These are strange times, cinematically speaking, for fans of Rajkummar Rao and cricket. In his last release, the biographical drama Srikanth, the actor played a visually-impaired man who gives up his cricketing prospects to pursue higher studies abroad. “Education is more important to me, not cricket,” he explained. As though to make amends, Rao returns, three weeks later, in Mr. and Mrs. Mahi, where he plays a cricket-crazed monomaniac named Mahendra. “For me, cricket is life; life is cricket,” he asserts. Mahendra clings on to cricket, even though cricket sails him by.
Sharan Sharma’s film opens in Jaipur in 2017, with Mahendra slogging in local club tournaments, jockeying for a spot on the state team. His father (an irate, on-point Kumud Mishra), who owns a sports shop, has given him an ultimatum to progress in his India-representing dream or join the family business. Mahendra comes close: maneuvering slyly and overzealously on the pitch but blowing it by a squeak. He is grounded for good, and, in due time, wedded to sweet, trusting Mahima (Janhvi Kapoor). She is a doctor who falls for his innate ‘honesty’, the second Janhvi Kapoor character in a row to marry injudiciously after Bawaal (2023).
Sharma directs the opening half-hour of Mr. and Mrs. Mahi with an unvarnished sweetness. Rao and Kapoor commit to the comedy of a newly married couple finding common ground; in addition to a shared nickname — Mahi — they discover they have a shared passion: cricket. They start attending games wearing matching No.7 jerseys (after former Indian skipper MS Dhoni, whose unembellished sporting philosophy ’process is more important than result’ apparently inspired this film). The song ‘Agar Ho Tum’ picks up, and Mahendra, for once, seems contented in his sad, uncherished life.
Yet this lightness soon evaporates as the film takes a markedly dramatic (and dark) turn. When Mahendra learns of his wife’s cricketing talents — she played gully cricket as a child but was forced to pursue medicine by her father — he pushes her to try again. He turns bossy and manipulative, convincing her she’s following her heart but secretly hoping to frame her success as his own. He coaches her successfully onto the state women’s team, in record time, yet turns rude and resentful when his name isn’t mentioned on TV by Mahima.
Mahendra, in this stretch, becomes a specimen of the sour, sulky, petulant Indian male. His thirst for fame and wider recognition ties him with Ajay Dixit, the image-obsessed sod played by Varun Dhawan in Bawaal. Mahendra’s sudden ill-treatment of his partner stems from his own inadequacy and sense of failure. He could not fulfil his dream, so he imposes it on his wife. “Was I just a seedhi (ladder) to you?” Mahima demands of her husband, in one of several blunt metaphors in the film.
Mr. & Mrs. Mahi (Hindi)
Sharma and co-writer Nikhil Mehrotra show interest in unpicking the personality of Mahendra, a jealous has-been struggling in his role as coach and cheerleader. The trouble is, having revealed its hero as petty and self-absorbed, the film sets him on a flat learning curve. Mahendra’s self-examination is traversed over the course of a single sad song and an improving speech by his mother. The film could have made its point better by focusing on Mahima’s individual growth, benching her sourpuss husband for a while. Instead, the sentimental scales are tipped towards weepy, repentant Mahendra.
It is difficult to concentrate on Mr. and Mrs Mahi without being constantly reminded of other films. There’s nary an idea, visual or soundtrack choice that feels particularly fresh. Early on, “Dekhha Tenu” from Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham is recycled — if it does not rest on its laurels once in a while, is it even a Dharma production? Mahendra has a successful brother his father dotes on, a cliché at least as old as Jo Jeeta Wohi Sikandar (the brother, indeed, is named Sikandar). Rajkummar Rao ran a small-town sports shop — though with evident enthusiasm — in Kai Po Che! (2013). Oh, and did I mention Bawaal?
The cricketing action in Mr. and Mrs. Mahi is nearly as forgettable as the combat sequences in Gunjan Saxena (2020). Kapoor, nine films old, struggles to access the requisite ease in performance, both on and off the pitch. Rao effectively sells the frustration and peevishness of a dunce like Mahendra. He is skilled with character psychology; as a romantic lead, however, he casts less of a spell. He soldiers on regardless, out there in the stands, trying to imbue some plausibility and heart into this ho-hum tale. He’s playing a one-man inning, and he knows it.
Mr. and Mrs. Mahi is currently in theatres
