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Movie Review: Jhootha Hi Sahi (2010)

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3 Stars (out of 4)

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First-time screenwriter Pakhi succeeds with Jhootha Hi Sahi, thanks to its instantly likable lead character.

The movie opens with bookish Sid (John Abraham) sleeping peacefully on his couch, as the National Geographic Channel flickers in the background. A stranger calls in the middle of the night, asking Sid to talk him out of committing suicide. Two subsequent suicide calls (Bollywood fans may recognize the celebrity voice cameos) convince Sid that he’s the victim of a prank, but he still talks all three callers out of killing themselves.

In the morning, a counselor for a suicide hotline catering to Indians living in London informs Sid that they mistakenly printed his home phone number on their fliers. He agrees to serve as a temporary counselor, referring callers to the correct number for additional help.

His friends Omar (Raghu Ram) and Amit (Omar Khan), who co-own an Indian bookstore with Sid, are supportive of Sid’s good deed. Sid’s girlfriend, an intense flight attendant named Krutika (Manasi Scott), is not.

Sid becomes heavily invested in his humanitarian duties when a weeping woman calls but refuses to talk. He stays on the phone with her all night so she won’t be alone. She calls back the next day to apologize and opens up to Sid. The woman, Mishka (Pakhi, the film’s writer), begins calling every night to talk about her problems, nicknaming Sid “Fidato” since hotline rules prevent him from sharing his identity with her.

Mishka shows up in Sid’s bookstore one day, and he recognizes her when she asks for a book he’d mentioned on the phone. Mishka’s good looks reduce Sid to a stammering klutz, the opposite of the confident persona he adopts on the phone with her. He abuses his power as Fidato to steer Mishka into a relationship with Sid until she inevitably learns the truth.

Movies about dual-identities are tricky to pull off, as accidental meetings between characters often seem implausible and identities are revealed in absurd ways. Not so in Jhootha Hi Sahi. The circumstances of Sid & Mishka’s physical meeting are logical. Sid’s eventual reveal comes in a moment of self-sacrifice and not because Mishka finds out the truth on her own.

Further establishing Sid’s “good guy” credentials are his buddies, Omar and Amit. The three guys look out for each other’s best interests, even when it means revealing harsh truths (such as the fact that Sid doesn’t really love Kruthika). Ram is funny and authentic in his first film role as Omar.

Rounding out the group of pals is Omar’s pregnant, unwed sister, Aliya (Alishka Varde), and the father of her child, Nick (George Young). Aliya’s fine when acting as a mother figure to the guys, but she’s snippy to the unreasonably devoted Nick. The tension in their relationship is uncomfortable and adds nothing to the film.

But, aside from one awkward subplot, Jhootha Hi Sahi is a fun, comfortable movie. The secret identity plot convention is familiar but not tired. Sid and Mishka are nice people who deserve happiness. London looks beautiful, and there are books everywhere. I’m smiling just thinking about it.

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Movie Review: It’s a Wonderful Afterlife (2010)

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1.5 Stars (out of 4)

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Many American comedies of the 1980s were characterized by amusing situations, rather than genuinely humorous dialog (think Mannequin or Soul Man). The decades haven’t been kind to films of this style, because they simply aren’t funny. The British comedy It’s a Wonderful Afterlife relies on this ’80s style of humor, and as such, already feels dated.

The movie opens with a man — having been force-fed too much spicy curry in by a faceless villain — receiving treatment in a hospital room, only to have his stomach explode, spraying its contents all over the room. There’s no context for the gag, so it’s not at all humorous, just disgusting. Not a good way to start a movie.

The exploding man is explained to be the latest victim of a serial killer targeting members of the Indian community in the London suburb of Southall. The police, led by inspector Smythe (Mark Addy), enlist the help of a detective of Indian descent named Raj (Sendhil Ramamurthy) to search for clues within the community.

