It must be really impossible to make a comedy like that—no one else has been able to do it. Look how badly this one crumbles in its zealous effort. Every dialogue strives to make you laugh, every act tries too hard. By the end, you’re the one who’s tired.
Writer-director Sanjay Chhel (Khoobsoorat, Kyaa Dil Ne Kahaa) says in an interview that his film is “on the lines of” Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron. But it’s more like a replication. Maan Gaye replaces the Mahabharata dramatisation and in comes the Mughal-E-Azam story.
If you remember well, the original’s hilarious climax also incorporated the Anarkali-Salim love story. Other similarities include the theatre set-up, goofy antics on stage, and even a corpse (parked on skates here) makes a fleeting appearance. Come to think of it, even the two titles have an uncannily similar ring to it.
The story starts and we’re introduced to Kalakar Theatre Company that’s staging a cheesy, rabble-rousing play called India Jaago. Paresh Rawal plays the earnest actor Uday Shankar Mazumdar, who’s nuts about his actress wife Shabnam (Mallika Sherawat) and suspicious of other men eying her. Young, beautiful Shabnam wants to become a film heroine and find new romance. The play comes under fire from the local Goa police and under duress, they have to stage their old Salim-Anarkali love yarn.
Poor Uday Shankar must compete with a new admirer, a young chap (Rahul Bose) who’s a RAW agent. He’s arrived in the city to prevent a don (Dawood caricature as usual) from masterminding the serial Bombay blasts (the film is set in `93). In doing so—the play, the love triangle, extraneous characters like a local bhai and a ghazal singer who’s supporting the “jihad”—all get mixed up.
For ‘laughs’ you have the actor playing Salim saying in Dilip-Kumar style: “takhliyan” and then “fuck off” (non-beeped). Other dialogues go like this: one character says baal baal bach gaye. The other who’s wearing false hair says: wig wig bach gaye. Prince Salim chortles: Anaru, I am your kangaroo. Sherawat is referred to as “item” throughout.
Other chaotic scenes have Rahul Bose’s character in a suit, on stage by accident, hiding his face with costume armour. In another scene, Anarkali’s lost contact lens has all the actors down on their knees looking for it… while the play continues. These stretched situations are broken by songs, each looking identical.
Paresh Rawal is so genuinely and impossibly funny—those are the only portions you really enjoy. Mallika Sherawat is in top form as in Ugly Aur Pagli. Like in the former, she does that blowing-hair-off-her-forehead routine. Rahul Bose looks dishy and does surprisingly well in the comic scenes. One wonders why he didn’t give commercial films a thought much earlier. Kay Kay Menon is dependably good. All the other actors—a talented bunch—are monumentally wasted.
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