The plot does get a little fuzzy at times.

It's easy to grow jaded about movies; sometimes it seems like if you've seen one buddy picture about a reclusive genius teaming up with an animated teddy bear to battle a human trafficking ring, you've seen them all.  Teddy (2021) doesn't really stray from the genius/teddy bear formula, and it hits all the notes you'd expect from the genre, but there's something to be said for taking a tried and true formula and executing it well.

 

Srividya (Sayyesha) is a young and carefree college student with a talent for photography and a boyfriend that she's not ready to tell her parents about yet.  During a bus trip with her classmates, Sri tries to help an accident victim.  She's injured, and is promptly rushed to the hospital, where she's placed in a room with a wisecracking kid and his enormous teddy bear, but the sinister hospital staff promptly drug her and take her away.  As Sri's body slips into a medically induced coma, her spirit slips into the form of the teddy bear.  She apologizes to the kid (who is, after all, now out one giant teddy bear) and escapes from the hospital.

 

Shiva (Arya), on the other hand, is a brilliant loner with an eidetic memory.  His memory is so powerful that he's able to completely master a new skill every few months.  he's already earned several advanced degrees, but instead of working he plays the stock market in an incredibly precise fashion, always earning just enough money to live comfortably.  That takes him about fifteen minutes a day, leaving him plenty of time for learning and avoiding human contact.  Shiva has a mother (Praveena) and one friend (Satish) and that is enough for him.

 

However, while Shiva's a recluse, he's not heartless.  When he sees a gang of thugs threatening a woman on a train, he steps in.  The thugs assume he's easy prey, but Shiva hasn't just mastered mental skills, he's picked up phenomenal skill in hand to hand combat as well.  Basically, he has all the skills of Batman without the motivation, but he's more than happy to put a stop to injustice when it's happening right in front of him.

 

Also on the train?  Sri.  She realizes that Shiva is someone who could help her get her body back, so she follows him home.  Once she manages to convince Shiva that he's not crazy and she needs his help they . . . spend some time getting to know each other,  But after that montage is over, the new best pals get down to some serious Batmanning.

 

Now, we don't really live in a word where movies about crime fighting teddy bears and their brilliant hunky sidekicks are a dime a dozen.  It's a ridiculous premise.  Teddy makes it work by taking it completely seriously.  This is not a comedy.  Funny things happen sometimes, but that's because the movie pairs a chirpy extrovert with a gloomy recluse, and also they are fighting crime and one of them is trapped in the body of a toy.  The premise is silly enough, so the movie doesn't milk it, it just commits completely.  It's just a focused, fun action movie with a nasty villain, cleanly choreographed and brutal fight scenes, and engaging leads.  And a talking teddy bear.

Singlle and ready to minglle.

Jane Austen is known for her use of what is sometimes called 'Free Indirect Discourse,' a literary technique in which a character speaks through the voice of the narrator.  It's a melding of first and third person point of view, omniscient but intimate and fallible.  And it's blooming hard to pull off in a movie, but somehow Qarib Qarib Singlle (2017) manages something similar.

Jaya Shashidharan (Parvathy Thiruvothu) is fine.  Her younger brother Ashish (Siddharth Menon) is studying at Princeton, and her husband Manav passed away years ago, but she's fine.  Her work at an insurance agency keeps her busy, and she's frequently babysitting and cat-sitting for various friends.  She's fine.  Just ask her.

 

And then Jaya decides that she's sick of being fine, so she creates an account on a dating website, and is immediately flooded by crude and aggressive messages, along with a very polite and erudite note form someone calling himself Yogi.  

Yogi turns out to be Yogendra Kumar Devendra Nath Prajapati (Irrfan Khan), a self-proclaimed and self published poet who makes his money (apparently a lot of money) by suggesting food items to various companies.  Yogi is rich enough to be called eccentric, but really he's weird, a bit full of himself, and very, very talkative, and while Jaya isn't exactly charmed, she's sufficiently entertained to agree to another date. 

 

Yogi talks about . . . well, Yogi talks about everything that pops into his head, but he spends a fair amount of time talking about his three former girlfriends, all of whom (he says) still yearn for him.  Jaya suggest that he go see them and find out if they're pining or not, and Yogi invites her to come along.  Jaya surprises herself by agreeing.

