A friendly word of warning - this review of Ishq (1997)
is a bit more spoiler heavy than my usual reviews. So if you don’t want
to know in advance whether young love triumphs in this particular
formulaic Bollywood romantic comedy/drama, you should probably turn back
now.
From my very first review onward, I have compared a number of Bollywood movies to Shakespeare, and I’m about to do it again: Ishq is the single most Shakespearean film I have seen come out of Mumbai yet. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I would swear that it was deliberately modeled on Much Ado About Nothing.
Ranjit Rai (Sadashiv Amrapurkar) is a very rich man with a near pathological hatred of the poor. As a result, he’s horrified that his son Ajay (Ajay Devgan) insists on hanging out with Raja (Aamir Khan), a lowly mechanic. In an effort to keep his son under control, Ranjit has cut off Ajay’s allowance, so Ajay and Raja resort to a number of wacky schemes in order to get money, including exploiting the new bank manager in order to commit fraud. (It’s funny because his life is ruined!)
Harban Lal (Dalip Tahil) is, if anything, even more consumed by his hatred for the poor. He’s shocked to learn that his niece has married the son of her family’s chauffeur, and becomes obsessed by the fear that his own daughter Madhu (Juhi Chawla) will similarly disgrace him, especially since she’s been spending all her time with her poor friend Kajal (Kajol).
Harban and Ranjit meet, and after bonding over their mutual hatred of poor people, they head off to a lawyer to find out how they can legally prevent their offspring from marrying poor people. The lawyer tells them that they can’t, and instead suggests that they get their children to sign marriage certificates along with the spouse of the parents’ choice; that way they’ll be legally married, and there’s nothing they can do about it. After seeing how easily Ranjit tricks Ajay into signing the papers (despite the best efforts of Ajay’s uncle (Johny Lever)) Harban suggests that they get Ajay and Madhu married to one another. Madhu is tricked just as easily.
Meanwhile, Ajay and Raja bump into Madhu and Kajal. Ajay falls in love with Kajal at first sight, while Raja and Madhu take an instant dislike to each other. And at this point, things get kind of complicated. I’ll just say that wackiness ensues, and the wackiness involves a potentially lethal practical joke, a ghost, James Bond the monkey, and public kissing (!) and get to the important part. Ajay and Kajal are in love. Raja and Madhu are in love as well, which should surprise no one. The fathers are horrified, but the marriage contract plan fails dismally, as does bribery and hiring a hit man. After Ajay is injured by said assassin, Ranjit finally declares his acceptance of his son’s love, and agrees to shelter Raja and Madhu as well.
Sharing a cab on the way to the engagement ceremony, Raja and Kajal are attacked. As Raja is distracted, Kajal’s uncle is incapacitated and Kajal herself is dragged off for a presumed fate worse than death, only to be rescued by Raja. As he comforts her, an unseen figure takes pictures. When the pair finally arrive at the engagement ceremony, Ranjit gleefully displays the photographs as evidence of their “affair”, and Kajal’s uncle agrees, claiming that the pair have been carrying on for months. Despite the flimsiness of the evidence (testimony which directly contradicts their own experience, coupled with perhaps the world’s tamest incriminating photos) Ajay and Madhu leap to the worst possible conclusion. Raja and Kajal are thrown out. As they try to rebuild their lives, they are continually harassed, mocked, and humiliated, both by the fathers and their former fiancés. Raja is finally pushed too far, and vows to fight back, prove their innocence, and teach their tormentors a lesson.
The plot is, if anything, even more complicated than the above summary implies, but the Much Ado About Nothing parallels are strong. Like Ajay, Much Ado‘s Claudio falls in love quickly, without knowing much about his choice (Hero). Like Ajay, Claudio has a cynical friend (Benedick), who reluctantly enters a relationship with a woman who is at least his equal (Beatrice). Both Ajay and Claudio immediately believe the worst of their love, and both become almost joyfully cruel and self-satisfied, alienating their friend in the process. Finally, when the truth is revealed, both men receive forgiveness and a happy ending that they really didn’t earn. (Claudio is very high on my personal list of Shakespearean characters who need to be punched in the face.)
The real difference is that after being publicly betrayed, Hero has the luxury of being presumed dead, and is protected, supported and sheltered by the community of women. The only other important woman in Ishq is Madhu, and she is clearly on the side of the accusers. Kajal has nowhere to hide and literally no one to turn to except Raja; I really can’t quite blame her for occasionally trying to set herself on fire.
The Shakespeare parallels go beyond the plot. Even more than usual in Bollywood, everyone is operating on the same level of heightened reality, with virtues and vices equally magnified. The performances reflect this; there is much chewing of scenery, and while no one is actually speaking in blank verse (though Raja does recite the occasional ghazal), they may as well be. This might be why Johny Lever has been so well reviewed in this movie. With everyone operating on the same level, it’s much easier to see just how good Lever is at what he does. (Whether one likes what Lever does is another question entirely, but he’s very good at it.)
Aamir Khan and Kajol have to do most of the dramatic heavy lifting here, and they acquit themselves wonderfully. They are both as over the top as everyone else, but they bring a real emotional truth to their characters, and the compassion Raja and Kajal display for one another is very genuine and very moving. Thanks to clashing personalities and Kajol’s retirement, this is the closest we’ll ever get to an Aamir/Kajol pairing, and that’s a pity; despite their different acting styles, both actors are brilliant, and they demonstrate real chemistry.
This is a whole lot of movie crammed into two and a half hours. During the overtly comic first hour and a half, there‘s a gag about every thirty seconds; .when the plot switches to melodrama, it’s almost a relief since the breakneck pace finally slows down. The songs are almost an afterthought; while the dance numbers are lavish, they seem to come out of nowhere, and are forgotten just as quickly. No time to linger.
