Badhaai Do movie review: Rajkummar Rao, Bhumi Pednekar are fun, effortless as a lavender couple trying to make it work

With Ek Ladki Ko Dekha Toh Aisa Laga started the sanitisation of queerness in Hindi cinema. Each--whether it be Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan or Chandigarh Kare Aashiquia--call to action for sympathy for those who don’t fall in with the majority. Badhaai Do tries to do none of it. And that is its biggest triumph. Because, the problem with sympathy is, it others more than it includes.

Directed by Harshavardhan Kulkarni, the film has little melodrama, no copious crying, longing from a distance, or lengthy, preachy monologues trying to convince you that being gay or lesbian is as normal as not being one. Badhaai Do’s same-sex lovers are not content with just exchanging shy glances or hand-holding. They go on vacations together, they live together, they fight, they raise children together.

Rao as the muscular police inspector Shardul Thakur is a refreshing variation to Bollywood’s general depiction of homosexual men. At one point, Bhumi Pednekar’s Sumi (Suman Singh) calls him an MCP (male chauvinist pig) and says that since he was gay, she thought he’d be different. Shardul, with a poker face, responds that he might not be a cis-man but he was still a man. It’s this everydayness of the treatment of the story and the characters that sets Badhaai Do apart.

Shardul belongs to the same crop of men that Rao has played in some of his most-loved films--Bareilly Ki Barfi, Stree, and Ludo. He is gullible, vulnerable, easy to love. Therefore, even when he behaves like an MCP with his wife, slaps a much younger lover, or asks Sumi not to give away his truth when she’s found out, you don’t hate him. Such is the finesse of Rao’s craft. He humanises Shardul, holding your hand wherever he goes, taking you along, not once letting go.

Rao has a willing and able partner in Pednekar. As the lesbian physical education teacher trying to make her lavender marriage work and still have a life of her own, she’s solid. Their chemistry is easy, effortless, organic. A lot of the credit goes to Kulkarni and his fellow writers Suman Adhikary and Akshat Ghildial who have carefully spun together a world that feels as real as the problems its people are faced with. Every time Rao and Pednekar are together, Badhaai Do soars.

However, it is when the others begin to crowd in that the film falters, sags. This, despite a sincere performance by Chum Darang who plays Sumi’s girlfriend Rimjhim, and a delightful cameo by Gulshan Devaiah as Shardul’s lawyer boyfriend. Sheeba Chaddha as Baby, Shardul’s mother, deserves a special mention. Through her, the makers have tried to play around with the hackneyed trope of the nosey, nagging mother-in-law and Chaddha is fantastic. But we are never told why she’s as lost or sapped of spirit as she is. Is she still grieving her husband’s death? Or is she just tired? Or simple-minded? We don’t know.

Shardul comes out thrice in the film, each time breaking a successive wall. First to his prospective wife, second to this family, and finally, to the world. I love his final act, how acceptance finally grows on him, and how simply, unassumingly it’s shown. A pride parade is going on. Everyone close to him--his wife, her lover, his partner--is celebrating. But, he, along with other cops, is watching as a bystander, an outsider. They call him, suggest he join in too. Still too conscious, he pretends to not notice. But then, a few heartbeats later, he takes an eye mask from a woman dancing in the parade. And wears it. The pride-colored feathers high on his forehead, inching towards the sky. He smiles and makes waves with one hand. It's an act of total surrender, absolute honesty, and quiet celebration. He has finally let go. No longer caged, he can now fly.