Dilwale **
Dir: Rohit Shetty.
With: Shah Rukh Khan, Kajol, Varun Dhawan, Kriti Sanon. 158 mins. Cert: 12A
2015 was the year the
commercial cinema stepped up in the matter of monetising nostalgia. In the
West, the Spielberg/Lucas copyism of Jurassic World and Star Wars: The Force Awakens raked in megabucks by cosying up to established fanbases, as did SPECTRE by extracting 007 from the real
world (and real-world peril) Skyfall placed
him in and instead returning the character to those fantastical lairs he’d
escaped a half-century ago. With Dilwale,
Bollywood follows suit. In its title and casting, Rohit Shetty’s film trades
heavily on fond memories of Dilwale
Dulhania Le Jayenge, the 1995 landmark that was still enjoying regular
rotation in one Mumbai cinema as late as this February.
What’s initially so
discombobulating here is that that film’s stars Shah Rukh Khan and Kajol should
be reunited in a very different movie. Where the original was a lush, keening
romance, the new one foregrounds elements of those pulpy crime stories about
one sibling getting inextricably drawn into another’s risky business. The good
brother here is Raj (Khan), a former tough who reformed upon opening an auto
repair shop. Yet one of the hot-rods parked under his roof is trickier to
handle than most: this is younger brother Veer (Varun Dhawan), who – while
attempting to impress the winsome Ishu (Kriti Sanon) – crosses a fearsome drug
dealer.
An extended pre-interval
flashback clarifies matters a little. Here, we learn that the beardless Raj
only turned thug after he, too, stepped in to assist a damsel in distress – and
after the thoroughly boysy beginning, it’s something of a relief when Kajol
shows up, still possessed of the best eyebrows in the business (chief rivals:
Camilla Belle, Lee Pace, Eugene Levy), as Raj’s beloved Meera. Thus can Shetty
make a narrative point of having history repeat itself, and for at least its
first half, Dilwale provides functional
enough holiday entertainment.
It’s clear Khan’s
rare, Cary Grant-like ability to strike up a chemistry with anyone placed in
front of him hasn’t diminished over the past two decades. With Kajol, it’s a
given, and a joy – and, for this lovestruck Raj, something of a liability – but
there’s also a warmth to his interactions with Dhawan that steers the garage
scenes away from flimsy Fast & Furious-ism. (The Khan-less scenes, full of grown men wailing like kids,
overdo the wacky sound effects, and the less said about Dhawan’s impromptu Love, Actually homage the better.)
Shetty keeps his end
up by ensuring the action scenes remain coherent: the punches land with
uncommon force for a 12A-rated movie, and the crisp editing is such you can see
the drivers in the cars flipping over at 80mph. While it’s transitioning
between genres, you ride along. Trouble arrives, however, once Dilwale enters its ultimate destination:
the dud second half feels copied-and-pasted in from some Big Bollywood Book of
Star-Crossed Lovers, tossing out one implausible, indigestible chunk of
melodrama after another. It’s not just the stars who’ve been reunited, but all
those narrative and visual tropes that have curdled into cliché.
The lovers’ fringes
still blow up as they turn towards camera in slow-motion; tragic developments
occasion torrential rainstorms. Shetty’s clinging at numbing length to what’s
worked before, and this of all seasons, that may prove as much limitation as
consolation. The 1995 Dilwale’s title
translated as The Bravehearted Will Take the Bride, and the boldly beautiful Bajirao Mastani surely has that prize
sewn up this Christmas. The new Dilwale
has the star power to pick up those unlucky bridesmaids shut out of adjacent
screens, but everybody’s evening, everybody’s legacy, might have been better
served by returning the original to circulation.
Dilwale is now playing in cinemas nationwide.
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