Editor’s Note: This was originally published for FANGORIA on March 6, 2009, and we’re proud to share it as part of The Gingold Files.
The idea of a Bollywood horror film brings to mind—well, something as visually and dramatically flamboyant as 13B turns out to be, though not in the way one might expect. There are no singing and dancing killers or ghosts in the movie, though by its conclusion you get the feeling that’s the only thing they left out.
The makers of 13B (opening simultaneously in India and select U.S. cities) take their initial cues from the supernatural cinema of their Asian neighbors, specifically those flicks in which evil invades people’s lives via an electronic device. This isn’t the first time the country’s movies have done so, but this sort of imitation can be done in a pedantic and unexciting manner (as in Bhoot, another Indian chiller which received U.S. play several years back), or it can go entertainingly for broke, which is what happens here. There’s even a sense in the opening minutes, which contain more shots from inside household objects than possibly any film since Scott Spiegel’s Intruder, that writer/director Vikram K. Kumar is attempting a statement about how our possessions and technology have taken over our lives.
Instead, the narrative settles into a traditional haunting tale, taking place in the titular apartment, into which Manohar (R. Madhavan), or Manu for short, has recently moved with his extended family. There are plenty of initial signs that some bad mojo hovers over the place—the milk constantly curdles, a space designated as the prayer room resists all efforts to have the appropriate pictures hung on its walls, camera-phone photos of Manu keep turning out all wonky and the elevator refuses to operate when he’s the only one in it. But the women of the house aren’t so concerned about all that; they just want to assure that the cable is working so they can watch their afternoon soap operas. Then one afternoon, at 1 p.m. (or 13:00 in military time), the TV set suddenly switches to channel 13 (ooo-eee!) and presents an unfamiliar show called Everything’s Fine.
This program follows the adventures of a family that’s a mirror image of Manu’s, though none of the ladies watching seem to notice, even when one shot of the brood identically reflects a framed portrait of their bunch a few feet away. And as everything initially does prove to be fine for the televised group, so it goes for the people watching them: Manu’s college-aged sister-in-law, formerly a poor student, passes all her exams, fortune smiles on a friend of his and Manu’s wife Priya (Neetu Chandra) becomes pregnant. It seems odd, but nothing to worry about at first—but when things start going very badly for those onscreen and, subsequently, their correspondents in real life, Manu begins trying desperately to convince those around him of what’s happening and get to the bottom of the killer soap’s origins.
Kumar’s handling of 13B’s horror material is unsubtle from the start, as the presence of the uncanny is signaled by lots of jerky and wavering camerawork and a booming score by Shankar Ehsaan and Loy. (For the record, there are a pair of musical numbers in the film’s first half, but they’re pretty traditional—if incongruous in this context—montages overlaid with love songs.) The writer/director nonetheless serves up a sufficient amount of minor shivers and amusing moments—particularly when Manu tracks down the studio where Everything’s Fine is produced—and keeps things moving at a good clip over the two-and-a-half-hour running time—which includes, in keeping with Bollywood tradition, an intermission.
When 13B resumes following that break, it does so on the image of a man in a fit of incredulous laughter—an appropriate signposting of the second half’s giddy and absolute abandonment of narrative logic. From here, Kumar seems to be making up the plot as he goes along, snatching all the conventions of the ghost genre—an uncovered book of secrets, flashbacks to a tragic past, a mentally deficient man at the center of the awful history—and sending them way over the top. Very little that happens here has much to do with what occurs in the first hour, and nor does it make much sense on its own, but it certainly isn’t dull. In fact, there’s a lot of good, spooky/goofy fun to be had here, as long as you can turn off the rational part of your mind and enjoy, for example, a resolution hinging on a weapons discrepancy that absolutely anyone watching will notice long before Manu does.
The actors, who occasionally mix English in with their subtitled Hindi, all play their roles with serious commitment, if not always straight faces. Their dialogue is resplendent with eye-rollers, and the production values are solid even if the movie has sometimes noticeably been shot on video and blown up to 35mm. 13B is the kind of film that no doubt plays best within its own culture and is also worth a trip for adventurous genre fans and cinephiles—those who can appreciate a style of moviemaking in which it’s perfectly acceptable to end a paranormal thriller with a “Sexy Mama” music video.