 

The romantic road trip is a Bollywood staple; boy meets girl, boy and girl grow closer while taking a life-changing journey across India or Switzerland or . . . well, let's be honest, it's usually India or Switzerland.  Of course, the road trip is usually the first part of the movie, with our heroes overcoming the various obstacles to their love in the second part.  Yogi and Jaya are older, and the only real obstacle to their potential love is that they're both set in their ways and too focused on their respective pasts to move on.

 

But what really interests me about Qarib Qarib Singlle is the narrative voice.  At first the movie is locked to Jaya's perspective, and she will occasionally talk directly to the camera to comment on the action.  As she gets to know Yogi better, that loosens up, and we see more and more from his perspective as well.  (Though only Jaya gets to address the camera.)  The end result is a narrative that is intimate but fallible.  The movie seems to change its mind as Jaya does.  The story being told is not very Austen (though Yogi is proud, and Jaya is quick to judge) but the storytelling definitely is.

 

Turns out a serpent's tooth is also pretty sharp.

Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak, Mansoor Khan's story of star-crossed young lovers, was a huge success, launching Aamir Khan and Juhi Chawla into stardom.  Naturally, Bollywood producers set about trying to recreate the magic, and Khan and Chawla were cast in a number of films about young lovers with varying degrees of star-crossedness.  Results were . . . mixed.  Tum Mere Ho (1990), for instance, is notoriously bad.  On the other hand, it's a schmaltzy melodrama with Juhi Chawla, an angry naga, and black magicand I like all those things, so if anybody's going to like the movie, it'll be me.  Let's dig in.

When wealthy Thakur Choudhary (Sudhir Pandey) catches sight of a Naagmani (a magical gem set in a cobra's head) he is consumed by a Tolkeinian desire to possess it, so he kills the snake.  Unfortunately, the snake's mother (Kalpana Iyer) is nearby.  Choudhary pleads for mercy, telling her he was blinded by greed when he casually murdered her son, but for some reason she is not impressed.  She vows revenge, and later bites Choudhary's four year old son, apparently killing the boy.  The parents sadly set the body adrift on the river, while the angry snake watches.

I say that the boy was "apparently killed, because he's pulled from the river by Baba (possibly Ishrat Ali, but the IMDB entry isn't really clear), a kindly snake charmer and black magician.  Baba draws the poison out of the boy's body using his magical powers, then decides to raise him as his on son and apprentice, because, hey, free son!  he names the boy Shiva, and by the time Shiva has grown up to be played by Aamir Khan, he has mastered both his adopted father's crafts.

 

While performing at a village fair, Shiva catches a glimpse of Paro (Juhi Chawla), daughter of the wealthy and powerful Choudhry Charanjit Singh (Ajit Vachani).  Shiva is immediately smitten, and surprisingly, so is Paro!  When they meet later, she asks him to sjhow her his snake-charming technique, and soon they're wandering the hills together, singing about love and occasionally getting caught in the rain.

 

It can't last.  When Paro's father finds out, he hires another black magician (Anirudh Agarwal) to deal with the upstart.  Shiva easily wins the magical duel, so Singh decides on a more direct approacjh; he gathers a band of ruffians and has them beat up Shiva, but before he can shoot the boy, Baba arrives and pleads for his son's life, promising that he won't come around Paro anymore.

 

When Paro finds out about the beating and attempted murder, she's furious and confronts her father, but her mother takes her aside and explains just how starcrossed she actually is.  It's not just that Shiva is a poor traveler and therefore not husband material; Paro's marriage has already been arranged.  In fact, she's already married, and has been since they were small children.  In fact, she's already a widow, since her husband was bitten by a snake and died soon after the wedding.  (And at this point you've probably already figured out how the story will end.) In fact, in a few days Paro will go to her in-laws home to live out the rest of her days in miserable solitude as a widow, because there's no possible way she could ever remarry.  Paro agrees that this is completely logical, and meets Shiva one last time.  She pretends that she never loved him, he lashes out angrily, and stalks off, apparently never to return.  Paro makes the sad journey to her in-laws' home, content that at least Shiva will be safe.

 

Of course, Shiva discovers that she lied and really does love him almost immediately, so he convinces Baba to move the entire band north, ostensibly in search of better snakes, but mostly so that he can stalk Paro.  He hangs around outside her house, playing snake charming music, hoping to draw her out.  It works.  Shiva suggests that maybe Paro shouldn't have to spend her whole life alone and miserable because of a marriage that she didn't consent to and wasn't even told about for years.  Paro is torn. She really does love Shiva, but nothing has really changed, and they still can't be together without leaving everything behind.

