Hamari Adhuri Kahani review: Even Vidya Balan, Emraan and Rajkummar can’t save this eloquent film

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By Tanul Thakur

A Mohit Suri film doesn’t come with a lot of expectations. Since his debut, Zehar (2005), Suri has averaged roughly one film per year. His cinema are remembered some-more for their soundtracks and reduction for their storylines or directorial ingenuity. His latest, Hamari Adhuri Kahani, is a pointy contrariety to his progressing films, since we don’t associate actors like Vidya Balan or Rajkummar Rao with a Suri film.

But HAK is as good an instance of a fact that an considerable expel can't save a film, generally when it’s riddled with tract holes. One early stage shows Hari (Rao), a mental haven patient, branch adult during a wake of his wife, Vasudha (Balan), whom he hasn’t seen for 21 years. He shortly flees with her remains and leaves a diary for his son that is fundamentally about Vasudha’s attribute with Aarav Ruparel (Emraan Hashmi), a abounding hotelier.

But here’s a problem in this setup: Hari couldn’t have famous Vasudha and Aarav’s relationship. They met and fell in adore when Hari was not even in a same nation as a canoodling duo. When Hari finally returned to Vasuda, he was so paranoid and intimidating that his mother — already in adore with Aarav — left him. So, in a universe where screenplays make judicious sense, HAK wouldn’t have lasted some-more than 5 minutes. But, this is a Mohit Suri film. Let’s shimmer over that ginormous tract hole and decider a film on what it has to offer.


Emraan Hashmi and Vidya Balan. Image from Facebook.

What’s fast distinguished about HAK is a complicated eloquent tone. The characters, generally Aarav, are filmi in a misfortune ways possible. When Aarav initial sees Vasudha, who works as a florist in one of his hotels, she’s arranging flowers in his room. What flowers are these, he asks. “Arum lily,” comes a answer. Aarav responds with lines like, “Inke liye toh categorical blotch bhi sakta boor (I can even die for these).” He also observes that lilies symbolize “saadgi, innocence, sacha pyaar.”

Later, when Vasudha is creation rangoli and decorating one of Aarav’s hotels (he owns 108 of them) for Diwali (in Dubai), a male interjection her. She says something on a lines of “It’s not a large deal”, that prompts him to declaim this gem: “Agar yeh roshni tumhare andar nahin hoti toh baahar kaise hoti (Had this light not been inside you, how could it have been so splendid outside)?”

It appears he can usually conflict to situations by reciting lines memorised from “Lovelorn Freshmen Essays Vol. I”. In fact, this utterance runs in a family: When Aarav creates Vasudha accommodate his mom, she says, “Yeh kaun banjaran hai jo apni si lagti hai (Who’s this wayfarer who looks like one of ours)?”

There’s zero inherently wrong with eloquent lines. One of Hashmi’s improved crowd-pleasers, Once Upon a Time in Mumbai, was filled with over-the-top dialogues, though that choice worked since it befitted a film’s tinge and characters. HAK, on a other hand, revolves around typical characters, and hence, this verbosity is confounding. Nearly no method in a film is finish but one of a characters rising into an extended soliloquy about love, life and what not. After a point, Hamari Adhuri Kahani feels like a rather vapid kavi sammelan than a underline film meddlesome in revelation a story.

The batch characters blotch a film further. Aarav is a abounding man who will do anything for adore (going so distant as being creepy). Vasudha is a harried housewife doubtful of descending in adore (and later, assured of not going behind to her husband). Hari is, well, usually a controlling, sparse douchebag (who in a final 5 mins undergoes a weird change of heart).

It doesn’t contend a lot about a film when a usually convincing and beguiling impression is Aarav’s childhood friend, Apoorva (Prabal Panjabi), who has a shade time of around 10 minutes. There’s most to like about this guy, who sounds amply civic and normal, and mostly deflates Aarav’s philosophical inquiries by these dispassionate bits: “Aarav, what was that all about?”; “We will skip a flight”; or “I usually don’t get you”. He’s roughly a Voice of Reason in HAK.

It’s wise then, that Apoorva gets a film’s best line, that is of march really meta. When Apoorva gets fed adult of lovelorn Aarav, he says, “Yehi problem hai tumhara. Tum har cheez ko itna low bana dete ho (That’s your problem; we make all so deep).”

Well said, Apoorva.