Tumhari Sulu: Vidya Balan never drops the lemon
Sulochana (Vidya Balan) never finished high school, but amongst her many
other achievements are winning a sad song contest, dance competitions, lemon
and spoon races, and imitating Sridevi and Hema Malini. Her twin sisters,
identically critical of her every endeavor, and a cranky old father regurgitate
her failures and taunt her for not having a
degree or job. But like the puris
she fries for her husband Ashok and precocious son Pranav, Sulu’s optimism
helps her rise to the opportunity when it comes, turning from sari wali Bhabhi, to sultry late night
RJ in the blink of an eye. However, her newfound fame and financial
independence affects old equations at home, and in addition to her already
belittling sisters, Sulu has to suddenly contend with an insecure husband and
an errant son.
Played with remarkable nuance and restraint by Manav Kaul, Ashok is the
antithesis of what Sridevi’s husband was in English Vinglish. He is good
hearted, supportive, romantic, and completely willing to bask in Sulu’s more incandescent
warmth and personality. Though the film never says so, it’s clear that he too
is not very highly educated or ambitious. He has a dead-end job where rather
poetically he supervises men who have a foot in their grave. Yet he goes
everyday, gives the company head his pills, sorts out skirmishes, and lives in
the shadow of Sulu’s more illustrious family. But he doesn’t mind, because to
Sulu, he is special, worthy of love and a partner in all her adventures.
He massages her legs, she douses him with water and wipes him down like
a child when he comes home drunk, and no matter what their issues, he wakes up
with an arm wrapped around her, afraid to lose her to a world where she is not
a failure or mediocre anymore. A world that scares him with its English
speaking shiny people, who are so different from the comfortably humdrum rhythm
of their lives.
Sulu and Ashok are underdogs but never pathetic or desirous of our
sympathy. Instead their home and marriage envelopes you with its warmth, and a
longing for the days your mother hauled you out bed and sent you packing to
school.
It would have been great to see more of Sulu at work, actually tackle
real work issues, manage office politics, write her script and have a
professional graph that was more believable. Perhaps also avoidable was the
whole angle of the kid being bullied at school which didn’t really flow
organically with the active story of a housewife turning RJ and what happens
next. Inspite of these niggles, and the sudden shift to heightened emotional
drama in the second half, Tumhari Sulu keeps you engaged. Much of that credit
should go its cast, who breathe life into a script that is paced unevenly but
has its heart in the right place.
Vidya Balan is absolutely delightful as Sulochana. Like that lemon on
the spoon, Vidya balances the many aspects of Sulu’s personality, imbuing what
would have otherwise been a minor Bhabhi character with chutzpah, sexiness,
vulnerability and valour. She respects Sulu for who she is, flawed but fun, flirtatious
but fragile. Emotions flit on and off her face like clouds passing in the sky,
and her throaty, uninhibited laughter stays with you long after the movie is
over. She is not conscious at all about the hare brained stuff Sulu’s character
brings with it, whether its chatting with a pigeon, ordering a broom (in a
sultry voice that had me in stiches), saying ballma like Sridevi, or gapping away about her many contest wins. This
might be one of her finest performances, one that other actors should watch and
learn from. Special credit to director Suresh Triveni and the writers for creating
such a fantastic story from an intriguing but wafer thin plot. It’s so refreshing
to see comedy that is witty, well written and nuanced. See Rohit Shetty, we don’t
need to yell into the camera, stutter, lisp or blow up cars to create great
cinema. It’s possible!
Go watch Tumhari Sulu if you haven’t already. Good cinema like this
needs all the encouragement that’s possible.
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