Blame it on Blame It On Rio. The classic Michael Caine starrer took the theme of forbidden love and turned it into a comic farce so expertly that we were too busy laughing to consider the morality of the situation. There are similar shades of the nearly-incestuously comic throughout Onir's lovingly crafted Sorry Bhai as well, except he does the desi thing and plops a mother smackdab in the middle of it all.
It's as if he's curiously asking just how well Caine could have carried on with Michelle Johnson, playing his best friend's daughter, if her mother was around, haan?
And so we have a film where a fellow is about to be married, except his brother and his fiancee get along a wee bit better than they should. And, like we mentioned, Ma's right in the middle of the melee.
And what a mother she is. All us lovers of Indian cinema need to take a minute now to thank Onir for finally giving the incredible Shabana Azmi something to work with. We all know she's a phenomenal actress, and despite making even glorified minor roles -- like her star turn in Loins Of Punjab Presents -- look great, it's been a while since she was given a character as well fleshed out as in this film. Azmi is the film's crux, and you honestly couldn't ask for a better pivot.
Performance-wise, the film scores rather highly. Sharman Joshi, as a self-deprecating jazz-loving scientist, plays a character calculated to sweep sympathy at every turn, but the actor recognises that this is a heavily flawed protagonist and plays his part with striking sincerity. There are parts when his social awkwardness is just comic fodder, but Joshi crucially never plays for laughs.
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Also Read: The Very Best of Boman Irani
Boman Irani, on the other hand, knows exactly what pitch to perform comedically in, and he works up a role -- one he can sleepwalk through -- into a comfortable simmer, and his chemistry with Azmi is excellent. Chitrangda Singh suffers from the film's sketchiest written character, and despite looking positively luminous, is never entirely convinving. She seems to be trying a bit too hard, and, coupled with admittedly weaker writing only her character really suffers from, her performance here is a let down.
Sanjay Suri always seems to be perfectly in control in Onir's films, and this one's no exception. The film's most powerful scene -- one where it's title is actually brought out and used amid extreme high drama -- belongs to him. Playing the perfect elder brother, he's devastated by what his younger sibling's just told him, and the titular 'Sorry' simply doesn't cut it. He slaps the younger brother a couple of times, stares in shock, and then just sits down as his knees buckle in disbelief. And as he sits stunned, Sharman clings on desperately to his leg, kneels by his bhai's knee, and convulses into sobs.
And despite himself, a furious Suri stretches a hand out and ruffles the younger one's hair. Despite being filled with disgust and loathing and the steamrolled-over feeling of unexpected betrayal, brotherhood can't snap away in an instant. Love remains.
And it is as we see these characters shuffle around in a plot that starts strongly but eventually coalesces into clumsiness, that we realise Onir genuinely loves his characters. For him these aren't plotpoints or set-ups or punchlines, they're all real people and, in his overriding affection for them all, he refuses to take sides. And just because he's setting up real people, I refuse to really discuss the plot. It's simplistic, you've guessed most of it already, and this isn't a film about plot: it's about people, and they deserve to tell their story themelves.
Cinematographer Sachin K Krishn makes Mauritius look striking, and the film paints its characters overwhelmingly in white -- quite in the way Johnny Gaddaar, for instance, centred around the colour red. And it's no coincidence that we end up with a very pleasant film, but perhaps Onir should have tried to do more than stay innocuous.
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The film never quite decides what side of the comedy/drama line it should walk on, and while the thematic romance is set over only a few days time -- inexplicable, since we'd willingly believe it took longer -- the third act comes in a hurry. The denouement itself is a fine plot turn, a maternal twist robbed of its impact by a sudden rush to the finish line.
And yet Sorry Bhai's final turn is progressive enough for me to recommend it immediately to my folks. It's a film pleasant enough for us all to smile at, and surreptitiously even wipe an eye for. And sometimes that's exactly what we need.
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