Raj is the childhood friend of Roopi (Goldy Notay), an overweight young woman still recovering from being dumped by her fiance. Roopi’s mother, Mrs. Sethi (Shabana Azmi), is desperate to see her daughter married — so desperate that she’s been killing prospective husbands that have rejected Roopi, as well as their family members, using her culinary skills.

Mrs. Sethi is haunted by the ghosts of her victims, who can’t move on until Mrs. Sethi is dead. The only other person who can sense the ghosts is Roopi’s best friend, Linda (Golden Globe winner Sally Hawkins), who’s renamed herself Geetali after a spiritual awakening on a trip to India. Mrs. Sethi promises to kill herself after Roopi is married, provided the ghosts help her accomplish her mission.

It’s a Wonderful Afterlife is full of missed opportunities. The ghosts, who should be a goldmine of humor, instead offer bland observations and little in the way of assistance to Mrs. Sethi, as they have no supernatural powers. Their decaying visages are pointlessly gross.

Mrs. Sethi should be a source of comedy herself, but she’s dull as well. She never exhibits a hint of the kind of rage one would need to feel in order to commit murder (all but one of the murders happen off-screen). Her conversations with the ghosts are just boring exposition.

Part of the movie’s problem is that the Roopi and her mother get overshadowed by the ghosts, the cops, and especially Linda. Much screen time is spent on Linda’s psychic abilities, scenes in which Roopi, the heroine, acts as a passive observer. Roopi’s budding romance with Raj is shown in a short musical montage, yet a multiple scenes are devoted to Linda’s engagement to Dev (Jimi Mistry). Linda’s even the star of the film’s climax, a revolting homage to the movie Carrie.

Sally Hawkins is good as Linda, and newcomer Goldy Notay gives a strong performance as Roopi as well. I’d have preferred that she be given more to do, as the movie is all about Roopi’s want of a husband, after all. Still, there’s not much that could have saved It’s a Wonderful Afterlife — not even a pandering shot of Sendhil Ramamurthy shirtless — since the alleged comedy just isn’t funny.

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Movie Review: Anjaana Anjaani (2010)

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3.5 Stars (out of 4)

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Thanks to its complex characters, Anjaana Anjaani showcases how a romantic comedy can be something more than the typical pair of shallow caricatures cavorting toward an inevitable happy ending.

Anjaana Anjaani starts on a grim note that makes the movie best-suited for adults. After single-handedly destroying his small Wall Street firm, Akash (Ranbir Kapoor) climbs a bridge in New York City, planning to kill himself. He is interrupted by Kiara (Priyanka Chopra), a drunk who also wants to die, though she’s too nervous to do it alone.

Their discussion on the bridge railing is broken up by the Coast Guard. Minutes later, they both injure themselves while attempting suicide and wind up in the hospital. The pair sneak out of the hospital to Kiara’s messy apartment, where they again fail to successfully end their lives. They decide to give themselves a 20-day cooling off period before jumping off the same bridge together on New Year’s Eve.

Kiara and Akash, who have no one else to turn to, make a bucket list of things they’d like to do before they die. Top on Akash’s list is losing his virginity. He says he hasn’t found the right woman yet. She says he sounds like a 15-year-old girl, before correcting herself: 15-year-old girls aren’t so corny.

As they cross items off their list (swimming in the Atlantic and taking a cross-country road trip), it becomes clear that Kiara isn’t the flaky party girl she appears to be. A break-up left her with scars — emotional and physical — that make her even more fragile than Akash. Their friendship strengthens as he recognizes in her a chance to finally consider someone’s feelings before his own.

Writer-director Siddharth Anand is fond of telling stories showcasing character growth, as he did in 2008’s terrific Bachna Ae Haseeno (which also starred Ranbir Kapoor). In both movies, Anand uses Kapoor to depict the critical point in a young man’s life when he finally sees a world outside of himself and wishes to connect with it. It’s a time fraught with emotional turmoil, and Kapoor shows that, without being maudlin.

Chopra, an ambitious actress with a diverse body of work, makes Kiara more than just the agent for Akash’s change. Kiara experiences dramatic highs and lows herself, and Chopra portrays them in a way that makes them consistent within the complex character of a woman whose free-spirited facade masks inner insecurity.

