What Farhan Akhtar did for upper-class Bombay, Dibakar Banerjee seems to have done for middle-class Delhi. As if following a fashion, the screens these days are filled with endearingly loud Punjabi types, who speak Hindi as if through a fractured mouth (every other syllable gets snipped) and who practically explode with colour. Take, for instance, the widowed Mrs. Arora (Dolly Ahluwalia, in this film’s finest performance; there’s genuine heart beneath all that broad humour). She runs a beauty parlour out of her home, slicing vegetables for dinner as her girls go about waxing and threading. And after dinner, she sits down with Biji (the uproarious Kamlesh Gill) for a ritual drink in scenes that are calculated to make us laugh, like that other one at a fertility clinic where the secretary asks a potential sperm donor his name, his age and his sex. We laugh at her because he’s obviously male, otherwise he wouldn’t be here, but we also laugh with her, at the utter Indianness of our obsessive need to fill out ridiculous forms and comport ourselves through reams of red tape.
But later, we see Mrs. Arora asleep in her son’s room, which is what she used to do after a quarrel with her late husband, and the character doesn’t seem all that comedic anymore. In a small dramatic scene later on, her son Vicky (Ayushmann Khurana) muses that those pegs at night help his mother sleep better. Shoojit Sircar’s Vicky Donor, for the most part, manages the very tricky feat of drawing back the curtain behind caricatures to reveal real people. As Vicky is persuaded by infertility specialist Dr. Chaddha (a charmingly passive-aggressive Annu Kapoor) to make sperm donations, he first says he hates kids. After this sitcommy declaration, he gets to mouth one of the film’s many laugh-out-loud lines, “Ghar pe baithe baithe baap ban raha hoon main,”that he’s sitting at home and fathering children. So far, Vicky is just living up to someone’s description of him as an “over-the-top Punju.” But then, he sobers up. “Technically I’ve become a dad,” he says. “Ajeeb lag raha hai.” The enormity of his offhand (in a manner of speaking) act has hit him, and he’ll never be the same again. And in a more chilling instance of a caricature turning into a person, we see a formerly exultant neighbour gloat when misfortune falls upon the family that denied her her desire.
Vicky Donor is one of those films that looks as if it’s going to shatter a hundred different on-screen taboos, but it’s actually as old-fashioned as they come. It puts a clever spin on all those films we’ve seen where the hero has a secret (that he’s a gangster, for instance, in Satya) that the audience is privy to but the heroine is unaware about. The film begins shakily, with scenes that sound funnier than they actually are. Possibly due to the compulsions of being something that can be watched with the family, the risqué aspects of the sperm-donation angle are never explored. And I wished they’d brought together Vicky and Dr. Chaddha in a more convincing fashion. (Their getting together is as much a one-in-a-million shot of randomness as you can expect in the good doctor’s line of work. Also, wouldn’t someone as cocky as Vicky just blow off the doctor’s strange and extremely personal request?) And there’s some very broad humour – in a montage featuring donors that include an old man and a flamboyantly gay youth, and later, in a scene that pivots on the worst Punjabi and Bengali stereotypes – that plays very badly. In short, the scenes we looked forward to, those moments of great transgression, just don’t work at all.
The film begins to click when it’s being least transgressive, about halfway through the first half, when Vicky begins to flirt and fall in love with Ashima (Yami Gautam). This romance begins slowly, over accidental meetings and Facebook friendings (they refer to each other as “fish” and “butter chicken,” given that she’s Bengali and he’s Punjabi), and their unforced togetherness takes over the film. Khurana and Gautam work wonderfully with each other, and we’re, again, inside one of those old movies where we know a secret is going to spill out and split the couple, and we desperately wish we can stave off the moment. (And the thawing, after their split, is as gradual as their falling in love; she leaves him, but later, she picks up his call and says she needs time.) Unlike modern-day yuppie romances, this isn’t just about downing shots in a neon-lit bar. Vicky and Ashima do that too – but she visits a gurudwara with him, and he ventures into a puja pandal. We buy this couple because they seem to genuinely want to be with each other at all times. (And it’s a lovely touch that their inevitable breakup isn’t positioned predictably at interval point, even though there are hints that this may be coming.)
