Chameli is what happens when brain dead junkies pretend to be serious filmmakers and screenplay writers.

After an insipid, and worthless Calcutta Mail, Sudhir Mishra churns out a Chameli. And a 'Khau' reviewer of the 'Khau' English language paper gives this film a three and a half star rating.

The fact is Sudhir Mishra and his brigade of junkies have stopped growing. These guys cannot think beyond some of their mediocre work of the past. They are suffering from 'Dharavi' and 'Is Raat Ki Subah Nahin Hogi' syndromes. They cannot throw away that garbage. If they do it, nothing will be left in their brains as inke deemag ka dahi ho gayela hai, ekdum khatti sadeli, phateli, aur badbudaar dahi, chotta baccha ka ulti ka maffik.

Chameli is also an indictment of our so called stars who wish to be recognized as serious actors. They are bad professionals and illiterate actors. They do not have the capacity to judge a good role from a bad one. Though they sound very intelligent in their TV interviews, they invariably land up signing up for badly conceived roles like Chameli.

Chameli was an easily manageable subject. It did not need huge sets and a lot of other paraphernalia that turns the production of a film into a nightmare of an experience. It could be shot with a shoestring budget. While it had everything else going for it, what it needed the most was a smart screenplay supported by reasonably competent direction. One can be certain that neither Kareena Kapoor nor Pritish Nandy Communications had any idea about the story of the film before they took it up. They were simply taken in by some one liners. And the producers followed the credo, 'let us make some fast bucks while the going is good.' They had Kareena Kapoor's dates. They were certain that the salivating Marwari film distributors and audiences would come running like dogs with bundles of cash to watch the grand daughter of Raj Kapoor giving 'Gaalees' and baring her 'Gora Chitta' khandani torso. Everything else was peripheral, the story, the screenplay, the direction, and the final film itself.

Let us first talk about the central character of the film, Chameli, played by Kareena Kapoor, the star. This character can be summed up as a package of usual 'dandhewali' dialogues, frequent laughter, occasional bursts of meaningless bitchiness, a do-gooder gori-chitti smart ass Kamathipura prostitute, who charges an unimaginable one thousand rupees for a night from her customers, wears a designer sari, and dances and sings in the rain. This is all to the character of Chameli in the film. This is all Kareena Kapoor does in the film. None cared to help her out with her role because none tried to develop it. Kareena Baby took the 'Kyon be, chalta hai kya' kind of dialoguebaazi as the ultimate expression of her acting abilities and snatched the role from Antara Mali with great alacrity, the way a kid girl goes for her lollipop. Kareena Baby has been used and abused in one film after another by most of our filmmakers. The director and the producer of Chameli have been no different. Sooraj Barjayta was one exception though. He gave her a fairly OK deal in 'Main Prem Ki Deewani Hoon' in characterisation terms.

The screenplay of Chameli offered no scope for the pivotal character to flourish. It was busy exploring avenues to deliver socio-political messages. It was obviously a laboriously contrived effort of an outdated and outmoded brain. Since Sudhir Mishra was part of this process, he too must have had his damaging influence. We all know that he took over the mantle of direction of this film after Anant Balani's demise. What he did next was to kill Balani's baby with an overdose of his mediocrity and hackneyed and amateur political agenda.
 

 Chameli or Jasmine is a white coloured flower, small in body, a bit fragile, exuding a beautiful, pleasant, and soothing fragrance. You want it to be around you. The Chameli plant has something very sensuous about it. It is a kind of an all embracing, warm hearted creeper. It intertwines with whatever comes in its way. There is a childlike quality about it. Why do prostitutes have such names? Normally, a woman from a respectable household will not have such a name. We hear of Chameli Bai and Chamelijaan but one would not have heard names like Chameli Gandhi, Chameli Singh, Chameli Pawar, Chameli Raje Sindhia, Chameli Jain, Chameli Bachhan, Chameli Kapoor, Chameli Nehru, Chameli Vajpayee, Chameli Thakare, Chameli Ambani, Chameli Singh, Chameli Pandey, Chameli Yaadav or Chameli Pritish Nandy. In our romantic literature, lovers often meet under Chameli canopy because it envelopes them in its fragrant shade, hiding them from the roving eyes of those who frown upon their love making. Sudhir Mishra and his screenplay writers should have drawn some inspiration from the word Chameli while developing the character of Kareena and possibly they would have made a better film. However, emotionless, wooden headed mercenaries cannot make good filmmakers.

A sophisticated, suave, and savvy investment banker meets a crude, gaudily dressed streetwalker by the quirk of contrived fate. He has reasons to be there. He did not want to go home. Why? The screenplay writer tried to create a hook here. The guy must be having problems with his wife and that is why he does not relish the idea of getting back home. The audience did not swallow the hook though. Why should they? They had come to watch Chameli, the hooker. They did not need any other hook. Who cared for an investment banker's wife? When Chameli meets the banker, people expected something to happen between them. What actually happens is inane and usual dialoguebaazi. People wait for a while. Something must happen at some point of time. What happens next is the leftover of 'Is Raat....' and 'Dharavi', and some badly camouflaged political commentary and a series of improbabilities replete with stupid and mindless scenarios and slipshod performances. The film and its story starts meandering all over. It is neither reality nor fantasy. The audience knows now that the filmmaker is shooting blanks instead of live ammunition. They are totally put off. The film has lost them and they have lost their money and precious two hours.

The male audiences at New Excelsior theatre of Mumbai  must have rued their decision to watch Chameli as they would have come out of the hall and met REAL Chamelis standing in the Excelsior cafe lane, hunting for customers. It would have been a cheaper and more pleasurable bargain to spend some time with them. And their language is much more colourful and potent than the REEL Chameli. What more, they can really turn men on, unaided by Manish Malhotra's designer sari and hired rain machines. They are good professionals who would not possibly leave their customers high and dry, unlike bad filmmakers like Mishra.

This is what khullamkhulla recommends. It is useless watching phoney and preachy films about the lives of streetwalkers made by the likes of Sudhir Mishra. Go for the real stuff instead. Next time a dusky little Dhandhewali approaches you on your way to the cinema hall, do not fight shy. Invite her for a cup of tea in the nearest restaurant and talk to her nicely. It will be a time well spent.