Brave new world. Review of films Race and Tashan
Fed on a staple diet of caper films, such as the eminently puerile Cash or equally inane variations like Dus and the Dhoom sequels, it is with great trepidation that some are venturing to see the new Bollywood blockbusters Race and Tashan. Fortunately, they can forgo the apprehension: it turns out that neither of these releases should be so quickly dismissed. Indeed, while few movies could be as dissimilar as these two in terms of the atmosphere they create, both interpret human actions in the face of depravity.
If art is about holding up a mirror to society, in order to force it to take a hard look at itself, then Abbas-Mustan's Race meets this criterion almost effortlessly. Ranvir Singh (Saif Ali Khan) and Rajeev Singh (Akshay Khanna) are stepbrothers whose deceased father left behind large business enterprises and stud farms. Ranvir, the elder of the two, ruthlessly manages his father's industrial legacy with the support of his efficient, pretty secretary, Sofia (Katrina Kaif), who loves him. Rajeev, on the other hand, is a happy-go-lucky type who seems hardly interested in business matters, and rather is content with his debauched, alcoholic lifestyle.
Suddenly, things change. Into this world steps a mysterious fashion model named Sonia (Bipasha Basu), who wins over Ranvir's heart – and Rajeev's. Despite his feelings for her, Ranvir helps his younger brother in wooing Sonia. But Rajeev soon shows his true colours. He divulges to Sonia that he knows of her shady past, and talks her into helping him kill Ranvir. As it turns out, beneath his cool exterior Rajeev has long hated his brother for his many successes. From then on, Race proceeds in a vicious escalation of murder, surprise and betrayal. Into this cauldron drops Police Inspector Robert D'Costa (Anil Kapoor), who seems to have a private agenda of his own. Audiences are left to wonder: Will the good guy win, or will the bad one? Will morality win over human perfidy?
But, wait! Who exactly is the good guy here? On whose side does morality lie? In their turn, both brothers seem equally cold, vicious, ruthless and immoral. And that seems to be precisely the point. Race is not about good versus evil or virtue versus vice. Instead, it slowly becomes a bleak metaphor for the soul-killing impact of competitiveness, which equally dehumanises the winner in victory as the loser in defeat.
The film's Internet site claims that the film is about "betrayal and greed, intrigue and revenge", but the directing team of Abbas and Mustan makes it clear that it is also about money. The more perceptive viewer will pick up that Race is a story about capitalism's ability to distort meanings. The very fact that Rajeev goes to such great lengths proves that money has the power to corrupt and warp any notion of love, integrity or filial affection – which gives humanity its greatest meaning and purpose. The strength of Race lies in the fact that it uncompromisingly depicts the moral depredations of each character involved as yet another relentless, ironclad necessity, rather than as simple individual perversity. Its precise artistic achievement is in how it effortlessly paints a picture of capitalism's impact on relationships.
While Race deals with how capitalism's predatory impulses tear apart social relations, Aditya and Yash Chopra's Tashan celebrates humanity's capacity to resist and overcome those urges. The movie's tagline promises The Ishtyle…The Goodluck…The Pharmoola, and it certainly delivers all of that. Pooja Singh (Kareena Kapoor) works for her father's murderer, a Kanpur-based don named Lakhan Singh Ballebaaz urf Bhaiyyaji (Anil Kapoor). But with the help of a besotted lover, Jimmy Cliff (Saif Ali Khan), she ends up robbing the don of some 25 crore.
Bhaiyyaji then hires Bachchan Pandey (Akshay Kumar), a tough goon with a golden heart, also from Kanpur. His job is to 'liquidate' Jimmy, once he finds the money and Pooja, whom Bachchan intends to marry. In the process of a roller-coaster of an adventure as the threesome embarks across the breadth of India, an uneasy camaraderie is built up between Jimmy and Bachchan. Pooja, meanwhile, finds her long-lost love in Bachchan, and finally gets to avenge her father. In the end, the three realise that cooperation is the only way to get all of the booty.
Harshly criticised for being a loud, garish movie with a wafer-thin plotline – and it is indeed all of that – Tashan nonetheless meanders through various subplots without losing its optimistic zing. Along the way, we get to see a Ram Lila; meet a Hollywood director who is forced to inject a raunchy dance sequence into a 'sensitive' movie called "Holy Widows"; and learn about the role that electricity theft plays in bringing about the adolescent longings and heartbreaks of the Poojas and Bachchans of small towns across India. Rather than talk down to the audience, this film is boldly replete with ribaldry. Ultimately, these are two very different works; with very different takes on the world around them. Race quarantines the rest of the world from the incestuous happenings that take place within the urbanised concrete jungles of capitalist culture. But noisy humanity, with all of its tempestuous and stark beauty, surges into the world of Tashan, through its ambience, songs and action sequences. The former film presents human beings as one-dimensional replicas of each other – as 'shadows without substance', who behave as unconscious puppets within a system. But the latter pulsates with raw energy, rejoicing in full-blooded human diversity, one in which each of the characters is endowed with a unique style. The groin-scratching Pande, the city-slicker Jimmy, the English-obsessed don, the sexy vendetta-driven Pooja – each of these are strong, self-willed human beings, with definite and notable notions about loyalty, love and revenge.
Where Race depicts a Hobbesian dog-eat-dog reality, Tashan emphasises the values of solidarity and helping each other out in times of distress. As such, while the former remains in the end remorseless in its apocalyptic vision of an 'administered' humanity, the latter remains true to the defiant claim it makes in its title song: "Hum se hairaan hai peer Sikandar ka/apni to baat kuch nirali hai, apne to khoon me ishq ki laali hai" (Even Sikandar's teacher is confounded/so different are our ways, it is love that makes our blood so red).