Student of the Year

Smile awhile. An entire scene — silent but for piano music — is made up of stolen glances and cloaked feelings. That’s romance, the kind that’s been long-forgotten in this era of hyper-aggression.

Karan Johar’s Student of the Year catches the director in a youthful yet introspective mode. Plus, he has broken free of Bollywood’s necessary evil — mega-star actors. Clearly, he demonstrates that he no longer requires Shah Rukh Khan in the credit titles. Indeed, the most heartening aspect of SOTY is that it introduces mint-fresh talent. Needless to stress, Bollywood needs that, what with mid-40s superstars still cooing-’n’-billing away with heroines half their age.
Both the male debutants in this campus love story are gifted, on-the-go and know their acting alphabet. Varun Dhawan, essaying the more complex part of the two, is a natural-born actor, armed with the bonus of exuding glamour. Siddharth Malhotra also projects a winning screen presence, especially when he employs his eyes to express what would ordinarily require reams of dialogue. Playing frenemies, Varun and Siddharth raise your spirits instantly. Aah, at long last the galaxy of heroes changeth. Touch oak.
Their bone of contention — Alia Bhatt — conveys a spry, teenage spirit, fitting into her part of a hilltown’s campus cutie (shades of Poo from K3G). Instead of disguising her callowness, the director converts it into innocence. When she gets into a bikini-sarong act or halts for a kissing interlude, there isn’t a shred of vulgarity. Of the supporting ensemble, Kayoze Irani as “Pseudo” and Sana as the hair-tossing hottie, are impressively spontaneous.
Throughout, Johar doesn’t pull back from laughing at himself, be it zooming into the beachsides for a display of six-pack abs, in an allusion to John Abraham in Dostana. There’s this jibe, too, about the school dean’s gay lust for the football coach. Niranjan Iyengar’s dialogue smartly puns, “Coach coach hota hai!” Light flirting between same-genders are nothing to get shocked about either. And for in-house nostalgia, Kajol shows up to break into a Travolta step for the movie’s set piece, a remix of Disco deewane.
Indeed, composers Vishal Shekhar have been encouraged to highlight the New Gen’s regard for retro-chic Bollywood music. This is more than evident in the introduction scenes of the just-hatched lead players — the ultra-wealthy Dude (Dhawan), his hoity-toity Girlfriend (Bhatt) and the middle-class Orphan (Malhotra) who soon becomes the kabab mein haddi. Neat.
Next: Dude and the Orphan compete for the Best Student trophy. How? Via an IQ test, treasure hunt, dance and sports. Such a multi-pronged competition has no connection with reality, of course. Neither does the Archie-Veronica-Betty sort of prom night. It’s all avowedly imaginary and Westernised. Yet towards the denouement, the script does open a window for critiquing an education system which writes its own rules and inculcates unhealthy competition. Also, the fact that even the most exclusive schools are influenced by their cash-rich trustees is stated categorically.
As long as the fun-and-games are on, the outcome’s A-grade entertainment — no expenses barred on the sets, costumes, choreography and locations ranging from Dehra Dun and Shimla to Delhi and Bangkok. The exacerbation of the conflict between the rich Dude and the middle-class Orphan intensifies slowly but steadily. The girl watches on, befuddled, while an ensemble of classmates rub salt on her wounds. As far as the adults go, Rishi Kapoor, as the school’s gay dean, is extraordinary, the nuances of sobriety and sauciness achieved intuitively. Ram Kapoor as the Dude’s despotic father fits the bill. And the Orphan’s feisty grandma (Farida Jalal, endearing as ever) is perfect for the emotional quotient. Johar’s world, praise the lord, is devoid of snorting-snarling villains.
Unpretentiousness is the key. Karan Johar serves a candyfloss package, which leaves a sweet aftertaste. Like the American High School and Glee TV series have. So far, so wonderful. There are some issues though. The device of the schoolfriends reuniting at a hospital (Dil Chahta Hai already did this), and speaking right into the camera lens, is overused, a lapse which could have been controlled by editor Deepa Bhatia. Because of the countless flashbacks, the narrative becomes episodic. Also, why on earth did the editor opt for archaic split screens at crucial dramatic points? How archaic is that.
Truly, the screenplay need not have shuffled between a 10-year-old time span, at all. Also, if there are allusions to Dabangg and John Abraham on a magazine cover, could this date back to a decade?
Such flaws aside, Karan Johar is back in form. A lively raconteur, he needs to direct many more movies instead of producing them. Vis-a-vis reflecting the aspirations and anxieties of contemporary youth, he’s boss. Bereft of the star baggage he usually carries, he has presented bright talents — Varun Dhawan, especially. A star is born.
So go right ahead. Share a freshly brewed coffee with Karan.