And then there's the angry snake lady.  When she discovers that the boy she bit all those years ago is still alive, she tries to finish the job, but Shiva is a powerful magician, so she can't get to him.  Paro, however, is not so well protected . . .

First things first. This movie is a product of the late eighties/early nineties Bollywood film industry, which means that the treatment of women is pretty bad.  Paro in particular is seemingly born to suffer, and she's betrayed and abused at various points in the film by pretty much everybody she loves, and that does include Shiva.  In the end everyone is forgiven because this is late eighties/early nineties Bollywood and the family unit must be preserved at all costs, but that doesn't make it okay.

On the other hand, Paro has a surprising amount of agency for a heroine of the period.  Shiva doesn't rescue her from her dismal life as a widow, he convinces her to rescue herself, and it's not a decision that comes quickly or easily.  Paro makes a choice, and it is definitely her choice.

Juhi does a fine job as the long-suffering Paro.  Snake movies are essentially a subgenre of supernatural melodrama, and they demand a kind of heightened reality in the performances.  Naturalistic acting wouldn't work at all.  Juhi commits, and so does Aamir; they are acting well for the genre of movie that they appear in.

So, does Tum Mere Ho deserve its bad reputation?  Maybe?  I'm pretty sure it's not a good movie.  It's dated, it's often silly, and it's certainly problematic, but I also found it compelling.  It really needs more snakes and a lot less suffering, though.

Dark streets and dhotis.

 Sharadindu Bandyopadhyay created Byomkesh Bakshi in 1932, and continued to chronicle his adventures until 1970.  Initially, Byomkesh was closely modeled on Sherlock Holmes; he's an eccentric Bengali intellectual who solves crime through his powers of logic and observation, and is assisted by his loyal friend and roommate Ajit Bannerjee, who also chronicles his adventures.  Byomkesh quickly grows beyond Holmes pastiche, though.  He marries, has a son, buys a car, and develops his own eccentricities as the years pass.  One of his quirks is a dislike of the word 'detective', or worse, 'investigator.'  Byomkesh refers to himself as a Satyanweshi, a seeker of truth, so I don't think he'd approve of the title of 2015's Detective Byomkesh Bakshy!.  He would also be suspicious of the exclamation mark.

The movie opens in 1943 Calcutta. Byomkesh Bakshy (Sushant Singh Rajput) is a recent college graduate who already has a reputation for being extremely clever and kind of annoying.  That's why Ajit Bannerjee (Anand Tiwari) approaches him for help in finding his father, Bhuvan Bannerjee (no actor listed, because SPOILER he's dead and doesn't actually appear in the movie.)  At first, Byomkesh isn't interested, but his girlfriend (Moumita Chakraborty) just announced her engagement to someone else, and he really doesn't have much else to do, so finding a missing person it is!

 

Byomkesh starts his investigation by visiting the hostel where Bhuvan was staying, where he meets the brilliant Doctor Anakul Guha (Neeraj Kabi.)  After some intellectual jousting, Byomkesh finds Bhuvan's paan box, which is filled with cash, keepsakes, and Bhuvan's personal paan formula, which he called 'Calcutta Kiss.'  Byomkesh concludes that Bhuvanm has been murdered, and visits the now-abandoned factory where he used to work and runs into the factory owner's wife and the film's designated femme fatale, film actress Anguri Devi (Swastika Mukherjee).

 

And from there . . . well, it's a mystery, and I don't want to give too much away.  But Byomkesh crosses paths with a violent Japanese dentist (Taka Higuchi), a wealthy politician (Kaushik Ghosh) and his firebrand nephew (Shivam) and sensible niece (Divya Menon), and the notorious drug lord Yang Guang, a master of disguise, manipulation and stabbing.  (One might almost call him the Napoleon of Crime, but nobody actually does.)

 

Detective Byomkesh Bakshy! is not a direct adaptation of any of the Byomkesh Bakshi stories.  Instead, it draws elements from several stories, and then scales them up.  Byomkesh is still the same satyanweshi as before, but this time he's not just solving a clever murder, he's battling his own personal Moriarty in order to save Calcutta from utter ruin.  It's very pulpy, but played entirely straight rather than giggling at its own over-the-topness.

