If you’re a fan of the first season of The Family Man, then stop right here. Actually, stop. You are better off not watching the laboured second season where I used the ‘forward by ten seconds’ button generously.
Last night, Manoj Bajpayee fans (I am one) collected for an online watch party to see The Family Man Season 2. By 2.30 am, I was left all alone watching the show simply because I’m just as tenacious as the terrorist/freedom fighter Raji. I watched through until the end because I wanted to see how stupid the filmmakers think the audience really is, and how far do they take our collective disbelief and suspend it by a thread, hoping we’ll buy it…
The first person to leave the online party angrily is a psychologist who was mad at the counsellor who asks Suchi (Priyamani) and Srikant (Manoj Bajpayee) about their ‘sex-life’ without asking either one for their consent and presents ‘every client with a book about sex’ (‘discounted and complimentary’ is supposed to make you laugh). To top it off, he says, ‘Jo hua usey bhool jao!' Now, which counsellor will tell you to fuhgeddaboudit and just look ahead?
Also read: Priyamani: 'People in same-sex relationships also just want to be loved and accepted'
The counsellor’s next request - the five things you like about your spouse - has been obviously purloined from Marriage Story (Adam Driver and Scarlett Johansson write what they like about one another because they are trying to save their marriage).
The second person to leave wanted to wring the neck of Suchi and Srikant’s little boy Atharv (Vedant Sinha), and could not stand his annoying dialogue. Most films have really annoying children: little Anjali praying in Kuch Kuch Hota Hai rules the roster, with yet another Anjali dying on screen (Mani Ratnam’s Anjali) to make you want to throw something at the screen. This boy makes it to the third place quite easily. Had the show makers used his blackmailing skills to push the plot, or used his gift of the gab to divert the attention of a baddie or something, I wouldn’t mind. This one just annoys you every time he appears on screen.
A couple of weeks ago when Salman Khan burst through a glass window on the 20th floor of a building, the audience noticed how nothing happened to Bhai’s hair. It remained perfectly coiffed, no matter how much action the rest of the body was subject to. Industry insiders might know if the same spray on concrete hair gel was used on Manoj Bajpayee’s hair.
The banter between J.K. Talpade (played with much earnestness by Sharib Hashmi) and Srikant Tiwari (Manoj Bajpayee) which was wonderful in season one, seems like a pale version this season. I miss the vada pav conversations the two had. But it’s Chennai, and they had to get in a "It’s ‘medu vada’ not ‘menduvada’" joke in).
The end to Srikant’s corporate life can be seen a mile away, but even though the annoying floor manager (why was the CEO behaving like one?) got the slaps he deserved; I wish more people working had witnessed the comeuppance…
The un-necessities
I don't get why Dalip Tahil had to be a Marathi character. But it was fun to see Seema Biswas do a Mamata Di rather well. The chamcha/assistant named ‘Sambit’ was an overkill, and the dunking biscuit in tea was just plain unnecessary.
Speaking of unnecessary, why did we have to see elaborate backstories of every character? So he was a fighter, now he’s a drunk sailor who loses his money to kids. But with one phone call from his former chief, and after washing his face (a brass kettle filled with water placed magically right there for him to use), he’s ready to kill people and lead his team?
Why can’t the boyfriend just be a bad guy, doing bad things? Why does he have to have a backstory: Remember what happened to your parents? Now beat this girl you pretended to be in love with…
Subbu trying to escape from the cops bursts into a room and takes two lovers hostage. The man requests Subbu, ‘Don’t kill me, it’s my birthday!’ Why did we need to know that? Just a waste of footage. I was thankful Subbu and the man did not sit down to exchange birthday stories.
It’s most annoying to see a character be omniscient and omnipresent just to help the good guys out. Yes, I’m talking about Chellam. When you think Manoj Bajpayee and company have hit a dead end, Chellam pops in and gives the stagnant story a push in the right direction. They should have called him Google anna instead…
Samantha Akkineni plays Lady Gabbar of Jaffna aka Raji. Initially it looked like they brownfaced her, but the way she dealt with the creep in the bus was so refreshing I actually felt like I was finally awake. She makes a great villain.
But the story moves across continents and cities so much that you groan. London, Chennai, North Sri Lanka, Delhi, Mumbai… After a while it looks like even the post production team is fed up and stops titling the location.
The pointless teenage daughter angst was the straw that broke my back. It’s so cliche. Even Suchi’s mood swings seem to be pointless and I actually felt bad for Sharad Kelkar who has been objectified even though he looks mostly unwashed. Sameer's (Darshan Kumar) hatred for India just feels like overkill and tepid here, even though the police station kill scene is cool. Had they been stricter with editing, this series might have been a decent watch with five or seven episodes.
The Sun has come up outside my window as Srikant and Suchi drink a cup of confessional chai. I switch off Amazon Prime Video as I get up to make myself a cup of tea, wondering why after nine episodes, Manoj Bajpayee’s hair is still that perfect plateau? And why after writing a dialogue like, ‘Melodrama is for losers’ in the show, were we subjected to just that?
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