In the second half, the romance completely edges out the sperm-donation angle – which, in any case, was just the ignition switch for this story about marriage and after – and it keeps building in remarkably unmelodramatic ways, and the contrivance that brings the couple back together has the satisfying daffiness of a rom-com conclusion. Even more satisfying is the skill with which the film weaves in the message from the title card at the beginning, a WHO statement about there being a shortage of sperm donors. (If that doesn’t gladden the heart of pocket-money-starved teenage boys everywhere, I don’t know what will.) The messagey aspect of the movie gets a bit of a heavy workout in the early portions – where Vicky (and therefore the audience) is educated about the process, a lesson that begins with our epics, where queens bore children that were not always from the kings, and ends in the present day, where stress and lifestyle changes have made infertility rampant – but it becomes less intrusive, gradually, as the advise comes not through dialogue but through subtle shifts in the story and the characters. By the end, you may feel you’ve watched one of those Sanjeev Kumar movies where he kept engineering happy solutions for unhappy couples – just done with far less ham-handedness.
Vicky Donor is as classy a “message movie” as can be imagined under the circumstances. It isn’t just that the message of being able to get past not having children of your own is important (and the film beautifully blends in an adoption angle as well) – it would have meant nothing if people had stopped in their tracks and begun to harangue us with well-meaning advice (which, naturally, we would have shrunk from). Just look at the number of “teachings” this film gets across. That it’s okay to talk about sperm (the kachori-munching Annu Kapoor even makes a cute, cartoon-like motion with his fingers scissoring through air, as if rendering a potentially sticky subject safe by a show-and-tell approach suitable for family audiences). That it isn’t right to raise kids with the burdens of your dreams. (The husband wants “cricket-waala sample.” The wife wants a model’s. Kapoor replies in a line tossed off with such casualness that you don’t feel its sting until later: “Pehle career decide karo, baad mein bachcha paida karo.”) That it’s no shame to donate sperm. That the most outwardly modern of women can be plagued with inner doubts in these matters. That it’s no big deal to get remarried. And that it’s okay to be confused about Lady Gaga’s gender. The points get across… swimmingly.
Copyright ©2012 Baradwaj Rangan. This article may not be reproduced in its entirety without permission. A link to this URL, instead, would be appreciated.
Abhishek
April 29, 2012
“a scene that pivots on the worst Punjabi and Bengali stereotypes” As a Bengali living in Delhi for nearly 30 years let me assure you THIS is how most “bongs” and “punjus” refer to each other no offence meant.
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Abhishek
April 29, 2012
But I agree with you that Dibakar Banerjee’s Khosla Ka Ghosla has spawned off the “local flavoured” Delhi film. Since then we have had Band Baaja Baraat, Do Dooni Char, Mere Brother Ki Dulhan, No One Killed Jessica and of course Rockstar and Dibakar’s Oye Luck Lucky Oye and LSD.
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Sharan (@sharanidli)
April 29, 2012
I think Annu Kapoor deserves a lot of credit for making those initial scenes work. His is still a caricature then, but he somehow pulls it off (I must admit I had a few reservations about the credibility of Dr Chaddha, but soon found myself believing in him completely).
Also, while the treatment of the romantic angle was refreshingly new, I thought the scenes of her breakdown (leading to her separation) were amongst the weakest. The contrast was particularly jarring:he was Vicky, she was acting.
(Finally, “somebody as “cocky” as Vicky?” I never thought of Vicky as “cocky”. Clearly, years of living in Delhi has redefined what classifies as cocky for me)
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Kutty
April 29, 2012
Another legacy in the making in Bollywood seems to be the “linger and kiss” routine. When we first saw it in Band Bajaa Baraat it seemed so fresh and natural, and now we see the same repeat in Ladies vs Ricky Bahl and Vicky Donor. I know it is minor thing, but given how excited you sounded (and so was I) when writing about the lip-lock in Band Bajaa Baraat, you are perhaps one of the few who would be fatigued with this decades long predicament of the Indian filmmaker in directing an intimate scene.
