Movie Review: Meri Pyaari Bindu Is Much More Bechaari Than Pyaari
Apart from a few stray cute moments, Parineeti Chopra and Ayushmann Khurrana’s love, argue, love, argue, will lead you to clutch your head in grief
Here’s a rom-corn. And it’s as pointless as a pen without a nib. Meet if you must then, a coosome twosome who have adored each other ever since childhood, going ooh-so-coy over a plate of samosas and chutney at their first encounter. Crunch crunch. In fact, there’s so much ado about the munch that it leaves you terribly hungry, thirsty and fidgety.
How or why producer Aditya Chopra thought of this time travelling geegaw (flashbacking between the 1980s to ‘the present day’, captions inform you in case you’re puzzled), leaves you stumped. Besides wondering why debutant director Akshay Roy elected to tell a tale which has no-head-no-tale, locking us for two hours with those samosa kids who grow up to become Abhimany aka Bubla (Ayushmann Khurrana) and Bindu (Parineeti Chopra).
He’s a business management graduate turned into an author of pulp fiction writing up Chudail ki Choli (or was it Chappal?) and Dracula’s Lover. Why a poster of Guru Dutt-Waheeda Rehman in Pyaasa hangs around his digs is as weird as a wandering dog called Devdas cast, you presume, in a guest disappearance. Uff woof.
Image Source: youtube/yrf
As for Bindu, she’s a walkie-talkie-ding-dongy self-centred girl who aspires to rock the world as a pop singer. Commitment-phobic to the degree of ditching two guys at the marriage pandal and then being ditched by a Goa ka Romeo (thank your lucky stars, none of the prospective grooms is shown on-screen), our Bindu has only one human being on her mind – herself, herself, herself. In the event, the besotted Bubla could well go jump in a well, or buy a one-way-ticket to hell.
By the way B & B live in Kolkata, which means filming largely in an old haveli-type structure. And in case, the trams and the gullies of Kol get visually boring, quick flights are organised by the script, written by Supratim Sengupta, for stopovers in Mumbai’s Marine Drive and Kala Ghoda, not to forget a Melbourne beachside too. Ooooh. By the way Bengalaru is mentioned as well, represented not by the lovely Gubbon Park, but by a quick shot at a STD phone booth.
STD? Yup, since it’s a period picture of sorts, you might get nostalgic on sighting landline phones, plenty of close-ups of music cassettes and excessive replays of vintage Bollywood chartbusters. These range from Aaiye meherbaan and Abhi na jaao chhodkar to Mere sapnon ki rani, R D Burman rap and yo, there’s also a king-sized poster of Bappi Lahiri, aka Bappida. Indeed, the incorporation of yesteryear’s unforgettable songs seems like a bid to create the ambience of a protracted Chitrahaar from those Doordarshan days. Like it or not, Mr B and Miss B are so Bollywood-influenced that they seem to breathe celluloid rather than good ‘ole oxygen.
In the event, the plot beats around the boreberry bush. Bubla and Bindu have a blast at a disco adda, bicker, claim they love each other, argue and then either get depressed or separate. You’d think forever. No chance. They keep reuniting-parting-reuniting till you want to shout out loud, “Get yourselves a life guys. If you’re so muddled up, sorry neither does that spell entertainment or a love story immemorial.”
Image Source: youtube/yrf
Over to the sidebar characters. A gang of friends merely go, “Hyuk, hyuk” cruelly, make out in antique cars or pull super-sorrowful faces. Bubla’s mom is a hyper-worrier and dad just the opposite, going tee-hee at the pell mell proceedings. About the only individual who’s relatable is Bindu’s dad, a reformed alcoholic who successfully darts saracastic one-liners, with a deadpan face. Maybe he was influenced more by Buster Keaton than by Bollywood. Whatever.
Admittedly, there was potential here to delve into the paralysed love life of a writer of cheap novels. That aspect isn’t explored at all. Instead the eponymous Bindu and her grocery list of contradictions and motiveless behaviour may prompt you to grit your teeth. Doubtlessly, it’s great to indicate that a young woman can be absolutely career-oriented but what transpires eventually, I cannot elaborate. To avoid a spoiler alert suffice it to say, the finale is a cop-out, filmed in gimmicky high-speed, no less.
Techinically, the production has the mandatory quotient of Aditya Chopra-guided spit and polish otherwise. Needless to gripe, the original music score pales in comparison to those cahrtbusters of yore.
Akshay Roy, who had earlier directed the sensitive short film The Last Chance, doesn’t display a distinctive signature.
The coming of age process as enacted by Ayushmann Khurrana is intermittently pleasant, but that’s about it. When he has to convey happiness, he goes goofy till it hurts. Sorry to say, Parineeti Chopra – usually a terrific artiste – isn’t quite convincing as the cute femme fatale. She’s highly energetic yes but when called upon to convey sobriety or react to a tragedy, Parineeti is spectacularly disappointing.
Sad, because you expected a fun ride from Meri Pyaari Bindu. Snag: the ride bumps, halts, crashes and finally limps to its destination. If you do see it, please don’t with someone you love. He or she might hate you for this one barbecue of confusion.
Thumbnail Image Source: youtube/yrf & instagram/parineetichopra
Thumbnail Image Source: youtube/yrf & instagram/parineetichopra
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