Release date:
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October 28, 2016
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Director:
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Karan Johar
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Cast:
Language:
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Ranbir Kapoor, Anushka Sharma,
Aishwarya Rai Bachchan, Fawad Khan, Lisa Haydon, Imran Abbas, Guest stars:
Shah Rukh Khan, Alia Bhatt
Hindi
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CAUTION: LONG REVIEW AHEAD
Confessions of a film critic: (1) I’m a sucker for mushy romances and
good-looking stars. (2) I am a congenital crybaby. (3) Although I have rarely
related to characters in Karan Johar’s films and I am vehemently opposed to the
gender politics in several of them, I have still found myself getting swept
away by the emotional wranglings of the writing in a couple of his works, the
packaging, the gorgeous actors and the music, despite every cell of my being
rebelling against what the film stood for (by that I mean Kuch Kuch Hota Hai
and Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham).
If you think about it then, Ae Dil Hai Mushkil – produced,
written and directed by Johar – has all the ingredients required to reduce me
to a blubbering mass of tears. A parade of catchy tunes by Pritam, ranging from
soulfully melodic to peppy. A story set in three atmospheric and historic European
cities: London, Paris and Vienna. The most delectable actors in the
subcontinent. (Oh Fawad Khan! Sigh! Double sigh! Triple sigh!) And a climax so
unabashedly emotionally manipulative that it puts every other KJo film in the
shade in that department.
Yet, I felt curiously detached from most of the film, enjoying distinct
elements but unable to connect to the whole.
The story revolves around Ayan Sanger (Ranbir Kapoor) and Alizeh Khan (Anushka
Sharma) who meet at a London nightclub and hit it off. At the time, Ayan is
dating a glamorous dunderhead (Lisa Haydon). On the rebound from a break-up
with the love of her life, DJ Ali (Khan), Alizeh is dating a family friend’s
son (Imran Abbas, another Pakistani actor – take that, MNS!). Ayan soon wants
to be romantically involved with Alizeh, but she does not reciprocate his
feelings. She wants him as her bestest buddy, nothing more.
The film then follows the two through the many years of that
friendship, her equation with Ali, Ayan’s bond with the poet Saba (Aishwarya
Rai Bachchan) who is drawn to him sexually but not interested in love, and his
continuing obsession with Alizeh.
Lookwise, everything about Ae Dil Hai Mushkil (ADHM) is glossy
and flawless. Since this is a KJo venture, it goes without saying that the
camerawork (Anil
Mehta), art design (Amrita Mahal
Nakai), costumes (Manish Malhotra, Anaita
Adajania, Samidha Wangnoo) and makeup are rich
and exquisite. Every earring, every strand of hair, every piece of furniture is
just so. And the cast is a roll call of contemporary beauties, male and female.
Visually then, ADHM is a feast.
The reason why that is just not enough is the film’s been-there-seen-that-done-this-all-before
quality. At the heart of that fatal flaw lies ADHM’s hangover from Tamasha
(2015) and Rockstar (2011) that is impossible to ignore. Both films were
directed by Imtiaz Ali. Ved and Tara’s non-stop banter in the first half of Tamasha,
driven by a shared passion for Bollywood, was riveting. She was lively and
easygoing. He had a penchant for mimicking stars and was desperate to professionally
explore theatre but stuck in a corporate job under pressure from his autocratic
father. In ADHM, Ayan and Alizeh chatter endlessly about Hindi cinema, constantly
reference films in their conversations, quote dialogues and sing old film
songs. She is lively and easygoing. He wants to be a professional singer but is
pursuing an MBA to please his billionaire father.
In Rockstar, Janardhan is told that he will become a true artiste
only once he experiences pain in love. Being the dumbo that he is, he seeks out
heartbreak to give himself a successful music career. Sure enough, he matures
as a musician and becomes an internationally renowned rocker once Heer rips his
heart out of his chest. In ADHM, Ayan’s songs develop a soul, he becomes
an Internet phenomenon and a hit on the London club scene when his unrequited
love for Alizeh takes over all else in his life.
