Then there are reviews, where the review itself is so good that it becomes a decorater for the movie. In one such review, I once saw a comparison between Apocalypse Now and Aguirre: The wrath of God. Fair comparison.

Unfortunately, the order in which I’ve watched movies tends to evoke non-chronological and often ludicrous comparisons between them. Like exclaiming how similar the parent looks to it’s offspring. I see Aguirre.. as a cross between The Last temptation of Christ (one of my favorites) and Apocalypse Now. Anything and everything to do with music in Aguirre is haunting, and acts as the aptly extravagant adjective to the movie. Every frame extends the dimensions of the screen that try to bound the movie within, and you feel swallowed in the frames, in the jungle, in the river. As the silent character, who never speaks, but goes through everything that they go through.

And there’s an apt amount of surrealism in the movie to classify it as a cult classic too.

Strangely enough, the dvd default was to make the characters speak in German even though their lips moved in the English pattern. Reading a bit explains the anomaly, and this seriously tarnishes the movie experience. Once you switch to English dialogues, you realize how tacky they sound, until of course you realize that you’re the dipshit not to realize their poignancy. The German dialogues are definitely superior, and incredibly enough, even the English subtitles are better than the actual English dialogues. Thankfully, the brilliance of movie kept me reminded that it isn’t a B movie.

It’s a great movie, and a surprising many say this is Herzog’s best, it obviously isn’t if you’ve seen enough.

It won’t be preposterous to wonder whether Dev D is the most ‘beautiful’ movie Bollywood has ever produced. Unlike multiple movements in international cinema, Hindi cinema has been content on dabbling with storylines, great actors, and grand scales. No Smoking might have been an attempt to change this, but it remained a half-baked, ambitious puddled mire, where neither the storyline nor cinematography could travel beyond the ambiguous. To compare it with great surrealistic cinema is hilarious, at best. Anyways, this isn’t about No Smoking… or is it?

Watching Dev D is like watching a photography exhibition, every frame seems to have thought about, every movement calculated, every expression weighed. The folly isn’t there however, and follies there are. Kashyap, or so it seems to me, does not make movies for anyone but himself. He couldn’t care less about the audience. He doesn’t care about any of his protagonists. All he cares about are his frames, and through them, attempts to explore his vanity for the tragedies that man faces. Tragedies meaning lust, alcoholism, prostitution, exploitation, and myriad man-made siblings. He prospers in the swamp, his frames are the most beautiful when dark. Stories are only secondary. Characters don’t figure anywhere, but as props in his frames.

We aren’t supposed to relate to the agony of his characters, to the tragedy of the situations. We are supposed to revel in the beauty of his images, and his “timely” juxtaposition of songs. Songs, yes. Songs, no. Does Kashyap feel silence is the devil, or that poignant background scores are a thing of the past? It must not be important for the audience to walk the characters, they would, probably, if there weren’t so many songs muddling with their train? Some are fantastic, some avoidable, others ridiculous, a dreamers monologue.

I am glad I saw this movie, if Kashyap’s rate of improvement is proportional to the difference between No Smoking and Dev D, we will have a masterpiece in a few years. Dev D is a master piece, a cinematographic masterpiece, but a tragically handicapped movie.

Edit:
I wrote the above partial review, just before watching the climax of the movie, the last half an hour or so. I didn’t think I’d have to change much of it once the movie was complete, owing to most reviews, singing the movie’s greatness. The movie has one of the greatest endings that Kashyap could select. “That’s enough, let’s just end the movie, suggestion number 1, anyone? …”

In a maddening pace, the following events happen, in some order. After being witness to too many songs, some good, some bad, some confusing, he decides to drive. If you didn’t notice, he’s always drunk. Innocent bysleepers are killed. Tacky newspaper clippings, and disjoint news spokesmen blare. We understand that innocent bysleepers are killed. Dev feels slight remorse, but that could be vague. Kashyap doesn’t tell him what to feel, so he sleepwalks. Dev’s dad expires, bollywood calling. Dev is escorted by another hitman, posing to be his lawyer. He tries to threaten Dev. Dev however is zonked from the alcohol content in prison water. Dev’s dad was an innocent bysleeper. The ghost of Nirupa Roy beats Dev. Dev tries to cry, maybe not, ambiguous. Abhay Deol wants to be done with this movie and go home, suddenly he’s asked to act.
Dev and Sardarji driver get along. Something happens. Dev goes on a trip with some money given by his grumpy brother, who was jealous of Dev. Really… Dev goes to Chanda, via a brief detour through the northern part of the country. Dev befriends showman dog, gets rich by some. In a parallel universe, Dev drives drunk, and almost kills our Dev, who is peacefully contemplating further riches with showman dog. Dev realizes something’s wrong, probably why the songs have eluded him. Dev sinks deep. Chanda comes in a autorickshaw and rescues Dev from showman dog, and a friendly pav walla. Touching. Friendly pav walla passes sermons before. Chanda pouts lips. Dev wants some beer. Dev throws away his electric razor, and shaves. He’s tired of maintaining his immaculate stubble. He has to leave soon for an appointment. Chanda washes him clean.

Brilliant.