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SN
April 30, 2012
Somehow I find these Delhi based movies more “real” than the affected movies that get churned out in either foreign locations or in Mumbai (I dont want to start off on a tangent, so I will leave out the names of movies/ moviemakers). This coming from an NRI… Maybe that is my years in college in Delhi and seeing the characters coming out alive once more on screen. To me the most hilarious scene of the movie was this random guy on a scooter stopping Vicky and saying that he was like a “mama” to him and being upset that Vicky hadnt shared the fact that his wife had walked out on him… Something that is just to Delhi!! I loved the movie – true some of the humour was over the top and being neither a Bong nor a Punju, was just hilarious seeing the stereotypes being discussed so openly and not trying to be PC!
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ravi
April 30, 2012
i wish you had added a line where you said this film was a must watch. or else what differentiates this from crap like housefull 2. that is the problem with reading intellectual reviews. they just miss the point.
this was one of the most enjoyable films i have watched in the last 5 years. and the whole hall was laughing with me. when i saw housefull 2 a group of 7 year old children were celebrating their birthday with their teacher. they enjoyed the film immensely. none of the adults did.
so housefull 2 was for seven year olds (mental/physical). vicky donor is a must watch for every one.
and why should dibakar banerjee get the credit for creating the loud punjabi character. both dibakar and shoojit were brought up in delhi and have seen this culture from an outsider’s perspective. just like me. even i could have created it. it is just that dibakar’s film came out first. the loud punjabi character was created by punjabis themselves. that is how most of them are.
but sir, please mention a line at the end of your article regarding your recommendation. do you want people to see this or not. sometimes i feel yes, sometimes i feel no.
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Vasisht Das
April 30, 2012
“You Punjabis are so ostentatious”
“And you Bengalis are so pretentious”
– from ‘Monsoon Wedding’ (’01)
Dr.Rangan, Abhishek is right. No need to be politically correct (“worst Punjabi and Bengali stereotypes”).
Bongs and Punjus are perhaps the most enthusiastic lot in India to live upto the worst stereotypes about them; Anyone who knows enough numbers of these will confirm that.
And this can be hugely entertaining provided you keep puncturing their tiresome ‘self importance’ & ‘cockiness’ on an hourly basis – they so aptly deserve each other 😉
At this rate, we are not too far away from a time when we will tire of this so-far-refreshing Dilli flavour in Hindi movies after decades of tiresome Mumbai kitsch.
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Sudipta Bhattacharjee
April 30, 2012
BR – really liked your insights into the movie. In fact was waiting for your take on the movie so that I get an ‘outsider’s’ perspective on this. To elucidate, I am a bong guy married to a half-punju and have lived in Delhi for several years now, that too in close proximity of both CR Park (where the ‘heroine’ was staying) and Lajpat Nagar (where Vicky’s house was) – being so close to both the milieu, I felt that I haven’t seen such accurate character-portrayals for a very long time. Yes, it was based on stereotypes, but it was never off the mark – I have personally experienced about 90% of the stuff that is shown in the movie in the run-up to the marriage. So I was quite intrigued to see that you felt all that was ‘broad stereotype’ – would you at least agree if I say that those scenes were one of the most competently done ‘cultural-stereotype based mainstream cinematic humour’ in the recent times 🙂
JaiArjun Singh makes an interesting point in his review – as to how intriguing it is that 2 colonies in South Delhi, only 15 minutes drive away from each other, seem to belong to 2 different cultural universes. Have felt that for long myself – was glad that a moviemaker has exploited this aspect competently.
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Manojh (@manojh3012)
April 30, 2012
The movie overall worked for me. My only issue was that all the punch lines in the movie already appeared in the trailer(which I had watched several times since I have been going to the same theater over the past few weeks), and unfortunately the movie didn’t have anything extra than what the trailer showed.
