Review: Rocky Aur Rani Kii Prem Kahaani
It’s been a while since I saw a solid, sumptuous ‘hindi picture’ — the kind that makes you whistle in the seats, out-sing the sound system, and dance in the aisles. I walked into Rocky Aur Rani kii Prem Kahaani expecting anything but that, since the promos had convinced me that Karan Johar had taken a sharp left into the David Dhawan school of filmmaking. Much to my surprise, the film delivered on all those characteristics, and delivered something even those ‘hindi pictures’ rarely do - it was up to date. It’s always interesting to see a filmmaker take a look back his(or her) own filmography, and see what they felt they need to change; Sooraj Barjatya had done it with Uunchai just last year, and failed miserably. Unfortunately, more often than not, this relook starts off with great gumption and falls prey to habit somewhere along the way. We are all victims of habit, hoping to transform into better, more mature, more self aware people. Johar uses this transformation as a narrative trope in this film, and maneuvers it with a lightness of touch that hints at his own self awareness. He challenges a lot of the problems his earlier films had(fatphobia, misogyny, homophobia). A replay of the “keh diya na, bas keh diya” quip from K3G had me and several others in my audi wolf-whistling. Through the film, we see transformations — characters explaining their mistakes, promising to reform, and changing into better people. In his older films, this transformation was spurred on by astronomical difficulty - in K3G, Shah Rukh Khan had go into a ten-year-log exile before Amitabh Bachchan would ask a for forgiveness with fairly gaslight-ey undercurrents; in My Name is Khan, it took a hurricane for Kajol to realise her love for Shah Rukh Khan and apologise. But though delayed, those transformations were always instant. Here, it’s simple - a monologue may unveil hidden reservoirs of confidence in characters, but they undergo full arcs before they can express themselves freely, making transformations seem neither arbitrary or abrupt. Beware though, because by the time Rani delivers speech number eight(I counted) to a character about how they must break free of the patriarchy, I was ready to throw hands. The self-referencing is also turned into a narrative trope (you can spot a reference a minute). There are countless callbacks to old films and old songs - my favourites being a callback to Abhi Na Jao Chhodkar from Hum Dono, which left me as full of awe as when Pankaj Kapur had used it in Mausam; and a character announcing her freedom by singing Aaj Phir Jeene Ki Tamanna Hai from Guide. It made me so happy that after years of self-referencing himself in films like I Hate Luv Storys, Shaandaar and Dostana, Karan Johar has learnt the difference between winking and wanking at us. The references serve a purpose beyond pure nostalgia. The older ones invoke a softer, more romantic time, without dating the film. Even the newer, more light-hearted references serve a purpose - the use of Aaja Meri Gaadi Mein Baith Ja adds to Rocky’s West Delhi/Greater Gurgaon persona. I found myself chuckling at the use of Meri Pyaari Bindu from Padosan in the Namit Das track. The only reference they could have done without was the use of Suno Suno Miss Chatterjee in a romantic moment which needed more softness, and less foot-tapping. This invoking of the past is reflected in the writing as well - the characters don’t converse with each other. they speak in dialogue. Characters say things like “Nazar kharab aapki aur pardah kare hum?” and “Aapne mujhe sanskaar nahin diye, ahankar diya hai”. They have so much swagger, you can taste them. The showdowns in the film are satisfyingly melodramatic, and one would expect no less - characters are engaged in such over-the-top conflict that the skies thunder in disapproval. Unfortunately though, the same drama was missing in the songs. Tum Kya Mile and Ve Kamleya are beautiful melodies(even if terrifyingly banal in their arrangement), but Dhindora Baaje Re, which plays out as a pivot for the story just pre-climax was upsettingly underwhelming and insipid. It may not have worked in Pritam’s favour that we hear his music in the same sitting as some of the most memorable tunes from Hindi films. As for the performances, they were just outstanding - Ranveer and Alia both pull off two very difficult things - Ranveer plays an outlandish, uncouth, near repulsive character while endearing us to him, and Alia shows us both her condescention/amusement at Rocky and her endearment to him. I think Ranveer will get more praise for his character - it’s the kind of character that shouts out at you to tell you how well the actor is acting, but Alia does a better job — Rani is put in situations which call for ‘dialoguebaazi’ but nothing seems contrived or put-on. I was particularly impressed by a scene where she comes up with a solution for a problem in Rocky’s family business, but does so without the magic-wand waving of a Hrishikesh Mukherjee character. Instead, she plays the line with an undercurrent of surprise - as though she came upon the answer by accident. As for the million dollar question - do the leads share chemistry? The answer is a resounding YES. They share chemistry, and more importantly, comfort. It’s not the electric kind(like SRK-Kajol in all those other KJo films or Ranbir-Anuska in Ae Dil). Alia and Ranveer just fit. They share an easy comfort with each other, and we understand that they are meant to be with each other, because they make each other happy, and sometimes, it’s just that simple. The supporting cast is also stellar - Shabana Azmi, Tota Roy Chaudhury, Churni Ganguly, Aamir Bashir, Kshitee Jog and Anjali Anand are such fun. I did, however want to check on Dharmendra, who seemed like the light was going to go out of his eyes any minute. Jaya Bachchan seemed to be borrowing her mannerisms from Chacha Choudhary comics and Amrish Puri, trembling in anger and staring into the distance while delivering heavy duty dialogues. The film does justify this bigness and melodrama to a great extent though. There are no normal locations, normal clothes and normal people in this world, only magic. Johar’s idea of a chandni chowk akhara is laughable, but the colours are so vibrant and the lights so bright that you go along for the ride. Why complain about the lack of realism when you are being treated to some of the most beautiful people and places on film? There are enough things to complain about - the bengali family was annoyingly free of fault(something I’m sure all the Bhadralok had no problem with); I found the Shabana-Dharmendra track unconvincing and problematic, even though it was charming; and the Dhindora Baaje Re sequence was a bit too flashy for my liking - but all in all, Rocky Aur Rani is the best thing I did with three hours in my day, and I left the cinema hall with my heartbeat thudding in my ears, my soul nourished and my love for hindi cinema replenished.
