Strolling leisurely down KG Road with no particular reason or destination was once a pleasurable pastime for many. The vicinity boasted of the most number of cinema halls per square mile probably anywhere. As if craning your neck to ogle at the giant hoardings were not enough, you could walk into any theatre and look longingly at the picture postcards, not only of the films being currently screened but future releases too. A rough storyline was guessed and discussed with friends. If Sagar was showing a Hrishikesh Mukerjee film, there would also be a classic like ‘Hamsageethe’ being screened at Alankar and a blockbuster like ‘Mayura’ elsewhere down the road and all the halls would sport ‘House-Full’ boards. If you were late you’d seek out someone with an extra ticket rather than succumbing to a black marketeer and most of the times secure one. The rear stalls were the most coveted for most because the ‘balcony’ was expensive and it was deemed below your dignity to occupy the ‘Gandhi Class’. There was a clear segregation in class not only with respect to affordability, but behaviour too. Those occupying the balcony would not even be caught clapping leave alone whistling. There was an unwritten code of theatre etiquette followed by most. A hush fell as soon as the film started only to be broken by a loud cheer when the hero in a blockbuster appeared. More bicycles occupied the parking space than bikes or cars. During the interval, the aroma of cutlets being freshly fried mingled with cigarette smoke. You rushed back inside not wanting to miss the ‘trailers’. When you emerged after the show, there would be a crowd teeming outside, waiting to get in but not before seeking an instant review from you. A deep sense of nostalgia and longing swept my mind as I decided to walk from Mysore Bank to Nartaki to watch ‘Madamakki’. It’s been ages since I did this. You can say thanks to comfortable multiplexes while blaming the sheer lack of maintenance of single screens. Not much has changed other than the fact that Sagar is awaiting demolition and a concrete monstrosity has replaced Alankar. Kalpana anyway was hidden from the main road. States has been refurbished and renamed but the few that survive have not seen a coat of paint for decades. Is it a sad metaphor for the quality of our films? That would not be entirely untrue. The irony is that producers still squabble for and covet these halls while there’s not a murmur of protest about the quality of comforts afforded to the paying public. Nartaki, if I remember right was awarded the best theatre in Asia once. The place is a sad shadow of what it was in the late seventies. The only thing that’s gone up is the price of tickets. The once lush carpet leading to the balcony is worn out and if you’re not careful can send you face down. A couple of aged, bored employees were sprawled on sagging sofas. A youngster nonchalantly spit near my feet and glared, daring me to protest. Clouds of cobwebs dangled from the high ceiling. There were no lights in the stinking toilets and the less said about the projection and sound the better.
Can you call someone embroiled with the underworld a hero? I’d rather call him the protagonist. It’s become a cinematic cliché for kids who land up in Mumbai to turn into gangsters. Here the boy assaults a lecherous landlord and flees only to grow up in the shadows of a gang lord. When the boss is killed by a trigger happy cop, our man decides to stowaway to Dubai but he’s not cold-hearted. He yearns to meet his mother one last time. With the cop hot on his heels and an irritatingly garrulous heroine who falls for him instantly we’re taken on a long, tiresome journey through wilderness to Madamakki.
I was reminded of one segment of the much superior Rakshit Shetty film, ‘Ulidhavaru Kandanthe’. This is an elongated version of that episode which by itself was a tad long drawn out.
The debutante director Preetham is clueless about a cohesive narrative and the technique is tacky. He tries to choreograph every move and turn of his characters and the generous use of slow motion just don’t help the tardy proceedings.
There is a nice, unforeseen twist in the end but you feel travel weary before you reach there. You can’t endure an entire film just because the last few minutes are good even though the film is only 106 minutes long. You leave disappointed with the film and depressed over the dilapidated state of Nartaki.
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