Looking back at Kamal Hasan’s Mumbai Express, talking with Subhash K Jha on the eve of release the actor said is a ‘triumph of writing’ as the comedy celebrates 30 years since it’s release. Calling it a joyous film, he revealed that the Tamil, Hindi, and Telugu versions were all shot simultaneously, plus so much more!
If you like Kamal Haasan’s timeless comedies, this one will make you scratch your head. The too-clever-for-its-own-good screenplay(written by Kamal Haasan) subverts the unorganized crime of kidnapping into an occasion of situational comedy.
But the humour never rises above the murmur of mirth created by the plot. Unlike Pushpak or Appu Raja, where the leading man’s mythic proportions as a cerebral hero of the masses were used to create protagonists who were rooted to a poignant ground reality, here efforts to locate the everyman-hero into a middle-class milieu are fully farce-sighted.
The protagonist, Avinash (Kamal Haasan), is a hard-of-hearing, slightly daft but sensitive soul who changes his mind halfway through a kidnapping ploy, takes off with the kidnapped boy (Hardik), and gets into a dizzy comedy of errors that Shakespeare would have written if only he was familiar with the ruthless violence of Quentin Tarantino’s cinema and the senseless chortles of pea-brained Hollywood comedies like Dumb & Dumber.
To its credit, Mumbai Express is an original ha-ha-thon. If only Sourabh Shukla’s dialogues were more sly and provocative! The plot and narrative depend largely on the spoken word. Most of the film’s looming verbiage overrides the characters and situations, creating a kind of extended lowbrow stand-up comedy act that fulfills none of the lofty cinematic aspirations that Kamal Haasan’s cinema usually strives to achieve within its given massy parameters.
For about 30 minutes of the narration, all we see is Kamal Haasan and his partners in crime (Vijay Raaz and Kannada star Ramesh Arvind) running around in sweltering circles, creating a verbose and claustrophobic vista that leaves the audience thirsting for visually liberating avenues in this riotous roadblock of a movie.
It isn’t as though the actors let the plot down. On the contrary, they try hard to enjoy the material provided by the screenplay. Some characters are notable for their spirit and spunkiness and never mind if they’re constantly weighed down by the volley of oscillating witticism that lurches sinisterly between the scatological and the profane.
Om Puri is particularly effectual as the harassed father of a bride whose mistress (Manisha Koirala) suddenly demands his attentions when their illegitimate son is kidnapped.
The cruelest and most savagely funny lines ensue between the Puri and Koirala. When he offers to pay her 15 lakh rupees to get rid of her, she retorts, “Achcha! The kidnapper of our son gets Rs 1 crore. While the woman who bore your son gets just 15 lakhs!”
Koirala, looking slim, sensitive, and luminous, is a treat to watch. Why so little of her very interesting character in the roomy plot? And why so much of Vijay Raaz who almost walks shoulder to shoulder with Kamal Haasan in the plot. Raaz creates an illusion of hilarity through his deadpan face and anxious body language.
The film, in fact has a gallery of worthy players choking on the welter of wordiness which the screenplay so lavishly provides.
A large part of the narrative is about the growing bonding between the hero Avinash and the boy whom he kidnaps. Lamentably, the child actor Hardik, playing the key role, is neither very cute nor capable.
As usual, it’s up to Kamal Haasan to hold up the doddering comedy of errors. He brings into play a furiously reigned-in quality to his scattered character’s restless manoeuvres that takes him on a motorcycle ride in wells and on rooftops, and crane rides across compounds filled with precocious school kids gaping and gawking at the unbelievable goings-on.
Wish we did the same. What a bumpy ride…for the actor and for the character he plays this time. Unlike his last Hindi film, Abhay, which was an expertly executed piece of hallucinogenic art, Mumbai Express relies much too heavily on stock shots of motorbikes and cars in studios, creating an illusion of speed through back- projections.
The purported mood is that of a Laurel-Hardy or Crazy Boys flick. But the world that we’ve inherited has no place for misapplied parody. Finally, jokes about the kidnapping industry can evoke mild amusement only if you’re willing to follow Kamal Haasan blindly. But beware, he plays a deaf man.
Speaking on the film on the eve of its release in 2005, Kamal Haasan revealed to Subhash K Jha, “Everything seems settled and calm in my life. That spirit shows in my new film Mumbai Express. It lacks the tense, wound-up spirit of Virumandi or the forced smiles of my comedies two years ago. The smiles and chuckles this time are real. Though actors are masters of concealment somewhere the player’s personal pain communicates itself into his work and then to the audience. I hate to play my own PR. But basically Mumbai Express is a triumph of writing. I guess we can all pat ourselves for the screenplay without pretending to be humble. It was part of the team spirit that’s conducive to creativity. And though it was tough shooting in the dust mud grime we completed the film smoothly and in a very short while. And we’ve shot it in a very innovative style. It’s a very MTV ‘grunge’ look which youngsters would find fashionable. And it works within the film’s mood. Technique here is an icing on the cake, not the cake. We’ve done away with a lot of trappings. Those who’ve seen the film, including my guru K. Balachander, liked it.”
