102 Not Out, Review: One run short

In India, cricket is a religion and most filmgoers will need no explanation about the title of this movie. But for those who are unfamiliar with the game, in India and abroad, this is what the title means: when a batsman scores 102 runs, which is a major landmark, being two more than a hundred, and continues to play after reaching the milestone, he is said to be 102 not out. Now that you got the context, you need to be told that the film has nothing whatsoever to do with cricket, and that it is the story of a 102 year-old man and his 75 year-old son. Played by Amitabh Bachchan and Rishi Kapoor, with over-the-top effervescence and down-in-the-dumps diffidence respectively, the oldies fall a few runs short in the end.

A sprightly 102 year-old Dattatraya Vakharia believes in YOLO (You Only Live Once; apologies to Ian Fleming) and announces to his only child Babulal that he intends to break the longevity record of 114 years, currently held by a Chinese man. Babulal, a retired mathematics teacher and widower, is a grumpy, grouchy hypochondriac, and a stickler for routine and perfection. One day (spoiler avoided) Dattatraya decides that Babulal is beyond redemption, and initiates a move to send him to an old folks’ home. Babulal cannot believe that a father can send a son to pension, but is nevertheless petrified at the prospect, and agrees to go along with the ‘make-over’ planned by his father.

Dattatraya draws up a list of tasks that Babulal must perform. His partner in crime is Dhiru, the local chemist’s delivery boy, who works half a day for Dattatraya, on a salary. Most of the tasks involve visiting childhood locations, and he enjoys visiting those places, but two of them pose great challenges to Babulal: one involves writing a letter to his dead wife, and another concerns his estranged son, Amol, who lives in the USA with his white wife and son. Dattatraya impresses upon Babulal that his last wish would be to go to Ladakh and send a postcard for Babulal from the great height, but that will happen only if Babulal co-operates.

Playwright and director Saumya Joshi’s Gujarati play, with a screenplay by Vishal V. Patil, does not translate seamlessly on to the screen. Dattatraya dodging an auto-rickshaw carrying a huge cut-out makes you applaud his derring-do, not his wisdom—and he is shown to be a very wise man. Again, why would he make a huge cut-out when a small print-out would suffice? This is the big screen, not the stage, where it needs to be big enough seen in the 25^th row. A close-up is enough here. The Vakharias are shown to be upper middle class, live in a two-storey and it is mentioned that they have a female domestic help. Yet, we see only one fleeting glimpse in the whole film.

Babulal does everything himself. It is not even clear that Dattatraya lives with his son. One can understand the absence of a heroine or a lead actress, but there are no women at all. Even the daughter-on-law is never shown. The names of the main characters are amalgams of Maharashtrian and Gujarati names. A couple of lines explaining this would have helped. A few Gujarati words come up and then stay away for several minutes. Why show the family to be Gujarati in the first place! Ah, yes! The chemist is a thoroughbred Gujarati, as is his man Friday (most chemists in Mumbai are Gujarati or Mawari). But would he agree to loan his delivery boy to Dattatraya for half-a-day, every day, considering he has just been recruited and trained in his job in the last two months? And whatever the motivation, Dattatraya working out an elaborate, convoluted plan, which he hopes his stubborn, oaf of a son will carry out with just a little perfunctory whimper is optimistic to say the least.

Umesh Shukla (Dhoondte Reh Jaaoge, Oh My God!, All Is Well) apparently retains too many elements of the stage original. The doctor’s clinic chapter begins on a light-hearted note, and then slides into tasteless writing. When the director says (to the media) that children and young persons will love the film, he obviously forgets the abuse written by the 75 year-old and half read out by the centenarian great-grandpa, and the condom continuum, which are both clearly adult stuff. One is being harsh here: the mere choice of a subject, in the Hrishikesh Mukherjee/Basu Chatterjee/Gulzar mould, with Amitabh Bachchan and Rishi Kapoor stepping in for the late Harindranath Chattopadhyaya and Utpal Dutt models, does not guarantee interesting movie-fare. That having been said, lesser mortals might have made the proceedings less tolerable.

If 102 Not Out falls one run short, it is definitely no fault of Amitabh Bachchan. His character is written in a theatrical give and take, cue to cue manner, and he goes with the flow. There is almost nothing that he does wrong, as Dattatraya, and the script stands solidly behind him—no back-story, just a roller-coaster. Somebody in the audience murmured that this was another Bhootnath for Bachchan. Not far from the mark, that observation. Rishi Kapoor has the more difficult role, very little sympathy, with little dialogue. And he takes it all in his stride. His personality transformation would have foxed a lesser mortal. All the hours that it took to give the two veterans their required look are time well invested.

Jimit Trivedi (Bhool Bhulaiya) as Dhiru shows no trepidation in the company of the greats. Dharmendra Gohil gets to play a character who will be hated, and all he will be able to do is shrug his shoulders. That is what acting can mean, sometimes. Names of other members of the cast are not available: the chemist, the doctor and the auto-rickshaw driver in particular. Due mention, duly acknowledged.

It was a tight-rope walk, deciding on the extra half star. In the end, the largely wholesome and repeatedly heart-tugging moments in this 102 minute minimalistic, flawed yet well-intentioned, off the beaten track experiment, especially towards the climax, prevailed. So here you are.

Rating: ** ½

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qrks9Zu0f1w