October, Gulabo Sitabo, and now I Want to Talk can be placed under Shoojit Sircar's "Short Films Expanded Into Feature Films" trilogy. All three movies have insufficient meat but desperately want to be considered great or artistic. Squint, you will notice a tear slowly rolling down Sircar's black-and-white face as he asks you to see him as an auteur, a creative artist. Please give this filmmaker an Oscar or some other prestigious award before he goes deep into the rabbit hole of creatively-bankrupt-but-having-an-air-of-prestige stories (or will this make things worse by pushing Sircar to create more such empty movies?). Many filmmakers, during press interviews, pompously declare they don't read reviews or care about critics (their movie posters, of course, contain quotes from critics). Sircar, though, is openly seeking acclaim from both the audience and the critics through his movies. I wish he would just calm down instead of exerting himself in pursuit of compliments and respectability. Where is that Shoojit Sircar, who, with films like Vicky Donor and Piku, achieved greatness effortlessly?
In I Want to Talk (written by Ritesh Shah), Sircar enters the territory of a drama-cum-biopic as the story is based on an actual person called Arjun Sen who underwent so many surgeries (he was diagnosed with laryngeal cancer) that he shouldn't have been alive. The doctors initially told him he had only 100 days or less to live. At the end of the movie, Sen informs us that he has been on this earth for more than 10000 days or something (I don't remember the exact number). The point is that the doctors, often referred to as Gods in this film, were "defeated" by a persistent man who promised his daughter that he would dance at her wedding. Abhishek Bachchan plays the role of Arjun in this film, but he doesn't really disappear into his character's skin. Bachchan intentionally or unintentionally brings too much attention to his acting. While watching him, we are constantly aware that we are looking at a performer who has put on makeup and is selling us something. Bachchan performs for the camera, not the audience. His performance, however, isn't the main issue of this film.
For a movie titled I Want to Talk, this comedy-drama speaks a lot of rubbish. If we interpret "I" as Sircar, we can see that he attempts to address death, grief, and disease. But his thoughts are sorely unoriginal and uninteresting. When Arjun's daughter asks him the meaning of dying, he explains that you go far away when you die. The movie is as superficial as this line - it serves kindergarten-level insights. It isn't curious about its world, its characters, its surroundings. Arjun's voiceover introduces us to him, and this introduction is delivered in a way that makes us think this character is impressing an interviewer at a company. A voiceover can be illuminating, revealing the protagonist's perspective. Arjun, however, has nothing fresh or enlightening to say to the audience (we get jokey remarks that merely tell us what's happening on the screen). His voice simply prevents the movie from falling into the tearjerker category, but the music, anyway, tortures itself to achieve poignancy. Arjun is accused of being selfish at one point when Reya asks him questions about her life. He doesn't know what is her favorite food or what she likes to do with Arjun during her free time.
Arjun (as well as I Want to Talk) could have corrected this mistake from this point on. However, the other characters still remain little more than a face in the crowd. I am struggling to recall the name of Johnny Lever's character or that doctor who conducted all those intricate surgeries. Forget these people; even Reya remains a cardboard cutout till the end. What's the name of her college? What are her professional aspirations? What is her boyfriend's name? Why does she break up with him? Does she have any friends? How does her experience differ when living with her father compared to her mother? If the two households exude contrasting atmospheres, how does that impact Reya when she moves between them? Why does she travel to Kolkata toward the end? A good drama skillfully weaves its characters into the fabric of its narrative, portraying them as vibrant, multifaceted individuals with their own thoughts, dreams, and a sense of agency. They are not bound by the rigid limitations of the script. Reya, though, is used for sloppy scenes like the one where she asks Arjun to display the scars - the surgical cuts - on his body. Other characters simply enter and exit.
Sircar only seems confident when he deals with details related to the medical procedure. When the doctor clearly explains how he will cut and join the organs in Arjun's body, you feel as if Sircar is standing proudly in the frame like a student waiting for his teacher's applause and admiration. He puts jokes into these conversations smoothly (see how Arjun and his doctor confirm the weight of a tumor). However, these discussions mainly prove that the filmmakers have done their research thoroughly. Meticulousness is passed off as artistic merit. The scene where Arjun's brother gets horrified while listening to the doctor is exactly the kind of reaction the film wants to evoke from the audience. It wants us to be shocked by the medical details so that we can put Arjun on a pedestal. Amidst all these surface-level embellishments and showboating, Sircar forgets to create characters that are alive and interesting. When Reya (a fine Ahilya Bamroo) informs Arjun that an uncle has died, you try to remember the face of this character instead of being unhappy. Later, a close friend of Arjun - a doctor - commits suicide, and we feel nothing.
Sircar gives the movie a "serious look" so that people can think it's deep, which would encourage them to come up with profound interpretations, thoughts, and meanings. When the real Arjun appeared before the end credits, I chuckled because it felt like I was about to watch a TV commercial - something similar to an LIC advertisement. Sircar and his protagonist want to talk but have nothing meaningful to say to the audience. Do you know what's worse than watching a bad film? A bad film that manipulates itself into thinking it's a great film.
Final Score- [3/10]
Reviewed by - Vikas Yadav
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Publisher at Midgard Times