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Bhool Chuk Maaf: Rajkummar Rao has become the poster boy for losers; he plays the same character over and over again
Bhool Chuk Maaf: Rajkummar Rao has become the poster boy for losers; he plays the same character over and over again

Indian Express

time14-06-2025

  • Entertainment
  • Indian Express

Bhool Chuk Maaf: Rajkummar Rao has become the poster boy for losers; he plays the same character over and over again

Nobody is above being typecast, not even Shah Rukh Khan. But while the Badshah of Bollywood has broken hearts and weakened knees with his culture-defining romance movies, Rajkummar Rao has become the patron saint of losers. Far too many times in the last decade, the once-promising star has played versions of the same person: a small town layabout whose overwhelming uselessness is inexplicably presented as innocent charm. The secret behind these characters' appeal is never revealed, nor does Rao play them as particularly irresistible. In fact, in most of these movies, not only are the protagonists indistinguishable from each other, they're positively repulsive. Even Rao would've struggled to bring freshness to his performance in Bhool Chuk Maaf, the latest in this long line of films. He plays a 25-year-old man named Ranjan in the supposedly 'high-concept' comedy. But his age is something we must live with; we can't get annoyed in the first five minutes of the movie, can we? There are bigger problems to shake our fists at. So, we move on, reminding ourselves that it would've been even weirder if Rao was playing his real age. Because although Ranjan is old enough to vote and get married, he hasn't ever bothered finding a job. This doesn't sit right with his girlfriend's dad, understandably so. All he wants is for Ranjan to find gainful employment before asking for his daughter's hand in marriage. Also read – Pokhar Ke Dunu Paar movie review: Poetic and profound, the best Hindi film of the year Left with no choice, Ranjan agrees. But instead of scouring through LinkedIn and giving an interview or two, he goes to a shady old man played by Sanjay Mishra, who claims to have connections in various government departments. For Rs 6 lakh, the old man promises Ranjan a government job within the two-month deadline that he has been given by his girlfriend's dad. Ranjan arranges for the money by selling his mother's jewellery against her knowledge. When his girlfriend — she's played by Wamiqa Gabbi, by the way — offers to lend him some of her dowry, he pretends to be outraged, but agrees three seconds later. This is the guy we're supposed to be rooting for. He doesn't have a single redeeming quality. But for some reason, it's characters like Ranjan that Rao gravitates towards these days. There's nothing wrong with playing terrible people on screen, but it can become monotonous for the audience when an actor — especially someone of Rao's talent — reduces themselves to a type. If Ranjan were to walk into one of his other movies, you wouldn't even notice. Barring a couple of films in which he played cops — Badhaai Do and Bheed — Rao's been stuck doing the same small town schtick. In Stree, he plays a loafer who falls in love with a ghost lady. In Chhalaang, he's barely able to secure work as a school PT teacher. In Shimla Mirchi, he stalks a woman in the hills because he has nothing else to do. In Roohi, he plays a kidnapper. Before you say anything, this isn't a real job. In Guns & Gulaabs, he runs some kind of cycle repair shop; in Vicky Vidya Ka Woh Wala Video, he's a mehendi artist who's managed to get married to someone way out of his league; in Mr & Mrs Mahi, he's forced to sit behind the counter of his dad's sports store. In each of these projects, Rao's characters are barely-functional man-children. The only reason they find employment is because their love life relies on it. Mr & Mrs Mahi is probably the worst offender; not only is Rao's character in it severely immature, he's also rather rude to his angelic wife. He grooms her to give up on her dreams of becoming a doctor, all because he wants to live his fantasies vicariously through her. In a more sensible movie, she'd have knocked him over the head with his own hockey stick and walked out. Instead, Rao's character is projected as some sort of valorous hero; a champion of women who empowers his wife to become a cricketer. Bhool Chuk Maaf isn't as well-made as either Bheed or Badhaai Do, two movies that understood that people live inside prisons of society's making. Ranjan's frustration manifests in horrible behaviour that the movie never fully addresses. Sure, he has a change of heart at the end, when he realises that he shouldn't have stolen a job with someone else's name on it. But what about his other faults? How about we address the entitlement that folks like him and Ajju bhaiyya from Bawaal walk around with? It was funny the first time, when he played a person like this in Bareilly Ki Barfi all those years ago, but that's because his character in that film was genuinely endearing. Read more – Loveyapa: Junaid Khan plays the world's biggest red flag again, this time in Advait Chandan's outdated romantic comedy The unimaginative writing aside, Rao's work in these movies itself is an issue. There's a tendency to lean into the dialect, which often sounds interchangeable. There's also a tendency to have outbursts; there's a false sense of pride in these people, bordering on arrogance. Rao has a difficult time injecting them with vulnerabilities. These movies, including Bhool Chuk Maaf, leave no room for introspection and indecision. The men at their centre are empowered by the filmmakers to strut through life with a delusional overconfidence. Some movies, like Monica O My Darling, are smart enough to call their so-called hero out on their bashfulness. Others, like Srikanth, are too terrible to take seriously. But there is a difference between creating complex characters and two-dimensional oafs. In Bhool Chuk Maaf, when Ranjan is terrible, he's uniformly terrible. And when his redemption arc is complete, it's as if his entire personality has changed. Neither version is particularly realistic, because most humans exist somewhere in the middle of this spectrum. Rao has played such characters many times in the past, in movies such as Shahid and Aligarh, in Trapped and Newton. It's about time he returns to his roots, not for our sake, but his own. Post Credits Scene is a column in which we dissect new releases every week, with particular focus on context, craft, and characters. Because there's always something to fixate about once the dust has settled.

