Iqbal Khan (Jackie Shroff) is a misunderstood artist of his generation. He is a visionary. He is not interested in rendering a generic circus machinery: that of hackneyed antics, animals (ill-treated behind the stage) and forced glamour. The callous bank executive — metaphorical of Philistine corporations and close-minded audience — is predisposed to reject his plea, with hidebound contention that viewers only expect puerility from circus. The director sets the scene of Iqbal Khan's plights within seconds of his introduction. The young Sahir (played by brilliant Siddharth Nigam) evades bullies in an act of mini-parkour. It's a swift and effective introduction — a tap on his potential, for things to come.
The trial circus show of 1990 is filmed very well. There's soft 'malang' tune in the background. The circus props would evolve in the future acts. The hat-throwing trick of the father and the son would later be replicated in the final robbery with motorbikes replacing hats.
Although 'Dhoom' films are set in real world, they are quasi-fantasy films. The director makes sure that the implausible stunts are shot aesthetically. This is what separates a good director from an ordinary director. Every scene in 'Dhoom 3' has a function. There is a circus motif in each robbery. Tightrope walking is a common feature in circus and riding bicycle on a tightrope is a possible feat. Accordingly, the motorbike on high-rope is fully thematic in the quasi-fantasy realm of 'Dhoom'. Since motorbikes are essential in 'Dhoom' series, it makes for a thematic correlation between the 'Dhoom' trope and circus.
Victor Acharya uses slow-motion and ultra-slow-motion to a great effect in the motorbike scenes, without relying on gaudy tableaux. Then he immediately gets back to the normal speed: it enhances the effect of motorbike's acceleration.
The second escape adventure is a riveting spectacle. The taut background music underlines Sahir's predicament when the motorbike reaches the bridge. Sahir underplays well through his countenance of predicament. The scene also harks back to James Bond films where Bond uses gadgets to get out of trouble. Herein, the motorcycle unbelievably transforms into a Jet-Ski. After all, magic is meant to be unbelievable: a mix of sleight, contrivance and deception. Sahir, again, relies on circus acrobatics and magic tricks to escape. The VFX transformation is top-notch. The entire scene is wonderfully executed without any toffee-nosed rush or jumpy chopping. The editor does a fine job in knowing when to chop and when to spare.
In both robberies, Sahir uses the disappearing trick (taught by his father) to circumvent the police.
None of the songs are forced in the narrative. The 'malang' song is well-timed at a crucial juncture before the interval. The prelude has a sense of grandeur, silhouettes representing the young Sahir and his father. Malang has so much potential that it could have become a meta-movie in the song itself. But it is still impressive, grandly expressionist with colours, shadows, outlandish creatures and magic.
Like the previous 'Dhoom' movies, the background music is superlative. Julius Packiam blends it finely in the narrative: at times subtle, at times prominent as per the situation. It lingers on even after the movie ends. One gets to appreciate the background music more during repeat viewings. A big revelation comes at the point of interval. This scene, again, is very well directed. The good thing about Victor Acharya is that he knows when to accelerate and when to slow down. Following the confrontation with Jai, Sahir ensconces towards his room. It's a long take with no dialogue. The length engenders a feeling of suspense. As Sahir sits on the chair, probably facing a mirror (a common mode of cinematography), one can hear his breathing. The camera circles slowly, the silence adds to the anticipation.
Abhishek Bachchan shares more screen-time with Aamir Khan than he did with his adversaries in 'Dhoom' and 'Dhoom 2'. He shows a menacing streak in the scene where he interrogates Sahir. Since everything has to be done in the 'Dhoom' framework, the film misses out on opportunities of what they could have done with Jai's character, as well as a few other things, because in many ways, it's Jai Dixit who comes across as a stubborn antagonist.
A propos the act in India, the idea was to play it to the gallery with a rustic fight scene. The auto-rickshaw feature, however, is unbefitting to the 'Dhoom' template. Ideally they could have harked back to the brilliant chor bazaar (black market) scene from 'Dhoom 1'; that scene had a riveting escape (with Jai and Ali being the absconders instead of chasers) and a little story behind it. But here, there is no back story, no motif and no 'Dhoom' twinge on the rustic tableau.
'Dhoom 3' also succeeds in bringing old-school rhetoric to the fore. The poem 'bandey hain hum uske' is orated throughout the film in different tones, each at a key moment. Sahir and Iqbal Khan disperse a few memorable dialogues.
Aamir Khan takes care of aesthetics and nuances in a remarkable performance. As always he stays true to his character. There is no reliance on past glory, self-reference or braggadocio. His poised countenance and that remarkable stance make the motorcycle scenes more effective. He gives Sahir an aura of mystique when he goes to meet Jai Dixit at the police headquarters. His fine hat, tilted a tad upwards, gives him an air of a sly jester. In a scene where the audience cheered the loudest, Sahir says, 'When sleight, contrivance and deception converge, people think it's magic.' During the dialogue, he scratches his face with the gun with an old-fashioned panache. Whether it's a nod to the old-school acting or personal mannerism, it goes well with the rhetoric. This is the closest he can come to self-reference.
