A retired naval officer named Ashwin Mehta (Pankaj Kapur), after many, many months, returns to his son's home and is shocked to find everyone busy on their smartphones. Simran (Mona Singh), a fashion designer, draws sketches on her phone and keeps in touch with her clients through it. Her husband and Ashwin's son, Kunal (Kunaal Roy Kapur), is a numerologist who's always in a meeting with his clients, both on his mobile and computer. Avni (Ayesha Kaduskar), the elder daughter, uses her mobile to talk to her friends and spends most of her time on her laptop working on her startup project. And finally, the younger son, Vivaan (Sartaaj Kakkar), is always playing video games on his computer. He also watches Tarantino's films and has a girlfriend, but these two details don't matter. What matters is that he knows how to annoy everyone, including the audience, with his sour language and eyes that are glued to his gaming gadgets. Why do some filmmakers struggle to portray children in a normal light? Why do they present these Gen-Z kids like irritating stereotypes who inspire nothing but contempt? Vivaan, though, becomes bearable after two or three episodes. The same thing, alas, cannot be said about Thode Door Thode Paas.
According to the press release material, the show, directed by Ajay Bhuyan, is "a slice-of-life dramedy with heart and humor." The document also notes that the story is "set against a warm, nostalgic backdrop." There is nostalgia all right, but it comes with a haughty attitude. The "things were better Dooring our times" lecture is presented as irrefutable evidence by a director (Bhuyan) and a character (Ashwin) who have no interest in debating, acknowledging, or understanding anyone else's opinions. When Kunal is about to win an argument about why it's essential to move with the times, Ashwin ends it by saying they must agree to disagree — playing the senior-superiority card. If I had been a member of the Mehta household, I would have countered Ashwin's hokum by suggesting that he shouldn't stop at the 70s and 80s if he actually finds the past so perfect. I would have told him to return to the Stone Age. Let's leave the comfort of a bungalow or a 4 BHK and shift to a jungle or a cave. What's more, instead of buying groceries, everybody could either hunt animals or search for food in the wild forest. And dear Ashwin, put that lighter back into your pocket. Here, take these rocks and start a fire.
When Ashwin sees his family glued to their phones, he thinks they all need a digital detox to reconnect with themselves and with each other. Even if one were to see his actions as a result of noble intentions, how could one explain his decision to get rid of the washing machine as well? Also, couldn't Ashwin have at least allowed the installation of two landlines? How can both Kunal and Simran do their jobs with just one telephone in the house? Then again, they are seen fighting for the landline just once. For the rest of the series, they sit idly at home with a lot of free time. Bhuyan starts a conflict but doesn't see it through to its logical conclusion. He is very lazy that way. This is why he merely stirs up stray moments of friction and solves them blithely with a hug (case in point: Kunal's quarrel with a client who threatens legal action). Still, after all this jejune drama, if you somehow fail to comprehend what the show is all about, worry not. Through Avni's college project, Bhuyan delivers the "social media is a waste of time" lecture. He makes explicit what was already explicit from the beginning of the show. Bhuyan might want to capture the spirit of the good old days when messages were handwritten and Kishore Kumar's chartbusters intoxicated an entire nation (they still do, to be honest). His directorial style, however, is so sloppy, so incurious, it evokes that bygone era through impersonal, textureless wallpapers and furniture. It's the feeling for the past seen through the eyes of a stranger who has no memory of the very past he so fondly recalls.
"Aaj phir khamoshi ke saath dinner kiya," Ashwin intones at one point. "Table ki ek taraf mai tha aur dusri taraf khamoshi," he further mourns. If this is how Ashwin usually speaks, if this is his idea of poetry, I can understand why other characters got up and left the room initially whenever he tried to make an announcement. Kunal, in one scene, refers to Ashwin as Chacha Chaudhary. Well, Chacha Chaudhary wouldn't take a boy's iPod or AirPods and replace them with a vintage music player. He, in other words, won't sever access to one gadget and then replace it with another. If Ashwin is a genius, he is a genius for the idiots. An idiot genius, perhaps? Whatever he is, he belongs to the world of Thode Door Thode Paas — he belongs to the world of a show made for WhatsApp forward uncles, who think all their notions are covered in gold. Well, they can keep their "gems" to themselves. On a scale of 0 to 100 — 0 being brain-rotting trash and 100 being actual art — boring Instagram Reels, AI slop, and shows like Thode Door Thode Paas somehow manage to score below zero. The series can then be renamed Thode Dour Thode Pest. Bhuyan's show certainly lives up to this title.
Final Score- [1/10]
Reviewed by - Vikas Yadav
Follow @vikasonorous on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times