Dostana: If apologies from Karan Johar are on the table, when are we getting one for this?

Directed by the man who’d go on to helm Drive (not that one), Dostana celebrated its 15th anniversary recently. Having recently subjected myself to its uniquely torturous storytelling, it’s difficult to imagine how something that feels this outdated could have been released in the same year as Milk, the Oscar-winning biopic of the gay rights activist and politician Harvey Milk.

Only in Bollywood can a movie so openly disgusted by homosexuality be hailed as a beacon of progressive thought. At no point does Dostana seem interested in the actual discrimination that the LGBTQIA+ community faces; instead, it sees them as freaks. Just the idea of two straight men exploiting a minority community for their own (material) benefits is enough to make you retch, and it isn’t like they’re the underdogs in this story, or even presented as such. No; both Sameer and Kunal are sickeningly privileged and properly lecherous. The movie often adopts their gaze in early scenes, as the camera leers at Chopra’s body with shiver-inducing salaciousness.

Neha, who mainly takes a you-do-you attitude about homosexuality throughout the movie, in one scene declares that she doesn’t mind living with Sameer and Kunal because it’s their ‘choice’ to be gay. She says this, ironically, in a scene that is meant to highlight her progressiveness. But Neha has to be one of the stupidest characters in the history of Hindi films. Not only does she never realise that she is being taken for a ride, she allows her suitor Abhi — played by Lord Bobby himself — to by fooled by Sameer and Kunal as well.

In an especially pointless stretch during the film’s fourth act, they begin sabotaging Neha and Abhi’s relationship by literally traumatising his five-year-old child. They also give Abhi terrible advice about how to woo Neha, which he blindly follows even though it is obvious that it isn’t working. And yet, Neha continues to be with Abhi, who continues to behave like a fool, while Sameer and Kunal continue to be terrible people.

But what is the game plan here, boys? They have no clue, and nor does the movie. What happens when they successfully put an end to Neha’s relationship? Are they going to share her among themselves? Did they they bother to ask her what she wants? Sameer and Kunal simply assume that they’ll be irresistible to Neha even after they’ve come clean, which should tell you everything that you need to know about the level of depravity we’re dealing with, the level of depravity that Dostana plays for laughs.

There isn’t a single queer character in the entire movie, unless you count Boman Irani’s walking, talking bag of stereotypes. In fact, director Tarun Mansukhani makes his opinion of gay people clear in a cringe-inducing flashback sequence about Sameer and Kunal’s made-up romance, and then in the film’s dramatic climax. Having been found out — actually, no; they come clean — Sameer and Kunal apologise to Neha and Abhi for what they’ve done. And after rejecting their apologies a few times, Abhi comes up with a condition. If they want to be forgiven, they must kiss each other in public. Let that sink in.

Abhi gives them this challenge as if he’s Rohit Shetty on Khatron Ke Khiladi, instructing a contestant to chug cow dung juice or something. This is the level of repulsiveness with which both the movie and its protagonists view a simple same-sex kiss. Sameer goes for it, but backs out at the last moment, literally revolted by the thought. Dostana ends only as Dostana could, with a non-consensual kiss that is viewed by everyone in front of and behind the camera as the most heartfelt moment that Hindi cinema has ever dreamt up. And to think that Karan was planning on producing a spiritual sequel to this movie. Backing out of it was perhaps the most heroic thing Kartik Aaryan has done in his career.