Baazaar Review - Stock Market Closed.

It’d be rather hard to categorize Baazaar into a genre. Some films fit the horror mark and some are flat-out comedies. Baazaar aims to be a fast-paced slick thriller on the big bad world of the stock market, but is so run-of-the-mill, that you can predict the twists and turns from a mile away. It starts out off smooth enough, but slowly dissipates into a blubbering mess, ultimately transforming into an implausibly bad film. There are big names here too. Leading the cast is Saif Ali Khan, whose blue-blood attitude precedes him. Shakun Kothari, the so called ‘czar of the baazaar’, is despicable but Saif, resplendent with that prominent white streak running through his hair, charges this ornate character with a rousing menace.

Then, there’s Chitragada Singh, who doesn’t really get to do much here. She’s in gorgeous clothes throughout the film’s runtime and is always pouting, but Mandira never really springs to life. We’re expected to believe that she has no problem with her husband’s repeated infidelity and their relationship lacks the spark of another older wealthy couple, Kamal and Neelam from Dil Dhadakne Do (2015). There is no layering here, just some superficial jargon. There’s also Radhika Apte. She gets a little more to do, but it’s nothing we haven’t seen before. For the most part, she’s eye candy for Rizwan Ahmed (debutante Rohan Mehra) who’s the new kid on the stock block.

He’s sharp, quick and never fails to pull the ‘small town mentality’ line on these rich folks. I don’t know how many times the movies are going to rip off Shakespeare’s original idea of Macbeth usurping the throne and backstabbing a man that was his mentor and leader – but with Baazaar, it’s not only uninspired when Rizwan and Shakun play these roles, it’s infuriating and convoluted. Debutante director Gauravv K. Chawla wants his characters to be menacingly sexy, but there’s just too much posturing on one side and too much righteousness on the other for us to wholly invest in any of these characters.

The screenplay, written by Nikkhil Advani, Parweez Sheikh and Aseem Arora, goes awry far too quickly. While Saif does salvage many of his scenes, the dialogues are tired, repetitive and labored. I get that the stock market lends itself to Indian cinema so beautifully. There’s technology, numbers, betrayal and calculation involved. But, there is just nothing here that you haven’t already seen; and trust me, you’ve seen it done better. Other than one masterful scene at a religious ceremony where Shakun destroys a mogul, Baazaar rips off its predecessors – Wall Street and The Wolf of Wall Street.

There, Leonardo DiCaprio was an effervescent, brimming young chap with dollops of wit. Rohan constantly breaks the fourth wall to talk to the audience, and Rizwan is such a one-dimensional cardboard cutout, that he just ceases to matter, once the red eyes and the tears get exhausted. But, I’ll admit, the first half is fun and well paced. There’s a lovely scene where Saif teaches his daughters, settling the age-old debate as to which superhero is better – Batman or Superman. Theirs is the only emotional track in the film and while there are some sweet moments, they’re fleeting. The music by Tanishk Bagchi is just annoying, especially that damn Kem Cho song that just pops up at unexpected moments.

In the second half, however, Baazaar just becomes unintentionally funny. There’s a stock cop, played by a hilariously incompetent Manish Chaudhary, who is closely observing each and every one of Shakun’s moves. His track is so erratic that he disappears for most of the film and we only get to see him during song montages and the ‘rousing’ climax of the film, where Mandira (?) comes into her own. Baazaar, if anything, is lavishly produced jargon. There’s not much to appreciate here. Actually, there’s one thing.

Saif Ali Khan is just brilliant in his new avatar. He has a knack for villainous roles, be it in Omkara or Rangoon. But Shakun is so deliciously despicable that you envy his rich lifestyle. Saif is hobbled with a ridiculous side-track involving how you should never forget your roots, that invariably ties into the climax, but he pushes through. In crisply tailored suits, Shakun steals the scene every time he’s on screen. Saif owns him and there was a little part of me that wanted Shakun’s life.

But, Baazaar is just twisty nonsense. There’s no logic here. In the beginning, it’s the story of an Allahabadi son’s betrayal, then it becomes a job-hunt story, for one dialogue, it even becomes a terrorist drama about how Muslims are treated in this country, then it becomes the protégé-mentor story, and culminates into a cautionary tale about how small town boys should stay within the comforts of their Allahabadi throws – and never invest in the stock market.

If I had to take cue from this film and give you some advice, don’t invest your time in this relentless jargon of a film.