Dostana Hindi Movie

What we have finally is a film that is kabhi funny, kabhi uncomfortably squishy and squirmish, decently entertaining all through until it turns floppy and soppy and finally fizzles out faster than Diet Pepsi with a lame end that just makes you wonder: When will mainstream Indian cinema actually Kome out of the Kloset? Nov 14, 2008 By Jahan Bakshi

The evidently heterosexual male protagonists in Karan Johar's films (produced or directed), to me, have also always in a sense seemed suspiciously like closet homosexuals. Take, for instance- Shah Rukh Khan and Hrithik Roshan looking like pretty pansies in transparent georgette and tight fitted leather respectively in Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham, SRK and Saif Ali Khan making Preity Zinta look like a thorn among roses in Kal Ho Na Ho, or even more recently (well, again) SRK playing the borderline emasculated Dev Saran in Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna.

This time Johar takes self-referencing to a new high and stretches the Kantaben joke into a whole film, and hence now we have Dostana, a film rich in unique irony. For a film that bases its very premise on two apparently straight men (The film attempts to drive in the point right at the beginning by making a smoldering Shilpa Shetty throw herself with, well- gay abandon at the two guys before they wake up in bed with two other hotties, so that we get an idea of how 'macho' and 'heterosexual' they are) pretending to be a couple, the film always makes an extra effort to keep the G factor at a safe distance, so that there is always a clear distinction between the normal and the 'other'. Ironic, because Johar's films have, as I said earlier, in a sense almost blurred the lines between gay and straight.

And also because, the way I see it, this is a film about two gay men who pretend to be straight pretending to be gay. Okay, I realize this is getting a bit convoluted for comfort.

Nevertheless, while this is an innocuous piece of fluff, which could do without needless over-analysis by yours truly- one wishes it was a little less shallow and regressive and perhaps a tad more bold and balanced. While it's distractingly good looking (Cinematographer Ayananka Bose knows the ol' razzle dazzle well), so much so that even if you do get bored, you'd find it difficult to notice, the only thing that really comes off well in this film is Abhishek Bachchan.

Now, he may- unlike Chopra and Abraham- lack that unbelievably hot bod and bottom to lovingly be caressed by Bose's lens shot after shot, but the man has grown into an assured, confident performer who has the ability to make the audience let its hair down with him, as he displays great comic flair and gladly makes an endearing fool of himself on screen.

To be fair, John Abraham and Priyanka Chopra also prove to be rather likeable and nicely restrained on screen, and I guess one can't complain much about the outfits or the lack of them much, especially when both of them look like a zillion bucks set afire. It is rather alarming however to witness Abraham's miniscule boxers deliberately slipping off with a frequency that rivals that of the pallus of the Cleavage Kumaris of yore. Butt of course; if you have it, I guess you might as well flaunt it.

What is unforgivable is, of course the sheer wastage of actors as talented as Sushmita Mukherjee, Kirron Kher and Boman Irani. While Kher's sensitivity and motherly warmth and Mukherjee's priceless Monroe pose wins us over, Boman Irani scores no points for his ridiculous, loud and downright offensive cameo- the kind of role that he (or anyone) shouldn't touch by a bargepole. Bobby Deol meanwhile looks like he's on an extra shot of tranquilizer.

To be fair, there are times where the film does try to be progressive and the humour is genuinely good hearted, like the scene where Kirron Kher decides to accept her son's choice of groom and even proceeds to instruct John to keep a Karva Chauth ka vrath. But then you have those outrageous and flagrant predatory queen characters lead by the insufferable Irani featuring in scenes that are horrific to say the least. Boman Irani dancing to Beedi Jalaile and virtually molesting Abhishek Bachchan- find it funny, honey?

What we have finally is a film that is kabhi funny, kabhi uncomfortably squishy and squirmish, decently entertaining all through until it turns floppy and soppy and finally fizzles out faster than Diet Pepsi with a lame end that just makes you wonder: When will mainstream Indian cinema actually Kome out of the Kloset?