That is probably the highest concentration of the words movie and love in one paragraph, but the emphasis is necessary to truly grasp the incredible journey of Hugo. First, for the naysayers who hate 3D and think it’s just a way to drive up ticket prices, GO WATCH Hugo, IN 3D. The masterful use of the medium is more than justified with his small scope, restricting us to a Parisian train station and yet showing us a whole world we could never have known, in a way we could never have known it in. From the flakes of snow that fall towards you, or the first movie train that scared all its viewers, from the swinging pendulum in Hugo’s home/workplace to the bustling crowd, Martin Scorsese uses 3D not to enthrall you, but to truly involve you. This movie will hold up for its sheer genius even in the regular 2D, but not even Avatar could truly harness the potential of 3D to tell a story, not just enhance it, like Scorsese does in this film. From turning gears to winding toys, every frame of the film is adroitly put together, with a purpose beyond mere decoration, so much so that with every repeat, an interested viewer could unravel a new layer of this truly multi-dimensional movie.

So Hugo isn’t a children’s movie; that has been established. There aren’t dragons to be tamed and wonderlands to be explored or hot air balloons to rise up in. Yet it is accessible to people of any age. Unrestricted, simplistic, and relatable are adjectives that could describe Scorsese’s approach to this film. What is even more astonishing is something that could stand as a great lesson for schools everywhere. Scorsese immerses himself so entirely in his story-telling that he translates his own love of the cinema to his viewers, without preaching to them. Instead, he chooses to share his passion, and the sincerity of purpose truly translates to the person watching. He talks about French cinema from years ago, magical realism and Milies’s work, unknown to novice movie goers, and yet, even a child (in this case, the eponymous Hugo (Butterfield) and Isabelle (Moretz)) can easily relate to it, because instead of going one of two popular routes, being pedantic or being silly, Scorsese talks about them as a visualization of dreams, something everyone has and everyone can relate to. He also breaches dissatisfaction and dejection in a very real way, a feeling of having lost one’s purpose, and yet avoids being melodramatic about it. And yet, as is probably why Scorsese chose to make the movie the way he did, this is probably the best movie to take your child to this year. There are enough thrills, there is humour, and there is a happy ending, for the traditional-minded, but so much more. There is science, and magic and just enough history to pique one’s curiosity, and it’s probably about time that children found more stimulating fare than there generally is to offer.

I haven’t really discussed the story of the film, or any of its many technical merits, because these are best experienced by watching it. The performances are brilliant all around, right from the lead child actors to the stately Kingsley and the very adept McRory. I am more fascinated by the fact that this is a Martin Scorsese film, brilliant like he always is, and yet this is the biggest departure one could imagine from his regular brand. As a film historian within the film says, it is lamentable that one can only read about old movies in books, if that, because they were, in the days before we had this technological prowess, purely a flight of fancy. Scorsese uses this flight of fancy to mirror the fact that contemporary cinema is unnecessarily pigeon-holed, restricted from reaching a wide audience by prejudices and formulae and absolutely no imagination. All you need to tell a story is an imagination and a willingness to tell it. As Mama Jeanne (McRory) tells her god-daughter about the marvelous colour films of Milies, “We tinted it ourselves, colouring each frame individually.” Scorsese too colours each film with a stroke from the brush of his mind, and adapts an already acclaimed book to a sure-to-be acclaimed movie. And as hard as it was to categorize Selznick’s literary endeavor, so pointless it is to try to restrict Hugo to a genre or a target demographic. Therein lays Scorsese’s victory, because that isn’t the point of the movie at all. The only point is that this, finally, is a movie that you aren’t TAKING your child to, but GOING with your child for, a rare feat in the live action movie world.

British cinema has made habit of making episodic true-story films in the new millennium, and making them damn well. It started with The Deal and its sequels, the more popular The Queen and The Special Relationship. Then last year, The King’s Speech swept the awards roster. This year, they’re doing it again, taking a very short period of time, the film shooting of The Prince and the Showgirl, and introducing into the fray the last true universal sex symbol, Marilyn Monroe (Williams).

Narrated by Colin Clark (Redmayne), this adaptation of his memoirs chronicle the time he spent making his foray into the entertainment business, as a third assistant director on the production of Laurence Olivier’s (Branagh) collaboration with Monroe. It is in equal parts a love letter addressed to an unattainable fantasy and a diary note of a young man’s coming of age. Curtis tells the tale of a privileged man, who is obsessed with the movies, a career choice not respected by his family. He is the fabled underachiever, whose drive is fueled by his lack of appreciation, and is determined to make it on his own. His delight is elevated when the object of every man's affection at the time, Marilyn Monroe, is amongst the people it is his duty to serve. As he and Sir Laurence discover quickly, she is anything but the dream one sees on the silver screen, riddled with insecurities and obsessed with her method and acting coach, Paula Strasberg (wife to the legendary acting teacher behind the eponymous Lee Strasberg Institute). But whilst Larry finds her incorrigible, Clark is entranced by her apparent vulnerability. And after her then husband, playwright Arthur Miller (Scott) goes back to the States, following a particularly vicious fight, Clark is suddenly at the start of his week with Marilyn.

