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‘The Mehta Boys’ review: Soft-edged drama lacks novelty
Boman Irani's directorial debut is a heartfelt but unexceptional film about a warring father and son
Boman Irani began acting in films in his 40s. From the start, it seemed like he’d always been there. He was a throwback to an earlier era of actors like Charles Laughton and Alex Guiness who were happy to disappear behind a wig, a fake nose, an accent. Irani could, of course, play it straight, like the father in Lakshya. But no one was better at going broad. His Khurana in Khosla Ka Ghosla and Asthana in Munnabhai M.B.B.S. are legend, but there’s a spectacular rogue’s gallery stretching from Darna Mana Hai to Don, Well Done Abba to Honeymoon Travels Pvt. Ltd to Jayeshbhai Jordaar.
Irani stars in The Mehta Boys and does a fine, fussy, fretful job. It’s also his first film as director, co-written with Alexander Dinelaris (Birdman) and co-produced by his company, Irani Movietone. It’s a polite little film about a recently bereaved family, emotionally available, a bit shapeless. Not all directors start with a big swing, but this is closer to forward defence.
Amay (Avinash Tiwary) is an ambitious young architect in with a private firm in Mumbai. He has a professional manner, an illuminated wardrobe and unarticulated despair: all the trademarks of someone about to receive Indie Film Life Lessons. In a meeting, he receives the shock news of his mother's demise. We've seen Tiwary break beautifully in Laila Majnu; this shattering involves a note and a lot of blinking.
Back in his family home in in Gujarat, Amay first meets his sister, Anu (Puja Sarup), and they embrace. His father, Shiv, then comes up, shakes his hand and moves on. You wonder if Shiv is disoriented with grief—Irani's manner suggests he might be—but it's also a representative gesture for a relationship that's become strained and formal. Amay is just as awkward; pushed by his sister to say goodbye properly to his father (Shiv has agreed to move to Florida with her), he stands at the door and mutters about work. There's another handshake, and dad and son exit each other's lives.
Or at least they would have. Shiv is removed from the flight list at the last moment, and Amay is called to Mumbai airport. A frantic Anu begs the two men to behave like adults—Sarup is fantastic as usual—and leaves. Her plea is disregarded almost immediately, father and son arguing about the old man carrying his suitcases, about Amay leaving a light on when he goes out, about the sleeping arrangements, about Amay saying 'fine' too many times. I thought the film might reveal some deeper trauma as it went along, but there’s nothing more at play than a generational divide and gruff parenting.
There’s a sense that this relationship is always a stray remark away from flaring up. A fragile truce builds up after the first night, with father and son watching Laurel & Hardy together. But later, as they share a drink by the window, Shiv asks his son why he can’t rely on pen and paper for his work. Amay tries to explain, but Shiv won’t let it go. Amay gives the example of computers making typewriters obsolete, which his father, who used to run a typing school, takes as a personal slight. Irani makes the unusual decision of switching from medium shots to extreme closeups. It feels like a precursor to something dramatic, but the scene just ends.
Irani uses closeups like these on a couple of other occasions. Perhaps it’s the theatre director’s curiosity to test the power of the camera to isolate. The only time I felt it fit the mood of a scene is during a heated argument between the two men in the car and then in the rain.
Even as his dad stomps all over his personal space, Amay is going through struggles of another kind. His firm is pitching for an important contract, but his boss (Siddhartha Basu) isn’t enthused by the lead architect’s plans. He and Amay’s co-worker and girlfriend (Shreya Chaudhry) keeps pushing him to submit his own designs. Whether out of timidity or fear of failure, the young man hesitates. It culminates in a stagey scene in a boardroom that’s less about Amay’s design philosophy and more about the limitations of his mentor’s thinking.
The Mehta Boys is a modest indie that draws a few laughs and disperses some life lessons, but is too standard-issue to make an impression. It’s lifted by Irani’s performance, which underneath the bluster is quite tender. The problem is, he outperforms his own film.
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First Published:7 Feb 2025, 12:58 PM IST
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