SHARMAJI NAMKEEN
Director: Hitesh Bhatia
Cast: Rishi Kapoor, Paresh Rawal, Juhi Chawla, Satish Kaushik, Suhail Nayyar, Taaruk Raina, Sheeba Chaddha, Ayesha Raza Mishra, Parmeet Sethi
Running time: 119 minutes
Watching a swansong, and then writing about it as in my case, is a complicated affair. You almost will the film to be good because you don’t want the actor in question, or rather his filmography, to be tainted by that one last bad film. Sometimes, you don’t even care what the film is, as long as it brings alive both nostalgia and bittersweetness, and gives you the chance to bid adieu, with a smile on your lips and a tear in your eye, one last time.
The good thing about Sharmaji Namkeen is that it’s a good film. In fact, if feel-good had a face, it would look like Rishi Kapoor’s last film. The actor, who passed away two years ago midway through the shoot of this film, is the heart and soul of Sharmaji Namkeen, that’s now streaming on Amazon Prime Video. His still-boyish charm, that unmistakable twinkle in the eye, the lightness of his feet, and even more so of his performance, looms large over Sharmaji Namkeen even when someone else plays him. Paresh Rawal steps in to play Brij Gopal Sharma in parts, rescuing the film when it came to a halt, but Sharmaji Namkeen — both the film and the character — are all Rishi Kapoor.
Brij Gopal Sharma exists in almost the same universe as Santosh Duggal, the Everyman with a simple life and even simpler dreams in Do Dooni Chaar, the film that gave Kapoor’s career a new direction more than a decade ago. Retired at 58, widowed much earlier and sharing his modest Delhi home with his two grown-up sons, Sharmaji finds it tough to adjust to a suddenly easygoing life. His passion for cooking sees him take the leap from a home chef to one who starts cooking for small gatherings, including kitty parties, and the old man soon discovers a new spring in his step and makes a bunch of new friends, the closest among them being Veena (played by Juhi Chawla), whose loneliness mirrors his. But in a society where ‘log kya kahenge?’ is prioritised over everything else, Sharmaji is soon faced with the prospect of giving up his new life, with not even his own sons proving to be his allies. But Sharmaji’s decision to reinvent his life on his own terms soon finds a way.
Directed by Hitesh Bhatia, Sharmaji Namkeen has ‘warmth’ written all over it. Rishi Kapoor, whenever he appears on screen, is a ball of effervescent charm, shaking his booty to Sunny Leone’s Babydoll even as he rustles up momos (or are they dim sums?) in his kitchen or the childlike stubborness with which he packs his ladles in his briefcase and sets off on his cooking missions.
Sharmaji Namkeen commences with an emotional introduction by Rishi Kapoor’s son Ranbir and closes with some precious outtakes which show the actor in his element — eccentric yet lovable, moody yet friendly. And you linger on, even when the screen goes blank, wishing for that smile and that twinkle in the eye to reappear. One last time
Rawal, the effective actor that he is, slips into the role with ease, but one almost thinks he’s selflessly holding himself back so that Kapoor’s scenes linger a lot longer in the minds of the audience. What’s noteworthy is that the two actors bring out different facets of the same character — Kapoor’s Sharma is cutely grumpy while Rawal’s is irritable.
One of the real stars of Sharmaji Namkeen is editor Bodhaditya Banerjee who seamlessly blends together the film, managing to do equal justice to both the actors playing the same role, and still retaining the soul of Sharmaji Namkeen. A host of strong moments — the scene in the police lock-up is an absolute gem, so is the one in which Sharmaji is caught on camera doing a naagin dance — aid in making Sharmaji Namkeen a consistently feel-good experience.
Sharmaji Namkeen commences with an emotional introduction by Rishi Kapoor’s son Ranbir and closes with some precious outtakes which show the actor in his element — eccentric yet lovable, moody yet friendly. And you linger on, even when the screen goes blank, wishing for that smile and that twinkle in the eye to reappear. One last time.