Cocktail

Few films have made me feel so nicely elated and then left me completely deflated in a span of just 146 minutes and a few seconds. But I should have known that; the producers and director of this film say so clearly in the title. Alcohol, whether mixed or taken straight, is a downer. And Cocktail, because of its high sugar content, initially gives a heady rush, but leaves a bad hangover.

Cocktail is set in a simple world where there are only two types of women: Betty and Veronica; Sita and Menaka; Savitri and Urvashi; Paro and Chandramukhi. Veronica (Deepika Padukone) is the bad girl, and Meera (Diana Penty) the good girl. There is, of course, only one kind of man: Mommy’s randy son. That’s Gautam (Saif Ali Khan).
All three are Indian but they don’t live in India. There’s a reason why this is so, a reason beyond the attraction of the NRI market and charming locations with glamorous white people. “Abroad” is a beautiful but aloof world jahan sab chalta hai. That’s the desi mindset. When “abroad”, it’s not odd to wear clothes that are designed to show off sexy undergarments. “Abroad” is where binge drinking is allowed because mother and father come announced, and only for a few days. It’s where anyone can do any work, and shack up with anyone. Desi rules, values, realities don’t apply, so no behaviour is jarring, nor does it need any justification. This disembodied existence, in films and of course in our heads, is liberating and exciting. That is why in so many films so many planes take off from Indian airports. On board are our large suitcases, with short dresses, new lacy bras, condoms and dreams of another life, a bohemian, romantic one. Films give us what we crave.
Gautam arrives in London for some software job, but his real interests are established the minute we set eyes on him. They are to get laid, get laid and get laid. His Mamaji (Boman Irani), who is both approving and mildly disapproving of his shenanigans, also lives in London.
Next to arrive in London is Meera, with a suitcase, a box of mangoes and a wedding photograph. Meera’s parents died in a car crash and she is now hoping to settle down with her husband Kunal (Randeep Hooda).
Veronica lives in London. She is Paris Hiltonesque — a club-hopping bindas babe who is lonely and swaggering. Her parents are absent from her life, but she gets a monthly cheque in lieu.
Since Cocktail is a love triangle in the league of Dil Toh Pagal Hai etc, everything is preordained. Meera gets dumped by her husband but is saved by a staggering Veronica who gives her boarding, lodging and amour-propre. Gautam comes into the lives of the two best friends via Veronica. They smooch, then shack up. Veronica, who has little control over her drinks and who she sleeps with, starts liking Gautam, but when his Mummyji (Dimple Kapadia) arrives he presents the fully-clothed, docile Meera as his love interest and future wife.
Mummyji’s seal of approval on one and disapproval on the other changes equations. Bit by bit Veronica comes undone, all the while flashing a light on the hypocrisy of mama’s boys and their mommies. Meera blossoms, one happy red petal at a time.
Till now a fun, cool film, Cocktail goes all boring and predictable once mommy dear slips sone ke kangan on Meera’s wrists. Bad girl gets punished, not just for her bad behaviour in bed and at pubs, but also for jinxing true love. Gautam too must redeem himself by nurturing Veronica back to health and then go looking for his true love, with much-obliged Veronica’s approval and support.
When films with big, bright stars, that too under the direction of someone like Homi Adajania whose Being Cyrus was truly quirky, seem to try something new but end up reiterating the same nonsense that we’ve been seeing since we began watching movies, I feel like asking, “Why so scared, honey?”

Sometimes it feels silly to focus on the politics of commercial films. After all, they set out to do nothing more than entertain for a bit. They take us to nice places, treat us to nice clothes, nice songs and a bit of masti before returning us to the world we are most comfortable in. When we go to see a Sooraj Barjatya film, we know what we are paying for. There’s no pretence, so one can't complain. But when films like Cocktail, which pretend to be hip and trendy and “different”, do as the Barjatyas would, it makes you want to throw up.
Cocktail’s first half, which is smartly written and funny, draws most of its energy and spunk from Veronica. She is every good girl’s alter ego, and every boy’s dream date — broken and sexy, brazen yet vulnerable. Veronica is a performer, a poseur. She’s always the centre of attraction, yet always the outsider. But she doesn’t go down easy. When dumped, she asks why, fights to keep the guy she loves. She shuts up only when she’s run over by a car.
Veronica’s character is lovely not just because of how the writers have created it, but because of the depth Deepika gives to Veronica. She wears her vulnerability on her upturned chin; her endearing whimsy mixed with bravado cloaks both anguish and anger. I’ve always found Deepika synthetic and never really enjoyed watching her, but here she is really very good.
Diana, luminous but limp, is perfect as Meera, the girl from the matrimonial ads — suffering, sacrificing and walking away with the man. But Diana is dull as dishwater, and so is her chemistry with Saif. Saif is smooth in most comic scenes, but the moment the going gets serious, he squints.
Cocktail’s music, by Pritam, is catchy but not a patch on the Pakistani song Jugni by Arif Lohar and Meesha. The film uses this song but doesn’t do justice to it, just like it doesn’t do justice to the interesting characters it creates.