THIS week marking the 17-year anniversary of Lage Raho Munnabhai, is a perfect time to point out that the movie is a lot better than you might remember and one of the greatest comedies ever made.
The satirical comedy-drama released on September 1, 2006, was a follow up to the hugely successful 2003 film Munnabhai MBBS, so had to be really good to avoid inevitable comparisons and writer/director Raj Kumar Hirani realised this very early on.
After making a stunning directorial debut in the story of a streetwise gangster going back to school to become a doctor, he needed a brand new story, which would once again combine comedy with an important social message. The initial plan was to make a story based around lawyers, but Hirani realised that it wasn’t a strong enough concept and would just be a legal version of the medical theme tackled in part one.
The filmmaker, who would go on to have a 100 per cent hit rate with blockbusters 3 Idiots, PK and Sanju, had the inspired decision of incorporating Mahatma Gandhi and the universal messages of humanity he stood for into the plot.
Ace director Hirani took everything he learned in Munna Bhai MBBS and added more layers to the stunning sequel. This time around, the street-smart hoodlum and his sidekick Circuit have a different set of circumstances to deal with and do so in a way that hadn’t been seen in Hindi cinema before.
After falling in love with a radio host, Murliprasad Sharma, alias Munna Bhai, cheats in a competition to meet her by pretending to be a Mahatma Gandhi expert. When she asks him to deliver a lecture, he learns about the late great leader and starts seeing speaking visions of him. What follows is him trying to solve people’s problems and an old people’s home, with the help of the Gandhi apparition only he can see and speak to. This resulted in a fabulous feel-good movie, which seamlessly mixed up comical moments with important thought-provoking social messages.
Unlike other films, it wasn’t preachy, and gifted nuggets of wisdom, which remained with audiences long after the end credits rolled.
Like Munna Bhai MBBS, it puts across enlightening messages of human goodness, but also went beyond that with added layers of love, kindness, tolerance and sacrifice for the greater good. It showed that many of Gandhi’s teaching of peaceful struggle remain relevant today. There have been countless films, TV shows, books, theatre plays and more about Mahatma Gandhi, but none have had the originality or accessibility of Lage Raho Munna Bhai.
The beautifully written contemporary film crossed different time periods, by connecting with ideologies from decades gone by. This, along with characters, which range from younger protagonists to those living in an old people’s home, gave this movie the kind of cross-generational appeal that few films have.
Such was the impact of the central themes that there was a renewed interest in Mahatma Gandhi, which is something that many biopics were unable to do. The movie also revived the idea of peaceful protests, which grew in the years that followed the release of this movie. There were reports that everyone from a mafia don to farmers, students, politicians, and green peace activists were inspired by the movie to make a positive change, such was the impact of the brilliant writing. An illustration of how powerful this movie’s central message of non-violence was is illustrated by it becoming the first Hindi movie to be screened at the UN. There were also screenings at universities around the world, including Harvard Law School, and at the 2007 Cannes Film Festival as part of the Tous Les Cinema du Monde section.
Although the Gandhi style goodness was the heartbeat of this movie, there was so much more. Sanjay Dutt and Arshad Warsi once again delivered masterful performances as the kind-hearted hoodlums, which consolidated the characters’ positions as modern day movie icons.
The brilliant supporting cast included newcomer Vidya Balan, in only her second film, showing quite comprehensively she had star potential – it would carry her towards a massively successful career. Boman Irani returned with another unique antagonist character.
The music may have perhaps been the film’s weakest element, but Lage Raho Munna Bhai still has the timeless romantic number Pal Pal Har Pal, which would equally be at home in 1953 or 2023, and the rousing anthem Bande Mein Tha Dum Vande Mataram.
Apart from the high entertainment value, the movie had many memorable scenes from start to finish, like the two male protagonists having a heart to heart in the toilets. There are many more that have a lasting impact. Whether it was his advice to a young man who has lost his father’s money or an individual dealing with a neighbour spitting on his doorstep, there were moments that had important life lessons for everyone.
