Bollywood is full of orphans. This shouldn’t come as a surprise
to anyone, since family themes are so dominant in Indian cinema; making a
character an orphan lets you include an outsider’s perspective, and to
present the family as a worthy goal to be achieved in and of itself.
And as a bonus, since so much of the morality in Bollywood is rooted in
the family, an orphan can live a little outside of social norms, lying
and cheating and stealing just a bit more than a Good Indian Boy or Girl
should.
In any case, the charming orphan who lives by his wits and charm is a stock character in Bollywood. The charming orphan in Chori Chori (2003), however, differs from the stock orphans in one important respect: she’s a woman. Khushi (Rani Mukherjee) is a charming, free-spirited orphan with a relaxed attitude toward honesty. Unlike many of her cinematic orphaned peers, though, Khushi does have a real job (as a bartender) and only uses her silver tongue to get off of work so she can attend a friend’s wedding.
(And incidentally - if you ever find yourself a character in a Bollywood movie, do not under any circumstance invite a character played by Rani to your wedding. She invariably takes over the whole event, making herself the center of attention and reducing the actual bride and groom to (at best) bemused onlookers.)
Meanwhile, in Shimla, Ranbir Malhotra (Ajay Devgan) takes Pooja (Sonali Bendre), the woman he loves, to see the new house he’s building for their future married life together. This is news to Pooja; while Ranbir has been in love and planning for the future for the last fifteen years, it seems he never got around to mentioning any of this to her. She rejects him in no uncertain terms, and after a fight with his family (who essentially try and tell him that “there are plenty more fish in the sea") Ranbir returns to his job in Delhi.
Ranbir has just been rejected by the woman he loves, and Khushi is a bartender, so it’s only natural that their paths should cross. He tells her his sad story, and she is profoundly unimpressed. I thought this part of the film was very well handled; Ranbir and Khushi dislike each other, but it’s not an instant loathing that masks the profound attraction they both share; they’re just two people who meet, rub each other the wrong way, and then go their separate ways.
The next day, Khushi gets fired and thrown out of her apartment. While trying to decide what to do, she finds a drawing in her pocket of the house Ranbir was building; it’s a house, and no one will be using it, so she packs up Jonathon (her stuffed monkey) and heads to Shimla. At the grocery store, she overhears the owner discussing credit, so she tells him to send the bill to her husband - Ranbir Malhotra. (And naturally, Pooja is standing behind her in line.) Flush with success, Khushi tries using the same line to pick up some furniture, only to discover that the people she’s trying to con are Ranbir’s family. They are thrilled to meet her, even after she corrects herself and says she and Ranbir are just engaged; regardless, she’s instantly accepted, and suddenly finds herself at the heart of the sort of warm and loving family she’s always dreamed about.
Meanwhile, Ranbir has decided to face reality, so he goes home to sell the house. When he discovers Khushi living in it, he’s furious, a fury which lasts until he discovers that Pooja is just a little bit jealous . . . So he and Khushi make a deal; she helps him get Pooja, and he’ll keep up the charade, and pay her a little stipend on the side.
You don’t have to be a genius to figure out what happens next, but again I’m impressed with how well the film handles the relationship. Khushi is a flighty free spirit with a knack for lying and a secret longing for family, while Ranbir is withdrawn, sullen, and occasionally a little mean, but neither character is instantly reformed by love; in the end they’re both flawed people who have gradually learned to adjust to one another. (Very gradually; for much of the last half of the film, the pair aren’t on speaking terms.)
Rani Mukherjee is the single best thing about this movie; as Khushi, she’s very charming, believable, and as beautiful as she’s ever been. Ajay doesn’t come off nearly as well, but that may be because of how his part is written. Ranbir is supposed to come off as stuffy, suppressed, and dour, after all, but Ajay never quite manages the leap into likeability. As it is, it’s almost as if Khushi is willing to put up with him for the sake of becoming part of the family. (Then again, that may be the point. She is an orphan, after all.)
In any case, the charming orphan who lives by his wits and charm is a stock character in Bollywood. The charming orphan in Chori Chori (2003), however, differs from the stock orphans in one important respect: she’s a woman. Khushi (Rani Mukherjee) is a charming, free-spirited orphan with a relaxed attitude toward honesty. Unlike many of her cinematic orphaned peers, though, Khushi does have a real job (as a bartender) and only uses her silver tongue to get off of work so she can attend a friend’s wedding.
(And incidentally - if you ever find yourself a character in a Bollywood movie, do not under any circumstance invite a character played by Rani to your wedding. She invariably takes over the whole event, making herself the center of attention and reducing the actual bride and groom to (at best) bemused onlookers.)
Meanwhile, in Shimla, Ranbir Malhotra (Ajay Devgan) takes Pooja (Sonali Bendre), the woman he loves, to see the new house he’s building for their future married life together. This is news to Pooja; while Ranbir has been in love and planning for the future for the last fifteen years, it seems he never got around to mentioning any of this to her. She rejects him in no uncertain terms, and after a fight with his family (who essentially try and tell him that “there are plenty more fish in the sea") Ranbir returns to his job in Delhi.
Ranbir has just been rejected by the woman he loves, and Khushi is a bartender, so it’s only natural that their paths should cross. He tells her his sad story, and she is profoundly unimpressed. I thought this part of the film was very well handled; Ranbir and Khushi dislike each other, but it’s not an instant loathing that masks the profound attraction they both share; they’re just two people who meet, rub each other the wrong way, and then go their separate ways.
The next day, Khushi gets fired and thrown out of her apartment. While trying to decide what to do, she finds a drawing in her pocket of the house Ranbir was building; it’s a house, and no one will be using it, so she packs up Jonathon (her stuffed monkey) and heads to Shimla. At the grocery store, she overhears the owner discussing credit, so she tells him to send the bill to her husband - Ranbir Malhotra. (And naturally, Pooja is standing behind her in line.) Flush with success, Khushi tries using the same line to pick up some furniture, only to discover that the people she’s trying to con are Ranbir’s family. They are thrilled to meet her, even after she corrects herself and says she and Ranbir are just engaged; regardless, she’s instantly accepted, and suddenly finds herself at the heart of the sort of warm and loving family she’s always dreamed about.
Meanwhile, Ranbir has decided to face reality, so he goes home to sell the house. When he discovers Khushi living in it, he’s furious, a fury which lasts until he discovers that Pooja is just a little bit jealous . . . So he and Khushi make a deal; she helps him get Pooja, and he’ll keep up the charade, and pay her a little stipend on the side.
You don’t have to be a genius to figure out what happens next, but again I’m impressed with how well the film handles the relationship. Khushi is a flighty free spirit with a knack for lying and a secret longing for family, while Ranbir is withdrawn, sullen, and occasionally a little mean, but neither character is instantly reformed by love; in the end they’re both flawed people who have gradually learned to adjust to one another. (Very gradually; for much of the last half of the film, the pair aren’t on speaking terms.)
Rani Mukherjee is the single best thing about this movie; as Khushi, she’s very charming, believable, and as beautiful as she’s ever been. Ajay doesn’t come off nearly as well, but that may be because of how his part is written. Ranbir is supposed to come off as stuffy, suppressed, and dour, after all, but Ajay never quite manages the leap into likeability. As it is, it’s almost as if Khushi is willing to put up with him for the sake of becoming part of the family. (Then again, that may be the point. She is an orphan, after all.)
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