TALAASH (2012)

(Due to the delicate nature of the film's plot, I may beat around the bush a little. Patience is requested of the readers. I do have a point to make. I think.)

What is the responsibility of a film towards us, the viewers? To give us a stunningly realistic, slice-of-life portrayal of events, whether fictitious or real, or is it to provide an absorbing experience, no matter how illogical or absurd the premise? Films require a certain suspension of disbelief on the part of its audience. It asks you to accept the logic of its universe and to try and develop an emotional connect with the characters adrift in this universe. It does not ask you to extract those characters from their fictitious universe and judge their actions according to the rules of our more prosaic world. TALAASH is not L.A. CONFIDENTIAL, and it is futile to expect the same things from it. And yet this film too is a neo-noir, and a well-shot, well-crafted neo-noir at that. But oh horror of horrors, it is NOT a well-written one.

A famous film-star drives his car into the sea with no apparent provocation. He was not drunk, and he did not seem to have been suicidal. Inspector Shekhawat (Aamir Khan) is brought in to investigate, which he proceeds to do with such a vacant unfocused intensity that we are left to wonder just how far his investigations would have gone without the extensive help he ultimately receives from an unexpected source. This inspector has demons of his own, haunted as he is by a recent shattering death in his family. This film is the journey of his catharsis. I don’t give a shit if I just gave away a spoiler. I am irritated because the film was so predictable. You can anticipate the basic details of the plot after twenty minutes.

The film has redeeming qualities though. It is splendidly shot and apart from the last, say, fifteen minutes, it is exquisitely directed as well. It is the task of the director to know when to back off, to know when “less is more”, which the producer of the film, Farhan Akhtar, said in a recent interview that Indian film-stars just have no idea about. He may have been talking about the director Reema Kagti. After managing the reins of the film so well through such shoddily written material, Kagti goes overboard trying to provide closure to all the characters. Antonioni used to say that the last moments of the film should not concern themselves with the plot, but should be used for the film to “breathe out”. Here, it seems that the film held its breath too long. It doesn’t breathe out, it gushes.

Apart from the hammy, extraordinarily saccharine ending (with a cutesy kiddie voice-over to boot, aaaarrrrgggghhhh!), I have little to fault the film’s visual and aural craft about. The red-light districts of Mumbai have rarely looked as spooky or as menacing. The opening credits are so good they make you expect great things from the film. The use of music is excellent, imbuing many of the moments of the film at times with elegance or a sort of breathless charm. Aamir Khan puts in a solid performance, one of the film’s biggest strengths. Rani Mukerji too manages to do what is required of her. Kareena, in a pivotal role, tries to be as ethereal as possible in a one-note performance. Nawazuddin is good as he makes us care about his character in the little screen time he gets. His relationship with the aging prostitute is one of the highlights of the film.

This film cannot really be discussed without revealing the film’s biggest secret. And yet, the secret is pathetically predictable, and if you pay attention, should be obvious to you before the first hour is over. TALAASH is better discussed in a sort of retrospective five years down the line, where we can talk about the film’s plot points without fear of spoilers. But the film is not good enough to deserve that retrospective. Watch this film, because if you don’t, it will bug you. If you’re feeling lazy, you might as well pop in that DVD of CHINATOWN.

5.5/10.