One doesn't—and shouldn't—go into a David Dhawan film expecting comic brilliance, smart gags, or sophisticated humor. Still, his clunkily titled Hai Jawani Toh Ishq Hona Hai (the name comes from a song in Dhawan's Biwi No. 1) is unbearable. Its greatest sin, perhaps, is that it wastes talented comedians like Maniesh Paul, Ali Asgar, Rajpal Yadav, and Johny Lever by not only giving them too little screentime but also saddling them with tenth-rate lines that dare you to remain seated in the movie theater. It's the kind of dare no one would want to accept, especially when they can walk out and choose to watch a great film like Bandar. I really don't mind listening to lowbrow jokes. I have a voracious appetite for films like Animal House, Dumb and Dumber, Hungama, Bhagam Bhag, and Welcome. The problem with Dhawan's movies is that most of them are simply not hilarious. On the other hand, the ones that work (to some extent) owe everything to Govinda's exuberant comic timing and screen presence.
To expect that Govinda flavor from any other actor is like expecting someone to lift a mountain with a single finger. However, I suppose no one passed on this fact to Dhawan, because he still fails to see what has been evident since his very first collaboration with his son, Varun Dhawan: Varun is no Govinda, and his presence only further exposes the shoddy quality of Dhawan's material. The more Varun twists his face and body in an attempt at physical comedy, the more he turns you off. It's not that Varun cannot be funny. He was quite funny in Sunny Sanskari Ki Tulsi Kumari. The issue arises mainly when he teams up with his father because Dhawan sacrifices Varun's own individuality and idiosyncrasies to portray him as some sort of successor to Govinda. What's more, Dhawan's single-minded zeal to prove his son a comedy rockstar results in him not utilizing the full potential of actual comedians like, in this case, Rajpal Yadav, Johny Lever, and Maniesh Paul.
Dhawan also fails to realize the potential of excellent actors like Jimmy Sheirgill and Rajesh Kumar. These two can tickle your funny bone without wild exaggerations and exertions, but Dhawan puts them on the screen as little more than decorative furniture. They neither command attention nor make you laugh. They are just...present. Dhawan's entire focus is on being a good father—a father who gives his son the space to have fun. Since Dhawan is an R-rated comedian trapped in the body of a family entertainer, he surrounds Varun with two gorgeous women, Pooja Hegde and Mrunal Thakur. Both, as Preet and Baani respectively, refer to Varun's Jass as "cute." Dhawan casts men for jokes and women for glamour. There is a naughty, smutty kid inside him who reveals himself through the film's sexual and sensual moments, as when Jass romances Preet and Baani, or when Preet imagines Jass trying to seduce her maid (or is it the maid who gets this wet dream?), or when Mouni Roy, as Rasmalai, almost gets intimate with Sheirgill's Jogi.
Dhawan, nonetheless, isn't able to surrender to his whims. He holds himself back from making a sex comedy. In this respect, he reminds you of Mudassar Aziz, who similarly, in Pati Patni Aur Woh Do, couldn't unleash an erotic, sensual force on the screen. Both directors, in their attempt to secure a U/A censor certificate and reach a wider audience, suppress their impulse to be fully coarse and smutty. They are only able to tease, and that too impotently, because they don't want the family crowd to become too uncomfortable in their seats. Without sex to distract us from the poor filmmaking, the problematic nature of HJTIHH sticks out clearly. What the movie basically says is that it doesn't matter if a woman is career-oriented or professionally ambitious; she will only find joy after becoming pregnant. Baani initially refuses to have a baby because she asserts that she is the CEO of her company and wants to be mentally and physically prepared before taking such a big step in her life. Those concerns, however, disappear as soon as she conceives. She happily, excitedly delivers the good news to Jass, and what it all suggests is that women may declare that they have lofty dreams, but don't listen to them. They don't know anything. Just get them expecting and watch them light up with delight.
It's, then, not an accident that Dhawan doesn't tell us what company Baani works for and that he doesn't give Preet any career, any goals, any dreams. Both women are more than happy to have Jass's baby. Even Rasmalai, a professional dancer, gives in to the comfort a man and his money bring to her life. She doesn't mind being taken care of like a child. On top of all this, lines like "Horny ko kaun rokk sakta hai" and "Windmill, treadmill, bahar mil" leave you yawning. It won't be a stretch to compare HJTIHH with Chand Mera Dil. Both movies, after all, deal with babies in a way that makes them feel like propaganda pieces urging people to reproduce in response to falling fertility rates in many countries.
HJTIHH is reportedly Dhawan's last movie. He has decided to spend more time with his family. The news, if true, doesn't make you melancholy, given Dhawan's filmography. At 74 years old and having directed—or rather awkwardly assembled—45 movies in his life, what does Dhawan think about his legacy? Does he regret making some decisions? Does he wonder if he could have made better movies? And how should one feel about his "legacy" when the news of his retirement elicits not sadness but a sigh of relief? HJTIHH may or may not be Dhawan's last movie, but no one will certainly miss it. That's the sole good thing about this movie. It's a total washout. You want to forget it like a bad dream.
Final Score - [1/10]
Reviewed by - Vikas Yadav
Follow @vikasonorous on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times