What saves Anjaana Anjaani from being too melancholy is the acknowledgement that there is joy even in hard times. Akash and Kiara find happiness in each other, or at least insulation from loneliness. Their “to-do” list is a fun distraction for both them and the audience, accompanied by a peppy rock soundtrack.

The movie is also a wonderful American travelogue, as the pair road trip west. New York and Las Vegas are vibrant, and the Nevada desert looks ripe for exploration. Anjaana Anjaani is the rare movie about living each day as though it were your last that might actually inspire people to do so.

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Movie Review: Hide & Seek (2010)

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2 Stars (out of 4)

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I am a coward when it comes to horror movies, so I was pleased to find Hide & Seek: a horror movie tame enough that I could actually watch it, instead of just covering my eyes with my hands.

The premise of the film is conventional: something went terribly wrong at a Christmas party among a group of six teenage friends, and twelve years later — when the pals are all around thirty — a killer takes revenge against the former pals.

Hide & Seek reveals a huge casting mistake early on by using two different sets of actors to play the characters as young adults and as thirty-somethings. At the time of the party, all of the characters have obviously gone through puberty, so they’re not going to change much in appearance in the span of a dozen years (apart from stylistic choices and a few pounds gained or lost). But none of the young actors look anything like their older counterparts. As more mature adults, one of the women is taller than a man who used to tower over her.

The opening credit sequence features a montage of clips from the Christmas party before the actions shifts to the present, twelve years later. I spent the first half-hour of the movie trying to reconcile which adult characters were supposed to be which teens from the party footage, in addition to what the relationships were between the characters then and now. Rather than keeping track of six characters, it was like keeping track of twelve.

The confusion could’ve been avoided by changing the time frame a bit, employing a single set of actors to play, say, 22-year-old college students and 34-year-old professionals.

The main character is Om (Purab Kholi), who spent twelve years in a mental asylum, after the events of the Christmas party. Shortly after he’s released, his old flame, Jyotika (Mrinalini Sharma), contacts him and he receives a cryptic message. The other party attendees — Om’s brother, Abhi (Sameer Kochhar); wallflower Gunita (Amruta Patki); thug Jaideep (Arjan Bajwa); and Jaideep’s former lackey, Imran (Ayaz Khan) — all receive the same message. Everyone is kidnapped and locked in a shopping mall.

A villain dressed as Santa Claus explains via video that they must play a game of hide and seek. If they try to escape, Santa will kill them. Om and Jyotika run off to hide together while Gunita, Jaideep and Imran go their separate ways. Abhi promises to come find them all after twenty minutes.

As the bewildered former pals try to figure out why they’ve been kidnapped and who’s wearing the Santa suit, old rivalries come to the surface. Flashbacks to the party slowly reveal what happened that night and who’s behind the deadly game playing itself out in the mall.

The idea of being punished for past crimes is nothing new, but there is some degree of ambiguity to the actions of some of the friends. I’m not so sure they all deserve to be punished, but, then again, I’m not a homicidal maniac.

This is not a movie for serious horror movie fans. It’s not scary, and it’s not even that atmospheric. But, if the mere sight of Freddy Kruger is enough to give you nightmares, Hide & Seek is a watchable baby step into the world of horror movies.

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Movie Review: Tum Milo Toh Sahi (2010)

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1 Star (out of 4)

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There’s a nice idea at the core of writer-director Kabir Sadanand’s Tum Milo Toh Sahi (“Let’s Meet First,” according to the subtitled translation of the title song’s lyrics). Sadanand wrote a story of six incomplete individuals who find happiness when they work together toward a goal. Unfortunately, he neglected to make any of the characters likable.

The action in Tum Milo Toh Sahi takes place primarily in the Lucky Cafe, a hangout for college students. The cafe is owned by Delshad (Dimple Kapadia), a grumpy grandmother who scolds her customers and ends every caustic command to her employees with, “Idiot.”

