Know that warm fuzzy feeling of childhood? When your world is so fragile, it falls apart if someone fails
to keep a promise but is accommodating enough to mend soon after Mom and Dad
entice you with a fancy new toy or big bear hugs and gentle, loving assurances.
When your ultimate source of amusement and
imagination is a potty seat and the innumerable jokes it inspires. When you
don't want your friends to see your Mom dropping you off to school because it's
not a cool thing to do after junior kindergarten.
When your life's supreme worries, grievances and
triumphs are shared with your best pal in a school's backyard. And it's probable
that friend is quite a character like Vishnu (Pratik Katare).
Director R Balakrishnan aka Balki's's Paa celebrates the purest phase of an
individual with such touching simplicity; it's impossible to remain unmoved.
What's more remarkable he doesn't brand the key
protagonist into someone odd or special because of his peculiar illness. The
ailment, in this case Progeria -- a medical condition which leads to premature
ageing of a child, is purely incidental, it doesn't change the course of the
story or influence the actions of those who surround him.
As opposed to Aamir Khan's sensitive Taare Zameen Par, which presented some
succinct points on the subject of dyslexia, Balki doesn't try to educate the
viewer about Progeria's symptoms or impact. This, as it turns out, is a good
thing, considering the narrative already has blobs of some unnecessary sub-plot
to contend with.
School can be a tough time for the best of us. And
under trying circumstances, classmates can be really cruel and thoughtless about
what they say. In that sense, Balki cleverly incorporates the lesson of treating
one's peer, suffering from a disability or disadvantage, with tenderness,
encouragement and affection through exemplarily-behaved kids.
He also offers his 67-year-old leading man the
enormous challenge of playing the 13-year old, Auro (Amitabh Bachchan). Behind the fine prosthetic
make-up (Christien Tinsley, Dominie Till), it's virtually impossible to
recognise Bachchan or his trademark baritone. The actor tempers his voice into
an endearing wispy tone with a slight accent, almost as if an inebriated.
Anthony Gonsalves was dreamily mumbling in his
sleep. It's a curious description but an accurate sound.
Coming to Auro, the heart, beat, soul, spice and
sweeping factor of this film, he doesn't need any warming up to. Big B's Auro wins you over the moment he makes his bouncy
entry in the assembly hall to grab a prize for his 'fluke'
creativity.
A fun-loving boy with the gift of witty repartees,
Auro resides with his gynecologist mother (Vidya Balan) and grandma (played with
astounding realism by Arundhati Naag, he calls her Bum for obvious reasons) in a
sprawling abode and indulging environment.
You can tell he's somewhat spoilt when he refuses to
be picked by his politician buddy in an Ambassador. It's too small; he decides
and insists on being driven in his own swanky Honda City.
For a school kid, his wisdom and sensitivity is
somewhat stupefying. But Auro's straightforward conviction, hard-to-argue logic
and profound inquisitiveness render it comfortable credibility.
There's a droll sequence inside a Delhi metro, wherein he questions Abhishek Bachchan, essaying a bright, visionary
politician -- the futility of body guards if they can't follow him till the
washroom. 'What if a water-proof fly bomb jets out of a gutter making
whoosh-whoosh sounds and land straight under your bum while you are sitting on
the pot emptying out your stuff?' he thinks aloud. 'MP ka bomb blast,' he
immediately chortles afterwards. You do too. Seriously, Auro's bubbling giggle
alone is worth the price of admission.
Amitabh Bachchan's unrestrained spontaneity sparkles
in every frame. At the same time, the details he brings to the same through his
animated physicality, understated vulnerability and understandable petulance is
nothing short of awe-inspiring.
It's a well-written role. Unfortunately, the same
cannot be said about Paa himself. Abhishek's character is somewhat gawkily
handled. While his interactions with Bachchan Sr are pleasant, he appears too
much in awe and hesitation to convey anything else. He fares better as a
charismatic and confident MP.
Even though the film's not called Maa, it easily
could be. Vidya Balan slips into the skin of a doting mom with such ease without
the mollycoddling tone Bollywood's young mothers often resort to. Balan is
poignant yet restrained and projects an impressive figure of grace and
integrity, reminiscent of Dimple Kapadia in the 1980s.
Despite its inevitable tragedy, Paa is much
too busy cheering life and its gift of relationships to brood along and in the
process creating a chain of blithe moments and classic quips. In one scene,
Paresh Rawal's concerned father repeatedly
expresses displeasure over his 34-year old son's unmarried status. One evening,
after a meaningful pause, he embarrassingly quizzes, 'Amol, are you gay?'
Paresh Rawal, the man is priceless.
Exquisite performances from its lead and supporting
cast, aside. Paa isn't above flaws. To begin with, the
awkwardly-executed opening credits involve a self-conscious Jaya Bachchan
rattling off names of the cast and crew. It may be a family thing, Paa
being a home production (AB Corp), but it doesn't really work.
The romance angle between Abhishek and Vidya Balan is
haphazardly established in an emotion-free flashback. It's almost as if they got
together to have meaningless S** making all the post-pregnancy melodrama seem
contrived. Also, Abhishek's constant diatribe against the media is exaggerated
and out of context, distracting us from Auro's story, which is the focal point
of Paa. If the idea is to underline Abhishek's futurist reputation, it
simply backfires. It looks like a well-meaning, badly-executed gimmick at
best.
While PC Sreeram's photography vividly captures the
dazzling and vibrant view of Auro's moods, the jumpy editing is a serious bone
of contention. It's as if a series of fragments were hurriedly stitched
together.
Ultimately, Paa is Auro's dream and moment. And so
you shed a tear in his memory and leave the hall with a fond smile on your lips,
secretly doing the monkey dance in your head knowing he would have liked it.
Rediff Rating: 
“Simplicity. What turns me on.” Please enlighten me.