Badhaai Do, Review: No blessing for this messing

Watching Badhaai Do, an old thought re-surfaced. I used to wonder what would happen if, by some quirk of circumstance, a homosexual and a lesbian ended-up marrying each other. Looks like some antenna picked-up this concept and turned it into a lengthy film. Unfortunately, the writers and the director are unable to decide whether they should inject humour or treat it as a tear-jerker. They lean towards the latter, but fail on the mise en scène front and dish out one of the least engaging films in recent times. A few moments are all one can watch with some degree of involvement. For the rest, it is a colossal waste of cinematic resources.

A police officer called Shardul Thakur (I thought he was a cricketer!) is man with rippling muscles and a homosexual. His family is keen on getting him married and finally agree to an alliance with his colleague, a Muslim girl. Too late! She could not wait any longer and has already got married. He meets Suman Singh, a Physical Education teacher, and they do not get along. But Shardul gets an idea and proposes to Suman, literally, and also proposes that getting married would end the pressure their respective families are putting on them to get married, completely unaware of their sexual inclinations. She agrees.

They do not take into account that their families would expect them to produce children as soon as possible, since both are in their thirties, which leads to a volley of lies and excuses. Simultaneously, they continue to have homosexual and lesbian affairs, having shifted to police quarters, far from their parental homes, and living in separate rooms. Shardul brings Kabir along to their honeymoon, while Suman falls for a pathologist, Rimjhim. But Kabir ditches Shardul and falls for another homosexual man, an advocate he meets a gay pride march. On the other hand, the Suman-Rimjhim affairs blossoms. What next? It’s an easy guess. Either they will be caught with their pants/skirts down, or they will confess. In both developments, there will be grave consequences, and ultimate acceptance. The film chooses one path for one protagonist and the other path for the second one, taking no chances.

Including the director, there are three writers: Suman Adhikary, Akshat Ghildial, Harshavardhan Kulkarni. Did the name of the female protagonist come from Suman Adhikary, though he is male? Suman is Senior Creative Director at FCB Ulka and Badhaai Do is probably his first film. For Ghildial, it is a second foray, with a couple of films in the pipeline. What was his first film? You guessed it: Badhaai Ho. Harshavardhan Kulkarni is the son of Kannada poet G.V. (Jeevi) Kulkarni and has been around filmdom for around eight years (Hasee Toh Phasee, Hunterr, Amriki Pandit). Akshat and Suman had been working on this script for almost six years before it got filmed, and having seen Hunterr, a coming of age sex comedy, they suggested Harshavardhan’s name to Junglee Pictures, the producers.

If sympathy for a cause was the only criterion for judging the merits of a tale, this film would score reasonably well. But on most film-making yard-sticks, it falls flat. Let’s talk about the writing. To begin with, it has too many characters, consisting mainly of large families of the protagonists, policemen and lovers. Then it takes ages to get its core subject. In the meanwhile, it brings in the Hindu-Muslim angle, when there is talk of Shardul having a soft corner for a Muslim colleague. The family gives in, but, by that time, the girl is already married. Why did a gay Hindu Shardul even considers marrying a straight Muslim colleague… is beyond comprehension. This is apparent again when we find that Shardul’s first partner is named Kabir, which, though an Arabic name, is also used by other communities, inspired by the name of the unity preaching saint of yore. Both Shardul and Suman are the physically fit types, being a police officer and a Physical Education teacher respectively. Shardul’s gym-toned body is displayed time and again, though when he dresses normally, you feel that the six-packs and twelve-tacks were digitally enhanced. Their physiques conform to stereo-types. The screenplay makes it look very easy to pick-up gay partners: Suman stares at a pathology lab technician and she stares back. The affair is on. Shardul is on duty, supervising a gay parade, and stares at one protestor, and he stares back. There you are. No wonder LGBTQIA+ groups are up in arms against their depiction. Except for a couple of lines, the dialogue is perfunctory, and the intended humour is mainly implied. There is pretty little to laugh about in this venture.

There is talk of Harshavardhan Kulkarni’s earlier directorial venture Hunterr being a cult classic. Since I haven’t seen it, I cannot comment. But I can say with conviction that this film does not have “long legs”, as Hunterr is supposed to have had. Several issues arise, as the film trudges along: predictability, boredom, disbelief, disengagement, disinterest and more. He has caste, ‘title’ gender and religion issues on his plate. Then he brings in a girl from the mountainous north-east as Suman’s partner. It is not possible for the respective gay/lesbian affairs to continue for so long without anybody getting a whiff. Then Shardul is shown as a man who has had or has at least three partners. Suman and Rimjhim have sex with both their bedroom doors and main doors open. Risking being caught by the whole family, Rimjhim comes back while escaping being found out, in a rickshaw, to retrieve her wallet. Humour, anybody? A recurring reference to a stool test, with large and small samples, induces stinks, not winks.

Rajkummar Rao’s muscles, as Shardul, cannot but impress. To his credit, that he has worked on his diction and now sounds better than ever before. He is committed and confident, but severely constricted by the script. So is Bhumi Pednekar (Suman). She has lost a lot of weight and her acting abilities have sharpened too. Seema Pahwa (grandmother) is Seema Pahwa, as she is always. Sheeba Chadhha plays shy, diffident mother to Shardul, who always shapes to say something, only to shake her head. One wonders whether this is a medical condition or just a personality trait. Support from Chum Darang (Rimjhim), Loveleen Mishra, Nitesh Pandey, Shashi Bhushan, Deepak Arora and Hani Yadav is routine, with Chum (from Arunachal Pradesh, making her debut at age 30) being easy on the eyes and ears.

Both, cinematography by Swapnil Sonawane and editing by Kirti Nakhwa leave a lot to be desired. The camera is hardly ever used creatively and the editing is either jerky (on a few occasions) or not matching the cuts on others. The film needed to be at least 27 minutes shorter than the 147 that it clocks. Badhaai Do’s musical score is by Hitesh Sonik and the songs are credited to Amit Trivedi, Tanishk Bagchi, Ankit Tiwari and Khamosh Shah. There are 12 tracks, most of them with heavy synthesised drums, but none to recall after the film.

In Covid times, one looks eagerly forward to any theatrical release that has a press preview as well. Disappointment is all that Badhaai Do offers, and you come out saddened at the colossal waste of talent and resources While its predecessor, in nomenclature only, Badhaai Ho, was at least watchable, this one is not. You are not going to see it? Badhaai Do (Give Felicitations, to you). And for those who brave it to the cinema halls, no blessing for this messing.

Rating: * ½

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HpMsvH7DpPc