Review: Rajkummar Rao, Janhvi Kapoor Try Their Best To Keep Mr & Mrs Mahi Afloat

The reason why so many sports films seem to work is because we love watching an underdog win; it reinstates the belief that failure isn’t permanent. The reason why relationship dramas tend to work is because they’re relatable – no person is an island, of course. Both these genres end up becoming deeply personal even though you wouldn’t expect it from the former.

That is probably why watching the initial premise of Mr & Mrs Mahi shape up on screen can feel comforting; exciting even.

Mahendra (Rajkummar Rao) screwed up his shot at fulfilling his dream. His dream feels two-fold – he wanted to become a successful cricketer and play for India and he wanted his father’s respect. The way the film uses ‘language’ in the relationship between father and son is interesting because Mahendra constantly talks about getting his father’s (Kumud Mishra) respect but never his ‘affection’. It feels like too lofty a goal even for him.

It is a study of masculinity – both the Mahis are infantilised by their fathers for ambitions they saw for them. Mahendra’s identity is tied to his need for success and his father’s approval. Mahima has rarely put up a fight and tends to often look at the people around her for approval.

Mahendra believes he’s never achieved anything in life and will never know joy again….until he meets Mahima (Janhvi Kapoor).

­Considering today’s dating landscape, it’s not surprising that Mahima is swayed by the fact that Mahendra seems like an honest person. Mr & Mrs Mahi, from the outside looks like Ghoomer meets Hrishikesh Mukherjee’s Abhimaan which should indicate that this is a film trying to tell both a sports story and a relationship story. Regretfully, a weak screenplay means that both attempts seem to falter a bit.

While the film’s first half is Rajkummar Rao at his best (the brilliant actor that he is), the second half becomes Janhvi Kapoor’s pitch. When the film finally taps into some of its emotions, Kapoor’s performance as someone finally seeing the world through her eyes is affecting. Like beloved scream queens in Hollywood, Kapoor seems to have perfected the art of crying on screen.

Even as a player, Kapoor's form is believable - the effort into looking and performing as a sportsperson is evident.

Mahendra is a pitiful man, or perhaps he is written that way, but one with his spirit hidden under layers of resignation. Rao captures that dichotomy perfectly. When the grief finally morphs into pent up rage, the almost slow-burn transformation is brilliant.

In one particular scene (probably my favourite), both the Mahis get some good news. While Mahendra celebrates, Mahima looks unsure, only to start smiling when she borrows the joy from her husband. It’s one of those instances where it feels like the screenplay (written by Sharan Sharma and Nikhil Mehrotra) understands their characters.

This understanding, however, is extended more to Mahendra than it is to Mahima, which isn’t great because the story sets you up to be more invested in Mahima’s arc.

However, this is when things start to get dicey. When you finally expect something new to happen, the screenplay lets you down. You’re left wondering – what is there that I can’t predict? In fact, a couple of people sitting next to me in the theatre started predicting dialogues at one point (don’t do that by the way, it was immensely annoying).

The dialogues, too, are too corny to feel real. Why, in Mahima’s success story, does Mahendra get a Baahubali-esque introduction (even if off-screen)? The film seems to be a journey to Mahendra understanding that Mahima’s success is her own more than it is a success of his attempts to live vicariously through her. But towards the end, you’re left wondering if that actually translated.

While the film’s first half sets up everything well, the pacing feels rather slow and while the pacing in the second half picks up, the scenes begin to feel rather episodic. One thing happens after another because it’s supposed to, not because it naturally would. A coach becomes famous right after Mahendra tells him he won’t?

The issue here is a tonal one – it is possible to have two protagonists but that is a decision that needs to consciously be made. For instance, in the sitcom Superstore, both Jonah and Amy come off as protagonists because of the intuitive writing. Here, Mahendra and Mahima seem to be fighting for the coveted protagonist role and it feels like a disservice to their talent. The only thing that helps is that their chemistry isn’t disappointing. Both Kapoor and Rao seem to be having fun with their characters and each other – the scene where they awkwardly separate after celebrating a win is adorable.

Mr & Mrs Mahi isn’t a ‘bad film’ – it is rather enjoyable in bits despite its predictability. It just feels incomplete. This might be the rare instance where a film would’ve benefited from a longer screen time to let the audience actually understand ‘Mr & Mrs Mahi’ because they both seemed like people who would benefit from some understanding, some grace.

Mr & Mrs Mahi is a film that leaves you speechless because it doesn’t give you much to talk about.