Scene 1: 10:50 a.m. It’s swelteringly hot where I stand, outside the only cineplex in town showing Karan Johar’s much anticipated film Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna. I stand at the gate, muttering curses to myself and bearing the heat, waiting for the ticket counter to open. I look around myself. There are many families- Grannies, Grandpas, Mummies, Daddies and whining kids- all in tow, lots of guys and yet more giggly girls, all of whom I imagine, would have their noses buried in their handkerchiefs halfway through the film, sobbing as uncontrollably as they are laughing right now.

Most of the people around me complain about how they have been trying to see the film for days in vain. Which means KANK is in demand. And which is why I stand like an idiot in a huge crowd of eager faces, waiting here 40 minutes before the counter actually opens. As time ticks past, I gear up to face the music and chaos that will inevitably prevail once the counter opens.

Scene 2: 11:30 a.m. I am still standing, though now in a more athletic position, ready to sprint through the gates. In a minute, the gates swing open- and before you can say Shahrukh Khan, there is a long queue before the counter. I am third in line, feeling quite heroic as all my schoolmates struggle to hand me their money, so that I can get them tickets. I become a hero, their ultimate beacon of hope, if only for some minutes. After much pulling and pushing, I emerge triumphant; a huge grin pasted on my face, with 4 tickets in hand- much to the chagrin of 11 of the 14 boys who gave me their money.

(Some time later)

Scene 3: Armed with packets of chips, popcorn and er, pepsicide- we enter the hall. The cool air from the AC greets us, as we find our seats and finally get to sit. The CFBC certificate appears on screen, and written on it in huge, black letters is Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna- U/A. Whew.

Scene 4: Intermission. Myth shattered. This film is not primarily about infidelity. Nor is it all about loving your loving, as Ramgopal Varma would have us believe. Instead, the logic of the film goes something like this: God creates a special person- a soul mate for each of us to live our lives with- happily ever after, I presume.

So, what if you don’t try to look for your true life partner and instead, go for an arranged marriage or tie the knot with your best friend? You bump into your soul mate walking in the streets of New York or maybe even New Delhi and then have an extramarital affair, stupid. Which obviously means many hearts broken, lots of tears spilt. I shudder at the thought- going by that, half the nation would be having extramarital flings.

Maybe that is why Karan hasn’t married yet. He’s patiently waiting for the umm, right person.

(Some years- sorry- hours later)

Scene 6: Finally, The End. After a second half that seemingly spans ages, the moment of truth arrives. Is this the new, improved Karan Johar? Yes, and no. The subject matter is a marked departure from Karan’s earlier films, but the style- for most of the film- remains true-blue trademark Johar. So here, instead of K3G’s cricket match, we have soccer star Dev Saran scoring the winning goal for his team- tattoo on arm, a la Beckham. Huge houses, designer clothes, fancy parties, glitz, glamour, discotheques, the works- name it and it’s there.

KANK’s look is a vast improvement from the rich, but somewhat gaudy looking K3G. The flamboyance is there, albeit with more visual finesse. New York looks gorgeous, as do the lead characters, but much of the credit for that must go to veteran cinematographer Anil Mehta who as always, does a great job here. The sleek picturization and choreography add some spice to Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy’s otherwise unexceptional songs.

Dev Saran is introduced to us as your typical SRK character- a smart, young, charming guy- always ready to help damsels in distress or provide brides with pre-marriage counseling. An accident and ‘3 years later’, he turns into a wimp with a limp- a grumpy, eccentric man, too busy cursing the whole world to care about anything else. Probably Johar’s idea of character growth- but the metamorphosis comes across as forced and superficial. After his brilliant turns in Swades and Paheli, it pains to see SRK here, hamming it big time- quivering lip, fake anger- all in place. In what could have been a compelling character, he chooses not to get into the skin of the character but to get under our skin, instead.

Half the budget of this film surely must have gone in buying glycerine. Rani Mukherji literally sheds tears by the gallon, crying through most her scenes. Walking, talking, fighting, singing or even making love, she sobs incessantly, though always remaining pretty as a picture. Even after her Sex and the City style kinkily comic sequence- which scared me out of my wits- she breaks into tears. She tries hard, but even Mukherji can’t salvage this weepy waif of a woman.

Preity Zinta gets a bit of a raw deal here- her Rhea Saran is not exactly the meatiest of roles. And her acting- often off-colour- makes one wonder if she was missing Ness Wadia a tad too much. However, to her credit, she makes the character believable, avoiding playing a vampish caricature. And she looks absolutely stunning, by the way.

What actually makes KANK rock and roll is the Bachchans- AB and junior are the only ones here who actually seem to be having a blast. Amitabh gives a roaring performance as ‘Sexy Sam’ aka Samarjit Talwar, as he delivers saucy lines and sentimental speeches with equal ease. A special mention goes to Kirron Kher, who inevitably brings a warm smile to our faces.

But the real star here is, without a doubt, Abhishek Bachchan. It is great to see him grow and improve with every film that he does, and KANK is no exception. He gives a sharp, nuanced and well balanced performance- walking the tightrope between high drama and restraint. His Rishi ends up being the only character of the four leads that you can feel for and relate to.

KANK is without doubt, heavily flawed. The naivety that endeared in Kuch Kuch Hota Hai grates here. The characters aren’t properly fleshed out, and we never know the reason behind their often weird behaviour, especially when it comes to the lead pair. The script is ridden with inconsistencies and ‘coincidences’ (Someone actually suggested that the film should have been called Ittefaq instead), which is actually no coincidence since it is a certain Ms Shibani Bhatija who has co- written the script. It’s nice to have a comic track to lighten things up, but here, the funny moments actually threaten to overshadow the main story. It would also have been nice if the editor hadn’t decided to go on a holiday at a wrong time. A powerful ending could have saved the film, but sadly, Karan just plods on and on.

KANK is certainly not the ‘bold, controversial’ KJo film everyone expected it to be. However, before we take out our knives to crucify Johar, let’s remember that this is just his third outing as director. Johar is an honest if not hugely talented guy, who readily admits to his shortcomings and indulgences. And this time, he has really tried- his effort really shows in some of the genuinely good moments of the film, which evoke a chuckle, where you feel for the characters. SRK and Rani guiltily checking into a hotel to make love, the ballet sequence (interesting, even if a bit over the top) and the Rani- Abhishek confrontation are among the scenes where Johar shows promise.

KANK is worth watching once, if only to see the work of a filmmaker trying to mature and break out of his mould, trying to find a voice of his own, even as he is confused and stubborn to not let go of the packaging and extravagance that has always marked his films. Here’s hoping that in the future, he gives us less melodrama, more drama, less glamour, more elegance, less gloss, more substance. Johar hasn’t really come of age, but hey- I think (or atleast I hope) he’s getting there.

Scene 7: Epilogue. Watching KANK has left me panting and tired. Time to hit the sack.