Rocky Aur Rani Kii Prem Kahani, Review: All rhyme, no reason
When a film tries too hard to please too many viewers, it shows. When it has too many stars, including stars of yesteryear, predictably, its length grows. When the maker goes back three generations and sets one chunk of the story in 1978, the public knows. When a layman at a bus-stop on a rainy night tells you lots about a film he has not seen because, perhaps, he has seen the trailer and read stuff about the movie, you know that’s the way the wind blows. When you read the Saregama credit in the beginning of the film, you can guess this is going to be a film in which music flows. When a director whose last two films were Lust Stories and Ghost Stories, and tries ‘something different’, we all wait to see how it goes. Karan Johar (KJo to his fandom and most media) has released his film called Rocky Aur Rani Kii Prem Kahani yesterday, his tenth directorial outing in twenty-five years (jubilee of sorts), a film that has the longest title among KJo vehicles. It is completely over the top, big-budget, partly funny, partly ridiculous, partly hammed, and a musical overdose that few can equal.
Brash and utterly spontaneous, Punjabi munda (boy, in Punjabi) Rocky Randhawa rocks the dance floor, at an event, much to the chagrin of his father, Tijori, who runs the family business of selling sweet-meats (mithai, Indian candy). Later, at another event, his wheelchair bound grand-father, Kanwal Lund (that’s not a typo) hears a couplet by master Urdu poet, late Firaq Gorakhpuri, and presses on the button, which sends him speeding towards a buxom woman. He kisses her on her cheeks several times, muttering something that sounds like Chandni, Yamini or Jamini. This creates quite a scandal, but Rocky, who is very fond of his grandpa, is amazed that his grand-father, who never spoke after a fall from the stairs in their mansion, actually spoke for the first time in decades.
Back home, Kanwal points to a red book and again mutters the same word. In the book, Rocky finds a black and white picture of woman, being one half of a torn photo and comes across the word Jamini, a Bengali name. With the help of his pal Vicky, his friend and a gymnasium owner, he sits on the computer and searches for Jamini. His search takes him to Rani Chatterji, a Bengali TV host who works for India TV. Rani has just ripped apart a male chauvinist politician on air and the show has created a sensation. Rocky and Vicky arrive there, carrying the picture, and ask Rani to identify the woman. She confirms that it is her mother Jamini. They ask her to help in arranging a meeting between Kanwal and Jamini. Rani, who is already smitten by Rocky, agrees. Several meetings are arranged over a period of time, and, in the process, Rocky and Rani fall for each other. Rani takes it as a physical attraction and fling at first, but Rocky’s amazing and impetuous personality, coupled with his lack his sense of humour and lack of knowledge of the English language both amuse and captivate her. He is her exact opposite. Soon, Rocky declares his desire to marry her, but she is concerned that the two families will never let them be at peace, being so different. Suddenly, an idea strikes her: both will swap homes for three months and try to win over their respective in-laws to be.
Three writers have penned the script of Rocky Aur Rani Kii Prem Kahani, two of them Bengali. Their names are Ishita Moitra, Shashank Khaitan and Sumit Roy. Shashank could be from Rajasthan, or Delhi, just guessing. No wonder there is so much Bengali. The Chatterji family spouts a lot of Bengali, but lest they forget, this is a Hindi film. So they switch to lingua franca very fast. Of course, there is a lot of English too, with Rani’s mother being a Professor of English. In the Randhawa family, there is not so much Punjabi, I felt, but lots of Hindi. And they don’t break into English, because the main character, Rocky, is week in Inglis (no, no, no…these are not typos). Both families are alcohol friendly. In the case of the Chatterjis, the mother, Anjali, has a relatively smaller role, as does Tijori Randhawa. Going one generation above, the writers have restricted Kanwal’s role by, most of the time, confining him to a wheel-chair. On the other hand, Jamini Chatterji is active and eloquent. It seems strange that whenever there is a scene at the Randhawa family house, all its occupants are always home. The only two times we see them outside are in a board meeting and on a Sunday at the factory, when the matriarch, Dhanlakshmi Randhawa is following an old tradition. Like-wise for the Chatterjis. Chandon, Rani’s father, is a kathak dancer, and we do see him dance and conduct classes in his own compound. But for that, everybody’s home, either eating or drinking.
Humour is of the kind where Rocky shows his ignorance, when asked by Rani to test his general knowledge, by naming Rajendra Prasad as the President of India. Dr. Rajendra Prasad was the first President of India, while the incumbent is a lady, Draupadi Murmu. He then argues that she did not specify first or current. He also makes a very strong case for using half an abusive term, just because he happens to be from Delhi. When a song about ‘strings’ plays in the background, Rocky unfastens Rani’s skimpy blouse’s ‘string’. When the two lovers decide to trade places, the two families come along with their off-spring, as if it is an exchange of prisoners/spies on a bridge. It is funny. Point is, who goes to whose house? Both could not have been neighbours! Dhanlakshmi vows to make life hell for Rani when she comes to stay with the Randhawas, but every time someone over-rules her, particularly Rani, all she does is cock an expression. No slaps, no hysterics, no breakdowns. The way the two life partners-to-be try to win over their in-laws is way too predictable.
