Bezubaan Ishq, Review: Very little to say

This silent, tongue-less (literal translation of the word Bezubaan; ishq means love) tale revolves around three middle-aged friends and their families. Mansukh Patel (Sachin Khedekar) is an NRI toy manufacturer residing with his British wife, Lisa (Alexandra Ashman) and daughter Rumjhum (Sneha Ullal) in London, UK. Though the Patels live in London, they haven't forgotten their Indian traditions and values. Mansukh's younger brother, Rashmikant (Darshan Jariwala), lives in Mumbai with his daughter, Suhani (Mugdha Godse). Having lost his wife early in life, Rashmikant is a protective father and pampers Suhani, fulfilling all her demands, though often cautioned by his worrisome mother, Savitri (Farida Jalal), lovingly called Cinderella (!) by her grand-daughter.

Rashmikant's childhood friend, Vipul (Muni Jha) is also his business partner. He lives with his wife, Laxmi (Smita Jaykar) and son, Swagat (Nishant Malkani). Suhani and Swagat have been childhood pals, though he does not really love her. Suhani is a carefree, open-hearted girl. Swagat is more subdued in nature. Yet, when a drunk Suhani is attacked by a bunch of world-be rapists after gyrating her hips out in pub/disco, Swagat exhibits state-of-the-martial-art prowess, beats them to a pulp, and rescues her. Following this (could be a mere co-incidence), Suhani demands an Audi car as a birthday gift from her father, and when she doesn’t get one due to a long waiting list, she develops (could be a mere co-incidence), a condition called IED (no no, not Improvised Explosive Device, silly, but Intermittent Explosive Disorder). The disease causes tantrums and fainting fits, and one Dr. D’souza reveals that it is incurable. But hold on…he buckles under pressure and recommends marriage as the only possible cure. Things begin to fall in place, with Swagat the ideal groom, till Rumjhum and her parents come to visit India. Demure and caring, Rumjhum finds herself more than welcome (swagat in Hindi) in Swagat’s life, and the triangle is now complete.

Eternal triangles have been among the easiest one-liners to adapt into screenplays. Most successful variations on this theme include Andaz (the late 40s), Devdas (50s), Sangam, Arzoo (60s), Sajan (1991) and Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam (1999). Regrettably, Bezubaan Ishq is not quite in the same league. A reference to Khilona (1970), written by pulp novelist wherein a prostitute (Mumtaz) is hired to cure manic depressive Sanjeev Kumar through a mock marriage, is in order. Khilona was handled very maturely, though even 45 years ago, some filmgoers did question the line of treatment. In 2015, the disease has metamorphosed into IED, and a genuine marriage is only waiting to happen.

Co-producer, writer and director Jashwant Gangani (hitherto known for making Gujarati serials and films) might want to forget his Hindi film debut, particularly if its only worth talking about assets are some songs and visuals. Dialogue writer Sanjay V. Shah either handicapped by vocabulary or has worked in a language milieu that does not lend itself easily to the Hindi film ethos. Rhymes are puerile, and used for no rhyme or reason. A gratis introductory voice-over is completely redundant, as is the awkward and terribly written scene with a gay salesman. Most scenes are shot without make-up or very subtle make-up, so subtle that it is rendered ineffective. That in itself would not have been such a bad thing, if there was a point to it. As a result, Suhani, a glamour-struck Westernised girl, appears extra dark and far from beautiful.

Language is a chapter by itself. All are supposed to be Gujaratis, but the only Gujarati actor in the cast is Darshan Jariwala (pray, why?). He does register the correct Gujarati accent quite naturally, but lo! He pronounces Urdu words to near-perfection! Soniya Mehta, as the woman who runs a resort called Love Nest in Rajasthan, might have Gujarati origins, to go by her surname, but speaks with a mix of Marathi and limping English pronunciation. Native Urdu speaker Farida Jalal does just that—speak like a native Urdu speaker, although she is supposed to be a Septuagenarian Gujarati grandmother. Sachin Khedekar is a Hindi and Marathi actor of repute, and maybe it is too much for him to try Gujarati intonation now. Muni Jha, who looks too much like another actor, a native Gujarati speaker but multi-lingual by training, called Kenneth Desai, speaks like any Jha would. Smita Jaykar (Ajab Prem Ki Ghazab Kahani, Devdas, Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam, spiritual healer too) gives us a tad Gujarati accent, only for taste. Now for the flip side of the coin: Dr. D’souza, who could hardly be anyone except a Goan or a Mangalorean Christian, speaks with the most pronounced Gujarati accent heard in the entire film! (Dwelling on language in this film might be a misguided exercise, sine the film has very little to say anyway).

Mugdha Godse (Marathi origins, former model, semi-finalist at the Femina Miss India 2004 competition, seen in Fashion, All The Best: Fun Begins, Jai, Help, Gali Gali Chor Hai, Will You Marry Me?) should have taken Gujarati lessons for the film, and must take Hindi lessons in a hurry, if she wants to make any impact with her next Hindi film. Sneha Ullal (Tulu/Sindhi, Muscat-born, Aishwarya Rai's look-alike; Lucky--No Time for Love, returning to the silver screen after a long absence) is not too bad with her Hindi, but remember she is playing a thoroughbred Gujarati. As far as Nishant Malkani (Sindhi, Dubai-born, was doing MBA from IIM Kolkata in hotel management; got into modelling by chance, bagged TV serials Sasural Genda Phool, Miley Jab Hum Tum and Ram Milaye Jodi; film credit: Horror Story) goes, he can just about pass muster with his Hindi and perhaps somebody just forgot that the hero was showcasing a select band of Gujaratis, interacting within the community.

Acting-wise, Sneha speaks softly and underplays well, transposed against the jetsetter Mugdha, who tries hard, but is unable to make much sense of a poorly written part. Nishant is one of those macho, muscle-flexing, brooding, silent types, except he is not silent, and his slit-eyed mid-close shots and close-ups betray little emotion, and neither does his face. Dialogue delivery is not his forté either. Whatever happened to all that television work?

Music by Rupesh Verma and Babli Haque deserved better situations, yet three of the seven tracks are above par. Mugdha’s disco number, which is as close to an item song as can get, is well-choreographed (credit unknown), well edited (Paresh Y. Manjrekar), and well sung by Shalmalee Kholgade. It is the only song from the pen of Prashant Ingole, other lyrics being the handiwork of director Gangani himself. From the CD details, it appears the producers have had to release the album themselves, which is a pity.

Rating: *1/2 (The extra half star is on account of some good music and appealing visuals).

Trailer: http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x2ryrrl