In Vir Das' new Netflix special, Fool Volume, the 46-year-old comedian categorizes people into two groups: those who are assholes and those who have to deal with assholes. In Saiyaara, director Mohit Suri categorizes people into two groups: those who are born with artistic gifts and those who exploit artists. The latter group includes characters like a hotshot manager and his client, a renowned singer (Shaad Randhawa) whose glory days are almost over, who don't hesitate to exploit the talent of a gifted singer. On the other hand, we have characters like Krish Kapur (Ahaan Panday) and Vaani Batra (Aneet Padda) who are naturally geniuses. When one Buzzlist employee asks Vaani if she can handle people's egos, she replies that she just wants to write. Vaani has a degree in Hindi literature, and in her personal diary, she pens down poems. The diary is also used for writing down other information, like addresses, but when Krish goes through the book, he never comes across those non-poetry pages. Krish, from the moment he gets his hands on her diary, believes that Vaani is a fantastic writer. He respects her and recognizes her talent. He is a fantastic singer himself, who aspires to reach the stars. While pointing his fingers towards the sky, he tells Vaani, "Mai wahan pahuchna chahta hun. Tumhare saath."
Krish, in fact, is so brilliant that he doesn't need to experiment with different musical tunes. Vaani writes something, sends him a picture of it on his phone, and he immediately starts singing the lyrics over a video call. He doesn't seem to try different tones or voices—he just instinctively knows what voice the song requires. And as far as Vaani is concerned, she receives her inspiration, her motivation when Krish takes her out of the recording studio and into a cricket practice ground, leading her to come up with a few lines of a song in a matter of seconds. Krish and Vaani, in a way, are stereotypical artists; they are clichés who don't practice honing their craft. All Vaani needs is a blank page, and all Krish needs is his musical instruments. Practice sessions are for amateurs. This incuriosity regarding the technical aspects of music is Suri's own. In an interview with Baradwaj Rangan, he confessed that he doesn't know strains, motifs, and other musical jargon. He chooses songs that move his heart. This romantic notion—a notion that's held by an ordinary man who considers art to be something that's created by a magical wand—can be found in the film itself. When Krish, all irritated, asks Vaani why she cannot write a song in a tightly sealed, soundproof studio, she replies that studios are used for recording—not writing—songs. She further elaborates on how a good song triggers a particular memory, which is what really makes it exceptional. Hence, she demands a workplace that inspires her.
Since Suri selects songs that work on his heart, he ends up giving us beats that move us as well. The soundtrack of Saiyaara is magnificent. During the musical sequences, Suri's film becomes intimate, jaunty, magical. We feel as if Suri himself is sitting beside us in the theater. The director depicts what Krish desires, as well as his determination to fight for his dreams, with Dhun. First, the character tackles the issue of solo performance. Then, he deals with the rain to draw the crowd out of the shelter. The fact that people take out their umbrellas and come out in the rain due to the song's magnetic pull accentuates that Krish knows how to earn his audience through his work and talent. He and his group release their music video on YouTube, and it gets more than 500 likes within five or ten minutes. In Goa, the fans gather around the team's bus and cheer for them (mostly, they cheer for Krish). On one side, a star rises; on the other, a talent begins to fade. When Vaani's father (Rajesh Kumar) hands her her phone and mentions that she forgot to pick it up from the table, we smile a little and dismiss the scene as a "cute moment." When Vaani forgets to pick up her book before entering the Buzzlist office for the interview, we simply see this as a calculated screenplay decision for a meet-cute. But these "forgetful incidents" end up gaining a deeper meaning when Vaani is diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's. Those early scenes turn out to be cleverly placed setups.
