Anyway, I don’t remember much of what happened in their lives in the first outing either. That’s the nature of the mumblecore genre—you remember moments and characters, not so much the plot, per se
A still from Fukrey 3
Fukrey 3
U/A: Comedy
Dir: Mrigdeep Singh Lamba
Cast: Varun Sharma, Richa Chadha, Pankaj Tripathi, Pulkit Samrat
Rating: 1.5/5
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It’s been a decade since we first saw the frickin’ Fukrey (2013), which had a sequel (2017), that I skipped. This is the third part. What’s happened in the interim to these Delhi dudes? This film does a clever job of a quick recap, through lyrics in the song, in its opening credits.
Anyway, I don’t remember much of what happened in their lives in the first outing either. That’s the nature of the mumblecore genre—you remember moments and characters, not so much the plot, per se.
Which, going back to my note to self, aka review, of the first part, I figure, was about four teenager-types (then), with one of them, who dreams up weird things at night, that hold the clue to a winning lottery number, the following day.
Together, they make pots of money from the supposedly illegal lottery trade. In turn, they get into a debt trap with Bholi Punjaban (Richa Chadha), a top racketeer in town. In the sequel, it seems, they got to own a departmental store, thanks to the Delhi chief minister.
None of which should matter, if you’re watching this trequel, which is essentially episodic entertainment. Only the characters, even the blockbuster song, Ambarsariya, remain the same.
Bholi, Hunny (Pulkit Samrat), Lali (Manjot Singh) are there, Ali Fazal isn’t, inimitable Pankaj Tripathi as Pandit Ji is the addition. The lead, in a real sense, is indisputably that funny boy, getting weird dreams, Choocha (Varun Sharma), who became a star of sorts with Fukrey.
Fukrey 3 is, likewise, rightly centred on Choocha, the freak of nature, doing his “choochiyapa”, continuing with his usual “deja chu”. Only, this time, having swallowed diamond, he literally pisses crude oil—that can fetch the blokes in this pic, a lot of petro dollars. No, I’m not kidding. The filmmakers are.
Choocha is also set to fight elections, opposite Bholi, his mad crush. They campaign among school kids for the elections, for some reason. Guessing the voting age has dropped. Choocha’s own mental age has stayed deliciously underdeveloped over the decade.
Varun Sharma’s done quite a few such roles since, including Dilwale (2015), with SRK. Notably, in the similarly titled bro-com, Chhichhore (2019), that became a smash hit. I asked Sharma, once, what’s the difference between Fukrey and Chhichhore? He said fukrey, who enter IIT, become chhichhore! Smart answer.
A fukra, if you must know, in desi slang, is a jobless rando—‘vaila’, if you may, which in my imagined etymology comes from ‘a-vaila-ble’!
The world the fukrey occupy, namely Jamnapaar/East Delhi—same setting as the dark, deranged Paatal Lok (2020)—makes for supple, everyday launda humour.
And you can’t fault the stars of this show. They seem up for it. Just that, as with so many mindless LOL movies, they seem full of gags that land, up until the first half, max.
Beyond which, the film falls off the ledge so deep, you start to care less and less, and get on your phone, eventually. If you’re casually watching this on a late-night OTT, with your feet up—you’ll simply doze off, and that’s great for your workday in the morning! What do I do in the theatre?
Make fan-culture notes, that I wasn’t so much into, a decade ago. So, I know Phool Kumari Sehgal (literally, virgin flower) is Bholi Punjaban’s real name; Dilip Singh is Choocha’s.
I learn about geopolitical issues—for instance, there exists a water tanker mafia in Delhi, as it does in Mumbai (shown in the film, Split Wide Open). Feel enlightened with the fact that the waste from the loo, on an airplane, get frozen into blue ice. And that booze is vegetarian, although eaten with stuff non-vegetarian!
Better still, watch blank expressions of the two African henchmen, who walk behind Phoolan. Or wait for a scene as arbitrary as people talking in long echoes about bhindi at a diamond mine in South Africa. No, it’s not supposed to make sense, I know.
Fukrey franchise is ideally the equivalent of the American ‘doobie’/stoner humour, about dudes, who are dodos. I’m not gonna complain much, since I walked in for ‘timepass’.
Timepass—stand-up comedian, Kanan Gill, best describes as a rare Indian English word—that’s both a verb/activity, and the review of that activity! Did I find the movie to be sufficiently ‘timepass’? No, but then—not gonna judge, if you do.
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