Bharathi Pradhan

It has its origins in the Thai thriller The Pool (2018) but writers Himanshu Sharma and Abhishek Bandekar give it a vibe that’s completely Mumbai when content creators from two ends of society meet for an “epic collab”. Director Bejoy Nambiar flags off with an effective beginning that has a woman teasing two men. The flavour: distinctly Maharashtrian. The introduction: deadly, as a crocodile makes its quick and early entry.

The arrival of Keshav (Aksshay Dogra) who picks up two cute puppies, is such a fine piece of writing that even before he utters a word, you hate him. You want to kill him. The writing, along with direction that’s in complete control of every character and every situation, makes Jaspal Singh Sandhu’s second outing with Shambhunath Mishra (Sanjay Mishra) and Manju Singh (Neena Gupta) an intriguing watch as details come out in trickles. Sandhu and co-writer Neha Shitole begin with a preamble set in 1994. A young woman is sentenced for a double murder. No words spoken by her.

The promo was misleading, making it seem like a big screen repetition of what was recently seen in Delhi Crime 3. In DC3, it was lady cop Shefali Shah pitted against venomous don Huma Qureshi while busting a human trafficking syndicate. Same to same in the promo of Mardaani 3 as Rani Mukerji roared into action against a menacing Amma (Mallika Prasad) to finish a human trafficking cabal.

It’s a tough act to follow. But between writer-director Anurag Singh and co-writer Sumit Arora, they faithfully pick the template, don’t mess with it and serve it with renewed vigour. What you would expect from Border 2: A roaring Sunny Deol, introduced in the credits as Dharmendra’s son. The sole survivor from the acting cast of the original Border returns as Lt Col Fateh Singh Kaler, the intervening years irrelevant as the invincible fighter in Sunny remains as ferocious as ever. Fateh Singh exemplifies the main characters. Fierce and fearless on the battlefield, soft and sentimental at home. With the supportive feminine presence of Mona Singh, Sonam Bajwa, Anya Singh and Medha Rana to tug at familial strings.

In the throes of death, Don Patel (Aamir Khan) of Goa has a hilarious end with maid Sakhubai also breathing her last, discussing mopping, cleaning and unwashed utensils. Two British agents take back with them Sakhubai’s infant and bring him up as Happy (Vir Das), the wiz chef who makes the yummiest sandwiches in the world. In Goa, the don’s daughter Mama (Mona Singh), his evil inheritor, is a super chef too. Her special cutlets (poisoned for victims) and her good work cutlets (a reward for her boys), ready to be served. Mama’s also in the fairness and beauty business, a little jibe at Indian prejudice against dark skin. IMUMI is a brand – it’s a giggle. There are intercuts with the eternally charming Sanjeev Kapoor and his ‘salt to taste’ tip, all quite wacky.

Clueless Sir Cyril Radcliffe calmly cut his steak on the flight out of India, leaving behind a nation he’d just carved into two. Louis Mounbatten (Luke McGibney) became India’s first Governor-General, content that the Partition had happened without spilling a drop of British blood. But what about Indian blood, his wife countered. Jinnah (Arif Zakaria) crowned himself Qaed-e-Azam, tore himself from beloved Bombay to settle down in Karachi, hid his illness which, if made public, may not have led to a new Muslim country, and ego-butted Mountbatten as his equal in rank. With sister Fatima (Ira Dubey) as his ally all the way.

It’s a fine story to tell. Of youthful enthusiasm, courage, martyrdom, nostalgia and emotions that rule on both sides of the border. It’s also heart-tugging to watch Dharmendra in his last celluloid appearance in a role tailormade for the son-of-the-soil. When he, as long retired Brigadier Madan Lal Khetarpal, sentimentally revisits Sargodha and his family home in Pakistan before the Partition, it is entirely believable. Add to it his recital of a self-penned poem on the draw of his pind (village) and it’s only Dharmendra who could have given such authenticity to the Punjabi with nostalgia flowing unfettered out of him.

The title is a put-off, sounding like a stuck record. When it takes off with the glossy visuals expected from Dharma Productions, the scene’s set for fun, flirting, a helping of calibrated humour. But back-to-back songs in Croatia, shot like a travelogue, begin to discomfortingly resemble a tourist pamphlet. The he’s-so-annoying hero who has the heroine’s lips curled with irritation, is so textbook Hum Tum (2004) that ho-ho, how funny, slips into ho-hum, how silly.