Mirch
is
meant
to
be
a
tikhi
spicy
delectable
account
of
sex,
eroticism,
stolen
pleasures
and
furtive
philandering
during
times
of
day-to-day
stress.
Instead
it
turns
out
to
be
one
of
those
half-cooked
exotic
dishes,
more
tempting
for
what
it
promises
than
actually
delivers.
Vinay
Shukla's
last
film
Koi
Mere
Dil
Se
Pooche
which
came
eight
years
ago
is
best
forgotten.
However
his
film
prior
to
that
Godmother
stood
tall
and
imposing
primarily
because
of
Shabana
Azmi's
preponderant
performance
as
a
politician
in
rural
Gujarat
who
rips
the
male
bastion
apart
with
her
no-nonsense
approach
to
life
and
politics.
Mirch
is
about
the
politics
of
sex.
Set
in
two
different
time
zones,
the
contemporary
and
'period',
it
takes
pot-shots
at
the
male
gaze
as
it
falls
on
female
sexuality.
Each
of
the
four
stories
has
a
protagonist,
played
by
Raima
Sen
and
Konkona
Sen
Sharma
in
two
stories
each,
with
a
high
libido
level
that
they
do
nothing
to
hide.
In
each
story
the
woman
is
caught
red-handed
doing
'it'
with
a
lover
by
her
husband.
How
the
sexually-liberated
woman
in
each
story
wriggles
out
of
the
bedroom
crisis
forms
the
core
comicality
in
the
quartet
of
stories.
The
four
stories,
apparently
derived
from
the
ancient
Panchtantra
tales
and
their
designedly
delicious
denouement
are
neither
convincing,
nor
funny
enough
to
be
outrageously
fable-like.
The
stories
just
about
manage
to
bring
a
smile
on
our
faces.
Not
that
Shukla
can
be
faulted
for
his
intelligent
and
astute
handling
of
such
an
audacious
idea.
The
quality
of
'horniness'
especially
in
a
woman
makes
for
very
unpoetic
cinema.
Love
when
linked
to
lust
tends
to
lose
its
lyrical
lustre.
Miraculously
the
lustre
of
love
within
the
lust-work
is
maintained.
Shukla
shoots
his
two
heroines
with
certain
sensitivity
although
there's
not
much
room
in
the
satirical
tales
of
cuckoldry
for
subtlety
he
builds
room
for
tender
touches
and
fleeting
moments
of
arresting
intimacy.
The
film's
four
-nication
hovers
between
'horny'
and
unhonee
(improbable).
Mirch
Raima
Sen's
large
limpid
eyes
lend
a
certain
grace
even
to
her
over-sexed
character
in
the
past
and
contemporary
times.
However
Konkona
Sen-Sharma's
performances
in
her
two
tales
suffer
for
the
lack
of
inherent
grace
in
the
characters.
And
the
actress
doesn't
seem
to
be
enjoying
the
process
of
playing
these
'naughty'
characters.
In
her
'period'
piece
Konkona
cajoles
her
royal
husband
(Prem
Chopra)
to
climb
up
a
tree
to
watch
her
making
love
with
the
stud-senapati.
How
much
fun
for
the
actor
and
how
funny
for
the
audience
can
such
a
situation
be?
Go
figure.
Interestingly
Vinay
Shukla
has
cast
Arunodoy
Singh
as
the
film's
resident
sex
object.
The
female
protagonists
in
three
of
the
stories
are
shown
lusting
after
him
and
hitting
the
sack
with
the
stud
when
they
think
their
husbands
are
not
around.
To
create
a
certain
distance
from
the
preposterous
parodic
premises
Vinay
Shukla
creates
a
film-within-film
format
whereby
a
young
struggling
idealistic
filmmaker
(Arunodoy
Singh,
again)
and
his
girlfriend
(Shahana
Goswami,
powerful
in
a
small
role)
try
to
convince
a
wily
producer
(Sushant
Singh)
to
produce
a
film
which
has
plenty
of
sex,
eroticism,
humour
and
drama.
The
stories
that
the
young
filmmaker
in
Mirch
tells
the
cynical
producer
are
the
stories
that
we
the
audience
see
the
not-so-young
filmmaker
Vinay
Shukla
tell
with
a
blend
of
whittled-down
passion
and
half-formed
sensitivity.
Some
of
it
though
not
all,
is
interesting.
As
for
the
theme
of
creative
compromise
that
triggers
off
the
four-storeyed
plot,
is
Mirch
really
liberated
from
those
compromises?
The
question
acquires
an
added
meaning
when
Mahi
Gill
shows
up
to
perform
an
item
song
choreographed
by
Saroj
Khan
at
the
end.