Some of it is fun, funny and engaging, plus Kapoor and Sharma are easy
on the eye and I lurved not just the music but the way it is woven into the
narrative. Like I said though, it is impossible to get past that feeling of
having been there, seen that, done this all before. Fun-ness and funny-ness are
obviously diluted when a plot lacks novelty.
The uncomfortable familiarity of the storyline is further underlined by
the fact that the Kapoor boy has been the lead in all three films. Saddled with
this burden, his performance in the first half of ADHM suffers from
repetitiveness. It does not help that his career is dominated by films in which
– as in Rockstar, Tamasha and ADHM – he has played a man-child
in dire need of some growing up. Again, been there, seen that, done it all
before.
There’s something seriously wrong with a film on unrequited love when
the relationship you are rooting for does not involve the protagonists but the
male lead and a satellite character. Bachchan’s Saba enters the picture halfway
through the story and Saba-Ayan walk away with a film that should have belonged
to Ayan-Alizeh.
This is the element of originality in the screenplay. This is where
Johar shows signs of his evolution as a filmmaker and as a person. For
instance, we are aware that Saba is older than Ayan yet a song and dance is not
made of that fact, which is a big deal coming from a director who has
persistently straitjacketed women over the years though never more so than when
he told us in his debut film Kuch Kuch Hota Hai that a man may never
become aware of his deep love for a woman if she does not conform to the socially
accepted definition of femininity. It is in this portion too that KJo displays
a willingness to mock himself, giving Saba and her ex poetic dialogues that
could put a cheese factory to shame, then getting a friend to laugh at them.
It is in this segment that Kapoor comes into his own, perhaps because
it is here that he gets to do something he has not done before. And while I had
begun to think I would never get to say this, this is where I finally discovered
the actress in the former Miss World, after nearly two decades of despair
watching her on the big screen. Like Ashutosh Gowariker did in Jodhaa Akbar,
Johar is intelligent in the way he taps into Bachchan’s ice-cold beauty and certain
studied mannerisms to make them a part of the character she plays. No credit to
her on that front, but in a scene in which Saba reveals the vulnerability
within her strength, Bachchan reveals something of herself that we have never
seen before, not even in her cinematic outings with Sanjay Leela Bhansali.
As it happens, the lady who has been known for her sexual conservatism
in her film choices (she has broken her no-kissing rule only for 2006’s Dhoom
2 so far) has allowed Johar to shoot lovemaking scenes between Saba and
Ayan that are very explicit by her standards. Kapoor and Bachchan are hot
together. Yes, their lips do not meet – in most films, that looks very silly –
but Mehta’s camera somehow makes that work.
It is interesting too that ADHM turns traditional Hindi film
notions of marital infidelity on their head. From a film industry that has in
the past made it a wife’s bounden duty to forgive her husband for sleeping
around, it is refreshing to see a woman in this film telling us that her
self-respect did not permit her to tolerate her spouse’s philandering ways,
while another tells a man pointedly that it is not her job to pick him up when
he falls.
Oh my! Is this an indicator that The World According to Johar is
getting progressive? The celebration of this moment is tempered though by
the manner in which Ayan is shown
repeatedly roughing up Alizeh. Everything we know about domestic violence tells
us that a man who pushes a woman around once will do it again and again, yet ADHM
projects Ayan’s physical aggression towards his female friend as a mark of his
ardour and the comfort level in their friendship, in pretty much the same way that
Raanjhanaa in 2013 interpreted Swara Bhaskar’s character Bindiya constantly
being roughed up by her male buddies including the hero. Seriously? Do Hindi
filmmakers not notice and absorb the horrible things going on in the society
they inhabit, or understand the role they play in perpetuating regressive beliefs?
No doubt, Johar will point out that he has shown Alizeh too smacking
Ayan a couple of times. First, who said that is okay? Second though, is there
an equivalence? This week’s other Hindi release Shivaay shows the hero’s
eight-year-old daughter pummelling him in anger. Any kid hitting her Dad like
that deserves to be severely disciplined, but Shivaay mindlessly
presents it as cuteness and a sign of her deep, deep affection for him. That
said, would we not react differently if the father had bashed up his child in a
similar fashion?
