In BADHAAI DO, a small story asks big, bold questions
A poignant, nuanced comedy drama, Badhaai Do (2022) tests the complexities of a lavender marriage in a small Indian city.
Directed by Harshvardhan Kulkarni and co-written by Suman Adhikary and Akshat Ghildial, Badhaai Do opens with an uneventful day in the life of its hero—Shardul Thakur (Rajkkumar Rao)—as his family sits torpidly, discussing his marriage woes. In another household in Dehradun, Suman Singh aka Sumi (Bhumi Pednekar) is directed to wear a traditional outfit as she leaves for her job as a Physical Education teacher.
Their paths cross when Shardul—a police inspector—comes to Sumi’s rescue, by handing a strict warning to a man harassing Sumi about her sexual orientation. A closeted gay man, Shardul sees this fateful meeting as an opportunity for a lavender marriage setup, as pressure for a wedding has mounted up from his own family. Sumi is snuck out in school halls, with random aunts discussing her skin colour as a testament to marriage approval for their sons. She agrees to Shardul’s arrangement—it works for her too—and thus, we are set in motion.
From there on, Badhaai Do (translation: ‘Give Felicitations’) carries the beautiful, poignant story forward with confidence. At first, the film creates a perfect “Bollywood hero” recipe for Shardul, by giving him the role of a policeman in a small-town setting and surrounding him with women, all of whom are having a pivotal role in his life. And then the script snatches away all the agency. Playing a cop makes it more difficult for him to be openly gay. The stakes are high. The physicality of his role is also integral, as Shardul had once dreamt of being crowned ‘Mr. India’, but couldn’t fulfill that dream due to the untimely demise of his father.
Paced consistently, the script never rushes to give insights about the characters without any context. In one scene, Sumi’s girlfriend Rimjhim (Chum Darang) comes across Sumi’s stamp-less passport and enquires why she made it in the first place if she had no travel plans. The question unfolds more of Suman’s background story, where her first love succumbed to societal pressure of marriage. She wishes to have a daughter like hers , with tiny hands and feet, but knows the dream is not possible in India where adoption is not legal for the LGBTQ+ community.
In one scene, Shardul sees his nephew hooked to the TV, watching a wrestling match. He asks the youngster who his favorite Bollywood actress is, to which the kid replies, “Tiger Shroff,” the male action star.
“I asked the actress,” says Shardul. “Do you have a girlfriend?” Sumi reacts to the exchange with a judgmental stare.
It’s a wonderful scene, depicting the isolation that Shardul feels in his own family, and the concern about someone else—like his nephew—possibly following down the same arc.
There is nuance in the romantic moments, too, like when Sumi returns for a fake blood test just to meet Rimjhim. The scene intelligently captures the touch, feeling, and emotion between the two women, without the script itself asking them to do any heavy lifting.
And yet, a film like this can live and die on the ability of the actors. Badhaai Do excels in assembling a wonderful cast giving us performances to remember. A special mention here for Sheeba Chaddha, who plays Shardul’s mother, Mrs. Thakur. She is an alienated woman in many ways, and her reactions our mostly demented to the developments going around her. Her role here overlaps as a motherly figure in many of her past appearances, including in Pagglait (2021) or Gully Boy (2019). In Badhaai Do, she is able to add a different shade to a confused character: One who can feel the validation she seeks from the matriarch, while hiding the past lesions.
In a scene where Mrs. Thakur is reading a set of instructions to Sumi, given to her by her family, she feels a genuine discomfort in this act to be the stereotypically ‘tough’ mother-in-law. She feels it is not in sync with her character, and finally hands this piece of paper to Sumi for her to figure it out herself. Mrs. Thakur’s character arc reaches its zenith when Shardul comes out to the family—she musters the courage to accept it and comfort him. There are no instructions here for her to follow.
Darang—a debutant in the role of Sumi’s girlfriend—is a delight to watch, and she gives an effortless performance. She captures the ease of the relationship, the irritability, and the swoons of intimacy. The leads Rao and Pednekar justify their roles with truthfulness, anchoring the script well for a smooth sail.
The film… isn’t about finding out if families accept the truth of the protagonists, or if the lavender set-up can work for them forever. Instead, Badhaai Do is more interested in exploring the inner world of the characters, more than the physical one.
If there’s a major weak link to the film, it’s that its background score. It never justifies it’s demands and placement, feeling as if it was rushed through, trying to fit in at junctures where it is not required. There is a score for every event that traverses through the script; and yet, a viewer can go through the film without remembering a single standout melody. There is a wedding song, a song for their honeymoon; a song exploring Sumi’s new relationship; a song for Shardul’s love affair too, and a score celebrating Sumi and her partner taking an important step forward in their relationship. While the assemblage of musical veterans here is strong—including collaborations by Amit Trivedi, Tanishk Bagchi, Ankit Tiwari, and Khamosh Shah—the end result is a sloppy affair, with the album lacking depth and significance.
Much of Badhaai Do seems modeled on recent comedy-dramas that grapple with queer sexuality and romance, like Shubha Mangal Savdhaan, Dum Laga Ke Haisha, Ek Ladki Ko Dekha Toh Aisa Laga. Badhaai Do, however, pushes the envelope further in some ways, while also embodying other important issues like that of legal adoption. The film, however, resists delivering a “message”, or looking at the larger picture; it isn’t about finding out if families accept the truth of the protagonists, or if the lavender set-up can work for them forever. Instead, Badhaai Do is more interested in exploring the inner world of the characters, more than the physical one. It is less concerned with the plot than the feelings that the main characters inhabit.
Bollywood’s queer eye, however, needs to extend the representation boundaries beyond script and provide pivotal roles to queer artists too. I wish the easement towards adopting these stories is replicated in the casting choices, too. Conversely, one can also argue that the script promotes the acceptance of one’s sexual identity, and could perhaps lead to more artists being vocal about their orientation.
Badhaai Do is able to conjure a winning formula in illuminating the everyday moments of life with depth and finesse on screen. The writers and director have observed and rediscovered this world around them, the world of how people tend to listen, how they communicate, the pauses between conversations, and the silent, private moments of life. Badhaai Do traverses through these conversations with ease, and is patient with the journey of its characters.
In the film’s last scene, a pride parade marches together, while Shardul is on the periphery. This time he lets go of his inhibitions and puts on a rainbow mask, while Sumi watches him with admiration. The withheld patience of the journey reaches its apex; now, the emotions unleashed are enormous.
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Ankur Choudhary is a writer and Delhi-based Structural Engineer. He writes about movies in his blog, fridayreviewer.com. You can reach out to him on Instagram: @_ankurchoudhary or mail at user.ankur@gmail.com
