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What is the story about?
If you thought Raanjhanaa was problematic, wait until you watch Tere Ishk Mein, filmmaker Aanand L Rai’s latest offering which inherits all the worrying traits of his 2013 directorial but somehow still manages to be a lesser film.
Its skewed gender politics notwithstanding, Raanjhanaa at least had clarity of thought. Tere Ishk Mein is muddled. It changes ground so swiftly and has such confused messaging that by the time the end credits roll, the film is a 169-minute-long convoluted mess.
Rai along with writers Himanshu Sharma and Neeraj Yadav are so focused on hero-worshipping our main man Shankar (Dhanush), a Delhi student ruffian with unchecked anger issues that they completely bail out on Mukti (Kriti Sanon), a clinical psychology scholar who befriends him so she can use him as a case study for her PhD. She is in it for work, he for love.
Read more: Tere Ishk Mein review: A problematic, convoluted mess
From the word go, their equation is overrun with financial, social, intellectual and ideological chasms. Ambitious in life, she is cautious in love. He is a headless hooligan who doesn’t think twice before setting her house on fire or pouring liquid from an acid bottle on her face on her wedding day or guilt-tripping her into self destruction.
What starts as a pale imitation of Rockstar soon devolves into the Love Aaj Kal territory with a bit of 12th Fail and Fighter thrown into the mix, all the while strongly reminiscent of Raanjhanaa and Kabir Singh. The irony is that in spite of borrowing heavily from all of these films, Tere Ishk Mein does not have even 10% of their emotional logic or technical coherence.
In a directorial career spanning 18 years and nine films, Rai has firmly established himself as the undisputed king of twisted, toxic romances. His idea of love is so warped and destructive, his films must work like magic on stalkers, incels, and jilted lovers across the country yearning to feel seen in a world forcing them to be better.
Also read: Ranveer Singh-starrer 'Dhurandhar' faces lawsuit; war hero’s family moves court to halt distribution
Tere Ishk Mein has one ambition alone: to defend and glorify Shankar (another name for Lord Shiva), no matter how deranged his actions may be. All the characters—like those of the fathers played by Prakash Raj and Tota Roy Chowdhury—exist just so they can emotionally manipulate you into sympathising with the injustice and suffering that Shankar is met with.
Dhanush’s central presence in an Aanand L Rai film is understandable (at this point it is ubiquitous), but what is Kriti Sanon, who has been making impressive film choices, doing in a cringe-fest like this?
Even AR Rahman, who elevated Raanjhanaa with his glorious, soulful music, fails to imbue life into a story so utterly devoid of rhyme, rhythm or reason. Not one track from the nine-song album stays.
Vineet Kumar Singh and Mohammed Zeeshan Ayyub get walk-in parts so dispensable they make you question how much of the casting process in Bollywood thrives on friendships and favors.
Just like male characters written by women always stand out in film and fiction, so do female characters written by men, especially the likes of Aanand L Rai, Luv Ranjan and Sandeep Reddy Vanga.
Their scripts often bend over backwards to villainise and penalise women so their men can shine in all their dastardly glory. The lengths they go to justify male misbehavior, the stories they weave with conviction so we mistake entitlement for love as they do and on can go the hamster wheel.
In the garb of love’s transformative power, when will we stop straddling women with the responsibility of serving as rehabilitation centers for badly-behaved men?
Films such as Tere Ishk Mein must start with disclaimers explicitly warning anyone who may find its subjects and themes triggering. Or is this also too much of an ask?
Its skewed gender politics notwithstanding, Raanjhanaa at least had clarity of thought. Tere Ishk Mein is muddled. It changes ground so swiftly and has such confused messaging that by the time the end credits roll, the film is a 169-minute-long convoluted mess.
Rai along with writers Himanshu Sharma and Neeraj Yadav are so focused on hero-worshipping our main man Shankar (Dhanush), a Delhi student ruffian with unchecked anger issues that they completely bail out on Mukti (Kriti Sanon), a clinical psychology scholar who befriends him so she can use him as a case study for her PhD. She is in it for work, he for love.
Read more: Tere Ishk Mein review: A problematic, convoluted mess
From the word go, their equation is overrun with financial, social, intellectual and ideological chasms. Ambitious in life, she is cautious in love. He is a headless hooligan who doesn’t think twice before setting her house on fire or pouring liquid from an acid bottle on her face on her wedding day or guilt-tripping her into self destruction.
What starts as a pale imitation of Rockstar soon devolves into the Love Aaj Kal territory with a bit of 12th Fail and Fighter thrown into the mix, all the while strongly reminiscent of Raanjhanaa and Kabir Singh. The irony is that in spite of borrowing heavily from all of these films, Tere Ishk Mein does not have even 10% of their emotional logic or technical coherence.
In a directorial career spanning 18 years and nine films, Rai has firmly established himself as the undisputed king of twisted, toxic romances. His idea of love is so warped and destructive, his films must work like magic on stalkers, incels, and jilted lovers across the country yearning to feel seen in a world forcing them to be better.
Also read: Ranveer Singh-starrer 'Dhurandhar' faces lawsuit; war hero’s family moves court to halt distribution
Tere Ishk Mein has one ambition alone: to defend and glorify Shankar (another name for Lord Shiva), no matter how deranged his actions may be. All the characters—like those of the fathers played by Prakash Raj and Tota Roy Chowdhury—exist just so they can emotionally manipulate you into sympathising with the injustice and suffering that Shankar is met with.
Dhanush’s central presence in an Aanand L Rai film is understandable (at this point it is ubiquitous), but what is Kriti Sanon, who has been making impressive film choices, doing in a cringe-fest like this?
Even AR Rahman, who elevated Raanjhanaa with his glorious, soulful music, fails to imbue life into a story so utterly devoid of rhyme, rhythm or reason. Not one track from the nine-song album stays.
Vineet Kumar Singh and Mohammed Zeeshan Ayyub get walk-in parts so dispensable they make you question how much of the casting process in Bollywood thrives on friendships and favors.
Just like male characters written by women always stand out in film and fiction, so do female characters written by men, especially the likes of Aanand L Rai, Luv Ranjan and Sandeep Reddy Vanga.
Their scripts often bend over backwards to villainise and penalise women so their men can shine in all their dastardly glory. The lengths they go to justify male misbehavior, the stories they weave with conviction so we mistake entitlement for love as they do and on can go the hamster wheel.
In the garb of love’s transformative power, when will we stop straddling women with the responsibility of serving as rehabilitation centers for badly-behaved men?
Films such as Tere Ishk Mein must start with disclaimers explicitly warning anyone who may find its subjects and themes triggering. Or is this also too much of an ask?
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