The trial circus show of 1990 is filmed very well. There's soft 'malang' tune in the background. The circus props would evolve in the future acts. The hat-throwing trick of the father and the son would later be replicated in the final robbery with motorbikes replacing hats.
Although 'Dhoom' films are set in real world, they are quasi-fantasy films. The director makes sure that the implausible stunts are shot aesthetically. This is what separates a good director from an ordinary director. Every scene in 'Dhoom 3' has a function. There is a circus motif in each robbery. Tightrope walking is a common feature in circus and riding bicycle on a tightrope is a possible feat. Accordingly, the motorbike on high-rope is fully thematic in the quasi-fantasy realm of 'Dhoom'. Since motorbikes are essential in 'Dhoom' series, it makes for a thematic correlation between the 'Dhoom' trope and circus.
Victor Acharya uses slow-motion and ultra-slow-motion to a great effect in the motorbike scenes, without relying on gaudy tableaux. Then he immediately gets back to the normal speed: it enhances the effect of motorbike's acceleration.
The second escape adventure is a riveting spectacle. The taut background music underlines Sahir's predicament when the motorbike reaches the bridge. Sahir underplays well through his countenance of predicament. The scene also harks back to James Bond films where Bond uses gadgets to get out of trouble. Herein, the motorcycle unbelievably transforms into a Jet-Ski. After all, magic is meant to be unbelievable: a mix of sleight, contrivance and deception. Sahir, again, relies on circus acrobatics and magic tricks to escape. The VFX transformation is top-notch. The entire scene is wonderfully executed without any toffee-nosed rush or jumpy chopping. The editor does a fine job in knowing when to chop and when to spare.
In both robberies, Sahir uses the disappearing trick (taught by his father) to circumvent the police.
None of the songs are forced in the narrative. The 'malang' song is well-timed at a crucial juncture before the interval. The prelude has a sense of grandeur, silhouettes representing the young Sahir and his father. Malang has so much potential that it could have become a meta-movie in the song itself. But it is still impressive, grandly expressionist with colours, shadows, outlandish creatures and magic.
Like the previous 'Dhoom' movies, the background music is superlative. Julius Packiam blends it finely in the narrative: at times subtle, at times prominent as per the situation. It lingers on even after the movie ends. One gets to appreciate the background music more during repeat viewings. A big revelation comes at the point of interval. This scene, again, is very well directed. The good thing about Victor Acharya is that he knows when to accelerate and when to slow down. Following the confrontation with Jai, Sahir ensconces towards his room. It's a long take with no dialogue. The length engenders a feeling of suspense. As Sahir sits on the chair, probably facing a mirror (a common mode of cinematography), one can hear his breathing. The camera circles slowly, the silence adds to the anticipation.
Abhishek Bachchan shares more screen-time with Aamir Khan than he did with his adversaries in 'Dhoom' and 'Dhoom 2'. He shows a menacing streak in the scene where he interrogates Sahir. Since everything has to be done in the 'Dhoom' framework, the film misses out on opportunities of what they could have done with Jai's character, as well as a few other things, because in many ways, it's Jai Dixit who comes across as a stubborn antagonist.
A propos the act in India, the idea was to play it to the gallery with a rustic fight scene. The auto-rickshaw feature, however, is unbefitting to the 'Dhoom' template. Ideally they could have harked back to the brilliant chor bazaar (black market) scene from 'Dhoom 1'; that scene had a riveting escape (with Jai and Ali being the absconders instead of chasers) and a little story behind it. But here, there is no back story, no motif and no 'Dhoom' twinge on the rustic tableau.
'Dhoom 3' also succeeds in bringing old-school rhetoric to the fore. The poem 'bandey hain hum uske' is orated throughout the film in different tones, each at a key moment. Sahir and Iqbal Khan disperse a few memorable dialogues.
Aamir Khan takes care of aesthetics and nuances in a remarkable performance. As always he stays true to his character. There is no reliance on past glory, self-reference or braggadocio. His poised countenance and that remarkable stance make the motorcycle scenes more effective. He gives Sahir an aura of mystique when he goes to meet Jai Dixit at the police headquarters. His fine hat, tilted a tad upwards, gives him an air of a sly jester. In a scene where the audience cheered the loudest, Sahir says, 'When sleight, contrivance and deception converge, people think it's magic.' During the dialogue, he scratches his face with the gun with an old-fashioned panache. Whether it's a nod to the old-school acting or personal mannerism, it goes well with the rhetoric. This is the closest he can come to self-reference.