Review: Mr. White Mr. Black
SUCKS COMEDY
A truckload of stars and a truckload of set pieces – but where are the laughs?
MAY 4, 2008 – SOME THIRTY YEARS AGO, WHEN AMITABH BACHCHAN spat out that he had a gaadi and a bangla and a this and a that, and Shashi Kapoor replied that none of this mattered because he had his mother by his side, did the actors realise what they were unleashing on the world? Did they know then that Kapoor’s iconic, laconic riposte – just four words: “Mere paas maa hai” – would travel the trajectory from goosefleshy dialogue-writing at its best to God-awful parody at its worst? Is there anyone who wants to hear this line again in the movies – whether as worshipful homage or wicked spoof – or at least, is there any filmmaker capable of putting the kind of spin that would make it seem fresh again? Deepak Shivdasani, the director of Mr. White Mr. Black, clearly thinks he’s the man for the job, and so he fashions an entire scene – indeed, an entire character (the don named Laadla, and played by Ashish Vidyarthi) – around Salim-Javed’s salute to motherhood. As this exchange from Deewar plays on his television, Laadla weeps uncontrollably, remembering his mother who made gaajar ka halwa and who almost died with pride when he announced his ascent to ganglord (“Aaj tera beta don ban gaya hai maa”) and who actually died a minute later when a stray bullet from her son’s gun brought down a chandelier on her skull.
That incident has never left Laadla’s mind, and so he’s amassed a collection of such motherly cinematic moments – Lata Mangeshkar’s saccharine Tu kitni achchi hai from Raja aur Rank is another – to be viewed whenever he feels like a really good cry. (A sidekick who speaks in a falsetto stands beside him, dutifully unspooling a roll of toilet paper so his boss can dry his eyes.) And this is one of the better gags in Mr. White Mr. Black, the latest shot in the arm to the contention that we’re witnessing one of the sorriest movie-going years in recent memory. A nonsensical comedy with Suniel Shetty in the lead – he plays a bumpkin named Gopi – was never a promising proposition to begin with, and any hopes of pleasantly being proved wrong are dashed when we see how Gopi meets the girl of his dreams: a dog pulls his dhoti off and the garment is borne away by the wind, only to land on the comely Tanya (Anishka Khosla). And this is one of the better romantic tracks in Mr. White Mr. Black, because when we first meet Kishan (Arshad Warsi) and Anu (Rashmi Nigam), she’s flinging a wad of cash at him because she thinks he’s a cad named Hari (a lookalike of her lover Kishan), whereas he’s only pretending to be that cad named Hari so Anu won’t know that he’s a conman (in other words, a cad named Kishan).
These are the moments that make you terrified of setting foot in Mumbai, because there’s clearly something in the water. Can you think of another reason anyone would bankroll such a project, which kicks off with Sandhya Mridul sucking on a lollipop as she – along with two others – steals a bag of diamonds (belonging to Laadla) that, by the end of the film, lands up on an arm of chandelier, thus necessitating the formation of a tottering human pyramid? And this, just after the supposed comedic bit where Upasana Singh requests Manoj Joshi to hook up her blouse, without realising that he’s not her husband. And this, just after a drunk Tanya asks Gopi to kiss her because he’s got – you’d better be sitting down for this – “such a desi smell.” And this, just after Kishan walks into Inspector Brown’s house – yes, Inspector Brown, played by a hapless Sharat Saxena – and announces that he’s the recipient of the Plumber of the Year award. As such, Mr. White Mr. Black is likely to delight only film scholars pursuing the trail of homoeroticism in our cinema, for if you saw (or imagined) traces of a love of a – cough, cough – different kind in the likes of Sholay and Dharam-Veer, just wait till you hear the song sung by the heroes here, likening them to beats of the same heart: Ek dil do dhadkan, ek Gopi ek Kishan. And here we were, thinking all along that their hearts were beating for Anu and Tanya.
Copyright ©2008 The New Sunday Express. This article may not be reproduced in its entirety without permission. A link to this URL, instead, would be appreciated.
Too good a review..I think the purpose of such movies is to give ppl like u fun while ripping it off..
