A few good reasons to watch Brahmastra

At the very outset, it must be confessed that I am indeed alive after watching Brahmastra. And to add I am doing rather well, for the movie is quite a pleasing watch unless you are allergic to mythical missiles.

For starters, let’s not forget that a movie is just a movie, not the manifesto of an election aspirant or a CBI directive. It is normally the fictional creation of imaginative minds often not as bright as doctors, engineers or investment bankers. Usually school dropouts, they rely heavily on native instinct and an acquired assessment of viewer preferences, increasingly tough to acquire in this rampaging OTT era. So they often bank on proven performers as an insurance policy, which also has the unhappy tendency of being dishonored.

For every new age Indian watcher who goes gaga over Hollywood SFX productions, Brahmastra is genuinely competitive and certainly not an embarrassment, like most Bollywood predecessors. The evolution of our cinematic craft in aspects of technology is indeed one very good reason to spend money on a multiplex, preferably 3D to get maximum meat in the biryani. It’s the equivalent of Kingdom of Dreams when launched, a first in India that deserves our considerate support.

Then, of course the clear foundation of familiar mythology in the base storyline, which makes it a lot deeper than say, the Forrest Gump remake or Dear Darlings. Being challenged in this aspect of popular culture, much of the contextual ramblings regarding the empowered weaponry was new news, but still suitably engrossing. The narrative was remarkably coherent, with the concocted reality unifying the screenplay like freshly minted Fevicol, a rarity in Hindi movies.

On the actors, you can be assured that the ensemble is rather civil, certainly more thoughtful than India’s T20 World Cup squad. Ranbir and Alia offer compelling chemistry with the latter a vastly improved performer while Shahrukh Khan is spellbinding in a lengthy superhero cameo, which does suit him better than playing college undergrad. Amitabh Bachchan plays himself, as well as he normally does while the villainous Mouni Roy does look believably devious and not just a photocopied vamp. Even the salads and breads in this elaborate casting buffet are commendable, with an eye for fresh talent in lieu of the predictable culprits.

In terms of music, both background and set to lyrics, the mood nicely combines the thrill genre with native softness, sweetly adding to the visual smorgasbord. Quite naturally there are fallacies and one did feel that the length could have been more Bhubaneshwar Kumar than Glen Mcgrath, but that can be excused as an editing excess. Also, the dire desire to set up the sequel (Part Two of the trilogy) did divert the focus from a decisive narrative closure, but this too is a soft transgression. Most certainly, critically enlightened others will identify other instances and let that be their glorious prerogative.

But the largest point I wish to make is that just as we let kids be kids, we must let movies be movies, not devastating proclamations threatening to devour our identity. This culture of vigilante criticism is now rampant across social media, extending to every possible domain of public consideration, from politics to music to sport to even traffic regulations.  Let’s not forget that this viral rabble rousing is threatening the livelihoods of millions across the nation, directly or loosely connected to the cinema trade. The peer to peer culture of assessment is surely valuable for restaurants and taxi rides, but it’s necessary to forge our autonomous impressions to retain individual identity.

Big screen cinema was always meant to be a larger-than-life, thrilling and romantic experience, an unmatched invitation for structured escapism. For this reason alone, amongst many others, it makes sense to spend a few hours on Brahmastra and its accomplished peers.