There is clearly a different set of standards I use when watching Bollywood movies than for almost any other type of film. Bollywood movies, especially for ABCDs like myself, often seem ridiculously melodramatic, idealistic, and unbelievable, particularly when compared with most above average Hollywood films. Still, I watch them and generally enjoy them, even if I don’t always like to admit it. There’s a lyric in “Hey Jealousy,” by the Gin Blossoms that goes: “If you don’t expect too much from me, you might not be let down.” I guess that sums up my approach to these movies—as long as I don’t go in expecting a brilliantly innovative storyline, a suspenseful climax, or a compelling, thought-provoking cinematic masterpiece (and as long as I go to the bathroom beforehand), I can usually enjoy myself. And sometimes, I’m even pleasantly surprised (e.g. Dil Chahta Hai).
Cast-wise, Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham (aka K3G, in the wonderful desi tradition of seizing upon every possible opportunity to create a new acronym) is Bollywood’s answer to Ocean’s Eleven. It boasts 6 of Hindi cinema’s biggest stars: Amitabh Bachchan, Shah Rukh Khan, Hrithick Roshan, Kajol, Kareena Kapoor, Rani Mukherjee, and the return to the screen of Amitabh Bachchan’s real life wife, Jaya, in only their second ever film together.
As even the most diehard fan will tell you, originality, especially of plot, is not Bollywood cinema’s forte, and K3G (which, translated, means “sometimes happy, sometimes sad”) is no exception. This movie has all the usual plotlines: forbidden love, the constraints of family tradition and arranged marriage, and hidden identities, and weaves them together into a story that takes a Bollywood-standard three and a half hours to tell.
Yashovardhan Raichand (Amitabh Bachchan), as many Bollywood father characters are, is a successful Indian businessman who simply falls into the generic category of “globally important captain of industry,” which I suppose is all the detail necessary for explaining his character’s motivations. It’s a strong, patriarchal role that Amitabh plays often (Mohabbatein, Ek Rishtaa), and well, though I’m still not liking the gray beard with the black hair, it spooks me out. He and his wife Nandini (Jaya Bachchan) have raised their sons Rahul (Shah Rukh Khan) and Rohan (Hrithik Roshan) in privilege, but while always showering them with love and affection; in short, theirs is a storybook, “perfect” family, complete with mansion, helicopter, and private boarding school educations.
The Bollywood vision of contemporary Indian families seems to increasingly focus on the elite, multi-millionaires with their glorious mansions and Western-educated children, the latter of which often provide the convenient plot segue that enables the film to move to a London where most people speak Hindi.
A great early scene in the movie has Yash getting ready to leave for work, the picture of a high-powered businessman, dressed in his suit, barking orders and in a hurry. Before he goes, however, he calls his wife into the room, because he needs her to tie his tie. In a delightful sequence, she approaches him, and without breaking stride, steps onto a chair in order to ascend to the proper height to be face to face with her husband and complete her daily ritual. The scene illustrates well the dynamic between the two, and works because of their chemistry.
Rahul’s discovery at age 8 that he was adopted (a convenient way to solve the problem that Shah Rukh Khan and Hrithick Roshan bear absolutely no resemblance to one another) is the source of his especially deep devotion and gratitude to his parents. Yash has always stressed the importance of family tradition to his sons, and as a respected “captain of industry,” image and status are everything. Nandini, a strong, silent, doting mother, shares a special bond with her eldest son (Rahul always teases his younger brother Rohan that their mother loves him more), but Yash’s wishes are the ones that Rahul always follows, for he reveres his father.
Then comes the forbidden love part that tears the family apart and drives the plot forward. Rahul, the son of an extremely successful and wealthy (not to mention globally important) entrepreneur, falls in love with the beautiful, charming daughter of an equally successful, wealthy, and globally important entrepreneur and they get married, making everyone involved happy and perpetuating the wealth and status among a small, aristocratically exclusive circle of social elites. Ok, that’s not true. There’s not enough for a three and a half hour movie in that storyline. Although the socioeconomically equal girl does exist (played by Rani Mukherjee in a cameo), and is the one Yash wants his son to marry, Rahul instead falls in love with the spirited Anjali (Kajol), from the poor Delhi neighborhood of Chandni Chowk. That’s more like it.
