Jogira Sara Ra Ra movie review: Nawazuddin Siddiqui can’t uplift this routine small-town family-comedy

Lately, Nawazuddin Siddiqui has been deviating from his set convention of roles. In his last release Afwaah, he played a US-returned, meek, Muslim entrepreneur being chased by conservatives in Rajasthan. The Sudhir Mishra directorial, an otherwise serious film, was enlivened by Siddiqui’s unintentional, dry comedy. Before that, there was Heropanti 2, in which he played the part-time hacker/ magician, and full-time capricious villain Laila, a performance which was intended to be evil incarnate but turned out to be clownishly amusing. What’s really humorous is to see Siddique struggle in a mediocre, masala film. Sometimes he hits, at instances he misses but he remains relentless. But, I guess, some films are just beyond saving.

Cast: Nawazuddin Siddiqui, Neha Sharma, Sanjay Mishra

Director: Kushan Nandy

Written by: Ghalib Asad Bhopali

Jogira Sara Ra Ra begins with a red, LEDed board which reads Bareilly, signifying where the action is taking place. If you missed that, the film’s first dialogue ends with “I am in Bareilly, will talk to you later.” Although the majority of Jogira… is set in Lucknow, curiously it finds ways to slip Bareilly into conversations (Is this some tourism promotional technique?). Neha Sharma even asks Nawazuddin to stop, “Don’t bring out the topic of Bareilly over and over again.”

Before I digress further, let’s get the plot out of the way. The film revolves around Jogi Pratap (Nawazuddin Siddique), a wedding planner, who hates the institution of marriage because “nobody can understand women.” His family, consisting of all women, doesn’t help. He is vexed with their constant bickering and even declares to his friend Manu (Rohit Chaudhary from Bareilly Ki Barfi) that he will never marry and even tell his kids not to. Enter Neha Sharma’s Dimple, a cardboard cut-out of “modern” small-town girls. She drinks, eats non-veg, smokes beedi (to battle constipation) and thus is considered promiscuous. Dimple’s marriage is fixed to Lallu (Mahaakshay Chakraborty), who looks like Bob Biswas from Kahaani before he broke bad. As the name suggests, Lallu is a scooter-riding cliché of mustached, boring suitors since Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi. Jogi, who is employed to do arrangements for the wedding, conspires with Dimple to break it off. His motivation? A distaste for marriages and a chance of copulation with Dimple.

The path Jogira… takes for comical stopovers is riddled with insipid gags and tired wordplays (“Naam Dimple simple kuch bhi nahi”, “Woh sala hume sala banana chahta hai"). The screenplay is also dull, long-drawn and becomes so predictable it can afford to lose attention. The idea of humour for Jogira… is people screaming over each other, stale one-liners and an exasperated Siddiqui who, seems like, is trying to fit-in in an Ayushmann Khurrana universe. Its view of tie-2 towns feels myopic and dated. How many condoms, pregnancy tests and sanitary pads does a man in a small-town comedy need to buy from a medicine store before it stops being funny?

The film relies heavily on Siddique’s comic timing which is sometimes rushing, sometimes dragging. It is funnier to watch him awkwardly dance on lazily written party songs (“Hum mile, tum mile, jaise coke mein rum mile”). Neha Sharma, on the other hand, isn’t remarkable in her portrayal of a rebellious girl in a patriarchal household. She does a routine job of being boisterous and loud-mouthed. Sanjay Mishra is the actual comic relief in this comedy film. He is effortless in playing a kidnapping kingpin who goes by the name of Chacha Chaudhary. That’s as funny as it gets.