Producer: Aditya Chopra
Cast: Bobby Deol, Abhishek Bachchan, Preity Zinta, Lara Dutta, Piyush Mishra and Amitabh Bachchan
Bollywood is identified foremost by the song and dance capers that are churned out in great numbers every year. This genre of the 'musical' or 'musical drama' is not only our USP, it is argued, but also our unique cinematic identity. And as far as musical extravaganzas go, Yash Raj Films (more so since Aditya Chopra took over) seems to monopolize this territory. Moreover, Yash Raj is an auteur in its own right, and leaves the stamp of its brand on all its products. Directors come and go, but Yash Raj elements stay – an overall look that suggests a whopping budget, a combination of the most saleable stars, half a dozen songs that are lavishly picturised, foreign locations, and Punjabi characters and cultural references (lately also a Pakistan-fixation). What little remains must be the director’s territory and Shaad Ali Sahgal seems to fit in well here.
Seen in its purest intentions, Jhoom Barabar Jhoom (JBJ) could be the story of Rikki Thukral (Abhishek Bachchan), a Punjabi immigrant in Europe who is involved in everything that has illegal written on it and Alvira Khan (Preity Zinta), an educated British Muslim of Pakistani origin. There’s a lot to keep them away from each other – apart from their class difference, one is from India, the other from Pakistan, and they are shown engaged to different people. But Rikki and Alvira do fall in love, and after several misunderstanding s and complications come together. But they never were engaged in the first place, both had lied in their initial wariness of each other. Their tales of love, both imagined and real, could be the stuff the fantasies of immigrants (with hopes and dreams of finding love and bearings) are made of. And the final twist is the possibility that these characters and incidents were imagined by an old gypsy singer (Amitabh Bachchan) who sees the world go by, and has spun a mirthful yarn for us. Even with its nods to Chicago, The Usual Suspects and some of our own films and music, this would have been an honourable intention.
But the way these stories actually play out in the film – exaggerated, thinly laid out and rushed - the wise gypsy now seems to be laughing at the audience’s credulity. If Bunty aur Bubly had the con-protagonists having fun at others’ expense, JBJ needed the filmmaker as the 'con-artist' who could use this inventive narrative form and keep the story alive. Unfortunately, JBJ starts with a forcefully plotted chance meeting, where Rikki and Alvira behave as if they are on some hormonal high and hit on each other from the word go. While waiting for trains at a London station, these total strangers fall into telling stories of their love lives down to intimate details. Rikki Thukral’s story is everyman’s dream where a rich, sophisticated girl with a French accent (Lara Dutta) falls hopelessly in love with him – the penniless, conman, smuggler, him. In Alvira’s story, we see little variation theme-wise – she is saved from certain death by a modern knight, a super rich lawyer (Bobby Deol) who lives in a grand palace. After the regular flower and chocholates, they get engaged. Now, after declaring their engaged status, in an unexplained and sudden interlude, Rikki and Alvira drop their love interests and are in India, visiting gurudwaras and mosques, discovering similarities between their two communities (Sikh and Muslim). This second bout of reverie over, they go separate ways, only to realize they have fallen in love with each other. But not before the film clarifies that the new condition is 'legit', that they were actually 'free' to do so. We learn that the stories Rikki and Alvira were telling about their lovers were actually fictitious. This 'secret' revealed early on, the denouement of the film, which isn’t much, drags through the entire second half of the film. The film seems to be a compilation of failed intentions.
However, for the 'family audience' that these films are targeted at, one must hazard another reading – there are, as expected, plentiful songs and dances, half-witted one-liner jokes in Gujarati, Punjabi, Urdu and even Cockney, an overdose of foreign locations (from the Eiffel Tower to the Louvre Museum, to Notre Dame Cathedral and the London Bridge, with the Taj Mahal thrown in as bonus) t o give 'paisa vasool' to the Indian audience and have kids clapping at their favourite Preity aunty and Abhishek uncle having a ball. Put this way, it's rocking. Innit?
One cannot really complain about the performances. Abhishek Bachchan manages to get a hold on the street smart Rikki Thukral, and maintains it to the end. Preity Zinta with her put-on Cockney accent comes out rather clean in her undemanding role. Lara Dutta is bindaas in doubling up as a French-speaking hotelier and a London prostitute, whereas Bobby Deol seems ignored by the filmmakers. We have already hazarded a guess on what Amitabh Bachchan’s character was meant to play, but, he is no ‘sutradhar’ who uses the song to push the narrative of the film. With no speaking lines, Bachchan does his bit in singing the same one song throughout the film.
The technical finesse of JBJ – production design, camerawork, special effects – shows. But what sticks out is its title song that plays half a dozen times during the film and carpet bombs the entire climax. The song thumps you into a numbness that is meant to allow no thinking. Which serves the film, for the song quite literally asks you to mindlessly 'jhoom', never mind the senselessness of it all.
A final word: reviews won’t count here. A Yash Raj musical extravaganza is backed with equally extravagant promotions. Aggressive marketing combined with the humungous number of prints released simultaneously all over the country will ensure packed houses for several days. As you too are likely to make a beeline – so just Jhoom. Jhoom barabar jhoom barabar jhoom barabar…
Awwight!
(This review had first appeared on www.upperstall.com)
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