The film has numerous triumphs, amongst which the MOST significant is its phenomenal casting. Besides Williams, who I will come to later, every character is incredibly well suited to its portrayer. From Dame Judi Dench, playing the stateswoman actress Dame Sybill, to Julia Ormond in her brief but captivating imagining of the original Elsie Marina, Vivien Leigh (yes, Scarlett O’Hara). There is one particular scene for Ormond where she discusses her husband’s (Olivier) love for Monroe with the naïve Clark which is a perfect representation of the stiff British upper lip, and is just delightful to watch. A week with Marilyn cannot help but be rife with men though, and men completely besotted. Whether it was Redmayne with his cub to her cougar, or Branagh who is simultaneously frustrated and yet transfixed, Scott who is profoundly aware of his incompatibility with this nymphet or Jackson who was once in Redmayne’s place, and is working with Monroe purely out of devotion, even after having his heart broken. Each of these men is but one spoke of a life cycle of men who were charmed, right off their feet, by the magic that was Marilyn. The direction by Curtis is seemingly adequate, and the screenplay is delicate, but the film, a vast tableau of character studies, is theatre come to life, and rides entirely on its performances.

And speaking of performances, there is Michelle Williams. It is hard to believe that the same woman who was effortless in Wendy and Lucy could so entirely transform into this character. The threat that exists, that worried me before I went in to the screening, was the fact that Monroe is such a larger than life character, her appeal so entrenched in her affectations, that it would be almost impossible to play her with any measure of sympathy. And perhaps even more than that, Williams would be not just seducing the bevy of men lining up on the stage for her, but millions of people, most of whom have at some point had a cut-out of Monroe shaping their fantasies. Just the fact that she took on such an iconic role shows incredible chutzpah, and boy, does she deliver. She is in equal measure vulnerable and enticing, innocent and yet wily, and startlingly, she manages to embody that deep conflicting misery that consumed Monroe, without making any of it seem disingenuous. Her every laugh, twirl, smile, song, dance, everything brings back Monroe in a way that is absolutely breathtaking. There will be people who think this movie is less than other similar movies, but no one could deny that Williams’s turn is not astonishing, it is spell binding.

Meryl Streep has won two Academy Awards out of an incredible sixteen nominations. What is even more incredible is that whilst the last time she was nominated was just two years ago, her last win came almost 30 years ago. With her forthcoming biopic on Margaret Thatcher almost certain to net her nomination number seventeen, it would be heartbreaking to see her lose, but the American dream in the British film may just beat out the Iron Lady herself.

Similar to the first person narrative feature of his directorial debut, ‘Kuch Kuch Hota Hai’, MNIK is a story heard through the tongue of the Asperger’s afflicted Rizwan Khan, who journeys across half the world and then through the breadth of another continent, to say as we’ve all heard or read somewhere, “My name is Khan, and I am not a terrorist”. After watching the uninspiring trailers, and the edited overly precious shots of Shahrukh playing Khan, I did not walk into the cinemas expecting much from this seemingly gimmicky film. I walked out surprised though, and pleasantly for the most part. In a polarized world, where the line of demarcation is clearly becoming religion even over race, the intent of MNIK is noble. To its credit, unlike the also well intentioned ‘Delhi 6’ last year, this film manages to build on its premise more effectively. In a nutshell, the story is in the form of a question: Are the world and its inhabitants so far gone that you are not allowed an individual persona that may be separate from your religious affiliations?

My Name is Khan has many stories, and many Khans, in spite of what the titular protagonist may have you believing. There is Raziya Khan, the mother who brought up her son believing in him with faith and pride, and ignored the rest of the world as she single handedly taught him all that is right and just, even till her death. There is Zakir Khan, the underappreciated but well loved younger brother, and Haseena Khan, his college professor wife, who are traditionalist Muslims but loyal family. There are Mandira and Sameer Khan, the mother and son who find place in their lives for another, who seek love and happiness and the feeling of home. And there are the thousands of unnamed people, who in brief moments of time, Johar introduces us too, if only to show us the impact this Khan has on them. Independently, most of these stories, and most of these people, are interesting, but together, in this ambitious screenplay written by Shibani Bathija, none of the stories develop to real fruition.

