De De Pyaar De is a misogynistic film.

Warning: Spoilers ahead.

Reviewing Luv Ranjan’s cinema, I’ve come to realise, is an exercise riddled in an abundance of futility. My reviews, always on the negative side, are always filled with words like ‘misogyny’, ’meninism’ and ‘misleading propaganda’. The three M’s this man clearly doesn’t seem to comprehend or luv. That was a bad pun. But I refuse to review his newest offering, directed by Akiv Ali (editor of Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani and Barfi) is riddled in ageist, sexist and a new offering - anti-#MeToo sentiments. The presence of Alok Nath, an accused rapist, is just salt in the wound, but seeing the jokes on display, is par for the course.

It stars Rakul Preet Singh and Tabu as two hapless vamps, who traipse around in designer clothes, falling all over a severely uninterested Ajay Devgn. Singh is introduced as a stripper, whose cusses like ‘fuck’ and ‘ch*tiya’ are redacted from the script as if taking cue from Ranjan’s own redaction of the words ‘equality’ and ‘consent’ (and others in that same direction). Tabu, a once-fine actor, giving her career best performance in last year’s spectacular Andhadhun, is severely bored and boring here. Her character, Manju, owns a line of villas that make one reminisce of how an NRI would imagine a Buddhist retreat in India.

Speaking of NRI, Devgn plays a male pedophile (this script is far too mature for that) modernist, Ashish, who as a 50-year old, fraternises with children who look the age of his real life children, dabbling in petty feuds related to infidelity (which this film also gives its two cents on!). Ashish protects his friend when his girlfriend finds him getting comfortable with a sex worker. He argues that because his friend didn’t get hard, he was faithful. A perfect analogy. But the drama really takes a turn for the worse, when Ranjan and co-writer Tarun Jain attempt to inject this narrative with ‘emotion’. We get a five minute or so sidetrack where Ayesha (Singh) is ‘shocked’, because her significant other doesn’t want children, he’s not about that life anymore. It’s useless, throwaway moments like these where Ranjan and Jain falter. There’s this one absurd sidetrack, involving a horrible Javed Jaffrey as a psychologist (side note: when will Bollywood start portraying mental health seriously?). The character he plays, Dr. Samir is so horribly sexist. He keeps insinuating at regular intervals that young, hot women only lust for men like Ashish for money - ‘they’re all gold diggers.' This prompts Devgn to say, “Are you being a misogynist? Aurat ka apmaan kar raha hai?” The hall I was in burst out laughing. My sentiments exactly.

The intermission twist is inspired, no doubt. When Ashish takes Ayesha home to meet his ex-wife, Manju (Tabu) and her two supremely-annoying children, Ishika and Ishaan, he introduces her as his secretary. Manju laughs cattily. The lights come back on, and audiences around me laugh breathlessly, repeating, ‘She’s my secretary! She’s my secretary!’ But, the film till then doesn’t reduce women to objects. The frame is mostly sans Alok Nath (accused rapist), which makes it a little more bearable. The misogyny isn’t rampant. But then, we reach the godforsaken second half.

Do you remember the climax of Sonu Ke Titu Ki Sweety? Heartthrob Kartik Aaryan, Sunny Singh (who also has a supremely unfunny cameo in this film), Alok Nath (accused rapist) and Virendra Saxena sat in a pool throwing back drinks, and said, “Upar wale ne acchi ladki hi banana band kar liya! (The lord above has ceased to make ‘perfect women’!)” I rolled my eyes in shame then, as the audience around me hooted in 2018. I rolled my eyes again in 2019, when the climactic twist involves infidelity.

Yes. Devgn, who has till now, already had one Singham interlude (Mann bhanwar uthe, tan sihar uthe, jab khabar uthe ke, aave Singham), turns male-righteousness on us once again. He cheats on his new showpiece girlfriend with his old wife (is this supposed to be Ranjan’s groundbreaking subversion of the same films he’s made where bimbos simper around, soaked in skimpy dresses and high-pitched laughs?). Ayesha leaves in frustration, but his ex-wife, Manju (Tabu) justifies it. She says, ‘He owed me one night.’ The hall burst out in eruption, cheering and hooting on Tabu.

To sum it up, De De Pyaar De pissed me off. It’s supremely sexist, as a man I say that, it’s ageist as hell (reducing men and women to khataare gaadi, taking a cue from the David Dhawan school of filmmaking) and propagates misogyny like how (there’s some allusion to female breasts being like airbags, sagging all the time). It’s written and directed horribly, can’t stand as a piece of art, let alone a consciously made look at relationships.

It was so horribly sexist that it even prompted me to say, “Are you being a misogynist? Aurat ka apmaan kar rahe hai?!” I could hear Ranjan burst out in laughter. The Singham theme song played in the back.

Oh, the irony.