Two small time crooks, who have an addiction for trouble is a tried and tested cinematic construct. This week Subhash Kapoor brings his variants of Jai and Veeru and presses them in the service of a higher cause with some fresh ammunition. Laced with earthy humour and driven by revenge, it is an entertainer that emanates from the disturbing social reality of honour killing and to his credit Kapoor, for the most part, manages to seamlessly blend the two. Set in Bollywood’s latest hotspot, Haryana, the screenplay is brimming with corrupt cops, overreaching khaps and a brazen crime lord who uses caste for his political agenda.
Amidst this dystopian setting, emerge Guddu and Rangeela (Amit Sadh and Arshad Warsi), two orchestra singers who earn a little extra by passing information about their hosts to gangsters. They invite trouble but are not brazen. Along with irreverence there is certain vulnerability about Guddu and Rangeela that makes you feel for their safety. Talking of irreverence, it is dripping from the first scene where Rangeela sings a mata ka bhajan at a ceremony to celebrate the granting of Kenyan visa to village headman’s son. It is exaggeration but not too far from reality and Kapoor holds this thread throughout the film.
And even as it begins to sag as a crime caper, Kapoor drops the backstory of Rangeela. As one of the characters suggests with this personal touch, crime becomes passionate and the narrative acquires the much needed depth. In fact, there is more on his table than we expect and the good thing is Kapoor chews all of it in two hours.
Give it to his journalistic background, his observations of police and khaps are deliciously nuanced. The scene about what police can do is a riot and the way he drops names of Osama Bin Laden and Saddam Hussain in a seemingly casual conversation drawing parallel between the local and global socio-political reality, it stirs your imagination.
He raises the issue of honour killing in a format that is easily palatable but doesn’t hold back his punches when it comes to the crux. Along the way the film also answers why protagonists from lower castes usually have no surnames in society, and in films. The CBFC has muted many words to make it appear as a generic conflict but the photo of late Kanshi Ram in the backdrop spills the lower caste background of Guddu and Rangeela. And in the climax when Kapoor’s imaginatively brings out the audacious expression of simmering discontent beneath our feet, one can feel the goose bumps.
Arshad and Amit don’t get carried away by the atmospherics and keep the characters grounded. Arshad is suitably subdued and Amit charms his way even when he is expected to churn out jokes on nether regions.
Not known to give his female characters enough bite, Kapoor has tried to be different this time by having three strong characters. He cannot justify all of them but gives them at least some space to breath. Aditi Rao Hydari is particularly captivating as Baby whose eyes and pout hide a lot than her silence reveals. Unfortunately, in the melee that ensues in the second half, her character arc is cut short leaving one disappointed.
The Haryanvi accent comes and goes. In times of Kusum Sangwan, there is no space for grace marks on diction. And when you have the likes of Rajiv Gupta and Amit Sial in the support cast, who, if given a window, can run away with the scene, any laxity on the part of lead players doesn’t go unnoticed. The unsung Gupta as cop Gulab Singh, in fact, livens up many usual scenes with his deadpan humour. So does Ronit Roy at the other end of the spectrum. As Billo Pehelwan he provides a potent counterpoint to Guddu and Rangeela. His cold blooded eyes and hot-headed ways, lend flash and blood to a character, who uses tradition as a tool to further his nefarious agenda.
It is these characters and performances that keep us engaged when the writing loses its bite. Not as jolly as Kapoor’s last outing but has enough meat to last a meal.
Genre: Drama/ Comedy
Director: Subhash Kapoor
Cast: Arshad Warsi, Amit Sadh, Aditi Rao Hydari, Ronit Roy, Shriswara
