whatnot. Confident, yet playfully variant, the instrumental arrangement is the highlight of this number. Shaan personifies this in his voice. Clearly, the music director understands Mood and has ensured every element of this piece is drenched in it. The execution is clearly above the melody, and it is on the strength of the former that this song interacts with you and you, with it. Goal achieved.

3. Masha Allah: The song begins with a familiar sound, and before you can say Kunal, Ganjawala arrives, silk and all. And before you can say "This is just another Ganja-passion number - good, but predictable" - you are proved wrong. Silly imbecile. The chorus ends with the two words in the title of the song - and how! An absorbing happy chant that begs you to close your eyes and let your imagination do the rest. Usually not a very good idea - but hey, this is SLB you know! Ok, wait, it turns out you are not a silly imbecile (Ripley would confirm). Because soon after this two-word delight, the song treads almost entirely on a largely uninspiring Ganja-passion tune.

4. Thodi badmaash: Woh Chand si ladki, being sung by Umrao Jaan. There's even a "he-he badmash" - a tribute to the incredibly underdone "Ish", perhaps. I am not being all "I hate classic crap and bring on the It's Rocking" but the tune is far too familiar, and everything from start to finish is just darn boring (I lied about the finish - wait for it, it's awesome: the song stops playing). I think Yo China is overrated. Sorry to have digressed, but the less said about the song the better. The wontons deserve a try.

5. Yoon Shabnami - Woh Chand si ladki, being sung by Umrao Jaan who thinks she's Devdas (or is it the other way round?). The flamboyant musical backing seems forced, the kawwali is refreshing, the tune is better than the previous number but treads along the same path leading to heated debate about wonton stuffing, and the attempted crescendo at the end is meak. Uh.

6. Daras bina: Excellently rendered and enigmatically executed. This is good classic stuff. A short piece that should be proud of its unique luster and strength, but should not expect to be remembered separately owing to the lack of a hook. But that doesn't seem its intention in any case.

7. Sawar Gayi: Umrao, bas karo. And enough of the Devdas hangover. Let us not try to pass of mediocre tunes in the name of classical music. Really, enough.

8. Jaan-e-jaa: Kunal is back! Almost charmingly waltzy and interspersed with nauseatingly dramatic crescendos, this song asks one question: Where have you heard me before?

9. Pari: Kunal, in all his silky glory renders a bland melody with passion. He is abruptly interrupted by annoying alleged "Paris", who sound not-so-nice. Kunal, only, good job. What is interesting though, is that this song creates an image. Perhaps it's the lyrics, perhaps the rendition, wateva, but it's unlikely the tune's accomplishment.

10. Chhabela: They have quick service but sometimes mess up the order, especially during home delivery. The food is very reasonable, and largely edible - the soups are suspicious though. Wait, there's a song?

11. Saawariya Reprise: Finally! Quality, charm, spunk all in one. Thank you!

For the sake of basically the title song, and oftentimes good arrangements, visit the album.

The only thing worse than Apne is a folcider. And folcider isn't even a real word.

Apne stinks. That's just a fact. Recognizing self-stink (that should really be a word) is difficult, so the Deols are excused. But everybody else? Clearly a case of massive, large-scale nose-block. Or perhaps Dharmendra-euphoria, but even then, why doesn't Hindustani and Timely Khaild take a sniff, just a sniff; that's really all that's required.

I don't usually speak of stink in vain. It's one of the worst things you can do. So my assertion doesn't come without reason. Or three, for that matter.

1. The film, purely by nature of its characters and how they choose to behave (or misbehave), is the kind the Fantastic Farah (Khan, I mean - as if you thought Taneja) can, should and probably will, spoof. It's a film - (there are two schools of thought on just that) - of Fred's time (Flintstone, I mean - and this time, you did think Taneja, didn't you?). People, in films, just don't talk like that anymore, react like that anymore, or, most importantly, stink like that anymore.

Closely associated with the essential graph of this three-hour 'film', is the execution of the graph. Here is where one wishes one hadn't taken the anti-flu vaccine. Why?
Smell this: Every emotion that has been depicted has been stretched obscenely. If something is sad, it is incredibly sad. If it's happy, it's incredibly happy. And so, if it's stinky, it's incredibly stinky. And this excessive treatment, in itself, is fine - there is inherently nothing wrong in an effective emotional roller-coster - but that has to be backed by strong writing. The only thing strong in Apne, of course, is the paanch kilo ka haath and the stench emanating from it.
Smell this: The direction is cliched, campy, hackneyed, unintentionally hilarious and stinky, to say the absolute least. Misplaced slow-motion moments, catastrophically cheesy crescendos and Dharmendra's 'I have to be sarcastic to Sunny Bwuoay' face are comic relief. Well, comic.

2. It's all about hating your parents, children, children's wives and grandchildren. A film that professes to stand for placing your 'Apne' above all, smacks every Apne in its sight, and hard. It's a sorry story of a psychotic, self-centered man, whose warped sense of the rightness of things is backed by sickening Punjabi male chauvinism fueled whole-heartedly by women who bathe and get dressed and stop. A man who couldn't care less about his Apne and wants each to get smacked as hard and as quickly as possible. One down, one to go. And when all are down, the loon croons: 'Apne - arr - arr - hrff - arr' - sorry, not a fan of the whole macho, hoarse voice. "But it's from the sons' ponts of view, na!" : Quiet! Then the message becomes: 'No matter how crazy your father is, do exactly what he wants even if it's bad for the whole family AND him, in the long run'. Aww.

Still wondering what to do with the paanch kilo ka haath?

3. Not funny. The two feeble attempts at humour - the 'Ek Joke suna - arrr- hrrff' and the sikh who forgets are not funny. Just stinky. Not funny. Only stinky.

So, all I can say is this: Go, watch Apne. But when you return, take a bath. Coz this baby stinks.