Watch: Is Andaz Apna Apna still relevant? | FOMO Fix

Film critics and buddies Raja Sen and Sudhish Kamath take a nostalgic deep-dive into Andaz Apna Apna, the cult comedy classic re-releasing in cinemas this week.

From crime master Gogo’s chaos to Salman’s scene-stealing comic timing, they debate whether the film still works today — or if it’s just a rose-tinted time capsule. Slapstick, spoof, or satirical gem? The verdict’s in.

Also on this episode:

TV Gold — The Last of Us Season 2 brings grief, gore, and gut punches. Is this still escape, or just emotional masochism?

Heads Up — Logout on Zee5 proves a one-actor thriller can still scroll deep.

KHAUF — Real horror hits home in Smita Singh’s harrowing hostel haunting.

Rewatch Alert — Andaz Apna Apna is back on the big screen. Go for the nostalgia, stay for the oranges gag.

Hit play, subscribe for more recs, and remember:

Sometimes the only escape is watching someone else lose it.

Script and editing: Sudhish Kamath

Sound: Ivan Avakian

Almond-shaped eyes, aquiline features, elongated faces with defined chins and noses, earthy tones, panoramic landscapes and stylised clouds — these are some of the things that set apart Kishangarh paintings from the other miniature traditions of India.

Drenched in bhakti and sringara rasas, these miniatures originated somewhere around the 17th Century in Kishangarh in Ajmer, Rajasthan. Rulers such as Raj Singh and Sawant Singh set up court ateliers led by Bhavanidas and Nihal Chand and patronised this art form. However, diminished patronage over the years has seen miniatures and traditional visual art forms relegated to the realm of handicraft.

Centuries later, Vaishnavi Kumari, who traces her lineage to the erstwhile royal family of Kishangarh, has taken upon herself the task of reinventing the art form to suit the contemporary milieu. In 2010, she set up Studio Kishangarh, where she works with artists to create paintings that merged traditional aesthetics and modern sensibilities.

“We do acrylic on canvas, work on wasli (handmade) paper and take up landscape themes. We might take inspiration from a Pichwai painting and interpret it in our own way, using gold and silver embellishment. We recently had a show ‘Ishq Chaman’ based on the poetry of Raja Sawant Singh. The poem talks about devotion and we created allegorical paintings on love and devotion for god,” says Vaishnavi Kumari, the curator and founder of Studio Kishangarh.

Vaishnavi graduated from NIFT and pursued her Master’s in art history from SOAS University, London. “Middlemen buy unique haathi-ghoda paintings at very low prices from artists. These are sold as souvenirs. That set me thinking. In museums and auctions, you see work that is highly valued, and I wondered why we were not producing that kind of quality. Traditionally, a patron influenced the kind of work done in karkhanas (workshops). For example, you see hunting scenes in Kota paintings, because the ruler wanted those depictions. Nainsukh (1710-1778) painted most of his works for the local ruler Raja Balwant Singh of Jasrota in Himachal Pradesh. That encouraged me to set up an atelier and offer contemporary patronage,” says Vaishnavi.

A Kishangarh miniature
| Photo Credit:
Courtesy: Kishangarh Studio

A couple’s rendezvous in a lush green garden against the picturesque backdrop of mountains, dense flora and fauna and a distinct blue sky is an aesthetic marvel, and a typical Kishangarh miniature. This style is also synonymous with Bani Thani — known as the Indian Mona Lisa, a combination of grace and beauty, supposedly painted by Nihal Chand, as instructed by then ruler Raja Sawant Singh. It is said that the Raja and Bani Thani were lovers, and they are the nayak and nayika in several paintings.

Among the most famous of Kishangarh paintings, ‘Boat of Love’, is on display at the National Museum, Delhi. Inspired by Raja Sawant Singh’s poem, the painting depicts three scenes featuring Radha and Krishna — atop a hill, crossing the river seated on a boat accompanied by attendants, and amid dense foliage.

Through her work in the atelier with her artists, Vaishnavi wants to educate people about the art tradition. “What you see is just the first layer which is the aesthetic — the women are beautiful, the figures so lyrical… but there is a deeper meaning. Bani Thani wasn’t just a beautiful woman. She was an accomplished poet and an amazing musician. Sufism and Haveli Sangeet were major influences at the time and we want the viewers to discover all these facets to these paintings. Raja Sawant Singh was a Bhakti poet and wrote in Rekhta, a precursor to the Hindustani dialect, among other languages, under the pen name of Nagari Das. A pushtimargi, belonging to the Vallabhacharya sect, he wrote devotional poetry for Krishna and Bani Thani,” she adds.

