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Jai Mummy Di Is A Far Smarter Romcom Than It Seems

Jai Mummy Di

Starring  Sunny Singh, Sonnalli Seygall,  Poonam Dhillon, Supriya Pathak

Written  & Directed  by Navjot Gulati

Rating: ****

The  good newzz (excluse my sloppy spelling) is  that there  is a romcom far funnier than the recent overrated Good Newzz.In many  sections of  Jai Mummy Di , the  deftly cut sharply written comedy  I found  myself laughing so hard I  thought  my sides  would split.

Take this. Our hangdog-faced hero  Puneet(Sunny Singh, reliably  deadpan and  droll) finds  a  ingenious  formula to get rid of  the hyper woman(a cousin to  Yami Gautam  in  Bala) he’s being forced  to  marry.

He tells her he is gay.

Bride-to-be(Shiwani Saini, impressively goofy)  refuses  to  believe her  husband-to-be. “You can’t be gay. Have you ever worn V-necked  t-shirts?”

Then she  kisses him ….errr… hard.   “If one  kiss does this to you imagine what more  would do,” she giggles and dismisses  his homosexual act, as Puneet stares helplessly at his giveaway evidence.

The above is  one of the  funniest sexiest scenes I’ve seen in a Hindi romcom. Normally Hindi romcoms take  the convenient short route:  keep the proceedings naughty enough  to seduce audiences but  never cross the line. Jai Mummy Di  gets seriously sexy at times, as we meet the young neighbouring couple who have been meeting,  and yes mating, for years , right under their  warring Mums’ noses.

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Straightway, let me tell you  it’s  a delight to  watch  Supriya Pathak and  Poonam Dhillon  play wickedly pretentious over-decked  up  Delhi  Mummyjis trading  insults  as though they were  going out of fashion.Speaking  of  fashion, Supriya’s Laali  even accuses  Poonam’s Pinky of wearing an outfit  designed  by ‘Karol Bagh ke Manish Malhotra’. Try beating that   for womanly insult.

Contrary to  the plot’s  discernible thrust, this is not so much  a film about the  battling Mums than a wicked satire  on  neighbourly love and  surreptitious  sex  between a  couple who will marry, if only their moms  would come around. The Dads in the meanwhile, remain blissfully in the shadows, until the climax when they plot with their progenies  to foil their arranged  marriages.

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Sunny Singh  as  the  less sophisticated more sincere Pumeet  and  Seygall as his far more sophisticated partner Saanjh are both  substansive in their  shared satirical  space.When she  flinches from his  smooch  he wonders aloud if he has bad breath(and we  flinch at his frankness),and when he  pronounces   afford as  ‘eh-ford’ she snubs and corrects  him with a savagery that is not a sign of one-upmanship , just two people so comfortable  with one  another they can say anything to  one  another without  fear of causing  offence.

The climactic aborted  double-wedding is  a bit of a breathless mess. But by then I was  laughing  so hard I really didn’t care how the  confusion  over  Puneet and  Saanjh sorted  itself out, as long as  it somehow did.

The dialogues are sharp. When the wedding-spoilers  hire an actress, known as ‘Dilli ki Alia’ to  appear at the wedding claiming to be the groom’s  dumped lover, the girl forgets  her lines.

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“I know I am known  as Delhi’s Alia. Lekin  abhi mujh mein na Katrina wali feeling aa rahi hai,” the  drama  queen  tells  anyone who cares to listen.

 The  smart funny lines  flow freely to create a  giggly glow around  the outrageously  conflicted comedy.The  quips cascade  so fast   you are likely to miss the next one while you still  chuckling  over the  previous one.Among the  many memorable characters  I must single  out  Samarth Shandilya as  Saanjh’s husband-to-be  with a  British accent. When he  comes to ‘see’ his bride he rattles  off the number of cars  parked in their bungalow .These are people you must have met in Delhi’s  social-climbing circles, the sort who  pronounce  Gucci as  Guki . This  a far more sassy and smart than  any of  the recent romcoms.

There  is a even  a sly dig at  the recent  gender-related conflicts   when Puneet  reprimands  Saanjh for  “objectifying” herself.

“Shut up and pay for the  gol guppas,” she  retorts. We hear  you.

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