Overall, I enjoyed the film’s sarcastic and even silly/boisterous sense of humor. At times, I laughed out loud in the theater. I appreciated the subtle critique of professions/occupations that are normally identified as the ones that Indians should pursue, like financial trading or business. The poem that formed the theme of the story was thoughtful. It was also a pleasant surprise to see Deepti Naval on the silver screen after so many years. Her performance was brief, but incisive. The decision to have the song “seniorita” in the voice of the actors was a good one as well. Zoya Akthar also seemed to have a good grasp of the technique of filmmaking – an expectation that one does not always have from films made in Bombay.

But, this film, contrary to “Luck by Chance,” was not as thoughtfully constructed. Some scenes, like the long under water romantic encounter between Arjun and Laila (the snorkeling instructor whom the trio meets on their trip) could have been edited. The complexities underlying each of the three characters, and especially that of Arjun and Imran, were not adequately explored. The musical score and the lyrics are hackneyed. The acting was poor, with the exception of Kalki Koechlin who played the role of Natasha and perhaps, Farhan Akhtar who played the role of Imran. At this point, the promise of Abhay Deol is also well on its way of being lost in the glamour and family-business oriented, and not acting, “film” world of Bombay. Training or pursuit of knowledge and skill, a foreign concept in the present day Bombay industry particularly in the sphere of acting, will actually do him some good. Someone has to tell him though. Who will do that is the question in an industry where the art of acting is presumed to flow through the blood. Hritik Roshan, or Arjun as his character is called, is a joy to watch as a dancer. With his dance, he certainly whisked me away to a spiritual plane. As an actor, however, he leaves much to be desired.

In spite of these complaints, the reality is that I am unable to push the film out of the realm of my immediate consciousness. Similar to other films of the genre, this one too raised several questions. In fact, I found myself talking about it with the friend who accompanied me to see the film. We discussed it on our way out of the theater, in the car and for a shortwhile, at my doorsteps. This conversation though should not be seen as a sign of our deep appreciation of the film. For me, it was motivated by another strong emotion – disturbance. Primarily, I was disturbed by the whole hearted acceptance of a certain definition of progress as it was reflected in the aesthetic arrangement of the film. It reinforced an Eurocentric definition of beauty, including light-skin, or maybe even lightened skin, of the actors and actresses. To my own chagrin, it was only as the last song played along with the rolling of the credits, it occurred to me that I had come to see an Indian film. Instead, what I saw were “white” people. In that regard, “zindagi na milegi dobara” is actually not unique. Nonetheless, it was disturbing and of course, I was especially disturbed by my own “almost” absorption of these normal ideas of what Indian lives should look like. Moreover, the strong and pervasive hetero-normativity, exclusive of any space for homo-eroticism that was given in Bombay films of yester years , saddened me. Another problematic dimension of the film was the presentation of three extremely privileged individuals’ “identity crisis” as an Indian story. The youthful struggles of “rich people” are by no means uniformly experienced across the classes in India. The struggles of Kabir, Imran and Arjun are struggles of “global Indians,” i.e. the kind of people for whom switching nations, jobs, and lifestyles without far-reaching material consequences are as easy as breathing. It is a quality of breath that most people in India are excluded from drawing. Exoticization of Europe, as my friend remarked, was also rather interesting to note. That, to me, is indicative of the class background of the people who made this film, and others like this one. Quite possibly, they are not filmmakers in the true sense, but a group of privileged Indians who experience the glamorous side of Europe, ignorant of the existence of countless “others” in India and Europe who make their glamour possible. Consequently, as wealthy individuals and particularly, as people who generally lack awareness of the depths of their craft, they lack the critical insight that comes with a life-long thirst and pursuit of knowledge.

In the spirit of self-reflexivity, I ask myself the following question: Am I not privileged? Yes, I am. It may not be on the same level as those represented in the film or those making this film (behind the scenes and in front of it), but I have resources at my disposal that those ranked lower than me on the social hierarchy do not. Or else, I would not be able to share my reflections on the film, that too in the English language. For my own sake, I only hope that I am able to stay away from an uncritical acceptance of my privilege and other social norms that support inequality.

Is “zindagi na milegi dobara” a bad film? No, not at all. I actually encourage others to see this film. At the same time, I also strongly suggest that the audience views it with a critical eye that allows them to envision a world that is at least more inclusive than the one depicted in the film and of course, the one in which we live now.

Diditi Mitra teaches Sociology at Brookdale Community College. She is also a Kathak dancer and a member of Courtyard Dancers.