Kishangarh miniature
| Photo Credit:
Special Arrangement

Once Vaishnavi returned from London, she discovered many families that had been painting for generations. She brought together a few of them for two reasons — better livelihood opportunities and the chance to develop a unique aesthetic.

“We have a core group but we also work with other artists. When we started, we were doing handicrafts — we painted apparel. I explore a lot of media. Even though I give ideas, the exploration is by the artists. Also, each painting is the collective work of two or three artists — one does the basic drawing, the other adds the flora and fauna elements, the third might add an iconic element like the Kamadhenu. They enjoy working on a new visual vocabulary,” says Vaishnavi, who is trying to strike a balance between the old and the new.

Vaishnavi Kumari, who traces her lineage to the erstwhile royal family of Kishangarh, has taken upon herself the task of reinventing the art form to suit the contemporary milieu

Vamshi in ‘Firefly’.
| Photo Credit: Anand Audio/YouTube

How long does it take for us to overcome grief? The most sensible answer, perhaps, is that grief isn’t the same for everyone. For Vicky (Vamshi), in Firefly, the tragedy of losing his loved ones puts him through phases of denial, anger, depression, and acceptance.

Vicky returns to Mysuru from abroad for his cousin’s wedding, only to land up in a coma after a devastating incident that leaves him without a family. Post-recovery, he is hit by insomnia, which forces him to adopt many methods, ranging from sensible to outrageous, to find a solution.

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From binge eating to self-infliction of pain to trying to find reasons to smile, Vicky’s life becomes a series of coping mechanisms. Vamshi, who has also directed the film, opts for an unconventional manner to present his protagonist’s world. As a line from the trailer says, “When reality feels unbearable, the quest for peace becomes surreal.” 

The obvious Wes Anderson-esque mood of Firefly is one of its biggest strengths. Serious and emotional scenes have comforting and warm colours, the contrasting palettes you see in Anderson’s movies. Like in Anderson’s films, characters in Firefly are framed symmetrically in several scenes, creating a visual balance. The quirky set design is another hat tip to the The Grand Budapest Hotel filmmaker. 

Firefly is a character study of Vicky, and the 4:3 aspect ratio of the movie attempts to provide an intimate view of the protagonist’s journey. The film tries to create a vibe in every scene and tells its audience to overlook the logic of those moments. Cinematographer Abhilash Kalathi does well in making each frame appear interesting, a rare attempt in Kannada cinema in recent times. However, as with first-time filmmakers, Firefly is undone by the director’s indulgence. 

Firefly is luminous with creative shots, but this template had to be matched with memorable characters. In Rajkumar Hirani’s Munna Bhai MBBS, characters such as a terminally-ill patient (essayed by Jimmy Shergill) and a person in a paralysed state (called Anand bhai) tames Munna (Sanjay Dutt), a gangster who then begins to look at life with compassion. 

Vamshi in ‘Firefly’.
| Photo Credit:
Anand Audio/YouTube

In Firefly, when Vicky joins a self-help group, I expected the arrival of similarly moving characters who could change his outlook to life. Instead, the film opts for a low-hanging fruit. Vicky takes his first step towards change when he comes across the perseverance of small-town people handling economic hardships, an overworked trope in commercial films. The ultra-serious nature of this portion doesn’t fit well with the self-deprecating tone of the movie.

ALSO READ:‘Veera Chandrahasa’ movie review: Ravi Basrur’s film is a sincere ode to Yakshagana, but lacks cinematic zing

Firefly could have benefited from good humour and engaging conversations. The film has tepid drama thanks to Vicky’s flat conversations with his parents (Achyuth Kumar and Sudharani) and the girl he falls in love with at first sight (Rachana Inder). Even as Firefly breaks conventional visual grammar, supported by Charan Raj’s appealing music, I wished the film focused on small and beautiful moments, like the one where Vicky gets a photo frame of his parents and the scene in which the girl he loves asks him to live in the moment.

Vicky reminds you of Sid, who wakes up to love and life in Ayaan Mukerji’s 2009 Hindi film. Both struggle hard to become a man of purpose. In fact, Firefly is yet another coming-of-age tale at its core. The attempt to tell this tale of self-discovery in an unorthodox manner is commendable. Consistent writing could have added depth to the film’s highly relatable core.

Firefly is currently running in theatres