Latest news with #GhichPich
Mint
4 days ago
- Entertainment
- Mint
Saturday Feeling: Everyone's got a ‘Sholay' memory
When songs from Sholay appeared on TV in the 1990s, my parents always livened up. It wasn't just the music; they also had a story to tell about trekking to Leicester from London, a distance of about 100 miles, to find a theatre that screened Hindi films in the UK of the 1970s. It's a day that came alive with just a few bars of music. They'd loved the cast, the music, the drama, and described it all in vivid detail, saying we should watch it, but somehow, we never did. It was almost as if they didn't want to erase the memory of a time before they had the depressing responsibilities of raising children and making ends meet. Or as Virginia Woolfe wrote nearly a century ago in The Movies and Reality, 'As we gaze, we seem to be removed from the pettiness of actual existence.' Sholay, perhaps the greatest popular Indian film, turns 50 next week. Most people have a Sholay reference of their own. Even people like me who grew up in places where Hindi wasn't terribly popular. To date, I haven't seen Sholay in full. I know the songs. I can spot scenes from it. I know when it's being quoted (well, somewhat) but I don't really understand it. Yet—just like people who have watched the film—I have memories of it. What makes a film seem timeless, even iconic, and a part of popular culture and memory? It's the question we attempt with essays to mark 50 years of Sholay. While Jai Arjun Singh recalls watching Sholay, which released on 15 August 1975, at different ages and finding layers of meanings with each rewatching, Nasreen Munni Kabir discusses subtitling the film in English. And could Sholay have been the hit it was without Gabbar Singh? Raja Sen pays tribute to Hindi cinema's most iconic villain. And then there are all your popular favourites—books to read, shows and exhibitions to see and ideas for quick weekend meals. Match your meal to the music You probably have noticed it—the music in a restaurant can elevate or ruin your meal. Chefs and restauranteurs know it too, and a small crop of them have taken this attention to music a step further. Listening rooms inspired by Japanese music cafes are popping up across Indian cities, with a focus on intimate bar experiences framed by analogue music. Shrabonti Bagchi visits these restaurants that pay as much attention to music as food, and match the menu to the mood and the sound. Read the story. 'Ghich Pich' review: A diverting coming-of-age film A trio of best friends in high school in a small, charming city at the turn of the millennium. It's a formaula that's perfect for an uncomplicated yet resonant film. Ankur Singla's Ghich Pich is a simple but reasonably effective slice of nostalgia set in Chandigarh, writes Uday Bhatia. Read the review. Michael Douglas and male insecurity Popular films have always been used as loudspeakers for our worst impulses. This is the central premise of Jessa Crispin's new book, What is Wrong With Men: Patriarchy, the Crisis of Masculinity, and How (Of Course) Michael Douglas Films Explain Everything. The US ushered in a number of legislative and societal reforms in the 1960s and 1970s, the goal being equal rights for women. Crispin locates Michael Douglas as representative of a certain kind of liberal man who struggles to cope with the shifting role of men in such a landscape, writes Aditya Mani Jha. Read more. Why surrogacy scams persist in India A decade ago, the business of fertility treatment was at its peak in India. With guidelines firmly in place, there were well-established clinics with experienced doctors, state-of-the-art equipment and streamlined services that attracted couples from all over the world. The ban on commercial surrogacy in 2019—and the Surrogacy (Regulation) Act in 2021—changed things. Today, the fertility business is in chaos. Until lawmakers understand that women have reproductive rights and that women's labour doesn't come free, we will continue seeing 'fertility' scams like the recent instance of a doctor in Hyderabad who offered fake fertility treatments and was involved in trafficking babies, writes Gita Aravamudan. Read more. Samsung's foldable gets a makeover For most of the world, Samsung is synonymous with the foldable phone category, having been the pioneer of the form for over half a decade. Of late though, iterative updates and heated competition had made it feel a little behind the times. With the launch of the Samsung Galaxy Z Fold 7, that changes, writes Tushar Kanwar. The foldable phone that costs close to ₹ 2 lakh looks like it's fresh off a successful diet, transforming into one of the slimmest book-style foldables around. Read the review.
