CAST: NASEERUDDIN SHAH. RITWIK BHOWMICK. SHREYA CHOUDHRY. SHEEBA CHADDHA. KUNAL ROY KAPOOR. ATUL KULKARNI. RITURAJ SINGH. RAJESH TAILING. AMIT MISTRY
DIRECTOR: ANAND TIWARI
MUSIC: SHANKAR EHSAAN LOY
Review by Scott Tann
I stood in the middle of San Francisco’s Chinatown, lost.
It was 1992. My girlfriend led me through a maze of alleys to a stage in the middle of a blocked-off street, where a woman in an elaborate silk robe – protected by a transparent rain poncho – sang opera. I temporarily forgot the sweet dumplings sloshing around in the gallons of tea bloating my stomach. As someone who spoke a few languages, I happily sifted through the tones and rhythms of Mandarin and Cantonese bubbling up from the crowd, a linguistic detective searching for clues. But it was the singing that I recall so clearly almost thirty years later.
At first, I found the opera grating. I had never heard sounds like that come from another human being. The shrill song, like a cat imitating an alarm from outer space, pierced through the instruments and the chatter and demanded my attention. Then the novelty wore off. I pivoted and found it fascinating.
Minutes into the first episode of the television series Bandish Bandits, recently released on Amazon Prime, I recalled that afternoon in Chinatown.
I own Ravi Shankar’s Sounds of India, where he explains ragas – they’re “precise melody forms” – and a friend of mine plays the sitar. He’s quite good. But I knew nothing of the classical Indian tradition of the gharana, a “house” or school where a particular style of songs and ragas are passed down among generations. And that’s exactly what we’re introduced to in the first scene: the gharana, as well as its leader (Panditji) and star pupil (Radhe).
Imagine Radhe, an attractive guy with big, perfect hair and an orange sherbet or watermelon or turquoise colored top. (I can’t remember; throughout the show, Ritwik Bhowmik wears some of the most colorful and gorgeous men’s clothing I’ve ever seen.) Imagine this guy sitting on a pillow in the courtyard of a house, while his teacher (Naseeruddin Shah) scowls and grimaces at how absolutely shitty his students’ singing is. (This dynamic, it should be noted, plays out in a significant number of scenes in the entire series.) One dude is playing the sitar – you barely hear it – and another guy is knocking out a catchy little rhythm on something that sounds like bongos. It could be 1520 or 2020; if I hadn’t seen the commercials and known that the lovely and talented Shreya Chaudhry plays Tamanna, a contemporary pop star in the show (think Britney Spears), I wouldn’t be sure.
Then the singing begins. Unaccustomed to anything like this, I find it a little odd at first. The hand gestures and the facial expressions? Vocal runs that put Christina Aguilera to shame? The sheer range of it all? And the otherworldly quality of the high notes… where does that come from? It’s strange and kind of cool, but over time it becomes… captivating.
Obviously, there’s a story here, too. In many respects, Bandish Bandits is a study of the clash between old and new – with a couple’s relationship tangled up in the middle of it. The primary conflict flowers from the root of all evil: money. Tamanna owes her agency three hits, and she needs to succeed in order to sing with her idol, Queen Eli. On the other side of town, two men from the gharana’s household are short on funds, and the young Radhe works as an accountant to help make ends meet. His friend Kabir (Rahul Kumar), the archetypal lovable dipshit, tells him to take a break and go to a Tamanna concert to relax. The two singers meet backstage, and sparks jump. They don’t fly, but they will. And since Tamanna needs more hits, she and Radhe have all the more reason to spend time together. He needs money, too, so they collaborate – but each has exceedingly different ideas about music.
If this were an American miniseries in six episodes, Radhe would belittle pop music and Tamanna would belittle traditional music, and the two would interact in the classic yet tired trope of boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl back. At the same time boy would be getting girl, the characters would realize that the only way to overcome their obstacles is to embrace a synthesis of their respective approaches. Radhe would have to dip his chocolate in some peanut butter, and Tamanna would be forced to put some peanut butter on her chocolate.
We have that in Bandish Bandits… sort of. It’s not quite so neat and tidy – which makes the resolution less satisfying – but the writers had ten episodes to fill, and they throw a lot more into the vat. What comes out is a sprawling, often messy series with multiple subplots, themes, and characters.
Cars break down and people go to jail. Uncles try to sell instruments to people who smoke cigarettes and speak atrocious French. Grandpas excommunicate grandsons, who redeem themselves in elaborate, twenty-one hour singing contests with candles. A gorgeous relative of the region’s king who lives in Belgium – because why not – is chosen to marry Radhe, but the loveable dipshit (who else?) discovers she had a sex tape, and it gets weird, and the wedding is canceled. Panditji’s son Digvijay (Atul Kulkarni), who is one mellifluous sonofabitch and looks like a beautiful pirate, shows up and demands a singing throw-down to see who will run the gharana. Radhe’s dad owes the bank money, so Radhe plays weddings in a blue mask and a wig to make more money. No one wears shoes. Panditji has ear cancer, maybe? Tamanna and Radhe have sex, maybe? They form a group (Bandish Bandits) and make music videos. Radhe eclipses Tamanna and they fight about it. Their agent lets it drop that he’d have group sex with the white woman in his bathroom and Tamanna and Radhe (his clients), “if they’re into that.” Tamanna hates her mom and loves her dad, then hates her dad and loves her mom. Panditji excommunicates Radhe (again) and declares that, henceforth, he, Panditji, will never sing or speak. We are informed Radhe’s mom still loves the dashing pirate. We learn Tamanna can’t make coffee for shit. We discover that no one has emptied a particular trash can in Radhe’s mansion for what looks like years. We find out that the “French” lady is a rabid anti-colonialist, but at least one man on the subcontinent could not give less of a shit as long as he gets paid, bitches. Chop, scrub, sweep: the writers of Bandish Bandits loved The Karate Kid. Tamanna and her admittedly louche agent curse as if they just learned that saying “fuck” was a thing. Music fans in Mumbai are treated with contempt. The director of a talent agency is told: “Sir, magic happens when stupid artists see impossible dreams. But you see, you don’t even drink real milk. So I can’t expect you to recognize real talent.” Digvijay and Radhe have a competition in front of judges and the king, and the winner is declared the winner in, quite frankly, weak and phlegmatic, and possibly illegal, terms. And Tamanna, in a season-closing mirror moment, realizes that she is week-old kheer of the Indian pop world.