One of the few people Delshad is kind to is Anita (Vidya Malvade), the miserable wife of a workaholic. When her husband, Amit (Suniel Shetty), complains that Anita is as unhappy in their gorgeous new house as she was in their dumpy one-room apartment, we believe him.

Amit works for Blue Bell, a national chain of Starbucks-like coffee houses bent on eradicating the competition. When the company announces a plan to acquire the Lucky Cafe, Amit takes charge of the project in the hopes of paying off Delshad with a minimum of fuss.

Delshad refuses to sell, so Blue Bell wages a campaign of corporate terror to force her out of business. Amit participates willingly, at the expense of his marriage.

Delshad gets some unexpected assistance from Subramaniam (Nana Patekar), an equally grumpy retired law clerk; Shalini (Anjana Sukhani), a snobby college girl; and Bikramjeet (Rehan Khan), a naive hick. Shalini and Bikramjeet are superfluous characters, but Delshad’s relationship with Subramaniam makes some sense. Both of them missed out on love  in their youth because they were focused on their careers and family obligations.

Unfortunately, all of the characters exhibit extreme forms of the single traits they are supposed to exemplify. The defining characteristic of Delshad, Amit, Subramaniam and Shalini is that they are all mean. It’s not fun to watch, and it blurs the contrast between the evil corporation and the regular people being trampled on. The regular people need to be virtuous in the face of powerful opposition, not jerks who kind of have it coming.

Tum Milo Toh Sahi has a number of other problems. The music is cheesy adult contemporary pop, and there’s too much of it. Every mention of Blue Bell is accompanied an annoying vocal theme, and there are several bland musical montages.

The English subtitles are poorly translated. More accurately, they’re poorly transcribed from English to English. Amit, speaking in English, mentions that he’d like a croissant (said with a mild French inflection). Croissant is transcribed as the non-word “crosone” — another reminder that Tum Milo Toh Sahi needed a lot more work and attention to detail before it went to print.

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Movie Review: Lahore (2010)

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1.5 Stars (out of 4)

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Filmmaker Sanjay Puransingh Chauhan is obviously well-versed in sports movie clichés, as Lahore is full of them. But most sports movies also have a formula, and Chauhan gets the formula all wrong.

Dheeru (Sushant Singh) is an up-and-coming kickboxer poised to make his debut for the Indian National Kickboxing Team. He has a shrill girlfriend, Neela (Shraddha Nigam), and a younger brother named Veeru (Aanaahad).

Veeru is an up-and-coming cricket star who was once himself a talented kickboxing prospect. He switched to cricket because he doesn’t like violence. By the law of sports movie clichés, this can mean only one thing: Dheeru is going to die in the ring, and Veeru will have to start kickboxing again to avenge his brother’s death.

This cliché in itself is not a problem. Rocky IV and Kickboxer are examples of the revenge cliché done well. Where Lahore gets the formula wrong is that the first half of the movie is footage of Dheeru training for his fatal fight. We all know he’s going to die; just kill him already, so that we can watch Veeru train for his revenge match! It’s kind of like if the first half of Rocky IV had been nothing but training footage of Apollo Creed.

With so much time wasted on Dheeru, Veeru’s storyline is rushed. Less than a month after his brother’s death (and in just a few minutes of screen time), Veeru becomes a skilled enough fighter to represent India in a friendly tournament against Pakistan — fighting the very man who killed Dheeru.

The heavy focus on doomed Dheeru also compresses the storyline involving Ida (Shraddha Das), a psychiatric intern for the Pakistani team, and Veeru’s eventual love interest. A musical montage shows Ida befriending Neela at the tournament where Dheeru dies. We don’t get any reasons why they suddenly become BFFs, other than that the plot requires it. Ida accompanies the coffin home and helps with Dheeru’s funeral, even though she only knew him for a matter of days.

The movie asserts that forgiveness and a shared interest in sports can help heal the division between countries as antagonistic as India and Pakistan. But Veeru’s inevitable forgiveness of Dheeru’s murderer strains credulity. Who among us would be able to hug it out with the person who murdered our loved one in cold blood after less than a month?