From my very first review onward, I have compared a number of Bollywood movies to Shakespeare, and I’m about to do it again: Ishq is the single most Shakespearean film I have seen come out of Mumbai yet. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I would swear that it was deliberately modeled on Much Ado About Nothing.
Ranjit Rai (Sadashiv Amrapurkar) is a very rich man with a near pathological hatred of the poor. As a result, he’s horrified that his son Ajay (Ajay Devgan) insists on hanging out with Raja (Aamir Khan), a lowly mechanic. In an effort to keep his son under control, Ranjit has cut off Ajay’s allowance, so Ajay and Raja resort to a number of wacky schemes in order to get money, including exploiting the new bank manager in order to commit fraud. (It’s funny because his life is ruined!)
Harban Lal (Dalip Tahil) is, if anything, even more consumed by his hatred for the poor. He’s shocked to learn that his niece has married the son of her family’s chauffeur, and becomes obsessed by the fear that his own daughter Madhu (Juhi Chawla) will similarly disgrace him, especially since she’s been spending all her time with her poor friend Kajal (Kajol).
Harban and Ranjit meet, and after bonding over their mutual hatred of poor people, they head off to a lawyer to find out how they can legally prevent their offspring from marrying poor people. The lawyer tells them that they can’t, and instead suggests that they get their children to sign marriage certificates along with the spouse of the parents’ choice; that way they’ll be legally married, and there’s nothing they can do about it. After seeing how easily Ranjit tricks Ajay into signing the papers (despite the best efforts of Ajay’s uncle (Johny Lever)) Harban suggests that they get Ajay and Madhu married to one another. Madhu is tricked just as easily.
Meanwhile, Ajay and Raja bump into Madhu and Kajal. Ajay falls in love with Kajal at first sight, while Raja and Madhu take an instant dislike to each other. And at this point, things get kind of complicated. I’ll just say that wackiness ensues, and the wackiness involves a potentially lethal practical joke, a ghost, James Bond the monkey, and public kissing (!) and get to the important part. Ajay and Kajal are in love. Raja and Madhu are in love as well, which should surprise no one. The fathers are horrified, but the marriage contract plan fails dismally, as does bribery and hiring a hit man. After Ajay is injured by said assassin, Ranjit finally declares his acceptance of his son’s love, and agrees to shelter Raja and Madhu as well.
Sharing a cab on the way to the engagement ceremony, Raja and Kajal are attacked. As Raja is distracted, Kajal’s uncle is incapacitated and Kajal herself is dragged off for a presumed fate worse than death, only to be rescued by Raja. As he comforts her, an unseen figure takes pictures. When the pair finally arrive at the engagement ceremony, Ranjit gleefully displays the photographs as evidence of their “affair”, and Kajal’s uncle agrees, claiming that the pair have been carrying on for months. Despite the flimsiness of the evidence (testimony which directly contradicts their own experience, coupled with perhaps the world’s tamest incriminating photos) Ajay and Madhu leap to the worst possible conclusion. Raja and Kajal are thrown out. As they try to rebuild their lives, they are continually harassed, mocked, and humiliated, both by the fathers and their former fiancés. Raja is finally pushed too far, and vows to fight back, prove their innocence, and teach their tormentors a lesson.
The plot is, if anything, even more complicated than the above summary implies, but the Much Ado About Nothing parallels are strong. Like Ajay, Much Ado‘s Claudio falls in love quickly, without knowing much about his choice (Hero). Like Ajay, Claudio has a cynical friend (Benedick), who reluctantly enters a relationship with a woman who is at least his equal (Beatrice). Both Ajay and Claudio immediately believe the worst of their love, and both become almost joyfully cruel and self-satisfied, alienating their friend in the process. Finally, when the truth is revealed, both men receive forgiveness and a happy ending that they really didn’t earn. (Claudio is very high on my personal list of Shakespearean characters who need to be punched in the face.)
The real difference is that after being publicly betrayed, Hero has the luxury of being presumed dead, and is protected, supported and sheltered by the community of women. The only other important woman in Ishq is Madhu, and she is clearly on the side of the accusers. Kajal has nowhere to hide and literally no one to turn to except Raja; I really can’t quite blame her for occasionally trying to set herself on fire.
The Shakespeare parallels go beyond the plot. Even more than usual in Bollywood, everyone is operating on the same level of heightened reality, with virtues and vices equally magnified. The performances reflect this; there is much chewing of scenery, and while no one is actually speaking in blank verse (though Raja does recite the occasional ghazal), they may as well be. This might be why Johny Lever has been so well reviewed in this movie. With everyone operating on the same level, it’s much easier to see just how good Lever is at what he does. (Whether one likes what Lever does is another question entirely, but he’s very good at it.)
Aamir Khan and Kajol have to do most of the dramatic heavy lifting here, and they acquit themselves wonderfully. They are both as over the top as everyone else, but they bring a real emotional truth to their characters, and the compassion Raja and Kajal display for one another is very genuine and very moving. Thanks to clashing personalities and Kajol’s retirement, this is the closest we’ll ever get to an Aamir/Kajol pairing, and that’s a pity; despite their different acting styles, both actors are brilliant, and they demonstrate real chemistry.
This is a whole lot of movie crammed into two and a half hours. During the overtly comic first hour and a half, there‘s a gag about every thirty seconds; .when the plot switches to melodrama, it’s almost a relief since the breakneck pace finally slows down. The songs are almost an afterthought; while the dance numbers are lavish, they seem to come out of nowhere, and are forgotten just as quickly. No time to linger.
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