Because it is not the same thing. See KJo, Alizeh hitting Ayan is not
okay, but men are born physically stronger and your films are made in a social
context where the massive majority of victims of relationship abuse are women,
so please do not hold up Alizeh’s slap on Ayan’s face as a justification for
the way he hits her. Johar may well argue that he is only portraying people and
behaviours that do exist in the real world. Yes they do exist, but the point
here is that nothing in ADHM indicates the film’s own disapproval of
such actions.
The other truly disturbing aspect of ADHM is Ayan’s near-hatred
for Alizeh when she rejects him. His animosity is ugly to behold. It chilled me
to the bone. Again, no doubt such men do exist but the point is that this film
romanticises one such man, packages him in the charismatic personality of a
Ranbir Kapoor and presents him to us as a genuine lover. But this is not a
lover, this is not love, this is obsession and a wounded ego, this is a sense
of male entitlement, this is rage at a woman who said no, this is the kind of
man who in the real India and Pakistan has been known to throw acid on a woman
saying “if I cannot have you, no other man should.”
Does Ayan evolve beyond this? I shall leave you to watch ADHM
and find out, but it does not matter, because what the film mildly describes as
immaturity is in fact dangerous, and all the shayari in the world cannot
excuse ADHM’s failure to point that out.
For a more wholesome account of unrequited love, watch Johar’s own
production Ek Main Aur Ekk Tu directed by the wonderful Shakun Batra.
There are men out there who do know how to take a no from a woman with
equanimity, it is just that Hindi cinema usually avoids them possibly out of
fear that male-dominated audiences will be put off by them.
In terms of performances, Anushka Sharma is consistently convincing throughout
ADHM. Aishwarya Rai Bachchan is the film’s surprise package. Ranbir
Kapoor is a mixed bag – in the early portions there are crying scenes in which
it is hard to tell whether he is being intentionally farcical or the storyteller
has got the mood wrong, but as the film progresses Kapoor gets lovelier and
lovelier. Fawad Khan has limited screen time and left me yearning for more –
not just because of his divine handsomeness (though there is that too) but
because he is a fine actor. In fact, one of ADHM’s best scenes is a crackling confrontation between Ayan and
Ali. Lisa Haydon as Ayan’s girlfriend Lisa D’souza is a hoot – someone please
give this woman a leading role in a film
worthy of her pizzazz.
There is considerable mixed messaging emerging from the episode
involving Lisa. No doubt she is ditsy, but I do not get why Ayan had to cheapen
her with his gaze or Alizeh had to cheapen her with words to elicit laughs from
the audience. Also, Johar appears to be making a point via this
character about how we stereotype communities we don’t mix around with a lot.
She practises all day to say “Salaam
waleikum” in preparation for a meeting with two people who bear the surname
Khan – because as every cliché-filled dunce knows, it is forbidden in the
Indian Constitution to say “hello” or “namaste” to a Muslim.
Interestingly though,
Johar unwittingly betrays his own prejudices by indulging in a spot of
stereotyping in precisely those sequences in the film: the Hindu character is the
only one who does not speak Urdu-laden Hindi, the Muslims both speak Hindi choc-a-bloc
with Urdu, whereas the Christian girl is not good at Hindi and needs to have
words translated for her. Et tu, KJo?
Sometimes the impact of individual grouses is diminished by the impact
of a film’s positives. That does not happen in Ae Dil Hai Mushkil in
which every positive is overshadowed by the awareness that so much of what we
see in the film has been seen before.
Something about Saba and Alizeh’s styling and speech and certain
conversational indicators also made me wonder whether these two women had
originally been written as Pakistanis, before Maharashtra Navnirman Sena
decreed that all Pakistanis should be persona non grata in Bollywood. We are
never told where Saba is originally from – a non-mention that is in itself
worth noticing – and Alizeh pointedly says she is from Lucknow … But something
is missing … There is a disconnect that is hard to explain. If they were
originally written as Pakistanis, then clearly so were DJ Ali and Alizeh’s
boyfriend Faisal. Were they? Will Johar ever tell?
