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This is an archive article published on June 12, 2010

Bowled out

The North Kolkata-South Kolkata rivalry in Raj Chakraborty's Le Chakka is steeped in personal biases. In fact it's so vague and generic that one wishes that Chakraborty had drawn from established cliches instead of falling back on convenient ones.

Le Chakka is steeped in personal biases

The North Kolkata-South Kolkata rivalry in Raj Chakraborty’s Le Chakka is steeped in personal biases. In fact it’s so vague and generic that one wishes that Chakraborty had drawn from established cliches instead of falling back on convenient ones. Beguni versus pizza,cricket versus football,Dylan versus Tagore, these are not the bone of contention between the denizens of the two Kolkatas,are they? Chakraborty oversimplifies the rivalry as a clash between traditionalists and modernists. The spliced reality of the city is way more complex. The rivalry exists in our subconscious,in the way a Maniktala boy will feel ill-at-ease in Naktola,in the way separate codes of conducts are maintained in market places in these two parts of the city. And of course in the way most North Kolkatans are in complete denial of South Kolkatans (and vice versa). It would have been foolhardy to expect Raj Chakraborty to dwell on such intricacies. After all,he had set out to make a commercially successful entertainer not a boring thesis on a factionalised city. But in Le Chakka,Chakraborty does something unforgivable. He dissolves the equation by blatantly taking sides and reducing North Kolkatans to bumbling idiots who clearly don’t know what is good for them. For that Mr Chakraborty,you have a lot to answer.

As for the rest of the film,it’s Tollywood’s journey of wish-fulfillment directed towards an obviously moffusil audience craving urban milieu. The crumbling old North Kolkata mansions have Balaji interiors. The Dorjipara girl,who embarks on a cross-city trek ever day to earn a few extra bucks for pocket money,wears Fab India kurtas and the South Kolkata dude,who wows the bumbling North Kolkata buffoons with his Yamaha bike and designer stubble,is followed by a cloud of ‘poshness’ (read a wardrobe comprising Bangkok t shirts and a doting mother who wriggles her hips to Michael Jackson). You can easily gather this from the trailer; the,ahem,climax of the film is exactly what you expect. There is an all-important cricket match where the loser team will come up trumps thanks to a messiah’s intervention. There are only a few moments of truth in Le Chakka. And one of them is when an aging,sexually repressed spinster eyes a para gunda without a shred of inhibition. How we wish Chakraborty had dwelt on that track.

Le Chakka is running at INOX (City Centre)

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