Mint
5 days ago
- Entertainment
- Mint
‘Ghich Pich' review: A modest, diverting coming-of-age film
It's rare to see architecturally attuned Hindi films. Basu Chatterjee in the '70s had an eye for it. Last year, Atul Sabharwal's Berlin used Brutalist buildings to suggest forbidding bureaucracy. I wouldn't go as far as to say architecture informs Ankur Singla's Ghich Pich, but the film is alive to it. Every now and then, a deliberate framing will dwarf the characters and call attention to the building in the back. It's a welcome strategy. Why set your film in Chandigarh if you're not going to use Le Corbusier's creations? You can tell Singla grew up in the city. His vision of Chandigarh in 2001 feels unforced but specific, a series of quick, confident sketches rather than a laboured recreation. The central trio, fast friends and classmates in high school, are deftly drawn too. Anurag (Aryan Singh Rana) is a promising student, the one likeliest to make the jump to a metro like Delhi. Gurpreet (Kabir Nanda) is a sad sack who spends all his time thinking of ways to impress classmate Ashima. Gaurav (Shhivam Kakar) mostly gets in trouble at school, content with a future working in his doting father's eyewear store. Ghich Pich soon presents a dilemma for each boy involving their fathers (it would pair nicely with Varun Grover's 2023 film, All India Rank, about a student in coaching and his parents back home). Gurpreet, desperate to make an impression on Ashima, wants to cut his hair, something his mild, religious father can't come to terms with. Anurag's father has no problem saying no, as he alternately berates and exhorts the boy to 'jump an orbit', study hard enough that he qualifies for Delhi university (it feels like an unnecessary detail that there's always an alcohol bottle around during his lectures). Gaurav's relationship with his dad is a more delicate situation, a glimpse of something the simple-minded kid just can't process. 'Ghich pich' is a colloquial Hindi term which could translate as 'confused' or 'illegible'. But while there might be some ghich pich in the minds of the three boys, the film is clear-cut. Running an almost unheard-of 92 minutes, it moves methodically from one boys' story to the next. This somewhat episodic approach, paired with colour grading that's occasionally an approximation of late '80s-early '90s parallel films, made me think of old shows like Hum Log and Nukkad, which had stories like Gurpreet's and Anurag's, if not Gaurav's. In his first film as director, Singla seems happy to try and make something uncomplicated and resonant. I think he recognises he isn't technically proficient yet, and accordingly opts for a linear structure and simple, efficient shot-making and assembly. There's the occasional flourish—an impromptu dhol session for three that turns into a roadside rave—but nothing that sticks in the mind. This plain, almost drab, style offers plenty of room for the actors to shine. Of the three boys, I particularly liked Rana's watchful turn as Anurag, who comes alive with his friends but is walking on eggshells at home. As the fascist father, Satyajit Sharma is almost too harsh for this gentle film; Nishan Cheema's hurt Sikh patriarch is more its tempo. But the sweetest work comes from the late Nitesh Pandey and Geeta Agrawal Sharma as Gaurav's parents. You can sense from their scenes together and with their confused son how these two have managed to hold onto a loving relationship despite all the challenges. Monsoon Wedding (2001), a big influence on the Hindie film till this day, is referenced by Singla. Ghich Pich might aspire to be like Mira Nair's film (it ends similarly, various conflicts resolved or faced up to before a climatic Punjabi dance number). But this is a much more modest undertaking—and is all the better for it. Ghich Pich makes no great demands on the viewer, and no great claims for itself. Like the gedis the boys love to go out on, it's unrehearsed, diverting and over before you know it.
Scroll.in
5 days ago
- Entertainment
- Scroll.in
‘Ghich Pich' review: A familiar fathers-and-sons tale
Ankur Singal's Ghich Pich explores a dynamic as vexed as it is familiar: the relationship between fathers and their young sons. Singal's debut feature, which is out in cinemas, revolves around three teenagers navigating love, academics and personal identity. The Hindi-Punjabi film is set in Chandigarh in 2001. We're in the age of blank calls over fixed landlines and love letters written in fake blood. Boys on the verge of becoming men find their paths blocked by the men in their lives. Anurag (Aryan Rana) is being pushed by his hard-driving father Naresh (Satyajit Sharma) to excel at his studies. Naresh keeps hectoring Anurag on the importance of personal sacrifice, harsh advice that Anurag struggles to process. Sikh teenager Gurpreet (Kabir Nanda) has fallen for the non-Sikh Ashima (Mia Magar). Gurpreet comes to believe that Ashima will reciprocate his feelings if he cuts off his hair and stops wearing a turban – an idea that saddens his devout father Lakhpal (Nishan Cheema). Gaurav (Shhivam Kakar) seems to have the most stable equation with his father Rakesh (Nitesh Pandey) until he stumbles upon Rakesh's secret. Gaurav goes into a funk, much to Rakesh's distress. Ghich Pich – the title suggests the emotional logjam experienced by its characters – strikes a balance between individual freedom and traditional values. A heavily saturated colour palette adds a tinge of nostalgia to the proceedings. Although Chandigarh's vistas and landmarks are in the background, there's little to root in the story in this particular city. Without anything earth-shatteringly different to add to the typical coming-of-age story, and lacking the raw honesty of Vikramaditya Motwane's Udaan (2010) – a clear influence – Ghich Pich ambles along pleasantly. The performances are heartfelt, especially by the young actors. Singla's episodic screenplay devotes equal time to each of the three sub-plots, an approach that does Gaurav's track the most disservice. The resolution of Gaurav's problem is too pat, just as the other two dilemmas are resolved too easily. Play