Besides the bad application of clichés, Lahore is poorly edited. The action shifts rapidly between shots of Dheeru engaged in a kickboxing match, Neela watching nervously in the stands, Veeru taking batting practice hundreds of miles away, and the guy operating the scoreboard at the kickboxing match. It removes the tension from the action scenes and makes the fight choreography seem sloppy.

The flow is so disjointed, watching Lahore is like trying to watch TV when your channel-flipping dad is charge of the remote control.

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Retro Review: Black (2005)

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3.5 Stars (out of 4)

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Most Americans are familiar with the story of Helen Keller, a blind and deaf girl who learned to communicate through the guidance of her teacher, Anne Sullivan. The play written about Keller & Sullivan, The Miracle Worker, is required reading in many middle schools. The play inspired filmmaker Sanjay Leela Bhansali to create the movie Black.

Black‘s heroine is Michelle McNally (played as a child by Ayesha Kapoor, and as an adult by Rani Mukerji), a girl robbed of her sight and hearing by an illness at a young age. The first half of the movie tacks closely to Keller’s life story. By age eight, Michelle has developed into a wild, almost feral child due to her inability to communicate. Her parents, equally frustrated by being unable to reach their daughter, are on the verge of sending Michelle to an asylum to prevent her from accidentally harming her baby sister, Sarah.

As a last resort, the McNally’s hire eccentric teacher Debraj Sahai (Amitabh Bachchan) to tutor Michelle. Early in the movie, Bachchan’s performance is almost too eccentric to be believable, as Debraj uses unconventional methods to reach out to Michelle.

Debraj is eventually able to teach Michelle the connection between words and objects, and she’s able to finally communicate with her family through sign language. She’s accepted into a university, and Debraj helps her to continue her studies and live on her own. This is where the story diverts from Keller’s biography and develops its own identity.

Michelle must deal with typical adult challenges in addition to her handicaps. She has a strained relationship with Sarah (Nandana Sen), who’s tired of living in her older sister’s shadow. When Sarah is finally able to command her parents’ undivided attention at her engagement dinner, she gives an uncomfortably honest toast, confessing to cruel acts she committed against Michelle.

Sarah’s engagement provokes confusing feelings in Michelle. She’s curious about romance, but the only man she knows is Debraj, who’s as much a father figure to her as he is a friend.

Of course, Michelle’s special needs make university a challenge. She’s too slow when typing answers to exam questions on a Braille typewriter, and she needs Debraj to translate lectures into sign language. Even though a cane increases her mobility and independence, she’s still unable to navigate the campus by herself. This puts her in grave danger as Debraj begins to manifest the signs of Alzheimer’s disease.

As inspirational as the first half of Black is, it’s most compelling to watch Michelle develop into a fully formed person. Keller herself went had an extraordinary life as an activist, in addition to introducing the Akita breed of dog to the United States. Mukerji’s performance is so captivating that it’s easy to forget that she doesn’t deliver any lines of dialog.

Bachchan is similarly spellbinding as Debraj confronts the emotional and ethical issues of tutoring a young woman, as opposed to a little girl. He struggles with a sudden decline in mental function that changes his relationship with Michelle. As he once reached out to her, she is forced to find a way to connect with him.

Besides the two leads, Black features a terrific supporting cast. Sen walks a fine line, showing the despair behind Sarah’s bratty behavior. And Shernaz Patel is wonderful as Michelle’s troubled mother, Catherine. She’s in an impossible situation, trying to protect Michelle even though it exacerbates the girl’s problems while trying not to overlook her other daughter. Catherine is heroic in her own right for not sending Michelle away and, in effect, covering her own eyes and ears to her child’s plight.

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Movie Review: Dabangg (2010)

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3 Stars (out of 4)

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Every movie that stars Salman Khan is essentially the same. He plays a tough guy who doesn’t play by the rules who meets a girl who teaches him the meaning of love. There are action-packed fights, some awkward scenes of courtship and a few equally awkward dance numbers.

