‘Sunny Sanskari Ki Tulsi Kumari’ Movie Review: The Joke Is On Us

Like most critics, I jot down notes while watching a movie. These notes are mostly factual reminders: character names, periods, places, plot details, specific scenes, lyrics, credits. When the movie is fine, these notes contain observations: thoughts about shots, metaphors, social pointers, puns, easter eggs and scene breakdowns. When the movie bombs, the notes become adjectives and verbal emojis: so bad, oh my god, worst, REALLY, what is he doing, come on, absolutely not. But when the movie is Sunny Sanskari Ki Tulsi Kumari, the notes look unhinged. For example, I see a note yelling: “Where is the damn leopard?”. There’s another note begging: “But why?”. Another: “Chutney or smoothie?” Another: "Eco-conscious writing, much recycling”. No context. Just madness. If I were to draw a mental map of how I arrived at a stage of waiting for a leopard cameo, the map would be an illustrated review. And I’d be an artist.  

Sunny Sanskari Ki Tulsi Kumari is futile at best. Like AI, its personality is derived from data that already exists. In this case, the data is every Dharma, YRF, Rajshri, SRK and Excel romcom ever made. Self-referencing is not new, but the list of titles mentioned and alluded to reads like a list of films I’d have happily watched instead: Kuch Kuch Hota Hai, K3G, Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara, Seeta Aur Geeta, Chak De! India, Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani, Judgemental Hai Kya, Love Aaj Kal 2, Baahubali, Dil Chahta Hai, Hum Aapke Hai Koun, Badrinath Ki Dulhaniya, Jugjugg Jeeyo, Mr. & Mrs. Mahi, Mismatched, Main Prem Ki Deewani Hoon (yes). No Aap Mujhe Acche Lagne Lage, unfortunately. Or maybe there is: one of the characters gets breathless during an allergic reaction to fish. A Janhvi Kapoor character claims that Madhuri Dixit is her idol; a hero in a Dharma movie claims he’s middle-class because he gets only 50000 as pocket money every month; one couple dances to a Mr. India song after another couple dances to a rerecorded version of Sonu Nigam’s Bijuriya. If this film winked or nodded any harder, it’d be arrested for indecent behaviour. If it were a person, it’d not know how to be a person because it’s too busy being an unserious Bollywood film. 

It opens with Sunny Sanskari, a guy who’s clearly watched too many David Dhawan comedies, planning a Baahubali-inspired proposal to his rich girlfriend Ananya (Sanya Malhotra). She rejects him, Sunny learns that the man (Rohit Saraf) she’s marrying also rejected his ex-girlfriend, Sunny and his Rocky Aur Rani Kii Prem Kahani-coded bestie (Abhinav Sharma) set out to locate this sad PT teacher ex named Tulsi Kumari, and Sunny and Tulsi then join forces to crash the big fat Udaipur wedding and win back respective soulmates Ananya and Vikram. This plan of course involves a lot of overacting, deliberate and accidental hamming, provocative clothes, one lavishly mounted dance after another, childish lines, Sunny spouting monologues about women empowerment and equality, and naturally, Sunny and Tulsi falling for each other while pretending to be together. Who’d have seen that coming? Not the title for sure.  

They behave like hundreds of heroes and heroines from thousands of Hindi movies; it’s like they’re in a chutney-and-smoothie-making blender that’s recycled from older blenders. The performances resemble previous performances. Varun Dhawan is very Varun Dhawan; his ad-libbing is funny (like when he congratulates his parents for having a son like him), but Sunny looks like he’s spoofing Dhawan in the dramatic scenes. Janhvi Kapoor is no Tulsi Kumari. Their chemistry is marginally better than it was in Bawaal, but they do skirt Bawaal borders when he equates her influence with food — healthy like green vegetables, sinful like ghee. Since we’re in quote and meme mode, it’s more “you have child-bearing hips” than “every relationship has its own Auschwitz”. Sanya Malhotra is underused. Rohit Saraf has a moment. Only Maniesh Paul (as a wedding planner) and Abhinav Sharma (replicating his Rocky Aur Rani miming) get the memo. The film’s idea of switching between genres is primitive. For instance, after some tomfoolery, Vikram’s mean brother Param (Akshay Oberoi) randomly confronts Tulsi and mocks her for having divorced parents (literally: “your mother left you when you were 13 Tulsi”), before Vikram’s mother adds that Tulsi is used to breaking families and not making them. Cue cry. But why?  

A still from 'Sunny Sanskari Ki Tulsi Kumari'

At another point, on the verge of another panic attack, Tulsi attempts to light a cigarette despite not knowing how to smoke so that Mr. Sanskari can stop her — and then fall in love with her when she calls him a diamond. She thinks Vikram left her because she’s old-school like her name, but Sunny assures her that heartbreak is not a modern act. The track of Vikram’s neglected sister-in-law who lands a plum fashion internship in Paris exists (barely) to enable a Sunny Sermon. When both couples go on a Rajasthani jungle safari, a group of exotically dressed villagers suddenly enter the frame as background colour; everyone’s a walking buffet on the dirt road, but it’s more important that Sunny and Tulsi break into song. One person’s wedding is crashed twice in the film: a gag that’s amusing on paper but exasperating on screen. Brands like Manyavar, Wow Momo and Karan Johar make extended cameos. Tulsi proves that she knows Vikram best when she cites his underlying medical conditions to a doctor who treats him. When all else fails, the two couples on a Holi-bhang high crawl towards the hotel in desperate pursuit of stoner humour. Nothing lands, just like the planes in my recurring nightmares about flying. 

It’s a good time to point out that self-referential jokes and pop-cultural tributes used to mean something. There was a novelty about films acknowledging the presence of films. Think Helen dancing after ‘Aankhein Khuli’ in Mohabbatein. Think Uday Chopra’s entry with the musical medley of Mujhse Dosti Karoge. Think Farah Khan’s entire aesthetic. But in the last decade, there’s been such an overdose of meta tips that we’re now desensitised to them. It’s the Bollywood equivalent of Chinese Whispers where the original sources are hacked and reprocessed until they are almost unrecognisable (Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge ends up as Dilwale). This has coincided with the desensitisation of comic-book superheroes through franchise crossovers, all-star cricket through T20 leagues, even celebrities through social media access. It’s all so normal that nothing is surprising — or nostalgic — anymore. Sunny Sanskari Ki Tulsi Kumari feels like the final nail in this coffin. There is hardly any film left between the salutes and citations. There is hardly any voice left between the covers and riffs. It’s also a good time to point out that Sunny promised to show Tulsi a wild cat on that safari, but no leopard was spotted. Where is the damn leopard? Surely it has nothing to do with one of my ominous final notes: “Look for leopard-print dress and bag”.