Moving a Goalposts
Photos: Barun Sobti gets a warn birthday whack from his mom and makers of Tu Hai Mera Sunday
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Tu Hai Mera Sunday film cast: Barun Sobti, Shahana Goswami, Vishal Malhotra, Avinash Tiwary, Rasika Duggal, Nakul Bhalla, Maanvi Gagroo, Jay Upadhyay, Shiv Subramaniam
Tu Hai Mera Sunday film director: Milind Dhaimade
Tu Hai Mera Sunday rating: Three and a half stars
A garland of football enthusiasts get together for a Sunday diversion on Juhu beach in Mumbai. This one-line grounds blossoms into a poetic slice-of-life film, that shines a light on Mumbai’s diversity, and on how competition can turn a unifier-cum-healing representative in a best approach possible. It also tells us that there is always a approach out, even if a problem looks insurmountable.
Arjun (Sobti) is a charmer who has chucked a quick lane corporate obstruction to try other ways, and whose possibility confront with a unsure aged male (Subramanyam) and his appealing daughter Kavi (Goswami) gets this thing rolling.
Arjun and his pals, all of whom come from opposite backgrounds, as their names clearly suggest—Dominic, Rashid, Jayesh, Mehernosh—look brazen to this Sunday ritual, as a approach of de-stressing, vouchsafing their hair down, and just, we know, hanging.
The strength of a film is in a writing, greatly secure and real. The characters have disorderly backstories and relationships, that gives them depth: Dominic’s (Malhotra) harried mom has to understanding with dual henceforth squabbling sons; Rashid (Tiwary) is a love-‘em-and-leave-‘em form who chances on a potentially life-altering bright-eyed immature lady (Duggal); Jayesh (Udadhyay) lives with his large, loud Gujarati corner family; and Mehernosh (Bhalla) is a put-upon, increasingly-frustrated bureau worker compartment one day something snaps.
The detailing is mark on. Only in a few places does it feel a tad underlined, though on a whole, it is entirely good-natured. The garb expel plays good together, generally in a falling-in-like-and-something-more segments between Arjun and Kavi (why don’t we see some-more of a gifted Shahana?), and in a doubtful fastening between Rashid and a immature mom of dual enterprising hearing-impaired boys.
Dhaimade is clearly learned during formulating life-like characters who feel as if they are people we could know, tics and all. ‘Tu Hai Mera Sunday’ is a feel-good, jaunty yarn. And it comes during a time when that precious, declining space—middle-of-the-road and realistic, not too glossy or too drab though only right—needs an obligatory refill.
I pledge we will leave smiling.