I hardly ever watch Bol­ly­wood movies. My Hindi is lim­ited at best and I have a strong dis­like for the gloss-is-all-that-matters for­mula movies that Hindi film­mak­ers have been churn­ing out over the last few years. But Page 3 came highly rec­om­mended — every­one had good things to say about it, and Konkona Sen Sharma was being hailed as the best Indian actress since Saif Ali Khan (ok, that was a cheap dig) so I decided to take the plunge.

Page 3

The movie is mostly a series of par­ties at the homes of sev­eral rich peo­ple, attended by other rich peo­ple. They all hate each other, but don’t mind attend­ing par­ties together. Each party con­sists of a girl danc­ing on a poorly lit stage to the voice of one of the old women that sing all Hindi songs, men dis­cussing busi­ness, a bum­bling America-returned-Indian try­ing to get everyone’s atten­tion, women bitch­ing about other women to groups of women not includ­ing the bitchee, and car-drivers diss­ing about their bosses.In order to ensure that you get the mes­sage, sev­eral groups of men are shown talk­ing busi­ness, mul­ti­ple women are shown indulging in bitch­ing and so on. I am sure you get the mes­sage. There is also a lot of ogling — the direc­tor tak­ing care to cover all the pos­si­ble ogling per­mu­ta­tions between peo­ple belong­ing to both sexes.

Observ­ing all this with a mostly quizzi­cal expres­sion is Konkona — a mid­dle class jour­nal­ist with val­ues, high ambi­tion, a col­lec­tion of cot­ton dresses and a sea­son ticket to the Bom­bay metro — start­ing off her career cov­er­ing par­ties for a news­pa­per. She stays with a cou­ple of room­mates, flight atten­dant Sand­hya Mridul (who by the way, acted much bet­ter than Konkona in the movie) and Tara Sharma — a wannabe actress who looks like she’s about to cry at any moment, even when she is laughing.

In between the par­ties, Konkona man­ages to acquire a boyfriend and sev­eral friends of dif­fer­ent sex­ual ori­en­ta­tions, while one of her room­mates acquires a rich, old man for a boyfriend. Mean­while, her other room­mate man­ages to get her­self preg­nant, attempts sui­cide and hauls off to Delhi in a huff.

There is a badass reporter at Konkona’s office, who is friends with an equally badass cop. The badass reporter has a one-man infor­mant net­work that meets him at bars and passes on tips about the bad things that the peo­ple that attend par­ties do. The reporter relays the infor­ma­tion to the badass cop. The cop inflicts var­i­ous types of pun­ish­ments on the cul­prits, includ­ing but not lim­ited to push­ing them out of cars, twist­ing their arms, break­ing their jaws and talk­ing to them in Eng­lish. After inflict­ing such pun­ish­ments, the badass cop looks at no one in par­tic­u­lar and talks about Indian val­ues. The badass cop’s boss is a not-so-badass-cop who goes to par­ties and car­ries on con­ver­sa­tions with everyone.

Did I men­tion the funeral? Some­one dies, and all that any­one attend­ing her funeral wants to do is dress well and either talk busi­ness or bitch depend­ing on their sex. Again, to ensure that you get the point, any per­son or per­sons car­ry­ing on any con­ver­sa­tion at the funeral is given some screen time. And, not sur­pris­ingly, all they do is talk busi­ness or bitch. Konkona is disillusioned.

Thus dis­il­lu­sioned, Konkona sees the badass reporter at work and decides that she wants to be a seri­ous jour­nal­ist her­self. No more par­ties for me. Her skep­tic edi­tor lets her do it and Konkona and badass are now part­ners. After a riot and another party she catches her boyfriend indulging in ques­tion­able activ­i­ties of a sex­ual nature with one of her male friends. More dis­il­lu­sion­ment.

Konkona then hooks up with her partner’s infor­mant and goes with badass cop to raid a pow­er­ful par­ty­goer — a child moles­ter, and the hus­band of the woman who died ear­lier. And so it goes.

To give credit to Bhan­darkar, the movie is dif­fer­ent from your run of the mill Bol­ly­wood fare. He has dared to explore the shadier side of India’s élite, and dis­cussed homo­sex­u­al­ity pretty openly — a big no-no in Indian films. And, over­all the act­ing was above aver­age for an Indian movie. An hon­est attempt, for sure.

But an hon­est attempt does not make a good movie. Fif­teen min­utes into the movie, each char­ac­ter is well-defined. After that, the whole movie is just a reit­er­a­tion of the def­i­n­i­tions made in the first fif­teen min­utes. And there was a lot of stereo­typ­ing going on– hon­est mid­dle class girl, promis­cu­ous flight atten­dant, good cop, bad boss, arty direc­tor inter­ested in bed­ding actresses. Plus, there were too many par­ties — it took me a long time to get rid of my hangover.

  2 Responses to “Too much of a good thing… or a review of Page 3”

  1. […] That’s right. 130 min­utes of redun­dancy & pol­ished medi­oc­rity that Karthik & Raja Sen summed up better. […]

  2. […] Page 3 was the best movie of the year. Cheer up peo­ple, stop whin­ing and be glad that “Cha­ras — A Joint Effort” didn’t win. I heard it was the sec­ond run­ner up. (I have to admit though — I am a lit­tle dis­ap­pointed that Page 3 beat out GirlFriend) […]

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