Ayushmann Khurrana’s playing of the once-abundant now-rare sar-ki-kheti Balmukund Shukla is so spot-on that you overlook the man at any point had any hair on his head. Also, on his jaw, arms, chest, and fail, probably, under locales: each one of those body parts typically secured with a solid, reflexive, masculine pelt. Amar Kaushik’s film is both loud and humble as it tracks Bala’s adventure from a tumultuous chick-magnet youthfulness to fearful masculinity: our legend is the sort of fellow who tapes the upper piece of his washroom reflect with the goal that his retreating hairline avoids his line of vision. He has slanting shoulders, marginally distending teeth, and having a place with an individual wronged by destiny.
However, both Kaushik and Khurrana get the powerless parts truly well as well, and that is the place the film scores. The Kanpur-Lucknow areas are still crisp enough (however whenever I hear ‘kantaap’ and Kanpur at the same time, I will utilize a correct upper cut of my own); the emphasize is somewhat there regardless of whether not consummately steady. The one in particular who gets it the whole distance right is the youthful on-screen character who plays Bala’s put-upon youthful sibling: Dheerendra Kumar is a hoot.
Still, Khurrana’s Bala is an achievement. He’s perfected the art of playing people who are not instantly likeable, and he works the characters’ kinks to the point where we can see them, and yet sympathise. This is an unfiltered, bare performance, unafraid to be seen as ridiculous: this kind of shucking of vanity, even if it is self-aware, is rare amongst Bollywood actors. Bala is human, he is flawed; he is one of us. He makes us smile. So does this delicious line, Kaushik throwing in a politically acute curveball, just like he did in Stree — ‘poora Uttar Pradesh chal raha hai bhagwaan bharose, aur bhi chal jayega’. Or words to that effect.
Mazaa aa gaya guru.