Bhool Chuk Maaf, Overview: 29 retakes of Scene 29, Take 29

Maddock Films has produced this movie. Maddock is a rarely used word and means "fortunate" or "goodly", and is of Welsh origin. It's an anglicised form of Madog, a Welsh given name. Historically, Maddock was a common surname and given name in Wales and neighboring areas. So, let’s put all mad in the dock, start looking at a film from this production power-house, and forgive mistakes, if any, for that is what Bhool Chuk Maaf means. Literally, the title means, forgive mistakes and errors. In the last century, on ing sheets and bills, there used to be the following letters of the alphabet at the bottom of the page, after the final calculation was done: E and OE. I used to wonder what this stood for, till I asked a Chartered ant. He told me that the acronym stood for Errors and Omissions Excepted.

But in the Varanasi of 2024-25, Bhool Chuk Maaf means that the protagonist is going around apologising to all and sundry, for whatever acts of commission or omission that he might have done or not done, which might have caused them pain, discomfort or hurt. But we are jumping the gun here. Behind this peculiar and inexplicable behaviour is a small-town romance. The protagonist, Ranjan, a hopeless romantic, who has just secured a government job in the water department, is about to marry his girl-friend, Titli. And that is why he is trying to come clean with everybody, lest his marriage attract an evil eye. Now if that much is enough to arouse your interest, head for the nearest cinema-hall showing Bhool Chuk Maaf. But beware, with only this modicum of information, the story that will unfold before you will be unlike ANY film that you would have seen.

Writer director Karan Sharma sticks his hero in a time-warp, 29 May. This is a day before his marriage is to be solemnised. While he is dreaming of the joys of his wedding night, he is cursed with a nightmare that wakes him up on the 29^th, concurrently, for days on end. The 30^th of May, five days from the time when this is being typed, proves to be as elusive as the scarlet pimpernel (read The Elusive Pimpernel, by Baroness Orczy). His life becomes a loop. Every new morning comes with the same date, 29 May. He goes through the motions of the day--funny, crazy, humorous, exciting—only to relive the same, on the next day. This is not only unnerving, it is terrifying, because if the 30^th will not come, he will never get married. And how many times will he go through the pre-nuptials, particular the haldee (application turmeric paste all-over his body, something he does not like at all), before going round the bend. Somehow, he is able to link the super-natural developments to the fact that he had pledged to worship his deity if his job application was successful. Getting that job was key to his prospective in-laws giving the nod.

But when even completing his obligation does not do the trick, he decides to commit suicide, by jumping into the river Ganges (Ganga) from a very high bridge. Just as he is about to leap into the hereafter, another young man beats him to it, right before his eyes. He jumps, and rescues the man. When the stranger regains consciousness, Ranjan asks him his name and the reason for his suicide attempt. He learns that the man is Hamid Ansari, who had applied for a job in the Water Department, which was goal in life, for some pretty strong and convincing reasons. This sets Ranjan thinking: Has he robbed this man of his job? Is this bad karma, manifesting itself as a curse, upon his marriage plans?

Now, if such a plot is not novel, innovative and different, what is? Give it to him. If this is Karan Sharma’s original idea, and we have no reasons to doubt its veracity, he has some imagination! Sharma scores high on story, although he just about es muster on the screenplay area. The dialogue could have been much, much better, though. Now comes the direction. That is where he goes over the top. The proposed marriage alliance brings together eccentric and garrulous characters, on both sides of the law (in laws). Each one is a caricature or stereo-type. Ranjan’s two friends are like any two side-kicks you might have seen in any film set in Uttar Pradesh in general, or Varanasi, in particular, and so is their dialogue and earthy humour. As a gift to their ‘leader’, they organise an item song number, with liquor flowing, which must have cost a bomb to execute (and shoot!), whereas they are not much better than broke. The bride-to-be is as unconventional as they come, with guzzling swigs of alcohol like a fish, and (over) reacting to every little uncommon occurrence as the end of the world. But in bringing in a character named Hamid Ansari, and making sure that the name does not lead to religious bigotry, he has done yeoman’s service to the cause of a secular, tolerant India. Take a bow, Karan, but do share the encomiums with your partner, Haider Rizvi, who has penned the additional screenplay and dialogue!

If you have not seen Rajkummar Rao do his thing in several earlier films, you have not seen his earlier films. Credit to him that he acts out the part of Ranjan with wit, verve and vivacity. Matching him at every step, including every dance step, is Vamiqa Gabbi (well, if the name is not sexy, the dame is), Kareena Kapoor’s cousin from PunJab…er…Jab We Met (2007). More at home up in the Punjab and down South, Vamiqa’s career has been spiking since 2019, when she turned 25. Seema Pahwa as Ramawati, Ranjan's mother, is proof that looks cannot deter an artiste from delivering an above par performance. Sanjay Mishra as Bhagwan Das, the fixer, is his usual, confident self, and it is a relief to see him not being forced into doing buffoonery. Zakir Hussain as Brijmohan, the father of the bride, could enact this part sleep-walking. Raghubir Yadav as Raghunath, father of the groom, donning a long-haired wig, is wasted, though he makes a valiant attempt to rise above the character.

Ishtiyak Khan as Kishan, Ranjan’s side-kick, is improving with every film. Vineet Kumar, whom I first saw on the sets of the TV serial Chanakya, wherein both of us were acting, is accomplished and polished, as the Pandit. Akash Makhija as Hamid Ansari puts in a convincing and empathy arousing performance. Also justifying their places in the set-up are Anubha Fatehpuria, Dheerendra Gautam, Himansh Kohli, Poornima Sharma, Jay Thakkar, Pragati Mishra, Amarjeet Singh and Nancy Seth. And if you are wondering what name goes with the assets and gyrations of the item-girl, Jugni, it is Dhanashree Verma.

Perhaps the makers are catering to the hearing impaired or they believe that loud is goud…er…good. The entire dialogue track, and the music score by Tanishk Bagchi and Ketan Sodha, is eardrum-shattering. Whatever merit the songs, mostly unnecessary, might have had, in of lyrics, instrumental interludes and singing, is lost, thanks to deafening decibels. And to make matters worse, the dialogue is rattled off at a speed that is just about the limit of comprehensible speech. To be clearly audible and understood, the speed of speech should range between 120-150 words per minute. You can stretch that to 180 words, and then it is up to the supersonic powers of the listener to make sense of it. Bhool Chuk Maaf must be touching 180.

Garish sets lead to garish cinematography (Sudeep Chatterjee). Editing must have been a bit of a challenge for Manish Pradhan, who had to splice together cloned shots, with minor variations, 29 times. No, I am exaggerating. It is not 29 for sure, but much more than you can keep count of.

A tough proposition: to see or not to see Bhool Chuk Maaf for its societal and moral ideals, and ignore the buffoonery and tom-foolery. But if you identify with the goodness of true love, honesty, redemption and humane sentiments, give it a go.

Trailer: https://youtu.be/8E_IeWynvnc