That Redux Feel:
The thriller heavy filmography of Neeraj Pandey has given him enough of a following for aspiring writer-directors to want to emulate him, but when so many filmmakers around him want to be Quentin Tarantino, Neeraj Pandey wants to be Yash Chopra– the spirit of Veer Zaara hangs so heavily on his latest Auron Mein Kahan Dum Tha.
The legacy of men in love sacrificing themselves for their beloved in Indian cinema goes back much further, and generations of audiences wept over tales of star-crossed lovers. But times changed, social mores changed and an urban romance is, by and large, bolder than cute gazing from balconies and passing of notes. Self-flagellating heroes are out of vogue. Right from the lofty title (nobody is trying to oppress the hero!), the film keeps aiming to be an epic, and keeps falling short. For a pair to go into slow combust mode, the romance should have greater intensity and a smoulder that goes beyond popping peanuts and have inane dialogue like, “Why does love make us lose sleep!”
Still, there is a youthful charm to Krishna (Shantanu Maheshwari), an orphan who has pulled himself up by the bootstraps, and has a career in computers lined up. He falls in love with chawl neighbour Vasudha (Saiee Manjrekar), who also has dreams of becoming successful and helping her family. These two are so sweet and earnest, they are watchable, even though the loud music (MM Kreem) drowns out any tenderness.
Krishna ends up getting a life sentence for murder, and over the next two decades, grows to be Ajay Devgn, denizen of Arthur Road jail, loved by cops and fellow inmates. While, Vasudha (Tabu) is now a wealthy businesswoman, married to Abhijeet (Jimmy Shergill). The plot actually moves after the first half, when Krishna is released from prison after 22 years. Meanwhile, flashbacks keep up updating the viewer of his memories– the good ones, and that fateful night that wrecked his life.
There was a tragedy right there—a man reluctantly emerging after nearly a quarter of a century into a world that has moved on without him. But there is a loyal chawl buddy Jignesh (Jay Upadhyay) waiting outside to ease his path, and an escape route from the city so absurd, that it must have been thought up just to give Devgn that big prison brawl scene. A gang comes out to attack him – of course it is raining at add to dramatic effect—and then they stand at a distance and come an him one by one. The prison compound has been cleared for this fight, and there are no repercussions to these murders.
The audience– somewhat deafened by the relentless background score—waits for the Krishna-Vasudha reunion. There should have been emotional bombs, but there is some banal dialogue, before Vasudha takes him to her palatial home to meet her civilized husband, with whom Krishna has an equally banal conversation over tea. Because a twist was promised, it is seen coming a mile away, and turns out to be something that makes no difference to the outcome of the story. Or perhaps it just makes Krishna a bigger saint or a chump—depending on who’s watching.
At the end of all the sighing, soulful looks, and controlled emotions – both Devgn and Tabu can do this with practiced ease— there is no storm, no catharsis, not even mild turbulence. Not an audible sniffle, leave aside sobs of collective heartbreak into hankies (tissues). Still, old-style romance in the age of Tinder? Neeraj Pandey deserves a hat-tip for that alone.
(This piece first appeared in rediff.com)
