Spoilers ahead…
They’re yuppies. Mohit (Ayushmann Khurrana) works in the airline industry. (In other words, he has a high-flying job.) Mayera (Sonam Kapoor) works in the financial services industry. (In other words, she’s into money.) They earn a lot. They spend a lot. In a terrific early scene in Bewakoofiyaan, Mohit shows Mayera his Gold card (with a three-lakh credit limit). Then she steps into a shop and buys shoes, expensive shoes, which she pays for with her Platinum card (four-lakh credit limit). There are many ways this scene could have gone. He could have become upset. She could have tried to distract him so he doesn’t see her card. None of that happens. She pays. He watches. He seems secure in his love for her – and let’s not discount the fact that she looks great on his arm – and if she earns more than he does, that’s fine. He may even be proud of her.
Then Mohit loses his job. He’s young. He probably did not anticipate this day, at least not yet, so there are no savings. His credit card is declined. There’s no money in the bank. He finds himself having to borrow money from Mayera. And this changes everything. Earlier, he dismissed her father (Mr. Sehgal, played by Rishi Kapoor) when the latter sneered that Mayera made more money than he did. “Kaise mard ho tum?” was the snide interjection left hanging in the air. Mohit dismisses this view as old-fashioned – but that was then, when he had a job. And now, after fruitless job searches (he’s picky), he’s possibly begun to feel the same way – especially when he sees Mayera continue to live a lavish lifestyle. He’s an MBA class topper and now he has no rent money and she’s buying Louboutins.
The film, naturally, sympathises with Mohit. But not, to its credit, by judging Mayera. The easy thing to do would be to wag a finger at her and say she should be more responsible (with her money), more considerate (to her boyfriend) – but Bewakoofiyaan takes the tougher road. Mohit may have begun to feel emasculated, but Mayera’s not the one holding the bloody knife. She works hard so that she can buy expensive things – brand-name clothes, tickets to a rock concert. And from others too she expects things, like birthday gifts. (Kapoor, to state the obvious, is ideally cast.) In another terrific scene, when he visits her on her birthday, she closes her eyes in anticipation of a gift. He hesitates. He has no money. Outside her home, he saw a rose bush and was about to pluck a flower when a dog barked and scared him away. So now he has nothing, and, improvising a little, he plants a kiss on her mouth. She opens her eyes and says “Bas?” This is a tricky scene to pull off. We’re used to all-sacrificing heroines, who’ve opted to wallow in misery with their husbands and lovers, but here’s Mayera, expecting something from a boyfriend she clearly knows is broke. She says it’s her birthday. He should have at least gotten her a flower. Surely that isn’t too much. And we agree.
Mayera is an unusual character for a rom-com – a princess-type that we don’t resent the slightest bit, not even when she says (in the slightly pouty tone of having made “adjustments” to her lifestyle) that she hasn’t bought a pair of shoes in two months. And we feel bad for her when Mohit says, sarcastically, that that’s such a sacrifice. Why, indeed, should she stop leading a good life because he feels entitled to a job that’s similar to the one he was fired from? This is new territory for a Hindi movie. This isn’t the Abhimaan-type scenario where the male thrashes about in self-pity and the female retreats to a corner, wounded. Mayera does feel bad for Mohit. But she’s not going to change her life (or her expectations) because of his problems. An earlier generation would have called her selfish. She’d have been played by Bindu. She’d have been the vamp. Today, she’s the heroine.
Bewakoofiyaan is many films in one. In its he-sinks-she-rises trajectory, it’s reminiscent of Abhimaan. It’s also the anti-Dil. There, the lovers said that love was the only thing that mattered, not money. Here, we get the scene where Mohit asks Mayera what she’d do if he’s reduced to waiting tables. She hesitates a little longer than she should, and tells him, with a too-hearty laugh, “Tum waiter nahin banoge.” But when they embrace we see the worry on both faces. He doesn’t want to become a waiter. She’s not happy having to consider the prospect of being with a man who might become a waiter. They both know that love has its place, but money is important too. She may not be as far along this thought as her father, a safari-clad government servant who couldn’t afford to send her to America, and who now wants her to marry into big money. She says no to the millionaires in her father’s file of prospective grooms. But it’s easy to say “I don’t care about money” when your boyfriend earns some sixty-thousand. When he earns nothing, you do begin to care about money.
