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Today we will talk about the review of new film Chamam Bahaar starring Jitendra and Ritika Badiana which is available on Netflix. So start the review.
At one point in Chaman Bahaar, Billu the paanwala asks a shopkeeper, wheregreeting cards which say, 'I love you' are kept.
The man looks surprised, like he can’t imagine howthis meek wallflower could even think about love.
Who could possibly be the recipient of his devotion? Which is also our first impression of Billu.He’s painfully ordinary. But because he’s played with practiced ease byJitendra Kumar, we immediately care about him.
I think of Jitendra as a saltier,more prickly version of Amol Palekar. Like the veteran actor, Jitendra is instantly relatable.
We can easily imagine him strugglingwith his job, relationships, desires. His ability to be one of us makes him endearing.
But Jitendra is also a fine performerwho can locate that delicate balance, between the comedy andtragedy of his character’s anguish.
He’s done this with aplomb in his first filmShubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan and more recently in the superbstreaming show Panchayat.
Even as you sympathize withhis character’s predicament, you’re smiling because his seethinghas this sort of in-built comical streak. In Chaman Bahaar, he once again finds this sweet spot.
Sadly, the film doesn’t. Chaman Bahaar has been written and directed bydebutant director Apurva Dhar Badgaiyann. The film, made in 2018,was meant to be Jitendra’s feature debut. The story is set in Lormi, a district in Chhattisgarh.
Billu is a man with determination and dreams. He is a disruptor, who breaks the family traditionof working in the forest department and sets up a paan shop called Chaman Bahaar.
Sadly, the district limits change and his shop,on the outskirts of Lormi, has barely any customers. Until a family moves into the house opposite the street.
Their teenage daughter Rinku sets Lormi aflame. Dozens of young men start driving past, only tohave a look at Rinku who famously wears half-pants.
Billu’s shop starts thriving, but he gets more miserable,because he can’t resist Rinku’s charms either.
As a character aptly puts it: Shah Rukh ka picturedekh dekh ke chocolatey ho gaye hain sab. What Apurva gets right are these small town textures – you know the atmosphere, the language,these conversational styles.
Everybody, these young menkeep calling each other Daddy. The biggest daddies here are the youth politician Shila,who chews paan and swaggers even while spitting. And Ashu, the local rich kid.
The District Forest Officer’s son also comes by –his father’s position gives him the clout to try for Rinku. The other boys understand that they have no chance, so they start to place bets, on who among these will get the girl.
And the circus is orchestrated by Somu and Chotu, a jugaadu twosome, who effectivelyfunction as Lormi’s Narad Munnis, prodding the action, hustlingand doing idhar ki baat udhar.
These characters and their interactionsare the most vibrant part of the film. The display of outsized egos and low IQs is amusing. Apurva also constructs some lovely grace notes – like Billu asking for a shave with Gillette,once he’s fallen in love with Rinku and this lovely moment in the climax which, post climax actually, which brings him some solace.
But Apurva isn’t able to buildon the promise of his premise. He doesn’t spend enough time,fleshing out these characters or the story-line.
The plot is too thin and beyond the first hour, the antics of these hordes of menin pursuit of a young girl start to wear thin.
The situation is also inherently uncomfortable. In one scene, Shila and his gang in a jeepare chasing Rinku who is on a scooter.
He tells the driver to drive faster, so she isat least aware that she is being chased. Honestly, I couldn’t find the humor in this.
Her school teacher also has a crush on her,which is just flat out creepy. Rinku, played by Ritika Badiani,isn’t so much a character as an idea. She barely speaks in the film and we know little abouther, apart from the fact that she loves her dog, who she walks outside their home.
When she does this, time stands still for Billu. But neither he, nor any of the other boys know her and neither do we.
She symbolizes modernity, romance and all that issparkling in this dusty, testosterone-filled landscape. The film also keeps shifting tonally,from comic vein to serious and later, satirical.
The background score keeps prodding us to laugh – when a tough cop enters the story,we get Sholay-like sound effects.
Which I think is supposed to be funny. But we go from this to full-blown emotional drama,which feels out of place.
The subtitles are also a little distracting –does Lafandar really translate into 'town bitch'? I don’t know, but it’s such a great word, thatI think we should all just add it to our vocabulary.
You can see Chaman Bahaar on Netflix.
