Jaan-E-Mann

 Dir: Shirish Kunder
Starring: Salman Khan, Akshay Kumar, Preity Zinta, Anupam Kher (and, in a special appearance, New York City)
Music: Anu Malik

Everyone has watched his or her share of the usual love-triangle Bollywood fare. After all, such films make for the best entertainment. And it’s easy as 1-2-3: One gorgeous girl, two good-looking guys in love with her, and three hours spent happily watching the shenanigans en route to the final (inevitable) happy ending. The best part, of course, is that usually even the jilted lover finds someone to be with. Just take the example of second fiddle Akshay Kumar in the 1997 hit Dil To Pagal Hai – he manages to land Karisma Kapoor, even if he loses his original choice (Madhuri Dixit) to the dashing leading man (Shah Rukh Khan). And that only after we’ve sat through 4 #1 songs, 5 sobbing sequences, and 6 professions of undying love on all sides.

Shirish Kunder’s first venture, Jaan-E-Mann, could have followed the ABC’s and 1-2-3s of Hindi filmmaking to the T. But it can’t really fit in the usual formula box. The story goes that Akshay Kumar (looking not a day older than he did in DTPH) is Agastya, a now-slick but once-geeky NASA astronaut, who shows up at the doorstep of SuperStar Suhaan (Salman Khan) looking for his old crush Piya (Preity Zinta) – who happens to be Suhaan’s ex-wife. This important fact remains unknown to Agastya for the longest time (one would think he would ask!) One would also expect that Suhaan would either be unaffected or annoyed by this unwelcome arrival, but in fact he is exhilarated, since Piya has just sued him for Rs. 50 lakh, and he sees Agastya as a way to avoid shelling out money he doesn’t have. Suhaan, along with Anupam Kher, who plays his vertically-challenged uncle, is so happy, in fact, that he decides to accompany Agastya to New York to fast-track the Piya-patao-ing endeavour.

Well, well, one thinks. An interesting premise. Needless to say, the plot contains ample Hindi-movie-style assistance, due to the over-the-top presence of several dwarves, a haunting love theme with telling lyrics (translated “I know love is innocent, mistakes do happen in love…”), musical-esque sets that grow out of nothing, and a profusion of colour, pomp and flower-throwing extras. This may be director Shirish Kunder’s maiden foray into filmmaking, but it isn’t entirely predictable. As it turns out, Suhaan falls back in love with his ex-wife while he’s giving Agastya wise tips on how to win her. Agastya, as mentioned previously, has no idea that Suhaan and Piya have a history. And, to put it simply, it’s not just the three of them involved in a simple three-pointed love triangle. Indeed, the film has some brilliant moments; one of my favourites involved Suhaan following Agastya around New York, mirroring his every movement and even standing behind him during his fantasy wedding ceremony with a fantasy Piya.  

But Jaan-E-Mann earns most of its points through allusion and illusion – and that’s not good enough. Films as varied as Forrest Gump, Chicago, Sliver, and even Salman’s first hit, Maine Pyar Kiya, are referenced in an effort to make Jaan-E-Mann recognizable. The campy, self-referential technique (qawwali singers emerging from closets, direct addresses to the audience, present-tense flashbacks projected onto walls and curtains…) is a bit much. The total effect is extravagant and mind-boggling… but weak. And, to speak in simple language, it F for fails. There’s no substitute for a strong plot, and Kunder – also the scriptwriter – falls short in that department. Even if he gets an E for effort, the film as a whole can only earn a final grade of D: for derivative. His work makes no effort to hide its homages, and in the Hindi movie industry, which has for years committed outright robbery with no form of acknowledgement, that feels… odd. (Anu Malik’s uninspired – but inspired – score would have been enough of a hint.)

But even if not for the reason that the constant pointers to sources beyond the frame don’t really mesh well with the watcher’s expectations, the moral of the story is to watch the film with C for caution. The constant dwarf jokes are a bit off-colour. Not everyone will appreciate having to sit through scenes with Salman Khan in drag, Salman Khan in an Elvis or Zorro costume, and Salman Khan in a purple suit vaguely reminiscent of Austin Powers or Ron Burgundy. Not everyone can avoid feeling B for Bad for the Akshay Kumar of college days, with his fake mop of curly hair and his pathetic unrequited love. And his horsey laugh (which many critics say is endearing) is actually A for Appalling.

Shirish Kunder would do well to go back to the basics of pure and simple Hindi filmmaking. Nothing can serve as substitute for a strong plot, even if it’s formulaic. That, as we all know from swooning over one too many cotton-candy Shah Rukh Khan romances, is easy as ABC. And everyone, including Akshay Kumar, would be happier at the end.

Simran Thadani, 23, hails from Bombay, India. She graduated from Wellesley College in 2005, and is a budding but evidently indecisive journalist/academic/librarian. 

|