It put across the message of taking the difficult path in a 21st-century era where people are looking for shortcuts, which is more relevant than ever in a social media driven 2023.
Another aspect of the movie that can’t be underestimated is that it was a great sequel. That is remarkable in an industry that doesn’t do sequels well.
Last, but not the least, the sequel was so good that the planned third instalment didn’t happen because they couldn’t match the all-round brilliance of a film that made everyone want to do the right thing.
The actor’s evolving style from youth to maturity getty images
Aamir Khan embracing vintage looks with classic charmgetty images
Bold and dramatic changes defining Aamir Khan’s careergetty images
From rugged to refined Aamir Khan’s versatile appearancesgetty images
Memorable film moments showcasing Aamir Khan’s unique stylegetty images
Aamir Khan’s blend of classic and contemporary fashiongetty images
Aamir Khan’s dedication to authentic character portrayals getty images
Cinematic milestones reflected in Aamir Khan’s on-screen imagegetty images
A seated Jain enlightened teacherAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
Ganesha from JavaAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
A Chinese silk painting depicting the BuddhaAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
ArdhanarishvaraAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
Head of a grimacing yakshaAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
NagaAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
The Bimaran casketAshmolean Museum, University of Oxford
Hunia Chawla
A still from rehearsal
Them performing liveNajmuddin Saifuddin Qawwal Group
The cast of Marriage Material in key moments from the play, including Avita Jay, Kiran Landa, Omar Malik, Irfan Shamji and Anoushka Deshmukh
Sathnam Sanghera’s 'Marriage Material' adapted into bold new play on conformity
The play Marriage Material at the Lyric Hammersmith Theatre is Gurpreet Kaur Bhatti’s adaptation of Sathnam Sanghera’s novel of the same name, which first came out in 2013.
She is lucky to have Iqbal Khan direct Marriage Material. The play, a co-production with the Birmingham Rep, is set in the late 1960s. Mr and Mrs Bains (played by Jaz Singh Deol and Avita Jay) run a corner shop in Wolverhampton. Their younger daughter, Surinder (Anoushka Deshmukh), is 16, her sister Kamaljit (Kiran Landa) is just a bit older.
They have a neighbour, Patwant Dhanda (Irfan Shamji), who, as we shall soon see, is not a very pleasant man. In fact, he comes across just as racist as Enoch Powell, who represented Wolverhampton South West for the Tories from 1950 to 1974.
It will be recalled this was a time when Sikhs working on the buses were told they couldn’t wear a turban. That was a hard-fought battle that had to be won.
The Bains, meanwhile, simply want to get their girls married off.
Nothing new here, I thought.
What makes the tale different is that the plot twists and turns down the generations. Mr Dhanda, who has the makings of a paedophile, makes a pitch for one of the girls when Mr Bains dies early in the play. “A life with no man in the house is no life,” he informs the newly widowed Mrs Bains.
Mr Dhanda has a wife but she has returned to India so he considers himself to be a free man.
Surinder’s English teacher from school, Miss Flanagan (Celeste Dodwell), who is also head of the fifth form, tells Mrs Bains about her daughter: “I don’t want to embarrass you, but she is bright. Ridiculously bright.”
She adds: “Mrs Bains, I think it would be a pity if Surinder didn’t stay on at school.” The initial response from Mrs Bains is not encouraging: “Too much education makes people’s brains get mixed up, they don’t sleep at night…”
But she is finally persuaded that Surinder should be allowed to stay on for a while longer before being married off.
Mr Bains was very old school. When Surinder confides she would one day like to be “a somebody”, he is amused that “my daughter wants to be a somebody”.
“Like you,” she tells her father.
Mr Bains consoles his daughter: “We will find a somebody for you to marry.”
At the point of a possible marriage, however, Surinder is sweet-talked by chocolate salesman Jim Wilson (Tommy Belshaw) into running away with him. They share a love of literature, and he calls her “Sue Bains”. But the relationship does not end well.
