Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star

Okay, okay. Even as ecstatic reviews continue to pour in steadily, I confess that I am far from bowled over by Taare Zameen Par. Maybe it's because while Aamir Khan has 'controversially' gone on record expressing his deep aversion to Sanjay Leela Bhansali's Black calling it manipulative, I couldn't help but sometimes use the very same adjective to describe his own directorial debut.

Maybe it's because I too, like Taare Zameen Par's protagonist Ishaan, went to boarding school when I was eight years old and neither did I find it such a big deal and nor- more importantly- were my teachers boring clichés, uniformly monstrous and unsympathetic, waiting to pounce on me.

Maybe it's because much as I wished it wouldn't happen, Taare Zameen Par did- even if intermittently- fall into that dreaded 'message movie' bracket, and occasionally become simplistic, tiresome and I daresay, even a little forced.

Or is it just darned cynical ol' me- constantly nit-picking and carping- having learned to be critically dispassionate and dispassionately critical, fighting the potential lump in my throat even in the most teary-eyed and horribly sentimental scenes?

Whatever you may think or believe- and I am smiling as I write this- Taare Zameen Par deserves a watch- it is an undoubtedly nice, earnest piece of work, evidently a labor of love- brilliant in parts even if not completely satisfying.

Taare begins with a noisy, cacophonic sequence with numbers and alphabets sinisterly crawling and filling the screen as protagonist Ishaan Awasthi's Cruella de Vil-esque teachers bark his marks at the unsuspecting audience. It's a sequence I wished was never there at all, but on second thought it provided such a huge contrast to the delightfully dreamy scene that follows, with Ishaan catching little fish in a mucky drain, that it made one appreciate the sheer beauty of the latter moment all the more.

Fish, in fact- seem to form some sort of a visual metaphor throughout the film-which, among other things pleads us to live and let live- and in that sense it's rather apt- in a shark-infested world, how, pray- can these little fish manage to survive and breathe?

Immensely gifted young actor Darsheel Safary plays Ishaan refreshingly and poignantly, and if you are allergic to sudden rushes of gushing praise, you might as well skip to the next paragraph. Unflinchingly and deservedly given top billing in the film's casting credits by Aamir Khan, if there's one reason for you to watch this film, it is definitely he. This guy's a small wonder, superbly and confidently carrying the film on his shoulders, and disarmingly natural. There's this wonderful, innate quality about him that charms and melts you without even trying, and that is the reason Darsheel's performance always remains the heart and soul of Taare, even when his mentor's presence threatens to cast it's shadow over it.  Move over Ranbir Kapoor, Neil Mukesh and Co.- THIS is the debut of the year.

Varied emotions swim with ease in Darsheel's eyes, which speak to you in a way Aamir's bloodshot, watery ones never do. His Ram Shankar Nikumbh, perpetually in white, falls just short of being a holy angel for the lack of two pristine wings and a halo (It's only fitting that his name consists of the names of two Gods). His entry seems literally shoehorned into the film, with his wacky clown act (very nicely choreographed by Shiamak Davar) intending to be a surge of energy, but succeeding only in being a sore thumb.

Ram Shankar Nikumbh can be possibly compared to Mohan Bhargav in Swades- he is a voice of reform, the harbinger of change, of hope- but while Mohan was human and relatable, Ram's obsessive niceness is grating. He can't help smiling and/or brimming with tears every time he sees a child or launching into embarrassing lectures when he sees their vile teachers and parents.

When Mohan buys a kulhar of water from a boy at a nondescript railway station in Swades, the scene hit you like a shot in the heart, but when in a similar scene in Taare, Ram has a boy working at a dhaba sit and have biscuits and tea with him as he looks on with a soppy grin, you know the film is overreaching for your sympathy.

It is, in fact- rather amusing to see the befuddled look on the children's faces when Ram narrates them stories in a 'fun' mock-poetry style they probably don't really understand, before they break into enthusiastic applause, as if on cue. It also doesn't help that all other adult characters, with the only possible exception of Tisca Chopra (very effective as Ishaan's mother) are portrayed as broad, loud caricatures including a Hindi teacher with hair so long growing out of his ears; it could be tied in a pleat.

But it's still not too difficult to like Taare- apart from the stereotypes and 'gyaan' the film feeds us, the film still works- especially where it doesn't try to 'say' too much, when it stays in Ishaan's world. And a magical world it is, where even a drop of paint falling off a paintbrush feels like a spectacular event. Take the marvelous sequence filled with luminous slice-of-life moments where Ishaan bunks school and roams carefree on the streets as Mera Jahan aptly plays on-after all, it's the world through Ishaan's eyes.

Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy produce a great score embellished with Prasoon Joshi's gems- the pick of the lot is of course Maa, which movingly expresses Ishaan's anguish and loneliness and brings a tear to the eye- simply because it's so universal.

Aamir makes a fairly impressive first-time director- he may not be our very own George Clooney yet, but he has enough potential to be a force to reckon with in the future. The moments in the film he has handled best are the most intimate, showcasing lovely, unforgettable images of innocence, of childhood- images that we have all been a part of, images that truly stay etched in the mind.