That a political party with a track record of violence and government
patronage might have compelled an artist to re-write a story… the possibility
is too heartbreaking to handle, so I am setting aside the thought for the
moment. It is easier to deal with the artistic merits of the film.
ADHM has many elements worth loving: my pick of the lot is the manner in
which the music is used – a perfect illustration of the musical genre shorn of Bollywood’s past mindlessness on this front – and the handling of the sub-plot
featuring Kapoor and Bachchan. In its entirety though, Ae Dil Hai Mushkil
is not an immersive experience and after a while I lost interest in its
rigmarole of relationships, the many datings and
matings, break-ups and patch-ups, marriages, divorces, friendships and the one-way scenarios involved.
I neither loved nor hated this film. I neither liked nor disliked it. I
simply did not mind it – and that is never a compliment.
Rating
(out of five stars): **1/2
CBFC Rating (India):
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UA
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Running time:
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158 minutes
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Very long review indeed. Managed to read it in full
ReplyDeleteAll major Muslim characters in the film were filmed as Pakistanis, which is evident from Johar's earlier interviews post trailer release, which explains the use of Urdu. Also sure of this through people who worked on the film. Did you notice when Ayan who is shown to belong to India asks Alizeh how will he get the Visa, which of course he wouldn't need if he needed to go to 'Lucknow, India'. This alteration was such a letdown, and one wonders if it was done as a safety measure, or was part of the 'deal', in which case why absolve those those demanded it.
ReplyDeletePS: really enjoyed reading this. I myself have polarising feelings about the film, though not all in the same way.
He needed a visa as he was holding a british passport.. you wud know if you remember the scene with aishwarya
DeleteHe holds a british passport so needed a visa.. there was no reference to pakistan . People from lucknow do speak urdu.
DeleteI too felt that Ranbir Kapoor is becoming repetitive (though still absolutely amazing!) and I took back nothing from the film at the end of the day. It does not have a lasting impact.
ReplyDeleteI watched the movie again to understand your perspective on violence between Ayan and Alizeh because I seemed to have missed it the first time. But I do not feel Ranbir's character was full of vengeance for Alizeh. He couldn't handle rejection and expressed his anger/ frustration and wouldn't have gone beyond that. But then that's just my opinion.
Watched carefully, Anushka's 'Lucknow' did not sync well. She had spoken 'Karachi' during the shoot which was clearly dubbed to Lucknow later.
PS.- I loved Taahir, no points for guessing why :)
Loved your take on the film, though I seem to have liked the film more than you did. Agree about several points, however, especially the Saba-Ayan angle, and about Ranbir becoming repetitive. Loved that both women characters were rather unique in that they had agenda, and a voice in directing their own relationships.
ReplyDeleteI don't think Lisa was 'Christian'; there's no mention of religion, surely? I thought Alizeh's comment on her and her behaviour was to show how judgemental she is, in the beginning. I certainly didn't think of it as problematic, because while the *character* was verbally offensive, Johar treated Lisa with respect - Ayan is not sloughing her off because Alizeh said she was a whore; he's still with her, apologising to her for Alizeh's remarks, and later, being heartbroken that she was making out with Faisal. Even so, when she leaves, she leaves without any melodrama over how she's a gold-digger.
I also didn't get the feeling of violence against women, or that Ayan was vengeful or had the feeling that he felt if he couldn't 'get' her, no one else should. I thought the frustration expressed itself as anger momentarily, and it seemed rather realistic that it would. It was like a child throwing a tantrum. And I accepted that because this was not like Raanjhnaa at all - here, there's a relationship between them, a friendship that both of them are comfortable in; it's not an unequal relationship, and it definitely is not a 'stalking' vibe. It takes him a helluva lot of time to accept that her 'no' really means 'no', but this is not the creepy 'I'll make her fall in love with me because obviously she has no clue that she loves me and I know better than her' plot line that is overused in our cinema.
Adding to other comments - yes, this was supposed to be a cross-border love story; Alizeh, Ali and Saba are all Pakistanis. Or were supposed to be.