Alvida For Good
As the curtains rise, you see the sun rise above the Manhattan skyscrapers, sweet harmony of the violin fill the air even as a mild gale sweeps the freshly fallen autumn leaves across Brooklyn Bridge, and you know you are in marshmallow candy land. The audience breaks into applause as the Dharma Productions symbol graces the screen. But Alas! The KJ magic fails to deliver- and the hit goes wide, wide off the target.
So whatever happened to the equation “Big banner + Big star cast + Chartbuster music = Blockbuster of the year”? Owe it all to one of the lousiest scripts written in recent times- lousy not only in its premise, but also in its description. Two bitter couples with constant differences of opinion and lifestyle just can’t get enough of sniping at each other. On one hand, you have this unsuccessful soccer player whose dreams and career come crashing down with a permanent cripple, who then remains permanently caustic because his career-minded wife races far ahead in achieving her ambition. On the other hand, you have a doting husband who adores his wife to the fullest, but she sulks 24/7 because she can’t seem to “find true love”. (What were you thinking of while tying the nuptial knot, Rani?)
So far, so good, however. The movie proceeds in a sensible method for the first hour, providing splendid cinematography, decent music, and the trademark KJ dance number in an unbelievably huge mansion with the Bachchan duo gyrating in the midst of twenty odd white sirens. If nothing much, it at least promises to keep some hope kindled in anticipation of something exciting ahead. And voila! Here comes the twist: SRK and Rani, after scores of tiffs with their respective spouses, discover in each other the love and amiability they have always longed for. How? Don’t ask- it’s Bollywood.
I think our poor director forgot while directing the first half that Indian movies have to stretch three hours and beyond. So in the first half, things move at whirlwind pace, as two embittered souls, almost strangers to each other, find panacea in each other over half a dozen cups of coffee on the streets of New York. And then on one gloomy night, they have an acerbic verbal duel with their better halves, walk out on them, meet at a station and rather impulsively declare their newfound love to each other.
Then in the second half, KJ finds that he has little left to tell us, and a lot of our time to kill. So he drags the film like crazy, repeatedly showing how the two lovebirds shamelessly continue their clandestine affairs under their loyal partners’ noses, till their conscience pinches so hard that they confess the truth. Deservedly, they are kicked out by Abhishek and Preity, out of their homes and out of their lives. At this point, had sense of logic and mercy on the poor audience prevailed, the director would have given the final cut right there. But hold on, we are far from having completed three hours! And more importantly, you need to have a happy ending. So we have another marathon session where the two lament over their mistakes for three long years. And after this is done, you find SRK on his knees in front of Rani, having defeated all pangs of guilt, suggesting to her that they should serve their comeuppance for their past mistakes together. How very convenient, ain’t it? Kudos to the new definition of morality. So listen out all ye unfaithful men in the world: you have nothing to fret about, because if your wife shows you the door, you can go look for another woman who is in the same boat, and all your woes shall be solved.
SRK provided hope in the first half of the film that he had learnt the art of emoting in moderation, but disappointed in the latter half. Rani carried a zombie-like expression throughout the movie as though she was coerced into doing the film. Preity was passable, but then there was nothing much for her in the film anyway. The music could be given some credit, but will be a fleeting fad at best. If there’s anything that might redeem the movie, it was the dynamism of the Bachchan duo. Amitabh is, as usual, splendid, be it in carrying the “Sexy Sam” image of a man who works his charm around every chick in town, or as the concerned father who prays that his son’s marriage be saved from wreckage. Abhishek, too, has come into his own, and once again shows immense acting prowess throughout the movie.
My thumbs down to the director, though. We would expect him to do much better than that. The humour he has tried to inject is nothing short of being crass. Double entendres and obscene gestures don’t always get the audience roaring, especially if the artistes enacting them are misfits. There are also some basic flaws in the movie, like SRK and Preity having from their five-year old marriage a son who looks no less than seven. Let’s not analyze that aspect, though, for this sensitive angle potentially provides an entirely new plot to KJ’s sequel to KANK, which, much to our dismay, might hit the screens in the near future. When you are competing with the likes of RDB and Omkara, merely presenting a mega star cast and good music will not suffice. I hope the director comes up with something better next time.