 

There are a lot of movies and TV shows about Byomkesh Bakshi, but it is a shame that, due to Sushant Singh Rajput's untimely death, we're never getting the sequel to this version.  It's a movie that earns its exclamation mark.

Retail therapy.

 When I first started blogging, being an American Bollywood fan was a bit more complicated than it is now.  Netflix had a decent selection of Bollywood DVDs available, but for the most part when you wanted new stuff you would find an online retailer, browse their catalog for something that looked interesting, and then . . . take your chances.  Sometimes the movie was good, sometimes it was terrible.  Sometimes the DVD had no subtitles.  Sometimes it turned out to be obviously and badly pirated.  It turned the movie watching experience into an adventure.

Things are different now.  There's an ocean of Indian cinema available at the literal push of a button, and rather than waiting weeks to finds out if a movie is any good, I can watch it right now.  It's great.  It's genuinely better than the old way of doing things.  But I do miss the sixty nine cent DVDs you'd pick up to round out an order; they had devotionals, mythologicals, duplicate movies, Z-movies, and the embarrassing early output of major stars.  These are movies that aren't easily available on streaming platforms, and while some of the DVDs are still out there, they cost a lot more than sixty nine cents, and they're very hard to find. 

All of which is a roundabout way of explaining why I am so happy to have maybe tracked down an affordable copy of Tum Mere Ho, the famously bad snake movie starring Aamir Khan and Juhi Chawla.  Will the picture quality be any good?  Will the DVD have subtitles?  How bad can it possibly be?  I can't wait to find out.

Meanwhile, no new review this week.  I watched Awara Paagal Deewana, only to discover that I've already reviewed it.  You can read the old review here; I pretty much agree with Me From the Past.

My beloved is like lemonade.

 As Jab We Met (2007) opens, Aditya (Shahid Kapoor) is having a bad day, week, month and year. His father has died, the family corporation is struggling, he's locked in a very messy courtroom battle with his estranged mother (Divya Seth Shah), and his longtime girlfriend has married someone else.  Desolate, Aditya walks out of a meeting and just keeps walking, eventually finding himself on a train to Delhi.  Aditya contemplates throwing himself off, but he's interrupted by Geet (Kareena Kapoor), a fellow passenger who will not stop talking.

 

 Geet is persistent, even though Adityaa clearly wants to be left alone.  When he gets off the train during a late night stop, she follows.  And then she misses the train!  Geet is furious, and demands that Aditya escort her home to her family in Punjab.  Aditya agrees, because he's got nothing better to do and because he's kind of bemused by Geet, the dreamiest of manic pixie girls.

 

So, the pair make their way across India.  There are adventures.  More importantly, there are conversations.  Aditya tells Geet about his broken relationship, his broken family, and his broken dream of becoming a musician.  Geet tells Aditya about her very traditional Sikh family and her secret boyfriend Anshuman (Tarun Arora), who is not a Sikh and with whom she is planning to elope.By the end of the trip, Aditya obviously has a thing for Geet, but she's sticking with Anshuman, and in the spirit of compromise suggests that Aditya elope with her sister Roop (Saumya Tandon) instead, and then they can all go live in the mountains together.

 

When they arrive in Punjab, Geet''s family are initially suspicious of Aditya, but after she explains how he helped her they insist on him staying for a week so that they can thank him properly.  He has a wonderful time, but when Geet decides it's elopin' time, he still feels compelled to help her.  There's another roadtrip as the pair make their way to Manali, in the far northern part of India, but this time it's handled with a single song.  Once they reach Manali, Aditya says his goodbyes and walks away before Geet goes to meet Anshuman.

 

Aditya goes home and transforms his life.  He transforms the business into a major success, reconciles with his mother, and even takes up singing again, and everything he does, he does because of Geet.  "Your absence is like your presence," he sings; while he misses her, she's always in his heart, and that gives him the strength to carry on and live his best life.  And then, nine months later, Geet's family tracks him down and demands to know what he's done with their child, because the movie's only halfway over.

