Review: Dabangg 2 is better than the first

Raja Sen feels that Dabangg 2 is less unwatchable.

Salman Khan has become the new Dharmendra.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not blaspheming for effect. When I say 'the new Dharmendra,' I don't mean the fine actor from Satyakam or Chupke Chupke, or even the ridiculously charming hero from Sholay.

I mean the guy Dharam turned into later, when he became incorrigibly obsessed with canine blood.

And that isn't necessarily a bad thing at all, given how fondly we look at even latter-day Dharam Paaji. It's good to know what to expect.

The assembly line star-vehicles in Bollywood today are now nearly impossible to tell apart, and you could splice together a supercut from, say, Singham, Rowdy Rathore and Salman's latest, and the storytelling narrative would merge seamlessly.

It's evident these movies aren't about anything but the person starring in them, and all that matters are punches and punchlines, both sadly unmemorable.

Thing is, other actors play ridiculous, dated, larger-than-life characters. Salman, on the other hand, plays himself -- or at least a bizarre (or less bizarre?) screen version of himself. This is where the Dharmendra parallel kicks in. Khan's own persona, massaged by record-shattering blockbusters and his uniquely unapologetic lifestyle, is now larger than any character can be. And that, in itself, makes this film halfway entertaining.

For a fan of the star in question, all that matters is whether the star seems to be having fun. In which case Dabanng 2 is just the ticket, since Salman looks to be having the time of his life. The film itself is better than the original -- or, to word it differently, is less unwatchable.

And yet it has absolutely nothing new to offer, and nothing to remember, quote or take away from the theatre. The language in the dialogues is quite excellent, though: by which I mean the Hindi used in the UP-based film, and not the actual lines.

Things begin with a Kanpur kidnapping, and since Khan's Aviator-collaring Chulbul Pandey lives there now, short work is briskly made of the kidnappers. The drill is remarkably unoriginal: a bigger bad guy shows up, Khan toys and teases him till the evil one snaps and hurts actors whose names we know, and thus we have a vendetta.

Somewhere in the middle, naturally, Salman's sister-in-law shows up to boogie, and (thankfully) on an unrelated note, his shirt eventually comes off. End film.

But Salman, thank heavens -- unlike any of the characters written for these -- is a goof. And that means his Chulbul Pandey giggles, sobs, prank calls his father, has an automatic pelvis-jigglinglear">