Hindi
Chef: Where is the audience?
Chef is a remake of 2014 Hollywood film of the same name, written, directed and co-produced by Jon Favreau, who also essayed the lead role.
Once in a while, an English movie story fits to the T catering to the Indian tastes. We had the 1970 film Love Story (Erich Segal) which Rajshri Pictures made in to “Ankhiyon Ke Jharokhon Se” and, may be a few more; Segal’s own Man Woman And Child, which Shekhar Kapur adapted to make the acclaimed 1983 film, Masoom.
There are few such films which have universal sentiments and appeal to all. Chef is one such, despite its alien title. But, then, it aims to cater to the select audience.
The character of Saif Ali Khan is an Old Delhi, Chandni Chowk lad of the pre-3 Idiots generation when the kids were not allowed to dream of a career but parents decided what they would do. Somehow, Saif is interested in cooking and loves to stop at the famous street corner eatery selling chhole puri to learn the art. Aspirations were not encouraged in those days and, as a revolt to his father’s dictates, Saif runs away from home.
Having worked at a couple of Old Delhi dhabas, Saif hones his skills at the Golden Temple, as a kitchen help.
By this time, Saif has excelled at devising new recipes; chefs do that, a cook or a bawarchi just cooks up regular fare. Saif is famous, has made a name for himself in the US having left behind a divorced wife and a teenaged son in Cochin in Kerala.
One fine day, Saif’s food is criticised by a patron. Enraged and believing too much into his reputation as a renowned chef, Saif assaults the patron. Social media takes over, and there is no place for Saif anymore in the culinary circuit.
But, Saif has a growing son, played by Svar Kamble, overly fond of him, and an ex-wife, played by Padmapriya Janakiraman, who thinks Saif should devote some time to the son at this vital juncture in his life. The Padmapriya and Svar want him to visit.
Saif arrives in Kerala, builds bonhomie with his son and both are soon inseparable. While the mother is living her own life, the son discovers his father for the first time.
The world has had this wheelbarrow culture providing street food for ages which gradually moved on to food trucks. Major cities all over the world have a number of them. Then, there are also mobile restaurants like the double-decker buses which move around the scenic places of a town while you dine.
So there is the character of Milind Soman, Padmapriya’s friend, who offers him a dilapidated double-decker bus which he thinks is worth converting into a travelling/mobile restaurant.
Reluctant at first, Saif accepts the offer. He converts the bus into a restaurant with the help of his son.
The film turns into a road movie from here on. Saif may have married a Kerala woman but the place he wants to prove himself in is Delhi. The bus is on the move. Via Goa and other scenic places. A happy ending is promised which is what makes the film adaptable in Hindi from its Hollywood version.
What is good about the film is that is has been de-glamourised right on the onset. An effort is made so that it looks real life. The direction is apt sticking mostly to the original. Dialogue is lifelike. Visually, the film gives a pleasant feeling. Music is fair.
Chef is a watchable feel good film but, coming as it does during a dull period and lacking a draw (only Saif to count on), the opening has been poor and not much hope being held out either.
Producers: Bhushan Kumar, Kishan Kumar, Raja Krishna Menon, Vikram Malhotra, Janani Ravichandran
Director: Raja Krishna Menon.
Cast: Saif Ali Khan, Padmapriya Janakiraman, Svar Kamble, Milind Soman.
Hindi
Remembering Gyan Sahay, the lens behind film, television and advertising
From a puppet rabbit selling poppadums to Hindi cinema, he framed it all.
MUMBAI: There are careers, and then there are canvases. Gyan Sahay, the veteran cinematographer, director, and producer who passed away on 10 March 2026 in Mumbai, had one of the latter. Over several decades in the Indian film and television industry, he turned lenses, lights, and the occasional puppet rabbit into something approaching art.
A graduate of the Film and Television Institute of India (FTII) in Pune, Sahay built his reputation as a director of photography across a career that stretched from the early 1970s all the way to the digital age. He was the kind of craftsman who understood that a well-composed shot is not merely a technical achievement but a quiet act of storytelling.
For most Indians of a certain age, however, Sahay will forever be the man behind the rabbit. His direction of the iconic long-running television commercial for Lijjat Papad, featuring its now-legendary puppet bunny, gave the country one of its most cheerfully persistent advertising images. It was the sort of work that sneaks into the national subconscious and takes up permanent residence.
His big-screen credits as cinematographer include Anokhi Pehchan (1972), Pagli (1974), Pas de Deux (1981), and Hum Farishte Nahin (1988). In 1999, he stepped behind a different kind of camera altogether, making his directorial debut with Sar Ankhon Par, a drama that featured Vikas Bhalla and Shruti Ulfat, with a cameo by Shah Rukh Khan for good measure.
On television, Sahay was particularly prized for his command of multi-camera production setups, a skill that made him a go-to technician for large-scale shows and reality programmes. In an industry that has never been especially patient with complexity, he was the calm hand on the rig.
In later life, Sahay turned teacher. He participated regularly in masterclasses and Digi-Talks, often hosted by organisations such as Bharatiya Chitra Sadhna, sharing hard-won wisdom on cinematography, the comedy of timing in a shot, and the sweeping changes brought by the shift from celluloid to digital. He was also said to have been involved in a project concerning a biographical film on Infosys co-founder N.R. Narayana Murthy.
Tributes from the film industry poured in following the news of his passing, with colleagues remembering him as a senior cameraman who served as a rare bridge between two entirely different eras of Indian cinema. That is, perhaps, the finest thing one can say of any craftsman: he kept up, and he brought others along with him.