Many Bollywood movies will mix up the genres, combining romance with action and comic relief and magic realism.  This is the straight stuff, pure uncut Bollywood romance.  And it works, largely because of the characters.  Aditya is not only rich and handsome and talented, he's an astonishingly decent person, able to take no for an answer and still do everything possible to help the woman he loves without hoping for a reward.  He's very honest about his love for Geet, but he's quick to add, "But that's my problem."  (Of course Aditya gets the girl in the end, but when he does he is genuinely surprised.)  And Geet is free spirited and quirky in the first part of the movie but shifts believably to dour and cynical in the second.  It would be easy to make her into a caricature, but Kareena Kapoor presents her as a well rounded person with agency and dreams of her own, rather than as a motivation for Aditya's character development.  Jab We Met came out only four years after Kareena's widely panned (including by me) performance in Khushi.  The growth in her confidence and skill is remarkable.

 

While I love a good masala flick at least as much as the next guy (probably more) it's okay to just do one thing if you do it well.  Jab We Met does one thing really well.

. . . is an ungrateful stepsibling.

David Dhawan is famous for directing a number of incredibly broad, incredibly formulaic comedies, often starring Govinda or the director's son, Varun Dhawan, and with further comic relief provided by some combination of Shakti Kapoor, Johny Lever, Kader Khan, and/or Paresh Rawal.  The movies are sometimes tasteless, predictably predictable, and irregularly funny, but when you watch a David Dhawan movie, you know what you're getting.  And then there is his first hit, Swarg (1990).  While Govinda and Paresh Rawal both have important roles, this is perhaps the least David Dhawany David Dhawan movie I have ever seen.

 Kumar (Rajesh Khanna) is a wealthy businessman with a large family, including his wife Janki (Madhavi) and much younger stepsiblings Ravi (Dilip Dhawan), Vikram (Raja Bundela), and Jyoti (Juhi Chawla), along with Ravi's wife Naina (Neena Gupta) and maybe Ravi and Naina have a son?  A kid shows up in a few scenes, but nobody ever really talks about him.  When his stepmother was dying, Kumar promised her that he would always take care of her children, and even took a vow that he would never have children of his own, a decision that I am sure will have no negative consequences.

And then there's Krishna (Govinda), the family servant.  Krishna was an orphan, taken in at a young age, and he views Kumar as a father, showing so much devotion that he;'s in danger of overdosing on filial piety.  Krishna is not a very good servant, but he is clever, loyal, and good at punching bad guys, skills which he puts to good use when rescuing Jyoti from a fate worse than death.  (It is nineties Bollywood, after all; you have to threaten the heroine with a fate worse than death at some point.)

 

In any case, it's a big, wonderful, loving family and everybody is so happy that they named the house "Swarg," because it is a heaven on Earth.  And then, Kumar wins the election to become president of the Mill Owners Association.  His predecessor Dhanraj (Paresh Rawal) is not happy, because he's been using the position to fill his own pockets for years, and he knows the scrupulously honest Kumar will not let the matter go.  Dhanraj sets out to ruin Kumar's happy home.

 

And he does!  It turns out that ruining people is surprisingly easy.  With the help of Nagpal (Bharat Kapoor), one of Kumar's employees, he manipulates Kumar into using the mansion as collateral to secure a large loan, a loan which becomes impossible to repay when the factory burns down.

Kumar is ruined overnight, and his stepbrothers reveal themselves to be selfish jerks who refuse to help the man who has supported them for so many years.  (Jyoti is played by Juhi Chawla and so remains virtuous.)  When Krishna has had enough and confronts them over their disloyalty, they frame him for stealing Jyoti's jewelry and he is thrown out of the house.  

 

Krishna travels to Bombay (the name won't officially change for another five years) and after a rough start, he meets a friend named Airport (Satish Kaushik), gets a job as a spot boy on a movie set, and accidentally becomes a rich and successful film star almost overnight.  Now that he has money and power and a loyal sidekick, Krishna returns home, determined to save his family, or at least avenge his fallen master.

Despite the different genre, David Dhawan still doesn't do subtle; this is drama rather than comedy, but it's still incredibly broad.  Dhanraj has two identifiable personality traits: he's evil, and he likes to remind people that he's from Gujurat.  Krishna is virtue personified.  Kumar is bound by his vow, and suffers nobly.  After the first half hour, nobody really has a chance to be funny, which is honestly a bit of a waste since half the cast have strong comedic chops; Juhi Chawla is right there, people!

 

The end result reminds me of a scaled down production of King Lear, swapping some of the play's cosmic nihilism for brightly colored dance numbers, because drama or no drama, Govinda is going to dance.  It's definitely not what I was expecting from David Dhawan.