Shubh Mangal Saavdhan: Of Adaptations, Antitheses and Clapbacks

Most Hindi adaptations in India restrict themselves almost exclusively to the mostly uninspired translation of film dialogue, with little else to add to it. Shaad Ali’s OK Jaanu¹, based on Mani Ratnam’s O Kadhal Kanmani², is a perfect example to this. At a superficial glance, Ali’s film is functional enough, with acceptable performances and film technique, but does little other than merely duplicating the premise, beat-for-beat. In an industry filled with a plethora of this kind of adaptation, R.S. Prasanna’s Shubh Mangal Saavdhan³ is a romantic comedy with a difference in more ways than one.

An adaptation of Prasanna’s own Kalyana Samayal Saadham⁴, the film makes the wise decision of reworking the source’s image system from scratch to work in tandem with the language they are adapting it to. As such, the film is not necessarily a remake; it is a reimagining of sorts, in which writer Hitesh Kewalya (Aagey Se Right⁵) starts right from scratch, building the world and its inhabitants with brilliant attention to detail.

Bhumi Pednekar and Ayushmann Khurrana star in "Shubh Mangal Saavdhan" — Meet-Cute 101

Each character—their motive, flaws, and evolution, et al.—is given a self-awareness most films like it would otherwise fail to address. Quite unlike the sleeper-hit Shree Narayan Singh’s Toilet: Ek Prem Katha⁶ that released earlier this year, incidentally also starring the massively talented Bhumi Pednekar (Dum Laga Ke Haisha⁷)—its self-contradictory nature and the dangerous normalization of its characters’ flaws (among other things) conjures up a faux-pas concoction that you’ll find in many films within the spectrum—Prasanna and Kewalya jointly aim for a subtle takedown of the many societal ills still prevailing the country.

Unsurprisingly, between the towering pitfalls of toxic masculinity and gender privilege, there’s a lot to cover. The dexterity with which they are though is what makes Shubh Mangal Saavdhan such an excellent watch. The biggest surprise, however, is just how respectably its McGuffin⁸—ripe with opportunity to indulge in gratuitous humor—is handled. Thankfully, this move also doesn’t come at the cost of laughs.

Between its in-jokes and innuendo, there are a lot of murky waters the film’s makers confidently tread.

Every joke here is sharply written; some long-running threads go as far as generously gifting viewers with massive payoffs to their respective setups. Watch out for the writer’s subversive spin on Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves. Trust us when we say that you will never be able to think of the folktale’s famed protagonist in the same way ever again.

However, between its in-jokes and innuendo, there are a lot of murky waters the film’s makers confidently tread, shutting down every misconception one could ever have on both gender roles and oppression. We are right now a part of a timeline in which we could successfully call ourselves “relatively liberal to others.” The question, of course, is if we are all that progressive. Setting up with a hilarious cinema infomercial, the makers efficiently raise a rather strong point on the many ways women are oppressed, with a heated pre-intermission rendezvous in a café boasting a powerful payoff.

This, of course, would not be possible without Pednekar, a phenomenal actor who’s only three films old yet is a talent without whose presence it is quite difficult to imagine the Hindi industry today. Her chemistry with the equally affable Ayushmann Khurana (Bareilly ki Barfi⁹) is excellent; it is quite a delight to see the two back together on-screen, playing off each other’s’ respective strengths. Add to this the powerhouse talent of Supriya Shukla (Lage Raho Munna Bhai¹⁰) and Seema Bhargava, and you are all set for a zippy romantic comedy that is at once heartbreaking and hilarious.

And what about the McGuffin, you ask? Well, there’s very little performance anxiety here, and for good reason. Sure, the film might deal with the travails of gender roles in sexual politics, but the confidence, sheer wit, and grace with which Kewalya and Prasanna approach their subject (and a whole lot more) without as much as an inkling of sensationalizing is something you simply have to see to believe. Shubh Mangal Saavdhan is a wedding that requires your mandatory attendance; it is a film worth the price of two tickets—one to watch it, and the second for a possible rerun. Unmissable.