Ranbir Kapoor's Ramayana To Explore Emotional Side Of Manthara? Sheeba Chaddha Reveals
Ranbir Kapoor's Ramayana To Explore Emotional Side Of Manthara? Sheeba Chaddha Reveals

News18

time12-06-2025

  • Entertainment
  • News18

Ranbir Kapoor's Ramayana To Explore Emotional Side Of Manthara? Sheeba Chaddha Reveals

Last Updated: Sheeba Chaddha has been roped in to play Manthara in Nitesh Tiwari's ambitious film adaptation of 'Ramayana'. Veteran actress Sheeba Chaddha is all set to step into the role of the infamous Manthara in Ranbir Kapoor's much-anticipated Ramayana. Known for her powerful screen presence, Chaddha is keen to delve deep into the emotional layers of the character, aiming to portray shades of Manthara that audiences have never seen before. Speaking about the role, the actress shared, 'Manthara has always been seen as a catalyst for conflict, but I believe there's a human story behind every action. I'm excited to explore her emotional landscape and bring out shades that haven't been seen before." Sheeba Chaddha has been roped in to play Manthara in Nitesh Tiwari's ambitious film adaptation of Ramayana. She joins a stellar cast that includes Ranbir Kapoor as Ram, Sai Pallavi as Sita, and Yash as Ravana. Ramayana is said to be one of the year's most eagerly awaited films. As per reports, Sunny Deol has been cast as Hanuman, while popular television actor Ravi Dubey will take on the role of Lakshman. Lara Dutta has been roped in to play Kaikeyi, a pivotal figure in the epic tale. Rakul Preet Singh will portray the fiery and complex Shurpanakha. Kajal Aggarwal is set to essay the role of Mandodari, the dignified queen of Lanka, and in a powerful casting choice, megastar Amitabh Bachchan will appear as Jatayu, the noble vulture who sacrifices everything in Sita's defence. The film is set to release in two instalments—part 1 arriving on Diwali 2026, followed by part 2 on Diwali 2027. Speaking of Sheeba Chaddha, she has left a mark in both television and films, earning acclaim for her powerful performances. She is widely known for her roles in movies such as, 'Badhaai Do', 'Pagglait', 'Taj Mahal 1989', 'Bandish Bandits', and more recently 'Kaushaljis vs Kaushal and Zara Si Dhoop'. About the Author Chirag Sehgal Location : Mumbai, India, India First Published:

Sheeba Chaddha to present a never-seen-before side of infamous Manthara in Ranbir Kapoor's 'Ramayan'
Sheeba Chaddha to present a never-seen-before side of infamous Manthara in Ranbir Kapoor's 'Ramayan'

Time of India

time11-06-2025

  • Entertainment
  • Time of India

Sheeba Chaddha to present a never-seen-before side of infamous Manthara in Ranbir Kapoor's 'Ramayan'

