For Ankur (Arjun Kapoor), his ex-wife Prabhleen (Bhumi Pednekar) is the stuff of nightmares – their relationship effectively haunts him with a spooky rendition of the word ‘baby’ and visuals that look like if Stree was shot in a posh society in Delhi. Why Ankur and Prabhleen separated is a mystery but everyone around him seems to be pushing him to ‘get over it’ and move on.
Mere Husband Ki Biwi, directed by Mudassar Aziz, is a bumpy ride when it starts out – while the setup is interesting, the loud, over-the-top execution makes it difficult to focus on anything else. But you grit your teeth and you stay; your valour is rewarded – the film cools down for a bit, taking a more sensitive approach to the story it’s trying to tell.
Enter college heartthrob Antara Khanna (Rakul Preet Singh). Ankur has a second chance at love but that comes with a mandate: Prabhleen can no longer just exist in his nightmares, he needs to lay his past out and let Antara in. But anyone who knows how Bollywood works (the title is self-explanatory too) knows that the past isn’t easy to leave behind.
And so we get a love triangle – the effervescent Prabhleen and the ritzy Antara both set out in a Tom & Jerry-esque battle of wits to ‘win’ Ankur’s affections. Both women are incredibly witty, conniving, and honestly, their rivalry is an incredibly fun watch – they constantly one up each other keeping everyone on their toes. The main issue is that I started buying into their chemistry more than their equations with Ankur.
But why Ankur?
And that is one of the film’s most confusing narrative decisions – the makers don’t seem to understand the character they’ve put on screen. When Ankur talks to Antara about why his marriage with Prabhleen fell apart, you feel a spark of hope. Here’s a film willing to show how incompatibility eats away at their relationship – an oxidation neither of them can avoid because they aren’t wired to be with each other.
Ankur is a toxic man-child: the same ‘fire’ that first drew him to Prabhleen now feels suffocating, he clearly doesn’t understand why she wants the career that she does, he doesn’t trust her commitment to her family…to name a few things. While it’s obvious that Prabhleen wasn’t ready for the family they were dreaming for either, doesn’t Ankur end up looking like a massive red flag?
That one guy on social media who waves the red flag around (context: he reacts to videos of people exhibiting problematic behaviour and runs around…with a literal red flag) would end up with a sprained wrist by the time Ankur’s narration ends.
Ankur, as people often do after break ups, believes he’s the sole victim in the scenario. And that’s fair and makes sense for his character but the issue is that the film seems to believe it too.
Why does the other woman, who has a demanding career of her own, not see anything wrong with the way he acted in his marriage? Isn’t she even remotely concerned about how that behaviour would translate to their relationship? Anatara’s concerns about her place in Ankur’s life are valid but the film just steamrolls over Ankur’s flaws because he’s…the protagonist.
But you, as the viewer, know. You know what Ankur is like and since the writers don’t see any flaws in the protagonist, they don’t write in any redemption. Instead, they write women who are easily swayed by big, romantic gestures (with questionable logistics but it’s okay, it’s a romcom).
He’s not the worst hero we’ve seen Indian cinema platform but it’s difficult to truly root for him when the film doesn’t invest enough time in his character development. It doesn’t help that the film, with a few well-placed references, keeps you making you think of Shah Rukh Khan – the ‘King of Romance’. When you think of the ideas of masculinity and quiet devotion some of Khan’s characters brought to the table, Ankur seems even more lackluster.
While Kapoor does his best to make Ankur likeable and fit the nonsensical situations his character is put in, it doesn’t work for a film like this. It’s easy to see why millions swoon over Rahul (flawed as he may be), it’s difficult to buy into the intended appeal of Ankur.
To the film’s credit, some of the situational comedy lands (even though it’s sometimes unintentional) and it’s in these few moments where the film distracts you from its flaws. Ankur’s best friend Rehaan Qureshi (Harsh Gujral) gets some of the funniest quips and is one character where you see the Aziz that directed Khel Khel Mein peek through.
But there’s just something off about these new romcoms: there’s an obnoxious, too-bright to be fun sheen over them that makes everything seems too superficial.
Take Rocky Aur Rani Kii Prem Kahaani for instance – it’s extravagant and over-the-top but it has a well-designed identity of its own and then the makers proceed full-throttle with that vision. Mere Husband Ki Biwi and a few romcoms we’ve seen recently from Bollywood don’t have that individual, defining design. Neither do they have the down-to-earth, lifelike appeal of a Badhaai Do.
Speaking of Badhaai Do, Pednekar is a breath of fresh air in Mere Husband Ki Biwi. A brilliant actress, she brings an infectious energy to the screen that acts the same way the brief instances of comedy do – it distracts you from the rest. And for this film, that much is enough. She only falters when she tries to push herself to fit the film’s over-the-top tone. But Prabhleen is, hands down, the film’s most intriguing character and it helps that Pednekar does her best to create the empathy for her character that the writing fails to do.
It's also puzzling that a film about the frailities of marriage and the complications of human relationships doesn't focus on the relationships in question. For instance, Prabhleen's equation with Aditya Seal's character doesn't get its due despite the potential to give more context to why Prabhleen and Ankur were so ill-fitted for each other.
When Ankur throws a jibe at Prabhleen about what a ‘great actor’ she is, the sarcasm feels hollow because in a weirdly (and unintentionally) meta way, the writers are right.
Rakul Preet Singh is the perfect foil to Pednekar’s Prabhleen. While she struggles in the more emotional heavy scenes, she shines in the scenes where Antara and Prabhleen go head to head.
It really is a pity that we can't fully enjoy the delightful drama of the on-screen rivalry because of inconsistent writing.
I often find myself asking a very basic question once a film’s end credits roll: “Is this a bad film?” It helps remove the film from all the hype surrounding it and the otherwise unnecessary context and look at it in its barebones form. In that sense, Mere Husband Ki Biwi isn’t bad. It’s just a wasted opportunity.
Mere Husband Ki Biwi upsets not because of the film it is but because of the film it could have been.