What Makes Andaz Apna Apna Such Fun Even Today

Andaz
Apna
Apna
is
practically
the
most
quoted
film
since

Sholay,
observes
Sukanya
Verma,
as
she
celebrates
30
years
of
this
cult
classic
movie.

Can
I
look
at
a
plate
of
oranges
and
not
reminisce
about
Salman
Khan’s
proposal
jinxed
by
an
upset
tummy?

Can
I
resist
this
childish
urge
to
play
football
whenever
I
see
a
bunch
of
glasses
filled
with
what
may
or
may
not
be

sherbet-e-jannat
inspired
by
Aamir
Khan’s
goal-making
turn?

Can
I
ever
get
bored
of
using

Andaz
Apna
Apna‘s
quips
and
quotes
in
my
vocabulary?

Once
a
film
becomes
a
part
of
one’s
being,
it
ceases
to
be
a
film.
It
becomes
a
person,
a
friend
and
a
source
of
lifelong
comfort.

Rajkumar
Santoshi’s
1994
laugh-raiser
is
one
of
my
all-time
favourites
and
irreversibly
entrenched
in
my
unapologetically

filmi
system.

When
I
first
watched

Andaz
Apna
Apna,
I
was
just
another
school-going
kid
developing
a
taste
for
the
silver
screen.

When
I
watched
it
again
a
couple
of
days
ago,
I
was
a
wary
viewer
who
scrutinises
films
for
a
living.

Cynically
speaking,
two
decades
can
be
a
long
time,
long
enough
to
fall
out
of
love
with
a
film.
Yet,
my
fondness
for
this
screwball
comedy
has
only
gotten
more
unquestioning
with
the
passage
of
time.

Except
it’s
not
some
nostalgic
sentiment
that
binds
me
(and
the
manically
obsessive
cult
of
us)
to

AAA,
which,
ironically,
was
a
non-starter
at
the
box
office
and
went
on
to
gain
unprecedented
popularity
on
the
video/cable
television
circuit.
For
all
its
over-the-top
looniness,
there
is
a
ton
to
appreciate
about
its
ingenuity,
timing
and
spontaneity.

One
of
the
most
versatile
film-makers
of
the
1990s,
Santoshi
demonstrates
the
extent
of
his
creative
pliability,
following
back-to-back
gritty
fare
like

Ghayal
and

Damini,
with
a
scatter-brained
drollery
starring
two
of
the
biggest
teen
heartthrobs
of
that
time
opposite
can’t-see-eye-to-eye
rivals
Raveena
Tandon
and
Karisma
Kapoor.

Perceived
as
a
major
casting
coup
even
in
the
pre-100
Crore
Club
era,
I
distinctly
remember
reeling
in
anticipation
on
spotting
a
tiny
black
and
white
picture
of
its

mahurat
day
attended
by
its
entire
unit
along
with
chief
guests
Dharmendra
and
Sachin
Tendulkar.

Sadly,
the
scarcely
promoted
multi-starrer
hit
the
marquee
much
too
discreetly
and
left
without
a
trace.

In
theory,

AAA
was
headed
for
doom
and
obscurity.
But
the
curse
of
cable
&
video
(which
was
eating
into
a
large
share
of
theatre
business)
proved
to
be
a
blessing
in
disguise.

The
more
one
came
in
contact
with
the
madcap
inhabitants
of
Santoshi’s
universe
and
its
trippy
background
score
by
Viju
Shah,
the
more
one
got
addicted.
After
all,
repeat
value
is
the
virtue
of
every
classic.

There’s
no
real
plot
to
speak
of:
Two
good-for-nothing
losers,
Amar
(Aamir),
a
cocky
twit,
and
Prem
(Salman),
a
whiny
goofball,
aim
to
get
rich
quick
by
wooing
Raveena
(Raveena/Karisma),
a
wealthy
heiress
in
search
of
a
perfect
groom
even
as
Karisma
(Karisma/Raveena),
her
secretary
cum
friend
instantly
falls
for
Prem.

While
the
boys
are
busy
competing
for
Ms
Moneybags
through
a
series
of
laugh-out-loud
misadventures,
Raveena’s
crooked
uncle
Teja
(Paresh
Rawal)
hatches
a
scheme
to
kidnap
her
father,
who
is
his
lookalike
twin
Ram
Gopal
Bajaj,
with
help
from
his
daft
co-thugs
Bhalla
(Shehzad)
and
Robert
(Viju
Khote).