Once she has left, Surinder is written off as “dead” by her family. The story that is circulated is that she was only 16 when she was killed in a car crash. That’s better than to let on that she ran off with a white man.
By the time she is reconciled with her sister towards the end of the play, a great deal has changed. Kamaljit married Tanvir Banga (Omar Malik), a young man who helped out in the Bains’ corner shop. When the two sisters meet again, Tanvir has also died. But he and Kamaljit had a son, Arjan Banga (Jaz Singh Deol doubles up for this role after the death of Mr Bains). He has come home after his father’s death to help his mother who is still running the family corner shop.
Meanwhile, Mr Dhanda’s business has prospered. He now has a son, Ranjit Dhanda (the role is taken by Omar Malik after Tanvir’s death), and he is nearly as unpleasant as his father.
Arjan has an English fiancée, Claire (Celeste Dodwell). In London, Arjan worked as a creative director. But after deciding to stay in Wolverhampton to help his mother, he decides he cannot marry Claire because she is white. In other words, Asians are not free of racism, either. Happily, at the end, the couple are reconciled.
As for Surinder, she parted company with Jim Wilson after realising he was all talk, depended on her for money and had failed to earn a penny from his literary pretensions. She had prospered, though, as a hotel owner and had been transformed in time into a well-groomed businesswoman. After being tracked down by Arjan, she decides to return to her roots in Wolverhampton and help Kamaljit run the family corner shop. Perhaps 50 years had passed during the passage of the play.
Being subjected to racism turned some Asians into racists themselves. The word goreh (white person) is repeatedly spat out with venom. Maybe it is worth remembering the play’s audience isn’t exclusively Asian – white folk are watching as well. And maybe some of the toilet humour ridiculing white people, which always makes me cringe, could be cut out.
In Sanghera’s novel, there is a quote from Enoch Powell’s speech in November 1968: “The West Indian or Asian does not, by being born in England, become an Englishman. In law he becomes a United Kingdom citizen by birth; in fact, he is a west Indian or an Asian still... he will by the very nature of things have lost one country without gaining another, lost one nationality without acquiring a new one. Time is running out against us and them. With the lapse of a generation or so we shall at last have succeeded – to the benefit of nobody – in reproducing ‘in England’s green and pleasant land’ the haunting tragedy of the US.”
In Marriage Material, where the acting is marvellous (apart from Mr Dhanda’s Indian mannerisms and accent being overdone) we do travel across a couple of generations.
There is a scene when Tanvir rejects Mr Dhanda’s vision of creating a little Punjab in Wolverhampton.
Mr Dhanda wants to take over the Bains’ corner shop and is putting pressure on Tanvir to sign the papers. He says: “In this country, money is the path to freedom.”
“Sign, please,” he instructs Tanvir. “We must make sure our children learn to behave nicely, according to our rules.”
He insists: “We maintain our identity so we can be ourselves.”
Tanvir disagrees: “We can be us here. With the goreh.”
Dhanda warns him: “Then we will be inviting chaos.”
Tanvir’s comment is telling: “You sound like Enoch.”
Kamaljit, who is expecting a baby with her husband Tanvir, says: “I would like my child to grow up knowing the history of the Gurus and to read the Granth Sahib. And to love their culture.”
Tanvir tells his wife: “I would like my child to go to the finest schools, to cheer for England in the World Cup and eat Yorkshire pudding on a Sunday.”
Kamaljit sets out a dream that has perhaps come to pass with many third and fourth generation British Asians: “Maybe our child can do both.” Much, much later, in a throwback to the past, we learn of Surinder’s O-level results: “Biology A, Chemistry A, English Language A, English Literature A, French A, History B, Latin A, Mathematics A, Physics A…”
Kamaljit tells her younger sister: “Never mind about the B.”
And that is quintessentially Asian. Their acting is outstanding.
Marriage Material is at the Lyric Hammersmith Theatre until June 21, and at the Birmingham Rep from June 25-July 5