By Subhash K Jha, IANS
"Dabba!" Dimple exclaims on her first cantankerous encounter with Rishi Kapoor, reminding us of her first ever encounter with Rishi Kapoor in Bobby more than 30 years.
Director Hriday Shetty soaks his autumnal romance about an aging widow and a widower in the vinegar of nostalgia. But the idea never goes beyond the rehearsed rudiments of romance. It’s as though the director took up a terrific idea but forgot to expand the thought processes that define the rather unconventional game of courtship.
There’s a bit of Karan Johar’s cinema (shaadi / sagaai song) and a bit of Hollywood’s most cherished conventions of autumnal courtship in the charming way Rishi and Dimple meet and become friends.
But the charm wears thin. Unlike other films on the theme like Basu Chatterjee’s KHATTA MEETHA and Anant Balani’s JOGGERS PARK, the aging protagonists seem to share a relationship that isn’t coherent to them, let alone others. Are they friends? Do they want to be lovers? Do they care about what their kids and family think?
Do WE care????
Shetty doesn’t allow us to come close enough to this cute couple to feel the pulse of their passion.
In fact passion is sorely lacking in the couple togetherness, as the narrative zigzags what looks like an over-consciously created pastiche of warm ‘moments’ threaded together in a family tree that’s as snarled as it is uninspired.
The central romance remains unfinished. The supporting cast just doesn’t have a clue as to what to do. They vacillate between playing it for cutes within the family fold and hemming it to the ilk.
What works is Dimple’s relationship with her screen son-in-law-to-be, played by Sammir Dattani. The sheer warmth that the two generate in the indecipherable gaggle of sons daughters and other kith (all played gawkily) is comforting to watch. The son-in-law and his girlfriend (Soha)’s mom are so at-ease with their places that you wonder why the director didn’t build on the bonding between the stunning mom-in-law and her endearing son-in-law rather than waste so much footage on focusing on the weak supporting cast.
Always a fine actor, Rishi Kapoor gets the contours of his role in place. But the bravura characterization is self-limiting. The strained relationship with his son (Vikas Bhalla) with the Bahu (Deepshikha, miscast) providing the sympathetic shoulder, looks more like leftover material from a soap opera than an integral part of a feature film.
The uneven editing takes us on a nervous ride through a series of come-look-at-me characters huddled together more to create an impression than to generate genuine and intuitive drama
For a film where confrontational drama seems inevitable PYAAR MEIN TWIST seems terribly reluctant to pull out the stops. We cease to care whether the old couple finally gets a chance to come together. We are never taken in confidence. Instead we are forsaken at the periphery from where the old-world romance appears to be a blur of ‘Bobby’-meets-‘Khatta Meeta’-meets-‘On Golden Pond’. The eclectic mélange never soars upwards.
The attempts at nostalgia are also, beyond a point, forced. Rishi Kapoor looks too put of shape to carry off his his 1970’s song KHULLAM KHULLA PYAR KARENGE. The ‘item song’ looks gimmicky rather than nostalgic. The unevenediting takes us from one sequence into another without a proper impact. A pity, since the film had the potential to tell a full-blooded story about two twilight-zone individuals who want to try out marriage beyond the permissible age.
When their kids are at the age of consent can their parents be granted the same??
Good point. But hardly projected in a ponderable pastiche. Yes, Dimple with her cascading mane and sherbet eyes still looks like a dream, and Rishi is an overweight but likeable other-half. But it’s Sammir Dattani who proves the scene-stealer. His rapport with Dimple stays with you. Here’s a fresher who’s here to stay.
PYAAR MEIN TWIST is like a taste of wine that’s been left in the cellar long enough to qualify as vintage. But the taste is not quite as succinct as you’d expect it to be.