These are unusual and messy strains in a rom-com, and after a while, you begin to wonder if this should have been a drama instead. Either the issues are too heavy for this type of film, or the handling of these issues is too light. The director is Nupur Asthana, whose previous (and first) film was the fun rom-com Mujhse Fraaandship Karoge. That was a simple story, and it was borne along by an exuberant cast and an easy style. Bewakoofiyaan is much more complicated and adult, and by reducing it to a rom-com, Asthana pulls her punches. She wants these issues in her film (the writer is Habib Faisal), but she doesn’t want her young target audience to go home depressed, so she does her damnedest to make us think that this is not a movie about what it is about. She wants us to think that it’s really a film about a guy who has to win over the girl’s father.
Early on, there’s an overreliance on Golmaal-style high-energy shenanigans intended to hoodwink Mayera’s father into accepting Mohit. In these portions, which include a needless detour into Mr. Sehgal’s transfer to the animal husbandry department, the man is exaggerated, like a cartoon figure. I did not see why Mayera had to put up with her father’s ridiculous tests to determine Mohit’s worthiness. This Meet the Parents shtick has no place in a film that’s about money and relationships in the modern day. Worse, we’re pushed into a subplot about Mr. Sehgal finding a job. It’s a nice thought to bring a parent into the picture – so many films, these days, have no use for authority figures – and Mr. Sehgal is worked into the breakup-montage song as well (with its whooping-loop enunciation of the film’s title), as if that event did not affect just Mohit and Mayera. But this track sidelines the main story about Mohit and Mayera.
It’s frustrating how big issues are raised and immediately brushed under feel-good carpeting. There’s a nice moment where Mohit snaps at Mayera in a nightclub, when she offers to buy him a rum-and-Coke, and when the bartender advises him to take the drink, Mohit snaps at him too. But he cools down almost instantly, and apologises to Mayera as well as the bartender. We see what a nice guy he is, and how terrible it must be for him to be in this position. But this mood is crushed by the song sequence that follows, where Mohit and Mayera sing and dance as if nothing happened at the nightclub. And the scene where he repays her “loan,” making a petty list of sums borrowed, should have been bigger. With no one to really blame but the economy, he’s lashing out at her, and we should have seen the welts rise. (Though I did like Khurrana’s look – unsure, surprised – when Mayera breaks up with him. He didn’t expect things to go that far.) When he was fired, he told a TV reporter, “Darr lag raha hai.” The only scene where we sense his desperation is when he literally begs for a job, but that moment comes and goes, and we’re back to whatever the rest of the film is peddling, sunshine and good cheer and the promise that a happy ending is just around the corner.
The film does the small things better than it deals with the big things. I liked the scene where a slimming belt is given as a gift, which shows how uncaring about personal space we are in general. I also liked the film’s tendency to make us wait for something to happen and then quietly subverting our expectations. Mohit keeps talking about his promotion, and when a supervisor goes around handing out envelopes, we think he won’t get it – after all, what quicker way to drama than showing how badly someone wants something and then denying them that very thing? But he gets it. After Mohit and Mayera have a fight, she turns to find the cook (a sweet presence, even if it isn’t much of a part) holding out a container with halwa – we expect Mayera to take the container and smash it on the floor, but she just begins to dig in. And when, after the breakup, Mohit finds himself waiting to be called in for an interview at a lingerie store, we think he’ll get the job – because it’s a job Mayera wanted him to take and he kept saying he’s not a lingerie guy but an airlines guy. What better way to make him eat crow? But he doesn’t get the job.
And the job he gets? Let’s just say it loops back to an earlier conversation with his girlfriend. This is a vital story. It goes where love stories don’t usually go. And then it chickens out. The ending feels rushed, as if a happy ending was written on the set at the producer’s insistence. And we feel cheated because we needn’t have celebrated her involvement in her career if she was going to treat it so thoughtlessly, and we needn’t have invested in his issues of money and masculinity if it was all going to be so easily resolved. So is love more important or money? A brave film would have said both. This one’s content to leave us in la-la land.
