Ahaa Re is a Bangladeshi Bengali Romantic Drama film written and directed by Ranjan Ghosh, Starring Rituparna Sengupta, Arifin Shuvoo, Paran Bandopadhyay
|Starring||Rituparna Sengupta, Arifin Shuvoo, Paran Bandopadhyay|
|22 February 2019|
Executive Ranjan Ghosh ticks all the privilege boxes with regards to a flighty reason. A rich Bangladeshi Muslim, Farhaz Choudhury (Arifin Shuvoo), jettisoned by his better half, comes to Kolkata as head culinary specialist of a four-star kitchen; a white collar class Hindu (that too a Brahmin), Basundhara Ganguly (Rituparna Sengupta), who runs a home nourishment cooking administration, is more seasoned than Farhaz, and medical attendants a dim mystery from her past. Also, utilizing the mechanism of sustenance, the combination of Epaar Bangla and Opaar Bangla (East and West Bengal), the film diagrams the course of their romantic tale.
Nonetheless, that is the extent that the whimsy goes – the account that plays out is as level as Coke that has lost its bubble. In an early succession in the movie, Farhaz tells his associates, ‘Cooking isn’t about guidelines however creative ability.’ The chief could have done well to pursue the adage – sadly for the film, he defies a few norms with regards to the reason, yet the execution is totally ailing in creative ability.
There are two essential blemishes that harass the film. One, the all out absence of science between the two heroes. Here, I am not by any means searching for ‘sizzling’ vibes – I comprehend that Basundhara is the kind of character not given to obvious presentations of energy, what with the shadow of her past hanging over her. Additionally, Arifin Shuvoo’s to a great extent one-note execution does not help the reason for the relationship either. Indeed, there’s more sparkle in his collaborations with Basundhara’s ‘father’, Atanu Ganguly (a superb Paran Bandyopadhyay), than with her.
Two, at 150 minutes the film is lethally overlong. There are expansive entries where nothing truly occurs – and these are not even state of mind building minutes. Also, deviations that nearly make one jump, similar to the Holi bhaang arrangement among Farhaz and his Punjabi companion (stand-up comic and creator Anuvab Pal in a woeful instance of miscasting – the kinship and sympathy between them is as unconvincing as Pal’s fake Bengali-Punjabi highlight). Also, what is that bit about a property merchant doing in the film? What’s more, for what reason does everything should be spelt out? Was that flashback to Basundhara’s past extremely important, after we have been told about it? For what reason does Atanu Ganguly need to underline the unity of Hindus and Muslims, refering to models like Shah Rukh Khan and Gauri, Sharmila Tagore and Tiger Pataudi, Kazi Nazrul Islam and Promila Devi – in a succession that winds up being inadvertently entertaining? What’s more, the adage ridden, exaggerated last seventy five percent of the film – including an apparently endless peak – after Basundhara’s past is uncovered in the end sinks the film. Which is as much a mistake as an unexpected given the power over his art Ranjan Ghosh exhibited in his past trip Rong Beronger Korhi.
At last what you are left to appreciate are two exhibitions. As the old patriarch who bristles at being tended to as meshomoshai by outsiders, who shares of tea and ghoogni at the roadside slow down with obvious relish, who is contemptuous of diners serving ‘Bangali pizza’ mushrooming all finished, who longs to learn enchantment at this ready seniority, and who is tolerating of the hand destiny has given him and of the likelihood of a connection among Farhaz and Basundhara, Bandyopadhyay is by a wide margin the best thing about the film. Sengupta, who is additionally the film’s maker, conveys with significant restriction directly through just to waver in the movie’s end minutes.
There are two or three downplayed successions in the film where Farhaz clarifies the riddle of what we call chocolate enhance as a blend of taste and smell, underlining how cooking is a craftsmanship that mixes propositions faculties with contact and locate, and another where Atanu discusses the enchantment of affection. Tragically, the film needs experiences on the two tallies. In a meeting in the run-up to the film’s discharge, Ranjan Ghosh had portrayed it as one where ‘nourishment is the body, love is the spirit’ – well, for me, the body here is fairly ill defined and the spirit tragically absent.