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Suganth
April 30, 2012
On the topic of Delhi-set films, lets not forget Imtiaz Ali’s underrated debut Socha Na Tha, which in fact, should be credited with setting this trend.
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Suganth
April 30, 2012
Baradwaj, by the way, do check out Leelai, if you find the time. Not at all a unique film by any means, but a pleasant, urbane rom-com. Since you have been complaining quite often that we don’t get many city-centric romances in Tamil cinema, you might just appreciate the effort.
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prasunbanerjee
April 30, 2012
Dear Mr Rangan … Just to repeat what Abhishek has written … the stereotypes may be over the top but they are very very real … As a bong let me assure you of that !!!
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Karthi
April 30, 2012
http://www.thehindu.com/todays-paper/tp-features/tp-sundaymagazine/article3365853.ece
Any comments
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brangan
April 30, 2012
Sharan “I thought the scenes of her breakdown (leading to her separation) were amongst the weakest.” Yeah, that wasn’t her best moment, acting with a pointy finger. Even her pauses were very odd in that scene. Decided not to mention it, though, as I really liked what she did with the part everywhere else.
ravi: “why should dibakar banerjee get the credit for creating the loud punjabi character… even i could have created it” Not sure what you mean by this. Are you a filmmaker?
Manojh: This isn’t really a punch line kinda movie, no?
Suganth: Been meaning to. Avvlo nice-aah?
Abhishek / SN / prasunbanerjee: I wasn’t protesting about the broadness of the stereotypes, but about the broadness of the comedy in that post-interval scene. The first couple of back-and-forths (between his folks and hers; especially with his mom already having decided, sight unseen, that she’s going to be dominated by her daughter-in-law 🙂 ) were fun, but then it went on too long, and got really weird when the dad began to talk about his lovemaking prowess.
Karthi: Not really. He’s kinda right, isn’t he?
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Rahul
April 30, 2012
I had no problems with the comedy, actually you will find the monologue by the Bong dad funny if you consider that Bongs are not known for brawn like the Punjus- and that may have hit a raw nerve 🙂
I had problems with the drama though, to me it felt like a feel good farce. The drama did not have much heft because the dramatic incidents were not as well written – for example , the girl and his dad have a very vague idea of what he does, yet they never inquire.
The awkward chemistry or lack of it between them was perfect in a Gautan Menon- VTV way, but I think their courtship needed more time. It didnt feel unnatural ,though.
“Vicky and Ashima do that too – but she visits a gurudwara with him, and he ventures into a puja pandal. ”
I may have missed this scene. Was it during a song?
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Manojh (@manojh3012)
April 30, 2012
ohh..by punch line, I just meant those lol-worthy one-liners like “tu arya putra hai…”, “ghar pe baite baap ban raha hoon..”, “pehle career decide kar le..” types. i think they should reserve some of those exclusively for the movie 🙂
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brangan
May 1, 2012
Vashist/Sudipta: Sorry about your comments. Some moderation goof-up. They show up now. Cheers.
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ravi
May 1, 2012
not a film maker – a non punjoo in delhi. the point i was making is anyone who could see these characters from a distance (any non punjoo) could have done that. and as many other posters have remarked these are not sterotypes like mehmood’s paDosan, these are real. this is how these guys talk and act. and btw loud punjabi is generally a tautology.
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Suganth
May 1, 2012
Baradwaj, If recent B’wood rom-coms (say Band Baaja Baraat or Ek Mein Aur Ekk Tu) are your yardstick, then it falls short both on the writing and directing fronts. Might make you ask ‘what’s all the fuss about?’. But when you go by Tamil rom-com standards, it is very well done and breezy for a debut effort. Minnale is the one that comes to my mind if you ask for a comparison (though this one, thankfully, doesn’t get all too serious about the romance, save for the last 20 mins).
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Karthi
May 1, 2012
yes.me too. you havent mentioned in any reviews or commented anywhere. thats why asked.interesting insight aint it?