KEY:
* Bewakoofiyaan = silliness
* “Kaise mard ho tum?” = What kind of man are you?
* MBA class topper = see here
* all-sacrificing heroines = see here
* “Bas” = Is that it?
* the Abhimaan-type scenario = see here
* Bindu = see here
* Dil = see here, 3:45 onwarsds
* “Tum waiter nahin banoge” = You’ll not end up a waiter
* Mujhse Fraaandship Karoge = see here
* Golmaal-style high-energy shenanigans = see here
* whooping-loop enunciation of the film’s title = see here
* rum-and-Coke = see here
* “Darr lag raha hai” = I’m afraid
* slimming belt = see here
* halwa = see here
* la-la land = see here
Copyright ©2014 Baradwaj Rangan. This article may not be reproduced in its entirety without permission. A link to this URL, instead, would be appreciated.
Abhirup
March 16, 2014
“…when Mohit says, sarcastically, that that’s SUCH a sacrifice.”
I agree that it was nice that Mayera wasn’t judged, but my sympathies in this particular scene were entirely with Mohit. Being unable to buy shoes for two months is indeed no sacrifice or tragedy.
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MANK
March 16, 2014
@Brangan,Sonam kapoor has been getting the stick from the critics and rishi kapoor is getting all the praise for this .You call her perfectly cast . How did you find her performance?
I do believe that Sonam is a rather good performer. but this image of being a fashionista is spoiling her image as an actress.And this image of being an outspoken idiot(even though, i dont think so) means that critics always judge her performances with some prejudices rather than judging it only by its merit.She needs to concentrate more on her roles and perf. rather than her clothes and let her work do the talking , i guess.
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Mohang(r)over
March 16, 2014
This feels like a review of the screenplay than the movie. Except for the “Kapoor is terrifically cast” and “where we sense his desperation” comments I cant really figure out if the movie worked as well as the script worked for you.
The disclaimer about spoilers is appreciated, but would have worked better in caps and followed by a few exclamation points, alternatively it could have been preceded by “mostly”.
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Sam
March 16, 2014
@Abhirup, the point is that her sacrifice was something that she chose to do for him, and she never even complains about it, even in that moment. How often do we see that in a film? And he is out of line by calling her out.
This is one of those reviews where I agreed with you on nearly anything. There’s a really good movie in here that is constantly undercut by the sitcom material with Rishi, and the film is too rushed. I actually thought the subplot with Rishi’s job search could have been very effective. It had its moments and I like the development that he approves of him once they split. I wish this were pitched at the level of the main plot.
Overall a missed opportunity, but still entertaining and engaging. After a string of strong romantic films this year it is a let down, but it’s worth a watch at some point for fans of this kind of movie.
I think it may be too poppy for many here but I really enjoyed the soundtrack.
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Abhirup
March 16, 2014
“the point is that her sacrifice was something that she chose to do for him”
As I said, I can’t see not buying shoes for two months as a sacrifice. Sorry.
“she never even complains about it, even in that moment”
I think her tone in that scene was complaining.
“And he is out of line by calling her out.”
Hardly. He is simply pointing out that not buying shoes, and that too for only two months, doesn’t mean the end of the world.
To repeat myself, I don’t consider Mayera to be a vamp. Indeed, she is as far removed from one as possible. But in this particular scene, I think her complaint is not something I can take very seriously, when the other character in the same scene has suffered something much worse. That’s all.
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vijay
March 17, 2014
The ending was a disappointment in more ways than just its hurriedness, I thought. For one, the good rom coms are probably the ones in which both lead characters have something to grow into. In this, otoh it seems like ayushman is a fully grown adult, dealing with adult problems, while sonam (I disagree with you here, I think) is ultimately thoughtless when she puts her problems on a par with his. That scene in the car is badly constructed because it seems as if he hadn’t given her sufficient cause to heave into him as she does, which means that she comes across looking incredibly selfish. Which isn’t warranted, because of all the other scenes you mentioned. This is also around the time of the silly set pieces involving Rishi kapoor’s job hunt, that make no sense. They serve to make sonam’s mayera seem even more a Shrew who thinks she can run the lives of everyone around her. Again, it’s something like fifteen minutes in the early portions of the second half, that do the rest of the film a major disservice. Also that silly song which fits into the same period
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ramitbajaj01
March 17, 2014
@Mohang(r)over- I guess this line makes it clear if the movie worked for the reviewer or not.