I like to start with attributes, and this film has those in abundance. Like I’ve said multiple times before, the biggest success of this film is its intention. It’s pure and it’s refreshing. The casting is unusual for a Johar film (aside from the lead pair of course), and most of the supporting cast does a fine job. Zarina Wahab, a departure from the Kirron Kher and Jaya Bachchan mould of Dharma Production mothers is very effective in her enthusiasm and both authentic and endearing in her manner. Jimmy Shergill is amongst the most underachieving of contemporary Indian actors (he was apparently a de facto choice after the actor originally cast for the film was denied a visa), and even though this isn’t his shining moment, he clearly needs to find a film where he can shine. Navneet Nishan is the cliché of the horny old woman/man Johar enjoys injecting into his film. The clear standout though, is Sonya Jehan. It took me a while to place her as the actress who started out her career as the lead in ‘Taj Mahal’, but she is stunning, and a very gifted actor. Even in the few scenes that she had in the film, she will hopefully catch the eye of someone with a good script and a good role, ‘cause she has the looks and the acting chops, and deserves a shot.

The music of the film is the better of the two albums Shankar Ehsaan Loy have scored this year so far, and the tracks Noor-e-Khuda and Sajda and even Tere Naina are fantastic. One huge plus for the film, and this in fact pushes the film up an entire letter grade in my book, is the fantastic cinematography. Ravi K Chandran is nothing short of brilliant as he captures a panoramic view of the United States, especially in the scene at the point of intermission in the Arizona desert, and even in more intimate moments, such as the scene in the song Tere Naina, whilst Kajol gives Khan a haircut, he uses natural light so effectively that it leaves you stunned. The look of the film also, is suitably opulent without being jarring, in typical style for a Dharma film, and Kajol looks her best in years.

Of the leads, Kajol is good. Scratch that, she’s awesome in the material she’s been given, and in my personal opinion, after the crazy awesome turn she did in ‘Dushman’, this is perhaps her most accomplished performance. BUT…more on that later. The film of course, unequivocally belongs to Khan. Shahrukh Khan has been called many things, but more often than not, a standout actor he is not. For so many years he has defined the term star, and despite his many popular awards for Best Actor, apart from ‘Chak de India’, there is hardly another movie you could cite in which he was more an actor than a star (‘Swades’ was an awful bore for me, sorry!). In this film though, which I suspect was written specifically for him, he has the time and the meat to bite whole heartedly into a game changing role, and for the most part, passes brilliantly. He has a naturally intelligent sense of humour that he lends to his character and despite some of the cheesy lines that may put you off in the previews this is an authentic, effective portrayal of a highly developed autist. Not even he can help pass this off as a masterpiece though.

The film has many flaws, and quite frankly, they overwhelm the film towards the climax. And that is very disheartening actually, because one hour, and an intermission later, I actually thought it was turning out to be just brilliant. Whilst walking out of the cinema, I tried to figure out what changed in the second half. Perhaps it is a problem only I face, but dialogue, IMHO, is the crux of any film. It is what layers an idea into a screenplay, and what distinguishes achievement from ambition. Like I’ve said before, this script has ambition aplenty, but somewhere along the way, and it is my belief that it happened whilst penning the dialogues, it veers away from living up to its potential. There are moments in the film where Johar and his collaborators could have perhaps opted for silence but instead choose to go for dramatic emphasis. It is the single threads of wool that make the quilt warm though, and in this particular case, just as you start to feel toasty, it shrinks to nothing. Also, unbelievably disappointing was the way they wrote bits of Kajol’s character and the initial interaction between her and Khan. Her opening scene and the terrible dialogue made you cringe at best, and then the constant fixture of Khan, a travelling salesman in her salon was inexplicable. There are two points on which I am going to elaborate here. A) The premise of Khan’s journey, whilst interesting, and some of his moments on the road, such as his meeting the motel owner played by Vinay Pathak, agreeably insightful, there is such a thing as too much. By the end of the film, the only good deed Khan had not done was blowing away Hurricane Katrina with the power of his breath, and honestly, I feel sure that Bathija at least considered giving him the Nobel Peace Prize. To go from entertaining to arduous in twenty minutes is a lesson to be learned from this screenplay. B) The crisis in the film, once again, seemed so juicy to Johar and his associates, that they gave it not just one harrowing scene but two. Whilst the first was passable, if only because of Kajol’s natural talent, the second was just overkill. It was loud, obnoxious, unreal and odious. What should have been a pivotal moment became a terribly overacted sham.

These may seem like a lot of shortcomings, but in truth and in all honesty, these are all of them. And since I’m being honest, they are far fewer than I thought they would be. And at the point of the interval, I couldn’t remove the plastered smile off my face, even if I tried. Whilst the second half may have been a tremendous letdown to the buildup of the first, it wasn’t all bad, and in a hackneyed sort of way, Johar does somehow get his message out. And it is a message that needs to be out. This may not be the best film Johar has made (‘KKHH’ will retain that for some time to come), but it is, at the very least far better than any other film to come out of his direction (and I’m counting the awful ‘Kal Ho Naa Ho’ in that mix). Watch it, if only once, if only for Shahrukh Khan and Kajol together on screen, if only for the beautiful landscape of the US through RKC’s lens, or if only because not every Khan is a terrorist.

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