This is only half of what happens. It’s a lot, and it will give you whiplash, but the colors alone in Bandish Bandits are enough to make you cry, the pathos is real – albeit a touch superficial, like a soap opera. There is no violence or gore, and the deeply self-impressed, self-aware, annoying cool of, say, the Fast and Furious movies is nowhere to be found.
Bandish Bandits isn’t Dostoyevsky. That’s the point. It’s fun and a little silly, but even if the music starts off feeling strange, by the end it will blow your damn mind.
BANDISH BANDITS #REVIEW
The Experience
Bandish Bandits, is visually, cinematically & aesthetically-a magnificent auditory delight. A simple story, yet powerful at so many levels, not only in the narration, but the sheer beauty of the composition of each frame.
In the vivacity of the colors of Rajasthan, India – very powerful veteran actors anchor a myriad sub-plot, in a fusion of classical and pop genres of music.
The Story
The pure form of classical Indian music practice is accompanied by tradition, customs and rituals. The purists are almost dogmatic in their practice of music; akin to the practice of their religion.
However removed from commercial sense they may be, they look down upon the commercialization of the art form they so revere and venerate.
This narrative pits the pedantic practices against the ease of the commercial success, should the talent find its way to its audience.
The Performers
With an ensemble cast of stellar, veteran performers like Naseeruddin Shah, Atul Kulkarni, Sheeba Chaddha, Rituraj Singh and Rajesh Tailang, amongst others, the bar for the new actors to perform must have been immense.
The Performances
Ritwik Bhowmik comes out matching them frame by frame. He shines in his characterization of Radhe, the scion of a stringent house of Indian Classical Music, that lives in tradition even when it is hard to survive. Shreya Chaudhry is pleasing, looks her part and gels well into the role of a pop star with ease. The ease with which Naseeruddin Shah, Atul Kulkarni, Rajesh Tailang and Sheeba Chaddha bring their characters alive is just another form of art.
The Plot
The quest of his family to stay in the past, while unable to plunge into the future, because of an inability to embrace change in its thought and customs, is the conundrum Radhe faces in his family.
Radhe’s love for Tamanna, who faces low esteem as a singer, faces its own challenges. Yet, this story belongs to Radhe’s journey in finding his own music, not the one his grandfather passes on to him, not what Tamanna composes with him; but his mother’s method of finding his own music in what he does, finding his own song in the way he leads his life – making his music, his own.
The Music
The series compels you with its excellent music score composed by none other than Shankar, Ehsaan & Loy, the quintessential magicians of fusing Indian Classical with contemporary. The singers outperform themselves. The surprise of the show is Shankar Mahadevan, who excels in the Indian classical genre with his excellent renditions of pure ragas.
Jonita Gandhi surpasses all expectations in her renditions of both genres; classical and pop. Armaan Malik is a gem & his versatility is incomparable. Javed Ali, Farid Hasan, Mohammed Aman – are all such great singers that their voices do more than justice to the brilliant soundtrack of this show.
The Verdict
The genius of this show is not only the story, the narrative, the cinematography, the superb actors, the direction or just what you see on-screen; but the raw precious talent of musicians, singers and artists that make this production such a fabulous show to experience. The new India comes to terms with the ancient customs of India in such a beautifully composed genre like never before. Give it up for the director, writers and composers for such a delightful experience. This is a non-stop binge. Go for it America!
PLOT
Bandish Banditsfollows Radhe (Ritwik Bhowmik), an aspiring Hindustani classical singer of the fictional Rathod gharana of Jodhpur, who teams up and falls in love with Tamanna (Shreya Chaudhry), a pop sensation from Mumbai.
Radhe’s entry into the glitzy world of pop incenses his grandfather and teacher Radhemohan Rathod (Naseeruddin Shah).What ensues is Radhe and Tamanna’s fight to stay together as the eponymous pop group they have formed.
In his interview with The Scroll, Anand Tiwari says in his interview in the The Scroll that“ In India, the aspirations of the community are connected with the individual,” Tiwari said. “Every family has a say in what business their children take up, what is best-suited or most profitable for them. Individualism versus traditionalism is definitely a theme, but I also wanted to explore what truly represents India: our values or being a go-getter. Primarily, I wanted to explore whether art should be practiced for its discipline, or to reach out to people and please them. And at the heart of the show, two different Indias clash, and the question is whether they will help each other out.”
We met up with Ritwick and Shreya last week to speak about their career, passions, the plot and some interesting. Here are some excerpts of our conversation.