Typically, Khan’s movies are completely serious. The only attempts at humor are when Khan’s character berates and humiliates his underlings, and the jokes almost always fall flat.

Dabangg (“Fearless”) is the rare Khan vehicle that acknowledges the absurdity of his macho, alpha-male persona. Perhaps it’s just a chance for Khan’s younger brother, Arbaaz — the movie’s producer and co-star — to take the mickey out of his big brother. Whatever the reason, it’s easily the most enjoyable Salman Khan movie I’ve ever seen.

This time, Khan plays Chulbul Pandey, a cop who shakes down criminals for money. He nicknames himself “Robin Hood,” even though he keeps all of the money he steals for himself.

Dabangg opens with a fight in a warehouse. Chulbul takes on a gang of about a dozen criminals by himself, using only a firehose as a weapon. There are a few instances of Matrix-inspired special effects, but they are outshone by the intricate fight choreography, as Chulbul is surrounded by attackers.

The rest of the police force arrives while Chulbul exits the warehouse with a bag of pilfered cash. Asked what they should tell the higher-ups about the fight, Chulbul shoots a deputy in the arm, so that the officer can claim he was wounded in action and earn a promotion. Everyone is happy, and Chulbul walks away with the money.

The scene is immediately followed by a dance number to a tune about what a badass Chulbul is: “Hud Hud Dabangg.” The abrupt transition is hilarious, and the Khan brothers know it. As a fan of ’80s & ’90s action flicks starring Stallone, Seagal, Van Damme, Schwarzenegger and the like, I assert that many of those movies would’ve benefited from their own dance numbers.

Dabangg‘s plot is formulaic, with the requisite love story and predictable double-crosses. Chulbul falls in love with a woman, Rajjo (Sonakshi Sinha), who encourages him to reconcile with his estranged stepbrother, Makhi (Arbaaz Khan), and his step-father. Little does Chulbul know that Makhi is secretly working for Cheddi Singh (Sonu Sood), the corrupt politician from whom Chulbul stole in the opening sequence.

Dabangg is well-paced and doesn’t linger over Chulbul’s emotional development. He grows as a character, but the majority of his time is spent fighting, engaging in political intrigue, and dancing.

The dancing alone makes Dabangg a worthwhile movie for American fans of action flicks who like a little levity mixed in with their butt-kicking. Plus, the subtitles add an air of sophistication. Tell your friends you’re seeing a foreign film, even if you’re really just going for the shootouts.

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Movie Review: The Japanese Wife (2010)

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4 Stars (out of 4)

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On rare occasions, I break with my policy of reviewing only Hindi movies, and instead review a movie in another Indian language. I recently watched The Japanese Wife — which features dialog in English, Japanese and Bengali — because it will be featured on October 3rd at Chicago’s inaugural South Asian Film Festival. Also, it’s directed by Aparna Sen, mother of Bollywood actress Konkona Sen Sharma. Since the movie is already available on DVD at Netflix, I thought I’d give it a shot.

The DVD’s menu screen describes the movie as “A Love Poem by Aparna Sen,” and that seems appropriate. It’s a heartbreakingly romantic film about the lengths we go to on behalf of those we love and how the written word brings us closer together.

Rahul Bose stars as Snehamoy, a high school arithmetic teacher in a small, remote village in West Bengal. He lives with an aunt who raised him after his parents drowned when he was a boy. He’s unbearably shy and has only one close friend: Miyage (Chigusa Takaku), his Japanese pen pal. She’s just as shy and lives with her ailing mother. They write letters to each other in imperfect English every week.

Scenes from the present — a giant package from Japan making its way through Snehamoy’s village to his house — are intercut with voiceovers and scenes cataloging how the friendship between Snehamoy and Miyage develops through their letters.

After three years of correspondence, Snehamoy writes to Miyage about his aunt’s attempt to find a bride for him. The girl, Sandhya (Raima Sen), is so timid she won’t even let Snehamoy see her face. He turns down the marriage, and Sandhya weds another man.

