Some golden rules of our cinema:
triangles are sad, quadrangles are bitter; When love cannot find solutions,
cancer is an effective alternative remedy; just like all glitter is not gold
all gloss is not happiness. All those who can sing have a distinct chance of
wooing the lady in waiting even if he cannot have her for keeps. Welcome to the
world of Karan Johar which is high on style and even fabricated emotions and
low on intellect. His success rate points out clearly that he empathises with
the view of the majority and the license of the creator to choose his area of
work conceded.
Somewhere in Europe at a Bar the shy and recluse Ayan (Ranbhir) runs into the
outgoing extrovert Alizeh (Anushka). Blame it on the promos and the media and
the promos we know that this love pair are carrying baggage. However, it takes
a long, long time for the closet to crack. So after nearly an hour of the
romance(?) we are given a peep into the emotional scars that Alizeh is
carrying. She is in love with DJ Ali (Fawad) whose stay is the script is
decided by the muscle of power in the country. Be that as it may, and we (the
viewer and the country) move on, and we have the triangle pushing one. We then
move to the theory: Self-hate is more harmful than hate towards others. The
latter questions man’s relationship with man the first implicates man’s
relationship to God.
Ayan now meets up with Saba (Aishwarya) who like most other emotional coolies
carries baggage. She is a poet and her publications reflect the scars in her
matrimonial experience with her past Tahir (faded, hamming Shah Rukh Khan).
After a tempestuous relationship they fall out and the main artists catch up
with one another and the bruises of the past erupt with fresh wounds in place.
Hidden in the closet is a relationship, out in the show case in an association.
While Ayan the recluse romanticist is yearning for romance, Alizeth the cynic
has just come out a relationship is wary and naturally is comfortable with a
friendship. The start of the relationship (whatever name you may give it)
starts on a flippant note but the chemistry of the two gets the better of them.
Pyar mein junoon hai dosti mein sukhoon hai – is the clear stance of one
while the other is aching for romance and love.
Built in a world of Karan Johar characters, each character except Shah Rukh
Khan is etched credibly if not in detail. For long very long, the film maker
spends time and energy building the relationship between Ayan and Alizeth. The
predictable crazy romantic line in which the earlier part of the film takes is
misleading and if you survive it you could be ready for the most mature Karan
Johar product till date.
Aishwarya Rai looks stunning – which is her ticket to fame. Never very
pretentious of her acting she keeps that intact. She comes in as the reluctant
but heady seductress walks out of the script in haste with relieved assurance
that with her goes Shah Rukh Khan who any way looks woefully out of place.
The film belongs at one level to Pritam and his music. It also has some fine
dialogues and poetry: sample the ones like stated before and: Zid mere hai kyon
ki dil mera hai; mein kisi ki zaroorat nahi, kisi ki kwaish banna chahti hoon.
Take the reference to Noorjehan’s master piece old classic mujko pehle se mohabat
mere Mehboob na mang shows the film is sensitive. It is dealt with raw honesty
and credibility. However, with Karan Johar you need to curtail his indulgence,
ration his stock, clip his shots edit his shoot. Nothing can justify 170
minutes of the tale and considering that a part of it was politically edited!!
The film however surely belongs to the brilliance of the lead pair: the
extremely talented Ranbhir and the fizz filled Anushka. They both add dollops
of credibility and sincerity to the roles. They punch their script to life and
credibility. They sustain the film, hide its shortcomings, attract the young in
the audience and retain the rest with the power packed performances they are
capable of. The film is built around the premise that Ellie Wiesel once said:
An invisible force compels me to walk a stretch of road, my head bowed or held
high, alone or at another’s side – and we call that life.
Rating: 3
– Unacceptably long
– + Performances.
L. Ravichander.