Yeh Hai Jalwa (2002)
Cast: Rishi Kapoor Salman Khan Amisha Patel
Director: David Dhawan
Music Director: -------
Synopsis: yet another grisly effort at light comedy by the King of comic tripe DD
Reviewed by: Faiz Khan

 

Manmohan Desai must surely be turning in his grave at what his son Ketan is serving up for audiences. I sat through this effort—barely—wondering what on earth the point of it all was, and how anyone involved could have imagined it succeeding on any level.

Raju (Salman Khan) is a wealthy and successful businessman in India, so successful that he can apparently conduct business while jogging on a treadmill in his ultra-modern office. One evening he glances up at the television to see London-based businessman Rajesh Mittal (Rishi Kapoor) receiving an award. Turning to a portrait of his late mother, Raju suddenly realises that his father is alive.

Off he flies to "London"—which looks remarkably unlike London because, of course, it isn't London at all but Australia. Still, I suppose it's all part of the Commonwealth.

Having tracked down his father, Raju is immediately rejected. Rajesh refuses to acknowledge him, convinced that he is after his money. Curiously, there never seems to be any real doubt that Raju actually is his son, but Rajesh has conveniently built a new family in England, complete with wife, children and an overbearing father-in-law (Kader Khan), and cannot bring himself to admit the truth.

Not that he appears especially bothered about the son he abandoned.

Undeterred, Raju follows his father around like an eager puppy, desperate for recognition.

Meanwhile we have Sonia (Amisha Patel), Raju's love interest and seemingly little else besides the perfect model for a lipstick commercial. She marries Raju in a temple purely so he won't be deported for overstaying his visa—complete nonsense, but then this is vintage David Dhawan territory, where logic is considered optional.

Raju then embarks upon a series of increasingly childish schemes designed to make his father's life miserable until he finally accepts him. They are intended to be hilarious but are instead repetitive and painfully tedious.

The inevitable climax sees Rajesh requiring a kidney transplant. His own children conveniently refuse to donate one, leaving loyal Raju to step forward, requesting only that his identity remain secret. Naturally, everything is revealed in the closing minutes and the entire extended family—father, stepmother, siblings and conveniently absent wife—embrace for the obligatory freeze-frame ending.

The film plays like an older, weaker version of Jab Pyaar Kisise Hota Hai, except David Dhawan chooses broad comedy over genuine emotion and fumbles almost every opportunity. In fact, there are moments when you wonder whether he directed the film at all or simply slept through production, much as sections of the audience are likely to.

There isn't a single genuinely witty scene, nor even the kind of enjoyable farce that Salman Khan can carry when supported by a decent script.

Salman simply sleepwalks through the role, glassy-eyed and utterly unconvincing.

Amisha Patel could have been removed from the film altogether and nobody would have noticed.

Rishi Kapoor struggles desperately with the comic material and never once convinces. Sadly, the years—and perhaps a little too much good living—have visibly caught up with him. It is difficult to reconcile this performance with the charming romantic hero who once danced effortlessly around trees with heroines half his age.

Anupam Kher is wasted, while Kader Khan, playing the elderly patriarch, contributes nothing we haven't seen countless times before. One also wonders what Rinke Khanna hoped to achieve with such an inconsequential role, and whether Sharad Kapoor's career had really reached the stage where this was the best offer available.

The music offers one or two reasonably catchy numbers, but that's about the only positive to be found.

For David Dhawan, this represents one of the weakest efforts of his career and yet another reminder that his tried-and-tested formula had finally begun to wear painfully thin.