“And we feel cheated because we needn’t have celebrated her involvement in her career if she was going to treat it so thoughtlessly, and we needn’t have invested in his issues of money and masculinity if it was all going to be so easily resolved.”
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JPhilip
March 17, 2014
@Mohang(r)over ” I cant really figure out if the movie worked as well as the script worked for you…”
Does it matter?Those are BR’s reflections.The only way you can savour any of those reflections is watching the movie,not re reading the review.
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Mohang(r)over
March 17, 2014
@JPhilip: I think it matters. I liken the review of a new movie to that of a new food dish: I am not only interested in knowing if the food critic found the use of a new set of ingredients interesting, I am also interested in knowing if the food tasted good to him. Yes, tastes are subjective, and one mans meat is another mans poison, but to me, it makes a difference whether a critic, whose views I have read for a while, found the dish as tasty as he found the ingredients novel. If the movie wasn’t as good as the script, then I am less likely to go watch it given that the key elements that make the script interesting have already been spelt out for me— hence, my spoilers comment.
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brangan
March 18, 2014
Mohang(r)over: “The film, naturally, sympathises with Mohit. But not, to its credit, by judging Mayera.”
I think this is an evaluation about the film. And there are many such bits strewn through the piece.
eg. “The film does the small things better than it deals with the big things.”
“This Meet the Parents shtick has no place in a film that’s about money and relationships in the modern day.” And so on.
Abhirup: IMO, she didn’t mean it like a sacrifice or a tragedy. She just said it like a response to his whining. She has been giving him rent money and loaning him and this is money she could have used to buy shoes or whatever — and that *is* a bit of a lifestyle adjustment for her. My sympathies were with her because she’s more practical than he is. She keeps drawing up lists of jobs and he’s too nose-in-the-air to consider them. And now, he’s snapping at her for something she didn’t mean to sound like a sacrifice.
MANK: If the character is a brand-conscious fashionista and Sonam plays the character as a brand-conscious fashionista, then I don’t see why this is “spoiling her image as an actress.” She does what is asked of her.
vijay: That scene in the car is badly constructed because it seems as if he hadn’t given her sufficient cause to heave into him as she does
I look at it differently. She’s been incredibly supportive of him through all his whining and, as I said above, the money she could have used for her lifestyle purchases has gone towards his pocket money, rent etc. Where’s the selfishness in this?
They serve to make sonam’s mayera seem even more a Shrew who thinks she can run the lives of everyone around her.
Wow, I didn’t see it this way at all 🙂
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MANK
March 18, 2014
Brangan, ‘spoiling her image’ in the sense that ,here is a rather capable actress who is perennially hung upon playing these fashion obsessed characters (aisha was an other one ) on screen as well as talking and promoting it off screen.. It makes it hard for people who are making and watching films to take her seriously as a performer.We all know what we think of these fashionistas from Aishwarya Rai to Katrina Kaif, right?
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Abhirup
March 18, 2014
“she didn’t mean it like a sacrifice or a tragedy.”
You said in your review that she said it in a “pouty tone.” In my view, a pouty tone isn’t very different from a complaining tone, and the fact that she is complaining about shoes when Mohit is going through something much worse is what put me off. I also think she said it because she did think of it as some serious concession that she is making; I mean, what else is the reason behind bringing in the question of buying shoes in a conversation that’s not remotely about shoes? If she was simply upset with Mohit’s attitude, she could have said what you said: as in, something along the line of “I am looking up jobs for you to consider, so please at least do me the courtesy of giving them a proper consideration.” Instead, she is upset about the fact that since Mohit doesn’t have a job, she can’t go on a shopping spree. I am sorry, but this is not something I can sympathize with.
“that *is* a bit of a lifestyle adjustment for her.”
