January 14, 2011 3:58:41 pm
Director: Samir Karnik
Cast:Dharmendra,Sunny,Bobby,Kulraj Randhawa,Nafisa Ali
Oye Pummy,Lucky,Moti. These names come tripping off the singers tongue in Yamla Pagla Deewana,and that last one I couldnt hear clearly above the cacophony,but you get the drift. These are loving monickers for the Punjabi ‘puttars who drink tall glasses of ‘lassi,eat quarts of homemade butter,and brandish guns,occasionally letting them off as and when the mood grabs them. This film,featuring Bollywoods original beloved Jat yamla pagla deewana,is geared squarely at the self-same Pummys and Luckys,and those like them that understand,instinctively,that while a red-blooded Punjabi male may quite happily be married to a white ‘mem,he will always love his ‘bebe better.
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All right,heres the plot,such as there is need for,in a manufactured movie like this. Dharam ( Dharmendra) is the lovable light-fingered thief who deprived his younger son Gajju ( Bobby) of a mothers love. Gracious white-haired mummyji ( Ali) has been counting her days with older son Param ( Sunny) and his Canadian wife and their two kids in Vancouver : she knows that,like in all good Bollywood movies,there will be a happy ending.
To reach that point,however,we are subjected to the loudest set of dialogues and the most vacuous set of characters weve been confronted with in a while. Because Dharam and Gajju operate out of Varanasi,looting unsuspecting types of cash and jewels,theres a whole strand about the Banarasi ‘paan,mouthed by Bobby who looks like hes never had a ‘beeda in his life before. Then,when the action shifts to Punjab,and where else could it go with the Deols but to the land of ‘sarson and ‘bhangra,all lines start revolving around ‘duddh and ‘malai and ‘gilassis of ‘sharaab and ‘shabaab,complete with item numbers featuring babes wearing the flimsiest of ‘cholis.
The money shot in the film,the one that makes up a little for the endless banalities,belongs to Sunny : in the climax where all the good guys and bad guys gather together,he opens his mouth and lets out a roar. Make that a ROAR,which flattens all the lathi-carrying goons into walls,and propels his ‘bichchdey huey maa baap towards each other. Nice. Dharam looks ravaged by age,but shows us glimpses of the brilliant comic he used to be : he needs a fully-fleshed out role where hes not just being the large-hearted papaji to Sunny and Bobby. And Pummy and Lucky.
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