Abhishek
Bachchan
conveys
the
numerous
chapters
and
challenges
of
his
mind,
body
and
soul
with
a
never-before
candour,
observes
Sukanya
Verma.
Parents
never
stop
reassuring
their
child.
When
you’re
a
kid
discovering
the
truth
of
mortality,
they
tell
you
they’ll
live
as
long
as
you
need.
When
you
grow
into
an
adult,
they
come
up
with
ingenious
ways
to
show
they’re
okay.
It’s
especially
true
of
parents
ridden
by
lifelong
health
issues.
My
mother
still
comforts
me
by
saying
how
she
orders
her
cells
to
make
her
well
and
they
reciprocate.
“You
can
talk
to
your
body,
it
listens.”
I
don’t
know
if
her
cells
are
little
Oompa
Loompas
dancing
to
her
command
but
I
found
her
peculiar
brand
of
optimism
reflected
in
Abhishek
Bachchan’s
medically-charged
manipulations
in
Shoojit
Sircar’s
I
Want
to
Talk.
This
is
not
the
first
time
I’ve
found
relatable
bits
in
Sircar’s
creations
even
when
they
are
far
removed
from
my
own
reality.
The
film-maker
has
a
knack
for
drawing
the
oddities
of
the
human
condition
that
both
unifies
and
tells
us
apart.
Inspired
by
Arjun
Sen’s
memoir,
Raising
A
Father,
I
Want
to
Talk
chronicles
the
inspiring
journey
of
a
marketing
virtuoso-turned-motivational
speaker
from
fatal
diagnosis
to
surviving
all
odds.
Fitting
into
the
classic
NRI
profile
of
an
IIT
graduate
coming
to
California
to
do
his
MBA
and
staying
on
in
pursuit
of
the
great
American
dream,
Arjun’s
cocky
ideals
make
no
bones
about
his
conceit
at
work,
‘Marketing
is
bullshit,
I
just
glorify
it
and
make
millions.’
Predictably,
his
extreme
pragmatism
has
cost
Arjun
his
personal
life,
resulting
in
shared
custody
of
his
daughter,
Reya.
Things
hit
rock
bottom
when
he
discovers
his
laryngeal
cancer
is
eating
him
up
at
an
alarming
rate.
Thank
God
for
second
opinions
and
poetic
justice
after
he
meets
his
match
in
an
equally
hard
nosed
cancer
specialist
(Jayant
Kriplani)
scribbling
down
his
plan
of
action
across
diagrams
that
feel
more
military
attack
than
medical
prognosis.
I
Want
to
Talk
plays
the
volatility
of
life
and
death
matters
for
dark
laughs
in
Ritesh
Shah’s
lowkey
writing
and
its
protagonist’s
preoccupation
with
averages
and
statistics.
A
great
deal
of
this
predominantly
English-language
drama
captures
Arjun’s
metamorphosis
from
know-it-all
Lucy
van
Pelt
to
anxiety-ridden
Charlie
Brown
as
he
admits,
‘Even
my
backup
plans
have
backup
plans.’
Over
a
decade
of
his
20-plus
surgeries,
Arjun’s
survival
model
has
the
science
of
self-diagnosis
down
pat,
developed
superstitions
about
his
surgery,
knows
his
medical
files
inside
out,
runs
a
podcast
on
secrets
to
win
and
has
found
life
affirming
friendships
in
his
doctor,
caregiver
and
a
pickup
driver-cum-handyman.
The
lattermost,
played
by
the
excellent
Johnny
Lever,
delivers
one
of
the
most
impactful
lines
in
the
movie
looking
like
Yoda
in
overalls
—
you
die
or
you
don’t
die,
there’s
no
I
could
have
died.
Ironically,
it’s
the
ones
who
motivated
him
to
go
on
meet
their
end
sooner
than
expected.
Except
they’re
treated
too
minor
to
have
a
real
bearing
on
Arjun’s
life
or
I
Want
to
Talk‘s
objective.
Barring
his
daughter,
Arjun’s
immediate
family
shows
up
from
a
cautious
distance
as
though
Sircar
is
deliberately
forsaking
the
idea
of
sentimentality,
the
kind
that
made
the
filial
bonds
of
Piku
and
the
hospital-themed
drama
of
October
so
emotional
and
endearing
for
the
sake
of
whimsy.
Playing
out
like
a
wry,
witty
diary
of
a
sickly
Bengali
in
sunny
California,
it’s
Arjun’s
dad
jokes
to
his
unamused
teenager
daughter
(fun
guy/fungi
anyone?)
and
frequent
trips
to
the
hospital
conveyed
with
a
touch
of
hypochondriac
humour
that
form
the
focus
of
I
Want
to
Talk‘s
mood.
There
are
good
days
and
there
are
bad
days.
But
for
Arjun,
it’s
all
about
embracing
the
promise
of
pain.
We
witness
different
phases
of
his
taciturn
relationship
with
Reya
as
he
goes
from
being
at
the
fringes
of
her
inner
circle
to
a
man
she’ll
want
to
pay
tribute
to.
Portrayed
with
a
touching
curiosity
by
Pearle
Dey
in
Reya’s
knee
high
stages
and
a
charismatic
Ahilya
Bamroo
as
the
young
woman
slowly
becoming
aware
about
her
father’s
determination
to
stay
in
her
life,
the
father-daughter
bits
could
do
with
a
little
more
emphasis.
Ultimately
though,
I
Want
to
Talk
is
a
celebration
of
Arjun
Sen’s
tenacity
to
get
to
the
finishing
line
in
hell,
hospital
and
humour.
Abhishek
Bachchan
conveys
the
numerous
chapters
and
challenges
of
his
mind,
body
and
soul
with
a
never-before
candour.
It’s
not
just
his
best
but
the
beginning
of
how
far
he’s
willing
to
go
in
immersing
himself
with
not
just
a
persona
but
the
idea
of
staying
alive.
Even
an
appearance
by
the
real
Arjun
Sen
towards
the
end
cannot
lessen
that
achievement.
I
Want
To
Talk
Review
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