'Annie Hall' did not end with a stream of tears or even as much as a lump in the throat. And yet, Woody Allen's classic remains to be the last word on twisted romance, on a potentially perfect relationship gone disastrously wrong and on the bewilderingly complex nature of love itself. It did not need to be sentimental to be heartbreaking in the expected moment of pathos between its lovers. That is how a film about fatally messed up lovers should be- sad but funny and insightful as hell.
For Karan Johar, however, a film about self-destructive love should be itself self-destructive.
There is a lot of promise in 'Ae Dil Hai Mushkil'. It is a film that is trying at every level to be a different beast, to break free from the mould of the average Bollywood romance, to make some subversive statement on love and relationships and their labyrinthine ways. However, even as the actors and premise try their best, the film is ultimately trapped by its maker's blatant self-indulgence, as he tries to pad along narrative excess to make it all convincing, but ends up only ruining all that superb potential. When you expect it to be a bitter reflection of all that is crooked in love, all it offers is merely a neon sign of the word with the letters jumbled up.
Everything else can be called as 'Annie Schmaltz'.
And yet, at least for the first hour or so in 'Ae Dil Hai Mushkil', things start brimming positively with genuine spunk, or at least how Johar likes to serve us the same. We are instantly introduced to Ayan Sanger, a cocky wannabe singer, and Alizeh, a feisty, vivacious beauty with a penchant for chattering in Bollywood lingo. The two hit off in a terrific, thrilling chemistry that alone drives the film's madcap first half but at least the director knows what he is doing. The film looks glitzy and gorgeous (with cinematographer Anil Mehta making Soho's suburban pubs and ghettoes come alive in all their gritty, dank beauty), there is some enjoyably goofy film snark to enjoy (smack references to the pulpy films and trashy songs of 1980s), some genuinely wacky slapstick and even some delightful nuance as well (women taking dance classes to shake their legs to Bollywood item numbers).
Most crucially, it is the lead pair that itself works wonders. Both Ranbir Kapoor's Ayan and Anushka Sharma's Alizeh make for an enduringly enthralling screen couple and here we see them both embrace the loony tenor of these glossy proceedings with a gamely effervescence that never ever feels forced. He shakes his rump with unabashed charm while she can deliver even the most ham-fisted Bollywood bimbette lines with a bubbly spark that is irresistible. As long as 'Ae Dil Hai Mushkil' gazes with besotted, starry-eyed wonder at this utterly spunky pair, gleefully ditching their respectively dumbfounded partners and enjoying a 'heartbreak holiday' full of film memorabilia, the film remains a giddy, sinful delight of Technicolor frolic.
If only the film could have stuck with just both of them.
Alas, it is when the plot actually kicks in that the problems begin. Ayan, for all his raffish charisma, turns out to be an aspiring singer and he has still not got his mojo until, of course, Alizeh spurns his advances, insisting that they remain as friends. With an obvious predictability, we see Ayan go through the grinder of heartbreak time and again, only in the intent of making him discover his musical chops but even this journey is something that lacks depth and insight. And, in case you are wondering, it is basically the same yarn of Imtiaz Ali's far superior 'Rockstar' without the artistry- there is precious little to be made of Ayan making it big as a musician even with his heart shattered more than once. All we get to see are two songs- yes, merely two inconsequential songs- and a handful of fans on social media demanding for more. Sigh.
As if to take the film on an intentionally different path, Johar introduces the new angle in the form of Saba, a wealthy poetess in Vienna who grabs hold of a wet-behind-the-ears Ayan with her slinky fists and silver-coated tongue. The two enter into a supposedly charged affair- the rookie musician crooning her poetry in his stage anthems and for a brief moment, Saba seems like a sort of Yoko Ono to Ayan's battered John Lennon. It could have been a masterstroke of a narrative that would have gone in a wonderfully different direction. But these are hurried and harried decisions for Johar, who is just eager to leap from one sumptuous song sequence to another. 'Ae Dil Hai Mushkil' tries to flirt with intriguing new developments but airbrushes them conveniently with strokes of safe play. Saba starts off as a cougar in disguise, a woman manipulating Ayan for her own desires but she ends up as a woman who needed real love mere seconds before her character is eventually shoved aside.
Hurried and harried decisions, for that matter, are all over Johar's film. The way the script treats Alizeh is even more criminal. Her troubled past is hardly explored and her decisions- to choose her ex-beau Ali over Ayan or to break up her marriage with the same- are half-baked and make little sense. The film tries hard to make a case for Ayan as being at the receiving end of the agony and ecstasy of rising and falling in love. But there is no insight to be gained from the way he falls for Saba, for there is nothing truly compelling in their affair apart from a few gimmicks at sexual foreplay that is straight out of a boring Adrian Lyne film. We need more than just an erotic encounter at a disco ala 'Basic Instinct' to get the fireworks blazing.
It does not help that Saba is played by Aishwarya Rai Bachchan, an actress of already limited histrionic talent, here made even more insufferable as a frosty dame not quite worth killing for. The rest of the cast is pretty solid, even as Fawad Khan's potentially interesting Ali gets the raw deal of having his character kept forever to the periphery. Sharma, as said, is effortlessly charming and carries along even the most predictable moments with confidence while Kapoor, even as saddled with a character he has played before, commits fully and brings the perfect balance of bush-tailed mischief, passion and pain. It is he who makes the film somewhat compelling even when everything is falling apart.
This is a shame since there are parts when you almost feel that 'Ae Dil Hai Mushkil' is truly special. It is an utterly gorgeous film, for one thing. The locations- from seedy London to ice-cream cold Vienna- look ravishing, especially in Mehta's brilliantly lit visuals and the interiors look rich and aesthetic. This might be the first time that Johar's cinematic eye is less pompous and more opulent- from steaks being grilled in pubs to enormous gossamer curtains falling between the bride and groom during a 'nikaah' ceremony and frenzied Lucknow crowds celebrating Holi. This is a film of real craft and composer Pritam and lyricist Amitabh Bhattacharya seem to having a ball of a time too, belting out one grand musical number after another.
And yet all this is self-indulgence given how filmsy the main narrative feels. The plot drags on, the characters are rendered one-dimensional and the director skips through the more crucial plot-points in a desperate bid to accomodate the disastrous third act that feels totally redundant.
Rather, he ends up giving more time to the Shah Rukh Khan cameo in the middle, as well as to the endless barrage of references to films and old songs of yore. All this has been said and done before. Yeah, sure,
even Woody Allen's characters are nostalgists at heart but heartbreak is not quite the same as tearjerking and Johar amps up the latter when he cannot quite understand the former. And, as that great man once said, a life full of misery and suffering should also be over all too quickly.
Ranbir Kapoor is oustanding, as always. But as a hard-core Allen fan, I wish that his last name had been Singer.
My Rating- 2 and a half stars out of 5
