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| Source: Wikipedia |
Bollywood's spin on The Godfather? Took you demented geniuses long enough.
From the 1940s to the present day, three generations of three warring families struggle to control the titular shithole cities of Wasseypur, Dhanbad, etc.
Metaphorical dominoes knock each other down until they go nuclear and vaporize the game room. The blood feud begins as rebellion of mistreated coal miners, then vengeance for a murdered father. This simple revenge plot proliferates into a sprawling web of lies and hate and power struggles.
Atrocities beget atrocities. Betrayals beget betrayals. Movie-making laws beget explosions and spectacular gun battles and multilingual anti-smoking PSAs.
A family servant, the meekest man in the land, narrates the decades of bloody stupidity. His wisdom goes unheeded, because every Indian story must remind us that (a) the caste system is horrible, and (b) it's not going away anytime soon.
As the war drags on, people marry, spouses cheat, mistresses bear bastard children. Those cute kids grow up into raging assholes. Actually, the children suffer most, not just from ridiculous names like Definite and Perpendicular. No, the children cannot escape the quagmire of crime life, nor the obligation to avenge dead family. Attempts at revenge or restitution fail. A Romeo and Juliet union yields unsurprising results.
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| Source: Wikipedia |
The legions of characters might overwhelm you. Good thing they die off so quickly you can keep pace with the survivors.
Because it's Bollywood, there are melodramatic musical numbers, but sung in the background, because this is serious cinema. Fortunately, the lyrics are lurid, violent, and profanely hilarious to degrees that'd leave American censor boards gibbering similarly insane obscenities. ("Dark skin, darker heart" -- "My bullets will rape every pore of your body, my friend" -- "All hail my assholiness." Seriously, who thinks up this shit? Is this the feeling you creatures call love?)
Strangely enough, in an unexpected metafictional commentary, the principal antagonist/deuteragonist attributes his success to not watching Bollywood movies. Because cinephiles believe themselves the heroes of their own stories, thus untouchable by death. The main story supports this hypothesis. A raid occurs when the extended family has gathered to watch a soap opera. Characters attend movies as a distraction from significant plot events. And having a shrill-voiced Bollywood ringtone practically indicates a death sentence.
After fifty years of gang wars and five hours in real time, the cumulative catharsis from the climactic shootout might physically reduce you to a puddle of goo. But an immensely satisfied puddle, because the payoff is glorious.
Part 1: 160 minutes.
Part 2: 159 minutes.
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