Raanjhanaa feel, and an insipid deal

A director, even an acclaimed one, can certainly be forgiven for refusing to move out of the mould of one of his biggest blockbusters. Expecting yet another ‘Raanjhanaa’ from Aanand L Rai would not be a grave folly, on his part and ours. But when the film, this week’s major theatrical outing ‘Tere Ishk Mein’, reminds you of more than one Bollywood film, you know it’s a misstep. Sure enough, since it stars one of India’s most talented actors, Dhanush, also the Kundan of ‘Raanjhanaa’, you know love will blaze intensely.

Before we walk in the lanes of love, our hero Shankar (Dhanush) is flying Indian Air Force planes. Though it’s much later that he is described by the heroine as “outstanding, outrageous and out of control”, we learn early enough that he is not the one to obey orders. So, he is grounded by his superior, played by Vineet Kumar Singh, who is royally wasted.

Since Shankar is an ace pilot and we are in a war-like situation, psychological assessment of this brave and wayward Flight Lieutenant is sought. No prizes for guessing who his therapist is going to be. And thus begins the flashback and the love story — cast in classic self-destruct mode as well as love’s unique transformative power… tere iskh mein main kya se kya bana.

Shankar could well be our Kabir Singh, a student with deep anger issues. Only the heroine is no demure Preeti. Mukti (Kriti Sanon) is studying psychology and submits a thesis with a hypothesis that violent behaviour can be controlled. So, Shankar, who is, god forbid, even called naali ka keeda, becomes her subject. Hark back to Waheeda Rahman’s ‘Khamoshi’ — the complex relationship between a caregiver and a patient. Only, the similarity with the classic yesteryear film ends fleetingly and superficially. He will fall in love madly enough to burn the city down. She won’t reciprocate. Add to it the class divide and conflicts in this love story are all there to snowball into a major conflagration.

Can the daughter of a senior IAS officer love the son of a notary? Though why this notary is so impoverished in a city where we bet they make decent money is a thought you better reserve for another time, another film.

The focus here is on the near-psychotic shades of love. With Dhanush as a besotted/obsessed lover, dive deep into the wells of emotions. Undeniably, few can emote better than this dynamo from South. The Tamil superstar can switch from angst-ridden anger to pain, from false bravado to real bravery with remarkable fluidity and felicity. What’s more, he can well up his eyes in a fraction. Only, the film’s ability to tug at our heartstrings is rather constricted. It’s not just the hero, the heroine too gets the Devdas twist to her character. Kriti excels and amplifies the entire spectrum of emotions which are not necessarily always logical.

Love knows no rationale. Indeed, we get it. Those of us who have experienced love also understand it is but a leap of faith. But as Kriti’s Mukti tells Shankar, “You don’t understand me, I don’t understand you”, we too can’t fathom the many motivations of writers Himanshu Sharma and Neeraj Yadav.

Love is an organic feeling but the way the storyline moves, from a heavily pregnant Mukti to Shankar’s foolhardy daredevilry to some tragic interjections, much appears forced and melodramatic. The path of love never did run smooth, but here it gets misplaced if not completely lost in the bylanes of an extra dose of drama.

Music is always the real heartbeat of a good love story. We still can’t get over the ‘Tum Bin’ of ‘Ranjhaana’. But when the same magical combination of maestro AR Rahman and lyricist Irshad Kamil comes together again, the magic is created only in a couple of songs like ‘Deewana Deewana’, sung soulfully by Rahman himself. The Sufi verses within the narrative are power-packed too.

No doubt the entire rather long runtime of the film is not a washout. There are some subtle hints. Watch the way our heroine walks all the way up to the hero’s less than modest abode with stilettos in her hands. Her awkwardness in his home says it all. But then, the same statement becomes equally unsubtle, reminding you of the Eighties’ movies in scenes involving Prakash Raj and Tota Roy Chowdhury. Both actors playing fathers (of Shankar and Mukti, respectively) are excellent though. Then there are some potent scenes involving Mohammed Zeeshan Ayyub. Remember the loyal friend of ‘Raanjhanaa’? Here he provides some kind of a link to the 2013 love ballad and reminds us of the supreme sacrifice of Kundan (in ‘Raanjhanaa’, of course) and also of how there is no salvation in love — only pain, agony and sacrifice.

The film also makes a pertinent point or two about how girls grow up with fantastical dreams of a prince charming, but spoils it completely the very next moment with words like mazdoor. The ‘do or die’ brand of love is indeed a dying breed; sadly, so are well-made movies on it.

“Aggression,” says Shankar at the very onset, “is not a reaction but a decision.” As for your decision to watch the film, the performances can certainly tilt the balance in its favour.