Bhool Chuk Maaf Movie Review: Rajkummar Rao repeats himself in the same-old small-town comedy
Bhool Chuk Maaf(2 / 5)
In the 1993 comedy Groundhog Day—the gold standard for time-loop films—Bill Murray finds himself stuck in a nightmare. He wakes up every day in a town he abhors, bumps into people he would rather avoid, and waits for a woodchuck to come out and predict the weather. In its most enjoyable bits, Murray throws in the towel. He stuffs his mouth with everything on the menu, punches an old acquaintance before he gets the chance to introduce himself, and presses his lips against his hotel proprietress when she asks him if he would like some coffee. Live like there is no tomorrow. But that wears off soon, and then comes the day drinking, and the suicide attempts. Groundhog Day isn’t just about a man reliving his worst day, it’s a metaphor for life itself. Often, we find ourselves caught in a purposeless rut, just getting by, every day like every other day. For Murray, tomorrow finally comes when he decides to give his today in the service of others. Without any fanfare, the film imparts simple but vital life lessons. Living is all about giving. Nothing changes until we do.
Cast: Rajkummar Rao, Wamiqa Gabbi, Raghybir Yadav, Seema Pahwa, Sanjay Mishra and Zakir Hussain
Written and directed by: Karan Sharma
Bhool Chuk Maaf takes an eternity to arrive at these basics. It meanders, feels scattered, and goes in a loop, unable to find its centre. Ranjan (Rajkummar Rao) and Titli (Wamiqa Gabbi) are eager to get married, but the latter’s father won’t allow it till the boy has a government job. Ranjan pays, prays, and somehow manages to bag one. It’s all hunky-dory till he finds himself stuck in his Haldi day, hearing the same wisecracks, dirtying his slippers in the same cow dung, and witnessing the same flowerpot break. It takes some time but Ranjan finally arrives at the question: Whom did he do wrong?
Although the premise had some promise, when peeled, the Maddock Production is any other run-of-the-mill, small-town comedy, once frequented by Ayushmann Khurrana. In the ensemble, you have Seema Pahwa, Raghubir Yadav, and Sanjay Mishra. I was eagerly waiting for Vijay Raaz to show up and complete the comedy quadruple. But even with such an impressive cast, the fun doesn’t flow. Scenes fall flat. Actors talk animatedly, as if cosplaying their own characters from other films. Rajkummar seems like he is stuck in an acting loop, rehashing the same performances he gave in Vicky Vidya Ka Woh Wala Video and Stree. Wamiqa has sparks and promise, but she stretches them as soon as she starts to get charming.
The film takes time to set the ball rolling. About forty minutes in, we were still sitting through Ranjan trying to arrange money to buy a government job. Often, I felt like Bhool Chuk Maaf was two loose narratives pulled to their limits and tied together: a toothless commentary on the country’s unemployment problem and a lagging loop-comedy. The time-loop theatrics felt like a garnish, done only to spice up an otherwise routine tale. There is no inventiveness or ingenuity. To get out of his predicament, Ranjan does everything that every other protagonist of a small-town comedy has done, what Bala from Bala did to grow his hair, or what any other Ayushmann Khurrana character did to solve his bodily incapabilities: pray at a temple, feed gau mata, and see a tantrik. Even in a montage, these images feel dated, a drag. Ah, here we go again.
The Banaras setting also adds to the exasperation. The protagonist’s father will get drunk with his friends by the ghats, which is Bollywood’s version of showing a progressive parent. The hero and heroine will romance in a flower market to a song which you will forget the next minute. Bhool Chuk Maaf often spreads in multiple directions, trying to find something to latch on to in order to reach its climax. The only amusing bit is when Rajkummar goes saccharine, being nice to everyone he sees, apologising for the minutest of mistakes, and being an embodiment of the adarsh balak (ideal boy) meme. With the rest, Bhool Chuk Maaf felt like a déjà vu, it has all happened before: these ghats of Banaras, these accented wisecracks, these actors who act like they were born to be sidekicks. It’s a rerun.