The actor stressed Mumbai Express was not about Kamal Haasan. “After a few reels, you don’t see Kamal Haasan, only the character. In fact it’s an ensemble piece where all my co-stars have well-accented roles. It’s a team effort where I also got my fair share of meat. Mumbai Express is not an experiment with audiences’ tastes. But with craft. We shot with a minimal crew who gave the film a new look but nothing bizarre. Earlier, I’d have chosen this look for one of my more serious films like Mahanadi or Ambesivam. We’ve applied it to a comedy. It seems to have worked. Though all the characters are dead serious—and some of them plain dead—it’s still a funny film. We don’t provide cue cards for laughter in Mumbai Express. And yet trial audiences have compared with my 1990 comedy Michael Madan Kamarajan, which isn’t considered just a benchmark in my career but for comedy in our cinema. Comedy is considered slightly undignified in our cinema. Like my other comedy Pushpak with Singeetham Srinivasa Rao Mumbai Express is also a trendsetter. Or so my peers tell me. Many times, you think you’re being funny when you’re actually falling flat on your face. Not this time, though. My first-ever production was meant to be directed by Singeetham Srinivasa Rao. We were supposed to remake a film called Gol Mal. But someone else bought the rights in Tamil. That’s how I turned a writer, by default, in Raja Parvai. I produced, wrote, and played in the film. Raja Parvai wasn’t a financial winner for me. It was my learning curve. I paid for the lesson I learned. The box office is that oasis where all animals come to drink their water. Fortunately, this time, I’ve hit the bull’s eye with both the aesthetics and the commercialism. Mumbai Express is a joyous film. You don’t feel you’ve just watched a funny caper. Also, I’ve made the film in three languages: Tamil, Hindi, and Telugu. There’s also a Kannada star in the film. Ramesh Arvind, whom everyone will be talking about outside Karnataka after Mumbai Express. He has done extremely well in the film. We first thought of Tinu Anand for the role. But suddenly, we thought we were falling into a comfort zone. We didn’t want to repeat ourselves. Ramesh Arvind was playing the lead in Kannada films. He quickly changed his looks and agreed to do a role that many actors wouldn’t see as an ideal launch in Hindi. But Ramesh is a writer like me. He understands the nuances of the part. His Hindi isn’t perfect. That suits his character fine. We gave vernacular freedom to actors. All the actors behave naturally in all three languages. Some characters are in both the Hindi and Tamil versions—my leading lady, Manisha Koirala, Ramesh Arvind, Sharad Saxena, and the little boy Hardik. Saurabh Shukla, too, was meant to be in both versions. But his hands were too full. So we got another director-friend, Santana Bharathi, to play Saurabhji’s role in Tamil.”
All three versions of Mumbai Express were shot simultaneously. “We could have had a lot of ego hassles and politics on the sets. But when Om Puri shot for the Hindi version, Nasser happily watched him while waiting to do the Tamil version, and vice versa. Vijay Raaz wanted to do certain scenes again after watching his Tamil counterpart do it. They all knew this film was an experiment in frugality and speed, and they all co-operated. Thanks to my writer, Saurabh Shukla, everything fell into place. He gave up another project to do Mumbai Express. We both made the right decision. It’s such a simple film, and that quality is so difficult to achieve.”
Adding, “We finished the whole film in fifty days, over-shot by a few days because of my accident. When the mo’bike toppled over, I thought I’d end up in the hospital for a long time. I was only worried about the ten-year-old co-star Hardik, who played my son. Not a scratch on him. I’d have been shattered if something happened to him. Very cruelly, the film would’ve been remembered for the accident. We chose him out of ten boys who auditioned. All of them with expectant smiles. I felt like a judge at a school debate. Very heartbreaking to say no to them. It’s easy to say no to an adult. But how do you turn away a child? Hardik was by far the best. When he said he spoke three languages, I informed him next year, he’ll be speaking Tamil as well. He told me, ‘No, thank you, I don’t know Tamil’. I had to cajole and convince him. When I said I’ll ask his mother, Hardik retorted, “Main bol raha hoon na? Don’t ask her.’ I immediately decided he was my boy. And what a job. Even after the accident, he and his parents trusted me completely. He used to prompt Manishaji and even me about our Tamil lines. No one will believe he’s a Gujarati. I’ve worked with children before. But Hardik was special. We were like siblings, hence creatively argumentative. A very well-brought-up kid. The whole unit loved him. But he must hate them for pulling his cheeks all the time.”
In closing, Hassan said, “I’m very happy with this work. Not that it would qualify among the great films of this century. Mumbai Express gave me the happiness of a grand meal shared with close friends. It was a rare feast for me, not because I cooked it. But because the cooks didn’t spoil the broth.”