The script, written by Sankalp Sadanah, contains more such beautifully placed setups and payoffs. When Krish, after singing Dhun, enters a bar, he flirtatiously notices a woman (and vice versa). This is the setup, and the payoff arrives when Krish's friend, the manager (Alam Khan), thinks that Krish has fallen inside the bathroom. This friend complains that he has his own problems to deal with, considering that he is spending his father's money on the band and not CAT preparation. What do you know, this, too, turns out to be a setup for a joke that surfaces when the band members wonder where they will get the money for a video shoot, and Krish says that their manager still needs to do a Master's! What's more, even those smokes that emerge from the ground during the live shows get their setup and payoff. They first startle Vaani when she goes backstage for an interview, and then later erupt like a fanfare of celebration when Krish walks towards the stage to sing the Saiyaara song. A father is admitted to an Addiction Treatment Center; a woman checks herself into another care center. Cricket also appears in different places: on a training ground, on a beach, and in a snowy region. What's so appealing about all these incidents is that they don't call attention to themselves. They quietly sneak up on you - Sadanah and Suri give us the responsibility to connect the dots. They trust us. Many filmmakers, during interviews and roundtables, try to suck up to the audience by labeling them as "intelligent." Their movies, though, turn out to be crummy and dumb. Sadanah and Suri, however, actually believe that the audience is smart. They don't scam us.
Early in Saiyaara, Krish walks into the Buzzlist office and beats up a journalist for not mentioning his name in the review. He also taunts his friend for being a nepo kid and condemns all the offspring born with a silver spoon as talentless, blue-check individuals who receive plenty of reactions for doing nothing exceptional, either in the workplace or on social media. This is merely a slight joke - a toothless jibe at nepotism, considering that Panday, the nepo kid, emerges from the film as a rockstar. Saiyaara is Panday's star vehicle, but he proves himself to be a more than capable actor. He has a raw energy as well as a boyish charm. He can explode like a volcano, and he can love like a Golden Retriever. Padda is not bad, but compared to Panday, she doesn't feel as effective, as passionate. She's somewhere between Shriya Saran in Awarapan and Shraddha Kapoor in Aashiqui 2. Nevertheless, she gets the job done. The leads suck you into their world, their eccentricities, their madness. Saiyaara soars. Or, to be more accurate, Saiyaara soars till the Saiyaara title track. Suri patiently builds to this moment, and when it comes, it detonates a surge of exciting feelings inside us. The song is not just superb, it's also emotionally charged. The movie, as well as the audience, reaches such an intense peak that when the song ends, we are just left with exhaustion. There's a dip in energy, which is why the reunion doesn't hit the proverbial sweet spot — it doesn't move us. Saiyaara still remains interesting. The happy ending becomes not-so-happy when you dive deeper into it. But without those intense feelings of romance, we admire the last few scenes from a distance. We are not involved.
There are other missteps, like an "intimate scene" between Vaani and her former fiancée (Shaan Groverr) during Krish's stage performance that borders on cheap porn. Yet, Suri's conviction takes you through the rough patches, and you come out satisfied, finding yourself humming the tunes you heard in the theater. However, I am not sure if one should rap the knuckles of the marketing team or give them a bonus. They deliberately sold Saiyaara as a romantic drama for men who build an entire fantasy life with the girl they like, without ever confessing their feelings or even speaking to her (those men tend to romanticize the idea of sacrificing themselves in love. Saiyaara, though, has a practical mind which says that money and career are equally important). They chose shots that can be instantly tagged as - for lack of a better word (and I hate this word) - "nibba nibbi romance" by one group and as real, heartfelt romance by another. Hence, the clips that were widely shared online depicted an angry Vaani threatening Krish with a knife and Krish throwing his cigarette when Vaani attempts to smoke. These scenes, when taken in isolation, rendered the actors amateurs. But when these moments come in the film, they feel smooth and coherent. What's funny is that the film's box office success has further soured the haters who had already formed an opinion about Saiyaara based on its trailer. I have encountered my share of asinine conspiracy theories and logic-free bad opinions. But even all the praise has been terrible — it has somehow managed to reinforce the haters' preconceived notions. The world of cinematic discussion, especially in India, has turned into a circus. Saiyaara should remain on its own sentimental planet. Whatever the opinion of the masses, Suri's romantic drama is a first-rate melodrama; a terrific tearjerker.
Final Score- [8/10]
Reviewed by - Vikas Yadav
Follow @vikasonorous on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times