Saurabh Shukla’s Jab Khuli Kitaab, adapted from his own play of the same name, opens with a comatose Anusuya Nautiyal (Dimple Kapadia) being tended to by her ever-patient husband, Gopal Nautiyal (Pankaj Kapur). Lifting her off the bed into an upright position, Gopal exercises her arms, sponge-cleans her skin, and changes her clothes—all while keeping up a steady patter, telling her about the goings-on in their family. She is totally unresponsive, but Gopal’s commitment to his routine is unwavering. He clearly does this all the time.
Which is what makes it so difficult for him when Anusuya comes out of coma and decides that the first thing she wants to tell him is that she cheated on him in the first year of their marriage. Gopal is incensed and almost immediately demands that they get divorced.
Balancing Whimy, Comedy and Drama
Shukla handles these scenes in a tightrope act of comedy and drama. The material is, of course, heavy, but the score keeps up a bouncy tune, so you’re never quite sure whether to laugh or frown at what’s happening onscreen. Perhaps both: after all, there is a strange kind of humour in the fact that, after 50 years of marriage, Gopal wants to drag his bedridden wife to court. Anusuya is distraught, but Ritajaya Banerjee’s music trips along, often blossoming into one of several catchy songs (all with lyrics also by Shukla).
There is a certain whimsy to Shukla’s handling of his screenplay, as though the rarefied mountain air has removed the emotional weight of the film.
A doctor casually gives his patient a diagnosis of early-stage dementia in a hospital corridor. A quick hug is enough to paper over the cracks in the relationship between a matriarch and her daughter-in-law. Gopal takes issue with his lawyer’s use of the term avaidh sambandh, the Hindi phrase for an extramarital affair, which sounds far sleazier to him.
This whimsy colours Adri Thakur’s bright cinematography too: the camera looks through the spokes of a bicycle wheel at one point, or takes cute angles that focus on running feet, raised hands, and mountain scenery.
There is a twinkly-eyed sense of humour, particularly from a somewhat miscast Aparshakti Khurana, who plays Gopal’s divorce lawyer.
Khurana is a competent actor and comedian, but his broad interpretation of a sketchily written character (including a half-hearted romantic track) takes away crucial screentime from the family, who remain severely underexposed.
The Family
Gopal and Anusuya have three children, two children-in-law, and four grandchildren, all of whom gather at the majestic family home in the mountains—initially preparing for Anusuya’s death, but then rejoicing at her sudden regaining of consciousness. It is, against all odds, a cheery household, unaware as they all remain of the grandparents’ private agony.
The only track here that works well is that of Anusuya and Gopal’s youngest son, Dholu (Abuli Mamaji), who has Down syndrome. He is loved and cherished by the family, and he experiences a surprising turn of events in the film’s second half.
The other two children, Parmesh (Samir Soni) and Sujata (Devyani Ratanpal), and their respective spouses, Farnaaz (Nauheed Cyrusi) and Jignesh (Sunil Palwal), don’t get enough time to properly develop their one-note characters. The conflicts between them and their parents are very wishy-washy, and Shukla makes the unwise decision to introduce a brand new upheaval in the film’s final ten minutes.
As a result, Jab Khuli Kitaab, which was already cute and wholesome in its treatment, is rushed into a decidedly twee ending that takes convenient routes to disregard primary plot points.
But the leads are the trump card. Both Kapadia and Kapur are superbly in control, playing smoothly against each other and creating, in a matter of moments, the pachaas saal ka bharosa (trust of 50 years) that Gopal mentions. Their line readings are terrific—see the way Kapur’s voice breaks on Anusuya’s name when he talks about her, or the way Kapadia wraps her words in the halting, failing speech of an invalid.
Both of them put in finely tuned performances and their scenes together are truly a joy, even when they are performing serious disagreements. If Jab Khuli Kitaab remains worth watching, it’s because of Kapadia and Kapur.
The film releases on Zee 5 on 6 March.
(Sahir Avik D'souza is a writer based in Mumbai. His work has been published by Film Companion, TimeOut, The Indian Express and EPW. He is an editorial assistant at Marg magazine.)