In his 25th year as director, 51 year-old Karan Johar’s reputation precedes him. KJo’s fandom supersedes him. Expectations are sky high. The film rests largely on the extra-marital dalliance in 1978 of two individuals who are now in their 70s/80s now, dichotomy of cultures of the young pair and the experiment of ‘house-guests’. While there is some novelty in the ‘44 years ago love story’, fresh new thinking is seen in the trading places segment, though one cannot help pointing out the inspiration, Trading Places (1983). Here is why: “Randolph and Mortimer Duke, brothers, own a commodities brokerage firm. Holding opposing views on the issue of ‘nature versus nurture’, they make a wager, and agree to conduct an experiment—switching the lives of two people on opposite sides of the social hierarchy and observing the results.” Clash of cultures is nothing new, and we have seen numerous films made on the issue.
Interestingly, Johar swaps the persona attributed to Alia Bhatt for many years – that of a dumb bimbette, very low on GK – for a smart, intellectual, knowledgeable, super-confident, even egotistical woman of her times. With Ranveer Singh, he does not try any such thing. The kind of character he is made to portray is something he can do blind-folded. KJo decides to take a dig at almost everything: obesity, males dancing kathak, treating of Indian classical dance as passé and ludicrous, the fixation with English language as a measure of sophistication, matriarchal and patriarchal societies, where the head of the family rules like a despot, some leaders’ unpardonable justification of rape (not particularly well directed, though), male-female equality, etc. Accents are more or less in keeping with the linguistic backgrounds, but for Kshitee Jog as Poonam Randhawa, Rocky’s mother. The Marathi native lingo accent does surface occasionally. If anybody wants to learn the art of wooing, he just needs to see what Ranveer is doing: flamboyant, king-size. One five-star hotel’s lobby is passed off as the Randhawa residence, in some scenes. There is not a single character who might be classified as even middle class. Well, except for Vicky, but even he is not shown as coming from a modest background. The Rajshri Productions’ hangover, which Johar has admitted publicly, is on display in many a scene. There is no villain and not a single blow is thrown.
By the time the first song is over, you would have seen all there is to see of Varun Dhawan, Ananya Panday, Sara Ali Khan and Janhvi Kapoor. In total, they probably clock one minute of screen time. Dharmendra as Kanwal Lund (his original surname, which was changed to Randhawa), Rocky’s grandfather, has that trade-mark vulnerable look about him, though when he speeds his wheel-chair towards a woman guest, and keeps pecking her cheek, is in poor taste. Jaya Bachchan as Dhanlakshmi Randhawa, Rocky’s grandmother, once again shows the stuff she is made of. Wish she had more to do. Shabana Azmi as Jamini Chatterjee, Rani’s grandmother, is better than her best and glides through her part. Ranveer Singh as Rocky Randhawa basks in the role. A clay model actor, who can be moulded by deft directors, he does more of the same, with élan. Alia Bhatt as Rani Chatterji gets a lot of meaningful dialogue to deliver, and comes across as an actress to contend with.
Tota Roy Chowdhury as Chandon Chatterjee, Rani’s father, surprises us with his kathak. Is he a trained dancer? Churni Ganguly as Anjali Chatterjee, Rani’s mother, reminds me of many Bengali women I have met. Having real Bengalis as Bengalis makes things so much easier. Aamir Bashir as Tijori Randhawa, Rocky’s father, has a rather undefined role at hand, but shows potential. Kshitee Jog as Poonam Randhawa, Rocky’s mother, exhibits both opposing shades with confidence. Anjali Anand as Gayatri “Golu” Randhawa, Rocky’s sister, who is almost as bad, if not worse than her brother at English, chooses to say orgasm instead of organise. Haven’t seen much of her, but hope to. Abhinav Sharma as Vicky, Rocky’s friend, has a few moments, while Namit Das as Sumen Mitra (called derogatorily “Sonam” by Rocky) plays a loser, and that required talent too. Director Akashdeep Sabir, seen in The Night Manager, gets to perform as the politician on Alia’s show. It is a brief, negative role. Also seen are Kashish Rizwan as young Dhanlakshmi and Benazir Shaikh as Minty, Vicky’s bride.
Cinematography by Manush Nandan trains lenses on some fluff and stuff, glam and glitz, competently, but in the second half, the camera shakes. Editing by Nitin Baid is an example of having too much on his table, which he manages to restrict to 168 calories (read minutes). Four songs by Pritam are melodious, but they compete with a dozen or more songs of yore, mostly in versions, courtesy Saregama. Two of them can be mentioned here: Jhumka gira re (Mera Saaya, 1966, Madan Mohan) and ‘Aajaa mere gaadee men baeth jaa’ (Miss 420, 1998, Anu Malik). ‘Jhumka’ should have been left alone. Aajaa sounds as if it is retained in the original voice of Baba Sehgal, who made his acting debut in this film, directed by Akashdeep Sabir. These songs assume an identity of their own, and while they appeal to nostalgia, they seem contrived in the film’s situations. By and large, these rhymes seem to come up for no reason.
Rocky Aur Rani Kii Prem Kahani is not one story, neither is it one film. Either way, it is not compelling enough to laud or applaud.
Rating: **