Kajol’s performance as Anjali stands out among the star-studded cast as the highlight of the movie. She is feisty, passionate, and beautiful. Everything from her dialogue delivery to her facial expressions embodies her character, and the audience sees immediately why Rahul falls so desperately in love with her and risks estrangement from a family he cherishes so deeply for her (not an easy task). Using the tried and true combination of Shah Rukh and Kajol (the same duo that propelled the enormous success of DDLJ and Kuch Kuch Hota Hai), and even the names Rahul and Anjali for their characters, the main love story works quite well. The two have a great, convincing chemistry on screen, and the scenes in which they banter with each other were my favorites.
Yash, however, reacts predictably by forbidding their marriage, and then disowns his eldest son when Rahul disobeys him and marries Anjali anyway. Mother and wife Nandini is devastated, torn between her eldest son and her husband, while little brother Roshan, played by a chubby child actor in the early part of the movie (i.e., the first hour) is too young to understand (and considering his size, probably too preoccupied with ladoos to catch on). Rahul and Anjali move to England, taking Anjali’s younger sister Pooja (Kareena Kapoor) with them, and Rahul is forced to establish himself on his own in a new country. Not surprisingly, he does so immediately, and that consequently allows filming to proceed in another gorgeous home, this time in London.
Roshan, having grown into Hrithick Roshan in a highly abrupt and suspect transformation from boy to man (think “Chunk” from The Goonies growing into Russell Crowe’s character in Gladiator), and having become aware of Rahul’s estrangement from their father, makes it his mission to reunite his broken family. He travels to England, enlists the support of childhood friend Pooja, and manages to move in unrecognized as a guest into Rahul and Anjali’s house (this is the part that most requires the obligatory Bollywood suspension of disbelief in the interests of enjoying the movie).
A note about Kareena Kapoor. She seems right now to be the most popular, coveted Bollywood actress, landing all the top roles and adored by Indians, NRIs, and ABCDs alike. From her debut in Refugee back in the summer of 2000 until now, her popularity has shot up. I’d just like to go on record as saying that I think she’s awful, and I understand the praise she gets for being a great actress about as much as I understand the praise George W. Bush gets for being a great president—it makes absolutely no sense to me, and when I hear it, I feel like I must be missing something. Her role in this movie is absolutely obnoxious, and the presence of her character single-handedly lowered my opinion of this movie by a full Thum Up out of four. She plays an insufferable, spoiled, superficial lush, wearing too much makeup and micro miniskirts in what is perhaps some ridiculously misguided portrayal of what Indians in India perceive of Indian girls in the West. To top it off, I just think she’s a horrible actress. It’s one thing to play an obnoxious character well, but she succeeds in playing an obnoxious character obnoxiously. She’s the antithesis of Kajol in the movie, which, as it turns out, is probably the highest compliment I can pay Kajol’s performance.
Anyway, as you may have guessed, the plan works, and the waterworks, continuing sporadically until the end of the movie, begin: Roshan reveals his identity to his brother, and after a tearful embrace convinces Rahul to come home to try to make amends with their father. Several emotional scenes ensue, and there is a glorious, teary-eyed reconciliation…and they lived happily ever after.
Overall, Kareena Kapoor’s abhorrent character aside, I enjoyed the movie quite a bit. Though I often write about them sarcastically, many of the emotional scenes in the movie are well done, and the chemistry between both Rahul and Anjali and Yash and Nandini is wonderful (sorry, Hrithick didn’t have much to work with, though they should’ve known better, since the previous attempt at a Kareena Kapoor-Hrithick Roshan pairing, Yaadein, was one of the worst Bollywood movies I’ve ever seen). Kajol is outstanding as Anjali, there are some great dance sequences, several references to recent Bollywood movies (Hum Aapke Hain Koun and Kuch Kuch Hota Hai in particular) that enthusiasts will enjoy, and a cast that does not end up disappointing, which is quite an accomplishment when considering its star-studded composition. Three Thums Up out of four.
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Originally written in February 2002 & published on thesala.com.
http://thesala.com/episode05/10.html
