Monologue, male partisanship and misogyny. The ‘three mistakes’ of every Luv Ranjan film have spun off their own multiverse of ‘unsuspecting’ men being taken for a ride by women who walk the narrow spectrum of being either too foxy or less vixen, being painted as both manipulative and maniacal, forcing the man in question to dispose of them in ways that reek of misogyny but bring on hoots of laughter from most men (and some women) in the audience. These are the films where ‘pyaar’ is given a ‘punch’ by the man, the kind where bro is chosen over hoe, and where women are irredeemable creatures doomed forever to be dumped by the men who had once loved them with all heart.
Ranjan’s new film retains the trademark elements of male bias and monologue, but fortunately gives up on — or at least makes a sincere attempt to — blatant misogyny. What it doesn’t let go of, of course, is the director’s penchant to test our tongue-twisting skills. One had barely been able to remember whether Sweety came before or after Titu (literally and metaphorically speaking) in Sonu Ke Titu Ki Sweety before Tu Jhoothi Main Makkaar was unleashed on us.
The good thing is that Tu Jhoothi Main Makkaar is a much better film than its title would have us believe. The monologues — and there are one too many here — roll off the characters’ tongues faster than the disclaimer at the end of mutual funds ads, but since many of them belong to Ranbir Kapoor, they have the added benefit of being tempered with both meaning and emotion.
Ranbir is Delhi boy Rohan Arora, but because the Luv Ranjan universe has had its leading men being named everything from Rajjo to Chauka to Liquid, he is simply called Mickey. Mickey’s pal Dabas (comedian Anubhav Singh Bassi, making his Bollywood debut here) puts the ‘bro’ in bromance, but not in the way we have come to expect in Ranjan’s films. Dabas is Mickey’s sounding board and conscience keeper, but because he isn’t the hero, Bassi, as he is popularly known, doesn’t get the punchlines that a seasoned comic like him should. What his Dabas does get is a partnership in an unnamed business with Mickey in which the two — in a Hitch reversal of sorts — specialise in breaking off relationships with the promise of causing zero heartbreak to either party.
This is a solid premise for a rom-com because you know that sooner rather than later, Mickey’s own business would weigh down heavily on his future relationship. That starts off on the beaches of Mallorca where Mickey and Tinni (Shraddha Kapoor) have a meetcute. He thinks he’s in love... she doesn’t believe in summer flings, and after some endorphin-inducing fireworks between the two crowned with some itsy-bitsy dopamine dressing, they head back to desi waters.
Once back, before anyone can say ‘no strings’, Mickey and Tinni find themselves ‘attached’. That, in true Hindi cinema rom-com style, gives rise to complications, leading to heartbreak. A love story in which one becomes ‘jhoothi’ and the other ‘makkaar’, with the audience being given the window of opportunity to empathise and sympathise with both.
A stilted first hour has the makers throwing everything at the screen in an experiment to see what sticks. Some parts either go by in a rush while some scenes get stretched interminably. Consistency isn’t the strong suit of the first half, and even as you shift restlessly in your seat — to be honest, I only didn’t look down at my phone when Pritam’s songs played out — you still want to stick around because Ranbir, who is in top form here, leaves you hopeful that the second half will have more, will have better.
And that’s what happens. Tu Jhoothi Main Makkaar picks up well in Half Two, giving us a film that entertains without always sticking to the Luv Ranjan template. In fact, it kind of swings the other way and does a Sooraj Barjatya on the viewer (there is a “Hum Saath Saath Hain” and “Hum Aapke Hain Koun?” joke slipped in smartly), even turning the familiar Bollywood airport climax trope on its head, with a sideways nod to Notting Hill.
Overall, Tu Jhoothi Main Makkaar turns out to be a crowdpleaser of a film, which may throw in the odd sexist line (“Woh plate mein roti kho deti hain, bachcha kya paida karegi?” asks a man who’s just learnt that his wife is pregnant) but is otherwise one which tries to balance out the male-female perspective.
Though he needs to be a more reductive performer than he usually is, Ranbir is the pull of the film, with Shraddha also coming up with a sparkling act, especially in the scenes that ride heavily on emotion. The chemistry between the two may not be as sizzling as one would expect, but they dance the hell out of Show me the thumka, which has Pritam’s pulsating beats meeting Amitabh Bhattacharya’s wacky and wild lyrics in one of the best ways possible. The film’s album — with three of the four songs belonging to Arijit Singh, who swings between splendid and sublime — is a major strength, as is a strong supporting cast led by Dimple Kapadia, who is equally at home on a Luv Ranjan set as she is in Christopher Nolan’s world.
Which brings me to the possibility of a Luv Ranjan universe with his characters walking in and out of films, just like some of his Pyaar Ka Punchnama alumni (led by a certain star whose stars are on the ascendant at the moment) pop up in this film. Yet another Bollywood universe? Well, we are so ready for ‘Tu Jhoothi 2 Main Makkaar 2’.