Yeah, well, big deal. There’s a saying, “I used to feel sorry for myself for not having shoes, until I met a man who had no feet.” One has the right to feel upset about something that has befallen him/her, but he/she ought also to be considerate enough to not make a big deal out of it in the presence of somebody who is undergoing something much worse. If, for instance, one is going through financial difficulties and can’t dine any longer at the posh restaurants he used to visit, he can of course be morose about it, but it would insensitive (to say the least) if he complains about this to a beggar who hasn’t had anything to eat for two days. If one has misplaced a valuable belonging, he can be rueful about it, but not in the presence of somebody who has undergone an amputation recently. Mayera may have made some lifestyle adjustments, but Mohit is forced to make much bigger ones, and while she is not blind to it and helps him with it, this remark about the shoes was not called for, because it’s insignificant in comparison to what Mohit is facing.
“And now, he’s snapping at her for something she didn’t mean to sound like a sacrifice.”
I think that is exactly how she meant it to sound. Why else would she bring it up?
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Bayta
March 19, 2014
@Abhirup – I actually read what BR wrote in the review to mean that he applauded the fact that her character’s self-absorption was portrayed unapologetically. The “shoes” comment shows her self-absorption, but that’s just who she is. That sort of thing is a big deal for her. As for your point about her lack of consideration, I think there’s a difference between being careful about that sort of thing with a stranger/slight acquaintance and one’s SO. She’s done her bit to support him in his misfortune, so it’s only fair that she gets to pout a bit about having had to do so at a cost to her own lifestyle. That you think this cost isn’t huge is irrelevant. SHE thinks it is significant. Sure, that makes her not the perfect self-sacrificing woman, but so what? It’s high time we had female characters with shades of grey in them IMO.
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Abhirup
March 19, 2014
“As for your point about her lack of consideration, I think there’s a difference between being careful about that sort of thing with a stranger/slight acquaintance and one’s SO.”
Sorry, but I don’t think so. The fact that somebody is your SO doesn’t give you the right to say whatever you want to him/her. Sure, one can be frank with one’s SO, but frankness and insensitivity are not the same thing, and Mayera’s words fall in the latter category in my opinion, because, as I have said before, her inability to buy shoes for–drumroll!–two months doesn’t qualify as any kind of major misfortune, at least not in comparison to Mohit’s plight, which, of course, is much worse. Saying “I haven’t been able to shop to my heart’s content for two months now” to somebody who has been rendered almost penniless due to no fault of his own is not a very nice thing to do, I think, even if the latter is one’s SO.
“She’s done her bit to support him in his misfortune, so it’s only fair that she gets to pout a bit about having had to do so at a cost to her own lifestyle.”
Ummm, no. Helping somebody, and then rubbing it in, reminding the person being helped that the latter is living on the helper’s aid, is, once again, insensitive.
“SHE thinks it is significant.”
Oh, I get that. But I think as a viewer, I have the right to draw my conclusions about what it says about her.
“that makes her not the perfect self-sacrificing woman”
And when on earth did I demand that she be so? Of course she doesn’t have to be self-sacrificing. In fact, I was with her entirely when she says to Mohit, after being kissed by him as a birthday gift, that he could have, even in his current condition, given her at least a rose. She is completely justified here, I would say, and not self-sacrificing at all, and that’s absolutely okay. But the comments about shoes are a different thing altogether.
“It’s high time we had female characters with shades of grey in them”
I concur. But that doesn’t mean that everything that a character–male of female–does has to be supported.
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Abhirup
March 19, 2014
*male or female
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auroravampiris
March 20, 2014
I just wanted to chime in and say that this was the most perfect love story for a misanthrope like me. Make of that what you will.
Of course, until we got to that insufferably happy ending. Ugh. This stuff should’ve been Blue Valentine-d all the way.
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venkatesh
May 12, 2014
I am too late to come to this but what a wasted effort , it had everything going for it and then “fizzled out”. Some of the scenes were really pitch-perfect , subtle and really well done.
Mr. Khurana is turning out to be a wonderful actor and judging by the scripts , he seems to be picking the right ones at the moment.
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