Veteran actress Sheeba Chaddha is all set to step into the role of the infamous Manthara in Ranbir Kapoor 's much-anticipated 'Ramayan'. Known for her powerful screen presence, Chaddha is keen to delve deep into the emotional layers of the character, aiming to portray shades of Manthara that audiences have never seen before. Speaking about the role, the actress shared, "Manthara has always been seen as a catalyst for conflict, but I believe there's a human story behind every action. I'm excited to explore her emotional landscape and bring out shades that haven't been seen before." Sheeba Chaddha has been roped in to play Manthara in Nitesh Tiwari 's ambitious film adaptation of 'Ramayan'. She joins a stellar cast that includes Ranbir Kapoor as Ram, Sai Pallavi as Sita, and Yash as Ravana. Ranbir Kapoor's first look from 'Shamshera' unveiled on his 39 birthday 'Ramayan' is said to be one of the year's most eagerly awaited films. As per reports, Sunny Deol has been cast as Hanuman, while popular television actor Ravi Dubey will take on the role of Lakshman. Lara Dutta has been roped in to play Kaikeyi, a pivotal figure in the epic tale. Rakul Preet Singh will portray the fiery and complex Shurpanakha. Kajal Aggarwal is set to essay the role of Mandodari, the dignified queen of Lanka, and in a powerful casting choice, megastar Amitabh Bachchan will appear as Jatayu, the noble vulture who sacrifices everything in Sita's defence. by Taboola by Taboola Sponsored Links Sponsored Links Promoted Links Promoted Links You May Like Giao dịch vàng CFDs với sàn môi giới tin cậy IC Markets Tìm hiểu thêm Undo The film is set to release in two installments-part 1 arriving on Diwali 2026, followed by part 2 on Diwali 2027. Speaking of Sheeba Chaddha, she has left a mark in both television and films, earning acclaim for her powerful performances. She is widely known for her roles in movies such as, 'Badhaai Do', 'Pagglait', 'Taj Mahal 1989', 'Bandish Bandits', and more recently 'Kaushaljis vs Kaushal and Zara Si Dhoop'.

Indian gay men idolise three kinds of women. They're all missing from this era of Bollywood
Indian gay men idolise three kinds of women. They're all missing from this era of Bollywood

The Print

time08-06-2025

  • Entertainment
  • The Print

Indian gay men idolise three kinds of women. They're all missing from this era of Bollywood

