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About six months ago, Hasee Toh Phasee, starring Parineeti Chopra and Siddhartha Malhotra released. Despite a display of average acting skills, it was a cheesy, feel-good romantic comedy that stayed with you. Seeing Daawat-E-Ishq’s trailers, I didn’t think the film would make that cut. Chopra looks strange in her anarkalis and loud make-up and Aditya Roy Kapur seems forgettable. Having seen the film, I won’t say it makes the cut completely, and yet, in some ways, it does.
The film opens in the home of Gulrez, aka Gullu, (played by Chopra), with Anupam Kher playing the role of Bhooji, a father worried about his daughter’s marriage. Before this, like those ‘smoking is injurious to health’ advertisements, there is a paragraph-long disclaimer against dowry. Ten minutes into the film, its purpose becomes clear. Loosely, and without giving the plot away, dowry is, in many ways, the central thrust of the film. It moves the plot and its ensuing romance, neatly tying the story together at the end. Gullu is a girl who wants Mr Universe for a husband, someone who can speak English well and can do justice to her “private school education”. The scenes with Gullu in Hyderabad are quite witty and occupy a good 40 minutes of the film. Her relationship with Bhooji is also well culled out, the motherless child brought up by her friend-like father. Both Kher and Chopra have the Hyderabadi accent down pat, though it does seem a bit contrived on Chopra at times.
Gullu meets Amjad, played by Karan Wahi, who speaks English with an accent and lives in the city’s posh Jubilee Hills, They, quite naturally, fall in love. Things go south when his family demands “help” — not dowry, never dowry — with the bills for its son’s education in the US. With a broken heart and a cup of tea and biryani for bribe, Gullu convinces her upright father, who works as a clerk at the High Court, to go to Lucknow to con a suitor and fulfil her own dreams of going to the US for higher education. Enter Kapur, who plays the role of Tariq “Taaru” Haider, a restaurant owner and ‘magician’ in the kitchen. And with the plot moving to Lucknow, it seems to slow down considerably.
Kapur is average and looks and acts like a Jat, with none of the Lucknowi tehzeeb. His chemistry with Chopra is interesting, but the plot doesn’t allow much of it to bloom. If anything, the storyline is lopsided and Chopra emerges as the star of the film. Kapur’s character is adorable and some of the dialogues stay with you. But his character, of the man who is against dowry, is unrealistic. In comparison, Wahi is more convincing, though this may be director Habib Faisal’s attempt to present an ideal for the world to emulate.
The climax scenes are both slow and hurried. There is unnecessary violence and comic chaos, which leaves little time for a proper romantic resolution. With classic Yash Raj flourish, the culmination of the romance between Gullu and Tariq happens at a railway station. The cinematography is well-executed, with liberal shots of kebabs and jalebis, enough to make you squirm in hunger. Like the plot, the camera is more skilfully used for scenes in Hyderabad than in Lucknow. The dialogues are witty and some scenes have little cues for the observant audience. For instance, when Wahi and Chopra go to watch a movie, it is to see Faisal’s Band Baaja Baraat. And when Kapur comes to Hyderabad looking for Chopra, the autorickshaw reads Talaash. I sense déjà vu while seeing Chopra on screen, where her no-frills, middle-class girl look reminds me of Hasee Toh Phasee.
Sajid-Wajid’s music isn’t very remarkable, and I only remember the title track since it plays as a background score through the film. And ironically, rather than the romance, it is Kher and his dialogues that stay with you.