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Vikas Bhargava
May 3, 2012
For me, the movie worked mostly due to Annu Kapoor’s excellent performance and the supporting cast. And in the second half the heroine was too umm neurotic for my taste and her unacceptance of the jizz selling thing wasnt really convincingly written or acted. Further I don’t know but I was least expecting Nazi Ideology being promoted in the movie and no, it wasn’t even dark humor (Aryan sperm is the best sperm) as Annu Kapoor explains it very seriously enacting a superior case of bad screen writing (Alexander the Great screwed some of us), I mean WHAT? Why??
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Vasisht Das
May 3, 2012
Vikas,
just because we have managed to con some whites into accepting that THEY are more racist than US brownies doesn’t mean that we will get discreet about hardselling this “Arya Putra Spunk” in various forms and packaging.
ours is a mahaan desh where an erudite, smart-ass charmer with huge influence on kids like Shah Rukh Khan wouldn’t think twice about selling fairness creams for a few extra crores of pocket money. almost none of us, not even the prime time motormouths in the media are even questioning this (as the visiting firangs oh-so-horrifiedly keep whispering amongst themselves within earshot of us blaze deshpremis).
so, even a heart-in-the-right-place entertainer like Vicky Donor is racist, like the rest of us.
get real Bhargavaji, “hum kaaley hain toh kya hua, dubious-dilwaley hain…”
deny, deny, deny.
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Vikas Bhargava
May 4, 2012
I dunno who the target of that racist message was. Was Annu Kapoor saying that we are “Aryans” (that some of us are proudly Aryans and the jizz is precious) or was the reference to “Aryans” as in the northern European natives (white Aryan jizz is in demand).
There is a joke I heard somewhere:
Long queues outside a supposed resort:
An Indian at the reception: Hullo, I am also an Aryan
Usher: Welcome Sir, That room is also for you
Cut to the board above the steel door which says “Gas Chamber”.
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Sunil
June 10, 2012
Is it just me, or did the Doctor refer Lady Gaga as a “Donor”?
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henrik
February 24, 2013
Thanks for another sensible and insightful review! And here’s a plea from your non-native audience: Please, give translations for those sentences you quote in Hindi. Otherwise – no complaints, as usual 🙂
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Jai
June 14, 2013
Nice review. I really liked this movie, especially because it had a palpable air (for the most part) of being effortlessly natural. It wasn’t terribly pretentious, the way several other recent big name B’wood releases, aiming to ‘carry a message’ have been.
There was, however, one aspect of the way Ashima’s character was handled towards the end, that left me feeling a tad bit disappointed. Overall, the movie struck so many nice notes and blended in several lovely messages. But I just couldn’t help feeling, that there was no need to show the daughter Vicky & Ashima adopt, as being biologically his.
Let me explain that a bit. Ashima’s character was shown to be initially very skeptical about adoption. Her fear was, that were they to adopt a child, they would probably not feel the same intense love for her/him, that they would feel for one biologically theirs.
I could understand and accept Ashima ultimately overcoming this fear and accepting the idea of adopting a child. However, I just couldn’t buy that she would feel no qualms (given her past fears) of adopting a daughter who was her husband’s biological child. Wouldn’t she fear that she would land up being the less favored parent? As it is, children are quite adept at playing parents off against each other, getting one parent to concede their demands when the other is being strict.
In future, if Ashima was to discipline their daughter and Vicky was indulgent, couldn’t there be a good chance that this ‘half biological, half adopted’ issue would become a big deal?
I know it seems like nit picking, but all through this scene, I couldn’t help but feel that this spin actually diluted from the overall lovely message in favor of adoption. Why couldn’t they just show the couple resolving their differences and adopting a child from the orphanage?
Would love to hear your thoughts on this.
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brangan
June 15, 2013
Jai: Agree with your points. Wasn’t too happy with this messagey aspect of the film myself – though I admit I didn’t think about the post-adoption scenario to the extent you did.
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