‘Happy Patel’ movie review: Vir Das tom-toms his absurdist humour

Those who have followed Vir Das’ comedy specials would know that he blends satire with observational humour better than most. He voices the experiences of the misfits, and his skits capture everyday absurdities arising from cultural clashes, racism, and jingoism.

This week, Vir shifts stage, turning his pet peeves into an irreverent and frenetic parody of our times. Making his debut as a director, he turns up ‘in and as’ Happy Patel, a clumsy British spy with Indian roots. More at ease in the culinary terrain, perhaps because of his genetic composition, than picking clues, Happy is sent on a mission to Goa to rescue a British scientist from the clutches of a vicious crime lord, Mama (Mona Singh). Her favourite recipe is ‘cut-let’ and she is seeking a formula for fair skin. Happy mispronounces Hindi, and here lies most of the ingenuity in writing. Tum (you) becomes Tom and so on. On his crazy hunt for Mama, he rhymes with his Sikh handler (Sharib Hashmi) and loses his tasting finger to Mama and his heart to dancer Rupa (Mithila Palkar).

Seemingly targeted at an urban audience that turns up for niche stand-up or sit-down comedy gigs after a few drinks, Happy Patel falters and fumbles in keeping us high in the cinematic form. Vir and co-director Kavi Shastri mock faux heroism, make fun of Bollywood tropes and racial profiling, and challenge stereotypes associated with immigrants, but the presentation leans on cringe, providing exaggerated caricatures a field day. The subversive tone toggles between inconsistent and incoherent, the punches announce their presence from a distance, and the gags turn out to be more gas than substance.

We know Vir consciously picks pandemonium over plot and expects the audience to read the coded meaning in the mauling of the syntax, but too much self-awareness kills the fun and emotional engagement as the writers (Vir and Amogh Ranadive) constantly wink at the audience, pointing out or presenting the narrative’s own artificiality as anarchy. The anything-goes approach sets in early, and Aamir Khan’s rumbustious entry doesn’t spark the expected curiosity. Apart from underlining that the film’s tone should be read in the context of Delhi Belly, Imran Khan’s return to the scene doesn’t add much.

Channelling his personal battles into an artistic form, Vir is efficient, but he comes across as more natural on stage than on screen. Mona makes the most of the meat in her lean character, while Sharib Hashmi and Mithila Palkar go with the flow. Talking of the flow, Vir’s compositions and choreography are in sync with the madcap flavour.

There are a few unalloyed moments of fun and surprise, like the M joke and the 8 PM moment, but after a point, the wordplay becomes so repetitive that it starts to wear on the nerves. As they say, when style overrides substance, the joke wears thin.

Happy Patel: Khatarnaak Jasoos is currently running in theatres