The second half of the film sees a lot of the aforementioned Rab-invoking, with much talk of divinity and love. The first half of the film seems somewhat alright, though I'd love an explanation on how a woman besotted with a certain man not just imagines him on screen in a romantic medley, but sees him dance with a string of Bollywood heroines instead of herself. Her character gets to be equal parts plucky and melancholy, but the writing is so obvious that this isn't the kind of role that could challenge the debutante. She has a nice smile and clearly looks Punjabi enough, and is adequate in a wholesome, television-actress sort of way. And lets not even mention the background score or the way the characters are reflected in a painting, painfully Mohabbatein - except its Guru Nanak in the frame this time.Īnushka does well, but this is an out-and-out SRK film, which negates her role significantly. Heck, this'd be a much improved film if every single one of the characters didn't talk to themselves. There are several such moments - including a neat scene with SRK talking to a mannequin wearing his clothes - but each of them overstays its welcome, turning into a longdrawn and obvious explanation of the characters and their motivation. Still, it is a fun performance, albeit in fits and starts, and those moments we spoke of are clearly all conjured up by him.
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No, to be fair, there is actually a great moment when SRK post-makeover stands and fidgets nervously, grapples with his jeans and wonders how to walk the cool walk - but it's a scene that dissolves into nothingness as he reminds himself that he's now cool, and cool he becomes.
There is no progression to his metamorphosis, not even an awkward fumbling. This is no small ask when this introverted clerk turns kewl at the drop of a hat, and suddenly becomes the filmiest stud in the world. Granted, the first few minutes of him trying to be all geeky come across as Irrfan Khan doing a bad Amol Palekar impression, but he improves drastically and manages to bestow the character with - if not heart - at least a general likeability. Yet she doesn't love him and - without going into details, really - this apparently necessitates a makeover for SRK.
It is the honourable thing to do, he feels as he bumbles around and takes his personals up into the attic, leaving her on a four poster bed with one pillow and all the privacy she can ask for. Shah Rukh the Square marries young Taani. Chopra's economy soon takes us into an inexplicable plot, one where. This all happens in the first few frames of the movie, so one was prepared to appreciate Chopra for breezing through a section that would have formed an entire film plot for, say, Sooraj Barjatya. Alas, the baraat bus has crashed, and the wedding isn't to be. Khan, a wedding guest, fumbles nervously with a straw in his bottle of cola, as things go horribly wrong - something foreshadowed in a very badly recorded voice-over that opens the film and never really comes back. Youngling Anushka Sharma looks earnest enough, an excited bride hurriedly dispensing with SRK, fobbing him off with polite greetings as she runs up to inspect her trousseau. Still, we go in expecting an entertainer, and the film starts off poised to deliver. Well, let's just say too many kukkads spoil the broth. The 'hi-ji,' 'hello-ji' sounds all right, but if everyone lays it on this thick. Shah Rukh and buddy Vinay Pathak may have been able to act well, but are made to say ' yaara' in the middle of every blasted sentence to each other. Just last week we were raving about an excellent depiction of the Punjabi milieu, but naturalism now seems alien to Aditya. And even the Punjabiana is so darned forced. It's as if every young director is told to look back into the YRF catalog and pick up a hit or three, and 'borrow' song or scene or dialogue or, well, plot.Īnd the young Mr Chopra seems trapped in the past, in the flutter of yellow dupattas and Punjabi fields. People get onto bikes and the Dhoom song plays, Shah Rukh Khan christens himself Raj and uses his Dil Toh Pagal Hai intro as an opener, and while there's nothing wrong with the technique per se, Adi and his directors have flogged it to death.
Yash Raj Films has always indulged in much self-referencing, but now the oh-look-how-we-used-to-make-hits giggle has turned into a smug gloat, and it's become sickening. Because honestly - and I say this as somebody who thinks Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jaayenge is the quintessential Bollywood masterwork of the 1990s - we really can't take one more film with a heroine begging her Raj to take her away.
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