Adding
to
the
rib-tickling
confusion
is
fake
amnesia,
bungled-up
kidnapping,
muddled
identities
and
Shakti
Kapoor’s
Crime
Master
Gogo
with
a
clear-cut
agenda
—

Aaya
hoon
toh
kuch
toh
lootkar
lekar
jaaonga.
Khandaani
chor
hoon
main.

Right
from
its
first
scene,
which
opens
with
a
hilarious
cameo
featuring
Juhi
Chawla
(and
later
Govinda)
to
its
nearly
half-hour
long
climax,

Andaz
Apna
Apna
moves
at
a
breathless
pace
and,
not
once,
takes
itself
seriously.

What’s
amazing
is
how
Santoshi,
in
a
year
when
David
Dhawan’s

Raja
Babu
flourished,
never
resorts
to
below-the-belt
humour
to
extract
laughs.

His
idea
of
wit
is
clean,
clever,
parodies
Bollywood
stereotypes
and
classic
imagery
infusing
it
with
countless
movie
references
and
in-jokes
to
devise
a
unique
approach
to
film-making
long
before
director
Farah
Khan
embraced
it
as
her
career
speciality.

Santoshi’s
combination
of
imagination
(Crime
Master
Gogo
is
Mogambo’s
nephew),
tribute
(Aamir-Raveena
recreating
O
P
Nayyarish/tonga
retro
magic
in

Ello
Eloji)
and
cheek
(making
light
of
Juhi’s
persistent
link-up
rumours
with
co-star
Sunny
Deol)
lend

AAA
a
body
of
reference
future
film-makers
would
learn
from
in
the
long
run.

Technically,

AAA
is
far
from
spectacular
and
wears
a
tacky,
substandard
look.

Call
me
a
blind
fangirl,
but
I
believe
it
only
adds
to
the
conviction
of
Amar
(Bandar
ke
sar
pe
tarbooz)
and
Prem’s
(Circus
ka
retired

bandar)
verbal
banter.

Dialogues,
penned
by
Santoshi
and
Dilip
Shukla,
of
course,
are
its
most
enduring
aspect.
It’s
practically
the
most
quoted
film
since
Ramesh
Sippy’s

Sholay.

Have
you
ever
tried
posting
one
of
its
many
hilarious
lines
on
Twitter
or
Facebook?
Within
seconds,
you’ll
be
inundated
with
some
more
memorable
quotes.

The

Andaz
Apna
Apna
phenomenon
is
infectious,
indescribable
and
endless.

Truth
be
told,
I’ve
made
so
many
friends
thanks
to
my
unwavering
enthusiasm
for
this
film.

Back
in
2003
when
YouTube
didn’t
exist
and
I
had
to
rely
purely
on
my
memory
to
write
a


column
on
why
I
love

AAA,
that’s
when
I
realised
the
extent
of
its
impact
on
my
being.

I
didn’t
paraphrase
the
dialogues
word-to-word
but
an
overwhelming
number
of
readers
understood
and
connected
to
me
with
their
amusing
recollection
of
Vasco
Da
Gama’s
gun
and
Gogoji’s

ghagra.

All
these
words
and
props
would
be
half
as
effective
if
the
actors
wouldn’t
be
in
sync
with
the
tone
of
Santoshi’s
joke.

AAA
depends
on
its
cast
to
feel
comfortably
foolish.

Aamir’s
inflated
smugness,
Karisma’s
dim-witted
zeal,
Rawal’s
chameleon
brilliance,
Kapoor’s
waggish
vehemence,
Raveena’s
energetic
huffing-puffing
and
an
unaffected,
sportingly
wimpy
Salman
at
his
career
best
conveys
it
in
heaps.

It’s
not
the
sort
of
cinema
that
aspires
to
change
life,
but
in
the
last
30
years,
Amar-Prem’s
incessant
stockpile
of
tomfoolery
has
*never*
failed
to
lift
my
spirits
or
transform
a
dull
hour
into
a
dazzling
one.

I
don’t
even
need
to
watch
the
entire
film,
just
the
sight
of
Aamir
woefully
wolfing
down
a
plateful
of

kalimirch
ke
ladoo
or
Salman
and
Shakti
Kapoor’s
weapon-free/punch-free
climatic
fight
or
the
sound
of
Paresh
Rawal’s
ardent
claim,
‘Teja

main
hoon.
Mark

idhar
hai‘
is
enough
to
prompt
delighted
cries
of
‘Haila‘
and
‘Ooi
maa‘.