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Watching "Baghban" is the movie equivalent of trying to eat one's way out of a vat of saltwater taffy for nigh unto three hours. This Indian film is a sticky sweet, sentimental soap opera that starts off like "King Lear," moves on to "Romeo and Juliet" in the middle section, then heads back again to "King Lear" for its tear-soaked finale.
Raj Malhotra is a bank accountant who seems to have everything a man could possibly want out of life: a wife who adores him, a family who loves him, and a job from which he is about to retire after a lifetime of faithful service. Even though Raj and his wife, Pooja, have been married for 40 years and have four grown sons, they still act like a couple of love struck newlyweds, cooing and sighing, batting their eyes at one another and whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears almost to the point of nausea. In fact, the whole bloody brood is so happy, loving and harmonious that they make the Von Trapps look like a dysfunctional family in comparison. The parents and children joke together, laugh together, even perform elaborately choreographed, "spontaneous" song-and-dance numbers together (like many Bollywood productions, "Baghban" is a drama interspersed with a great number - in this case, far too great a number - of musical sequences).
Anyone who knows anything at all about storytelling is aware that such unadulterated bliss can not be allowed to go unpunished for long, and that all that joy is merely the prelude to some awful catastrophe destined to come crashing down on the heads of our unsuspecting revelers. Knowing this, we spend the first hour of the film in fearful expectation, wondering just what form that disaster will take when it does finally arrive. The thunderclap occurs about an hour into the film, when Raj announces to his children that he and their mother have decided to move in with one of their families, leaving the choice of which one it will be up to the kids and their respective spouses. Suddenly, like King Lear discovering the vipers hidden in the familial bosom, Raj finds out that his children are not quite as loving, selfless and eager to share their homes and lives with their parents as he had originally thought. Understandably horrified at the prospect, the kids, in order to foil their parents' plan, come up with a scheme in which Raj will go live with one of their children, while Pooja will live with another; then they will switch off until, eventually, each of the children has had a chance to host both parents and then the cycle will repeat itself ad infinitum. Much to the chagrin of the kids, the parents accede to the plan, even though the two are deeply in love with one another and have never spent any time apart. Thus, the second and most of the third hour are spent with the two aging (albeit married) lovers pining away for one another, while their ungrateful, insensitive little brats do everything in their power to make their parents understand how unwelcome they are in their homes.
One of the major problems with "Baghban" is that it lacks subtlety in both its storytelling and direction. The love that Ray and Pooja feel for one another, as well as the almost giddy closeness of the family unit, is laid on so thickly in the first hour that the film almost collapses under the weight of the sentimentality. Then, virtually without any warning, the screenplay turns on a dime and converts the kids into callous, self-centered monsters and the parents into passive, whiny victims of that callousness. Raj and Pooja are a little too long in the tooth and a little too self-reliant to be doing the dreamy-eyed, pouting, unrequited love bit, more appropriate to lovelorn school kids than the parents of four grown children. The purple prose style, in which every emotion is underlined and highlighted, leads to intense overacting and a heavy reliance on corny reaction shots and melodramatic music for punctuation. The musical numbers convey a certain liberating joy in the beginning, but they go on for so long and turn up so frequently that they quickly lose their effectiveness and serve only to pad out the material to unendurable proportions. At least a full hour could be excised from this bloated production with no discernible harm being done - and quite a bit of good. There really is no reason why this film needs to drag on for a punishing three hours. Most egregious of all is the seemingly endless harangue we are subjected to an the end, a speech in which Raj (who has somehow managed to turn his experiences into an award-winning bestseller) lectures us all on the verities of parent/child relationships for ten straight minutes at the very least.
"Baghban" is a sappy, corny saga, filled with more sugar and goo than a king-sized box of See's chocolates. Sample at your own risk.


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