So, arranged marriages. You would think the world has evolved enough to not need them, but no, not really. So the issue at the core of the film is unmistakably relevant and urgent. Setting the film in an affluent environment is effective as well, because we know what it is like inside those circles. Because of this choice, the film’s complications are rather narrow.
There is never talk of dowry or the money spent on the wedding, mostly by the girl’s family, or the way it is used to keep caste hegemony alive. That is still fine, because specific, when authentic, is always preferred. Within these confines, it manages to question people’s insistence that a good marriage is all about adjustment. Why finding your spouse irritating after a point a fact of life? ‘Why is romance a fantasy?’ it asks. But then again, the film begins and ends with a 'wife joke,' so what it wants to really say is anybody’s guess.
The premise is simple and traditional. A software engineer comes to India for 20 days, to find a girl to marry. He lived a protected life, which means that his knowledge of the world is little because his world itself is small. So when he comes across a woman who is a bit more worldly than him, he is shocked. What he does with it shapes the rest of the film.
Keeping aside the fact that Bhaskar’s iconic Haasini gets on your nerves overtime, she was still a revelation. Pooja’s Vibha is not that over-the-top, but she is written as someone who is sorted and is inappropriately proud of that fact. But since she dubs for herself, the confidence does not translate. She cannot speak as quickly in Telugu, which is understandable, but, as a result, the dialogue loses some of its spontaneity. That is forgivable because Pooja is great as this defiant, deaf frog — a great analogy made in the film. Even if her stand-up routine is not funny — which, again, is authentic — she carries this confidence, and slight cockiness, well. Her equation with her father, and how it shaped who she is now — jokes as a coping mechanism — is also adequately fleshed out.
Bhaskar’s Orange is one of the most contrived films, and this one takes after it. I know that I am going back to the filmmaker’s previous films a lot, but he started it. This film is what comes out when you add Bommarillu and Orange into a blender, but take out the former’s charm and the forget to take out the latter’s pretentiousness. Similar to Orange, this film surrounds itself exclusively with troubled marriages to make its point. Fine, most marriages are a sham, sure, but when you choose to use a celebrity couple, whose marriage is what your protagonists are dreaming to have — where one respects and upholds the other —why not use it to contrast the romantically-barren land where your film is set? Why say that their marriage is troubled as well?
This notion that the protagonists of the film are the first people to break the shackles is uncinematic, and does nothing for the smaller conceits the film raises throughout its runtime. What about the other couples? Your hero and heroine going on their honeymoon leaving behind a trail of dead marriages is not a happy ending. Even the romance that is central to the story is not convincing enough for us to root for this couple. We do not really see them click, and the plot device applied in the second half is manipulative. Randomly introducing trouble, so a character can realise what is necessary for the plot is amateur. Harsha (Akhil) has more in common with Eesha’s pellikuthuru than with Vibha(Pooja). Wherever Vibha’s knowledge comes from, it did not teach her that vague measures like ‘9,000 nights’ and ‘2,5000 meals’ are not any better.
But Akhil’s Harsha is a behavioural sponge, which easily explains his attraction for Vibha. A random woman, albeit beautiful, says random things, and he takes it to heart, which only tells you how empty shelf of a person he has been. We do not know how he has spent his life with as little personality as he did, but the film effectively manages to satirise men like him — perfect from the outside, vacant inside. Akhil does his best with the clueless man, but because of the indistinct writing, he never manages to grab your attention. I mean, when the film is supposed to be about a man’s journey into himself, is it not bad writing to breeze over the journey with a song and ‘3/6 months later’ notes? He comes back a changed and more assured man only to stalk the woman, which means he needs another film to turn into an actual decent human being. Even his relationship with his father is unclear. Why can he not openly tell his father what he wants? He is no ‘Bommarillu father.’
At first glance, the title Most Eligible Bachelor sounds annoyingly declarative. In an industry that insists that star kids are the next best thing, it is that much more obnoxious. But thankfully, that is not the case. The title is not an assertion, but an interrogation.
The song 'Chitti Adugu' even alludes to the privilege someone like the character and the actor might have. Speaking of which, Gopi Sundar’s music does stand out, but I do not think it’s supposed to. ‘Mansa Mansa’ song is taken out, which makes me believe that the film has gone through some changes.
What makes a person ‘eligible’ for marriage? Most answer this the way Jane Austen did centuries ago. In a landscape as conformist as the Regency, it is not that hard to sound controversial and, dare I say, ground-breaking. So finding this film impressive or not is left to an individual’s discretion.
Most Eligible Bachelor is available in theatres.
Rating: ***
Sankeertana Varma is an engineer who took a few years to realize that bringing two lovely things, movies and writing, together is as great as it sounds. Mainly writes about Telugu cinema.
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