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Release
date:
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December 20, 2019
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Director:
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Prabhudeva
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Cast:
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Salman Khan, Saiee Manjrekar,
Sudeep, Sonakshi Sinha, Arbaaz Khan, Dimple Kapadia, Pramod Khanna, Mahesh
Manjrekar, Rajesh Sharma, Sharat Saxena
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Language:
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Hindi
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Early in Dabangg 3, Salman Khan’s character is chatting with his
subordinates when he makes what may seem like a throwaway remark, “...hum class aur mass, dono ke liye kaam karte
hai” (I work for the classes and the masses). Since “class” and “mass” are
words used by the Hindi film industry to informally categorise sections of the
audience, this is obviously more than just a casual comment – it is an allusion
to Khan’s success across social strata since he turned out the blockbuster Wanted in 2009.
The effort to retain his
cross-sectional appeal is evident throughout this dated, dull and clichéd film,
which is what makes it such a mish-mash of conservatism and liberalism, almost amusing in its confusion.
Dabangg 3 marks Khan’s third screen outing as Chulbul Pandey, the comic-serious policeman who has no
qualms about circumventing the law to serve the common people. In keeping I
suppose with Hollywood’s trend of serving us origin stories of superheroes,
this Bollywood venture is about how a useless, purposeless fellow called
Chulbul became the chap we now know him to be: a destroyer of evil who is ever
ready with a self-deprecating joke or gesture. By Film 3, he is the ASP of
Tundla, still married to Rajjo (Sonakshi Sinha), a father, and up against a human
trafficking don called Bali Singh played by Kannada star Kichcha Sudeep (his
name is spelt as Sudeepa here).
The writers’ please-all aim in Dabangg 3 leads to many scenes of
unwitting irony. Such as when Chulbul speaks of respect for women and gets
furious at men who refer to women as “maal”
just moments after he is shown dancing to the song Jumme ki raat from the 2014 hit Kick
in which Khan’s own character had picked up Jacqueline Fernandez’s skirt with
his teeth without her knowledge and followed her while dancing. Then there is Chulbul taking a purportedly feminist
stand on dowry and women’s education even as he describes himself as the “rakhwaala” (keeper) of a woman he
intends to marry. The self-consciousness and duality of his
liberalism become exhausting to watch after a while.
Equally exhausting are the
rusty dialogues filled with rhymes, many failed shots at clever wordplay, some
scenes of double entendre and others of downright crudeness.
Sample: Chulbul saying, “Hum
unhi ko tthokte hai jo zaroorat se zyaada bhokte hai” (I only bump off
those who bark too much).
Sample: Rajjo
telling her husband, “hamare petticoat
mein chhed mat karna” (please do not pierce a hole in my petticoat) when he
snatches it away from someone who was fitting a drawstring in it, at which
point hubby eyes her suggestively.
Sample: a
random character who randomly enters a toilet where Chulbul’s brother is doing potty,
at which point we are subjected to gurgling potty sounds.
Sample: Chulbul
impaling his butt on a nail.
Sample: a bad
guy’s crotch falling on a dagger.
Sample: Chulbul dropping his
pants by mistake when he takes off his belt to whip someone.
Sample: Chulbul shooting a junior who asks how he can get a
promotion. I am not kidding –
Chulbul actually fires a gun at his colleague in this scene.
All these
scenes are designed to elicit laughs.
And then there
are lines like this that are no doubt meant to sound smart but do not: Chulbul
saying, “Ek hota hai policewala aur ek
hota hai goonda, hum kehlate hai policewala goonda” (there are policemen and
there are hooligans, and then there are those like me who are police and
hooligan combined).
The story is not even worth
recounting. It feels like a bunch of disparate ingredients hurriedly thrown
together in a cooking pot. So does the music by Sajid-Wajid who have in the
past created so many memorable tunes for Salman Khan starrers. Here they first
recycle the Dabangg title track, then
deliver two numbers that sound like first cousins of Tere mast mast do nain from Dabangg,
one terribly boring song in which Chulbul romances Rajjo and – c’mooon, they’re
not even trying – Munna badnaam hua.
The SFX are bad. Even the
choreography has nothing new to offer, which is odd since the ace
choreographer-cum-dancer Prabhudeva has directed this film.
As far as acting goes, Khan’s
charm wears thin as he tries hard to resurrect that unusual blend of gravitas
and humour that worked so well in Dabangg
in 2010. Here he comes across as almost embarrassingly juvenile.
Sinha has little to do but pout
and look pretty. Her Rajjo is even thrown up in the air by a massive
explosion that somehow leaves her makeup
completely unscathed. Why is this talented women wasting
herself so?
An unimpressive newcomer called
Saiee Manjrekar gets a large supporting
role to which she lends nothing but her smooth complexion and lovely figure.
The rest of the cast hams shamelessly.
Anyone who has
seen Sudeep in his Kannada films knows that he has the charisma to match
Salman, but he does not stand a chance here in Dabangg 3 in the face of a sketchily written character which does
little but showcase his towering physique.
There is so much tomfoolery and
immaturity in this film that the climactic fight sequence comes as a
shock. It is so grossly violent and in-your-face that I could barely bring
myself to look at the screen. (And of course because it is a masala film by a commercially focused director with a major
male star as the lead, it has been given a UA rating instead of the strict A it deserves.)
And no guys, it is no longer
entertaining when two male actors with fabulous bodies take off their shirts
for no reason to engage in fisticuffs. This was a fun device when it was first
introduced, especially because for decades before that, male stars had been
completely careless about their bodies and it was assumed by both the industry
and audiences that only women can and should be objectified. Now though, it is
a boring formula. Gentlemen, we love the fact that you work out, so get your
scriptwriters to find a more imaginative way now to let you display your sexy
torsos, please?
Somewhere in the middle of Dabangg 3, Rajjo tells Chulbul that she
will never again force him to take a ’70s-’80s style kasam (oath). Never mind the context. I do wish Bollywood would
take a kasam here and now to lay
Chulbul Pandey a.k.a. Robinhood Pandey to rest.
Rating (out
of 5 stars): 1.5
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CBFC Rating (India):
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UA
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Running time:
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163 minutes
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This review has also been published on Firstpost:
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