The women who queer people—especially the gays—idolise fall into one of three types: the tragic figure, the camp queen, and the vamp-vixen-fierce-mother diva goddess. (There's another, shorter, more outrageous word for the last category, but it's not very PG and hence best avoided.) Most often, these women are high-fashion, irreverent, and fully realised. It's no secret: gay men love women. Their lives are deeper, their conversation more honest, their heartbreak familiar. In pop culture, this translates to armies of gay men willing to lay down their lives for their 'queens'. If you've ever encountered a Beyoncé fan on X, you'll know what I mean. When I was 12 years old and the star of my sanskar kendra—the Hindu answer to Sunday school—we did a play in which I was the only boy with 10 girls. My mother called me 'Krishna amid gopikas', bless her blindness. And while I did grow out of religion eventually, I've only grown more comfortable with my adoration for women. No one in Bollywood, at the moment, fits these criteria; it's why everything coming out of the industry is slop. And if you bring up Badhaai Do, I will be moved to violence. The summer of change If the recent rise of Shabana Azmi and Zeenat Aman tells us anything, it's that we're desperately seeking Bollywood's lost vitality. Even the West, which has a long tradition of queer icons from Judy Garland to Chappell Roan, is resurrecting the likes of Nicole Kidman and Michelle Yeoh. In India, it all began in July 2023, when three things happened in rapid succession. First, Zeenat Aman, after conquering Instagram, earned herself a feature on the cover of Vogue India. Second, Rekha appeared on the cover of Vogue Arabia in what can only be described as the photoshoot of the decade. (The technical term, I believe, is 'slay the house down boots'.) Third, Jaya Bachchan and Shabana Azmi returned to the big screen in KJo's Rocky Aur Rani Kii Prem Kahaani. Three of these women were what can be called 'fierce', which is code for subversive. The fourth one is the exact opposite, most likely by choice. But let me elaborate. Zeenat, while she was 'bold' during her time in Bollywood, wasn't ever rebellious. She didn't ruffle feathers—the right kind, at least. She was daring and perhaps outrageous, but always demure. Case in point, the way she convinced Raj Kapoor to hire her for Satyam Shivam Sundaram. It is in her arrival on Instagram, where she revealed the person behind the persona, that Zeenat became radical. Shabana was always non-conforming. But the women defined as queer icons often carry a sartorial edge. A lot of it is in fashion—a performance of such extreme femininity that it begins to undo the very institution that ordains it. Who can watch Mandi and deny her the title? Jaya, I've heard, was once profound. Perhaps she remains so, but subversive, she is not. Rekha is the only one out of these legends who wasn't making a 'comeback'—she'd never left. A line about Madonna from the Drag Race musical fits here, too: The most controversial thing she ever did was to stick around. Part of why Rekha is the embodiment of a queer icon is that she knows how the delicate line of power has to be toed. She is real, but to a point. She knows how to lure in her interviewer with a scandalous confession—only to undercut it with a paltry statement of fact. And if you need more proof, look no further than the Simi Garewal interview. Rekha responded to Garewal's befuddlement with queerness in an unbothered yet bratty 'Why not!' Yes, you heard it here first: Rekha is 'brat'. All this to say, the grandmas returned in 2023 to remind us how comfortable we'd gotten with conformity. Everyone knows that pop culture becoming hetero is a recession indicator. When was the last time Bollywood wrote a good part for a woman? Even Alia has hit a dry spell. Not that Mrs Kapoor could ever embody defiance. Priyanka Chopra was at the precipice for one hot second—before PC decided to become POC in America. Katrina, too, had potential before she went the Karva Chauth route. One name I think queers are overlooking is Mallika Sherawat—beyond a eureka mention of Hisss, we haven't been paying much attention to her. The gays certainly love Deepika and Madhuri, but these women are not quite the brat-fierce-vamp-femme fatale brand of defiant. One might call them 'mother', but I'm afraid that word has become antiquated already. Also read: Grindr is dying. The final nail in the coffin is ads Bring back subversion Rekha, Shabana, and Zeenat belong to the subversive brand of queer icons. But even the tragic figure and the camp queen are rebellious in their own way. At first, I thought of the tragic icon as a woman doomed by the narrative—Meena Kumari, Parveen Babi, Whitney Houston, Princess Diana. These were women whose suffering and loneliness drew the queers in. I'd even count Meerabai here—her power to yearn is unrivalled—but I believe I may be alone on this particular hill. I hadn't realised that the tragic women had been named so by the world—a world ruled by the very men who let these women down. They had been marked as outliers until the queers made icons out of them. Not by indulging in the sorrow of their fall, but by celebrating the art and vitality they bequeathed us. Who can listen to I Write, I Recite and not realise that Meena Kumari's depth defines her, not her death? And then there is camp. If Rekha is subversion personified, Sridevi is camp come to life. She, too, is exaggerated, irreverent, hyper-feminine, and non-conforming to the bone. But there is a wink-and-nudge to camp, a disarming playfulness. The claws are well-hidden. Kareena Kapoor, I'm forced to admit, is part of this tradition. But when camp, or fashion in general, isn't backed by any real rebellion, it becomes slay—in other words, liberal. Desi gays who stan Kareena are like the white gays who enjoy Ariana Grande: they don't really care for substance. Today, campy queens can be found in reality TV and influencer culture, be it Rakhi Sawant, Pooja Mishra, or Uorfi Javed. From this generation, though, Rakhi is the only one at par with Sridevi. The claws are there, even if power isn't. So what is it that makes a woman a queer icon? And am I saying that our lack of queer icons is a failing on the part of the women in Indian pop culture? Not really. A Rekha can't be repeated today. Our definition of celebrity has shifted, as have the ways in which we rebel. Chappell Roan is an icon, but in vastly different ways from Judy Garland. Rebellion is part of it. When women fight the karva-chauth-and-sindoor type of patriarchal assertion, they're inadvertently forming ties with the queers. And if Bollywood wants to remain relevant, it must let these women surface once again. The women queer people idolise are the ones who, through their own pain, sass, or subversiveness, create spaces where we can belong. Who'd have thought, all it takes to earn our admiration is letting us in. This article is part of a series of columns. Read the rest here. Views are personal. (Edited by Theres Sudeep)

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