Cast: Kriti Sanon, Ayushmann Khurrana, Rajkummar Rao
Director: Ashwini Iyer Tiwari
Rating: 3/5
When Chirag Dubey (Ayushmann Khurrana) tells Pritam Vidrohi
(Rajkummar Rao), “Thukraaye huye aashiq ki kabhi haay mat lena (Never hurt a
jilted lover),” he seems emotionally drained in a love story that has two guys
competing to look more male in front of a heroine whose character flaw, as per
the society, is that she acts like boys. Two, out of the three, will be able to
take their love to a logical conclusion, in this case marriage, and the third
will excuse himself to extra important matters like crying in a corner or deliver
a long, heart-felt monologue in the end.
Bitti Mishra (Kriti Sanon) is a sharp tongued, mostly
agitated Bareilly girl whose break dance is some sort of an event at local
weddings. Fed up with the society and her nagging mother after a few rejections
in the marriage market, she runs gone from home only to find a novel that has a
innermost character similar to her. In the pursuit to meet the writer of the
novel, Bitti meets two guys who start wooing her.
This love triangle soon include more dimensions like her
family, friends and families of guys and above everything, a desire to show the
small town milieu in a devoted way.
Such administrative decisions give a mild-mannered Pankaj
Tripathi, Bitti’s sweet shop proprietor father, a chance to mumble hilarious
one-liners. He keeps talking to a mostly-still ceiling fan thanks to Bareilly’s
regular power cuts. Consider his reaction on his wife’s hyper ventilation,
“Thyroid me mood swing hota hai, isiliye kich kich karti hai, (She blabbers
because of her thyroid issues).” Or when he is rid of a stiff neck, “Sushila se
sandaas tak sab dikh raha hai (From Sushila to toilet, I can witness everything).”
His school instructor wife Sushila, played by Seema Pahwa
who has become the first choice for such roles, knows her priorities and the
top among them is getting Bitti married. She is blatant sufficient to tell her
guest, “Toh chai kyun banwaye, dudh 52 rupaye kilo ho gaya hai, (Why did you
ask for tea if you didn’t want it? Don’t you know a litre of milk costs Rs
52?).”
Now when most of the primary typescript look comfortable
with the language and accent, the focus shifts back to the three leads. As a result,
Kriti Sanon also mouths dialogues like, “Tum kaahe liliya rahi ho (Why are you
anxious?).” It’s interesting to see Kriti Sanon shed her urban image and try
something out of her comfort zone. She carry the weight of the story on her
shoulders initially as a bubbly, straightforward girl, but Bareilly Ki Barfi
becomes really appealing after a terrific Rajkummar Rao enters the frame.
Here’s a guy who has be bullied by Ayushmann’s character to
act like a ‘rangbaaz’, slang for street-smart people with a leaning for drama.
In reality, he is a soft-spoken salesman everyone scolds. But his
transformation determination leave you in splits. Rajkummar and Ayushmann make
up for the predictability of the story.
Another difficulty rears its head once actors are settled in
their roles. By now, all these characters have revealed themselves to us, so
there’s nothing more to explore other than waiting for the resolution. Most of
the tactics used by the director fail to distract the spectators from
anticipating the climax, and when it starts we all be on familiar terms with
how it can end.
Despite this, Bareilly Ki Barfi is sweet and delightful. Its
hilarious one-liners like, “Ye toh aastin ka anaconda nikla” and “Ye Bitti raat
bhar kahan ghumti rehti hai, ladki hai koi chudail thode na hai,” totally work.
This light-hearted comedy refrain from being slapstick and slowly weave its
charm. Worth a watch.
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