Miyage proposes that she and Snehamoy get married, even though they’ve never met and have no prospect of doing so in the near future. She has to take care of her mother, and his monthly $100 salary isn’t enough to afford an expensive plane ticket to Japan. But they agree to get married anyway. She sends him a silver ring, and he sends her some coral bangles and vermillion powder to wear in the part of her hair, signifying their status.

Several years later, widowed Sandhya and her son, Poltu (Sagnik Chowdhury), move in with Snehamoy and his aunt. Sandhya becomes Snehamoy’s unofficial wife, in practice: she cooks and cleans, and he escorts her shopping and helps her raise Poltu. She’s at least physically present, while Miyage remains in Japan.

The movie raises questions about the definition of marriage. Can Snehamoy and Miyage really be married without having ever met? And what of Snehamoy’s relationship with Sandhya? They actively build a life together with some degree of mutual affection. Which “marriage” is more real?

The movie unfolds beautifully as the love between Snehamoy and Miyage is revealed through their words. Because English isn’t either of their native languages, they write honestly and without euphemisms. The musical score alternates between traditional Indian and Japanese harmonies.

Probably the most striking aspect of the movie is the contrast between their places of residence. Snehamoy lives in a small village with no electricity that’s only accessible by boat. I wasn’t sure in which decade the movie was set until he journeyed to a big city and mentioned that he had Miyage’s email address.

Yet it makes complete sense that Miyage, living in a big city in Japan, could fall for Snehamoy. One can be lonely and isolated even in a crowded place.

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Movie Review: We Are Family (2010)

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3 Stars (out of 4)

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I tried to write my review of We Are Family right after seeing it yesterday, but I was too drained. The movie — a remake of the 1998 Hollywood film Stepmom — has a depressing enough premise, but it goes all out to maximize the waterworks.

The remake’s star cast is anchored by Kajol. She plays Maya, a divorced mother of three kids who’s not quite over her globetrotting photographer ex-husband, Aman (Arjun Rampal). When Aman brings his new girlfriend, Shreya (Kareena Kapoor) to his youngest child’s birthday party, Maya and the kids immediately despise her.

When Shreya inadvertently endangers the youngest daughter, Anjali (Diya Sonecha), Maya forbids her from ever seeing the kids again. Maya then discloses to Aman — on the condition of secrecy — that she has cervical cancer. He agrees to move back home to help out and dumps Shreya with no explanation. Everyone is miserable.

Shreya drops by with a present for Anjali, and Maya decides that, if she succumbs to cancer, her kids are going to need a replacement mom. She tells Shreya about her medical condition and asks her to move into the house. This allows Maya to supervise Shreya’s training in the motherly arts.

Career-girl Shreya has little aptitude for childcare, and Maya is hard on her. The kids begin to warm up to their stepmom-in-training, irritating Maya, even though it was she who invited Shreya back into her kids’ lives.

Kajol and Kapoor both give incredible performances. They convey so much with just a look. The movie is primarily about two women trying to understand their roles in a complicated family, and the most touching moments are between Maya and Shreya.

Rampal manages to keep Aman from becoming a villain. He’s unreliable, but he’s not a bad guy. The kids’ parts are similarly well-acted, especially considering how irritating child actors can be. Little Anjali and her older brother, Ankush (Nominath Ginsburg), are curious, without being too wise for their years.

The break-out star of the movie is Aanchal Munjal, who plays teenage daughter Aleya. Her home life gets turned upside down right at the age when she’s transitioning into young adulthood, a challenging task under the best of circumstances. Munjal plays Aleya as resentful, but not wholly without reason, and not without empathy.

The movie falls apart in the final act, when Maya’s condition worsens. At that point, the film becomes an orgy of grief. There are multiple scenes involving crying children, clearly designed to provoke sympathetic tears in the audience. The ploy works the first several times, but eventually loses its effectiveness.

After the movie was over, I had a headache from all of the crying (my own and the characters’) and just wanted to take a nap. It was 3 p.m. My Friday night was already ruined.

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