Rating: *
The year 2006 saw the release of a film called Jigyasa. It was the story of a struggling actress who initially goes through the casting couch before achieving heady success. The film ends with her death under mysterious circumstances. It starred Hrishita Bhatt in the lead role. Briefly, the film created a sensation when the filmmakers claimed that it was based on Mallika Sherawat. But by all accounts it was bad film and it is unlikely that you have heard about it. Five years hence we are graced with The Dirty Picture which allegedly tells the tale of another actress, Silk Smitha, who was equally sensational in her time. The difference between the two films is that TDP has a bigger budget and a bigger cast. But it’s equally wretched.
Making a good film about bad films is a thin line to tread. At what point does the sleaze from the embedded films spill on the main feature. It is difficult to tell. But once it’s out it will be there in plain view. TDP is not so much of a vulgar film as it is a bad film. The maturity in handling a subject like an actress billed as a soft-porn star is completely missing. Instead we have a garbled narrative with the theme of exploitation being repeated ad nauseum.
The script is littered with half-baked characters written so badly, you have no idea what the intention behind their expression is. Take Tusshar Kapoor as the aspiring film writer for instance. Till the end I was not able to determine whether he was a good guy or a bad guy. Or Anju Mahendru as the film critic-cum-gossip columnist. Couldn’t judge whether she was a bitch or Barkha Dutt. But the worst was Emraan Hashmi as the idealistic filmmaker who successfully turns commercial. Just like that. Hashmi is even made to deliver a pointless voiceover which loses whatever little meaning it has thanks to an echo effect. Was the gimmick necessary because Hashmi does not have an arresting voice like Om Puri or Amitabh Bachchan?
Now onto the dialogues by writer Rajat Arora. We have heard about item songs. But TDP sets the standard for item dialogues. Each one has been crafted to induce at least a clap or a giggle from some corner of the auditorium. Unmindful of the fact that there are so many of them, they will ultimately begin to jar. While Naseeruddin Shah knows how to carry his share, the others look like infants who have been handed out toys meant for bigger kids.
Another complaint about the cinematography. I felt a few scenes were out of focus and in a few others, where conventionally the face fills up the screen from top to bottom, the shot extended right up to the chest level. In Vidya Balan’s case, for obvious reasons.
More than Vidya Balan’s acting, I was impressed by her physical transformation. Not only has she put on weight but she puts out the flab on display almost permanently. Can’t think of any other actress with this kind of commitment to the role. But the inherent problem in casting Balan as a struggler is that she never looks like one. Apart from the makeup, you can never see the transformation from a vulnerable entrant to a seasoned item girl. She is as much of a firebrand in her first scene as she is in her last. It’s Naseeruddin Shah who impresses the most. As the ageing superstar who continues to play young characters, he chews up everyone else whenever he is on screen. Their Ooh La La song is when the film hits the highpoint.
Milan Luthria has made some good films like Kachche Dhaage, Taxi No. 9211 and Hattrick. By comparison, this is one of his lesser efforts. He rushes through the screenplay, lining up one scene after another without breathing life into anyone of them. If anything, he has done a disservice to Silk Smitha who was stuck with the label of a sex symbol and never gained acceptance as an actress.
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