Sudhir Nair: There’s very little “fun” in this, let me assure you… What a year this is turning out to be…
A law should be passed banning comedy films in India. If this is the kind of stuff that comes up in the name of comedy with such alarming regularity, any writer/producer/director even uttering the word ‘comedy’ should be incarcerated!
why cant you try to find imaginary virtues in these movies like you do for Chopra-johar crap – or do you need the production values to do that?
Aditya Pant: Oh, no such luck, boss. Look at the release schedule ahead, and you’ll see four out of five films are “comedies”
huh: “or do you need the production values to do that?” Oh, absolutely.
Punky title, pattern in this and the previous article, when the movie sucks the picture appeals
brangan: “What a year this is turning out to be…” Er, um, not to sound all superstitious, but sure you didn’t jinx it by kicking off your New movie-review Year by transferring Game (yes, the movie that kicked off last year) over to this blog?
Btw, looks like the babe-on-the-beach pic is not the only similarity this movie shares with its austere predecessor, Game. There’s the “worse than blind monkeys tapping on keyless typewriters” script, the lookalikes (ok, I think you said Game actually had two of this guy named Ronnie whereas in this movie Kishan merely pretends to be his non-existent lookalike) and, you know, the works. “..there’s clearly something in the water” seems about the right explanation for this steady pattern of hoary flicks pandered to us under the guise of comedy.
brangan,I think I asked jabberwock.He hasn’t seen “Urf Professor”.Have you?
I have heard high praises.
Sujith: “when the movie sucks the picture appeals” You gotta have *something* right?
Sagarika: “sure you didn’t jinx it…” Guess that explains it
Rahul: Nope. If it hasn’t been seen in Delhi, there’s little chance of it having made it to Chennai. Have you tried the bootleg market? They can surprise you sometimes with stuff you completely don’t expect to find.
Rangan….just a thought, instead of devoting ur uber high movie credentials to crap such as this, lets divert it towards some movies coming out of the south (ie. tamil) that are a tad better than some of the products emanating from bollywood
cheers, k
“or do you need the production values to do that?” Oh, absolutely”
If you really meant it(which I dont think you did, just getting back at huh), then probably I withdraw my sympathy to you for having to watch duds like this – you deserve it
“…the latest shot in the arm to the contention that we’re witnessing one of the sorriest movie-going years in recent memory” – exactly what I said after enduring ‘kuruvi’
karthik: Sigh – if only I had some money trickle into my coffers every time someone told me this
And why is shifting to Tamil better, pray? Not that I could, even if I wanted to. (That post is taken.) But what have we seen this year that would make me want to switch? At least, Hindi cinema gave us Mithya. And even J-A, though not completely successful, at least had size and scope and ambition. Yes, now you can begin the flames 
raj: If you really think I meant it (which I don’t think you did, considering all the time you’ve spent reading my thoughts), then probably I withdraw any explanation for that comment.
Balaji: Oh man! At least I have an excuse. I get paid for this. What’s yours?
But I’ll be watching Kuruvi soon. Sounds like good column material…
oh no br, yes, as #2 fan of BR (u know who the #1 is, the one who spends time writing 3 books on one book of yours:-), i surely knew you didnt mean it. Like I said before, considering the kind of movies you are forced to watch, you are more to be pitied than censured or even envied
raj: Get outta here.
sagarika, as an anon pointed out in another context in these spaces soemtime back, yours is a case of engappan kudhirukkulla illai
Rangan….Just a warning: Stay away from Kuruvi !
raj: You had to anoint yourself the King of apples-to-oranges-comparison, huh?
First Vairamuthu lyrics vs. Bharathiyaar essays, then what trident (not anon.) said to Jai (on the 2001: A Space Odyssey) vs. what s said to me (Medium Musings)…what’s next?
Btw, engappan kudhirukkulla enna intha ulagaththileye illai.
sagarika, sorry about that.
raj: Hey, I know you were only pulling my leg. That was just me compulsively scratching that gotta-get-the-facts-right journalistic itch, that’s all…not an intentional retribution. So no need for apologies..we’re cool!