For the Love of a Twist
I also like that the mystery in this murder-mystery is love. It’s not your typical whodunit – the “who” actually alludes to the identity of the love story, not a person. Naren’s involvement in Maya’s life creates the social illusion of romantic involvement. They steal conspiratory glances around town, he calls her from a phone booth, she waits to see him in the corridor, he whispers that they can’t be seen meeting in public, they almost resort to gestures and notes. To the eyes of a casual observer, they are having a clandestine affair. Except, complicity is their love language. Ditto for Karan, who meets Maya at cafes, restaurants and even a karaoke bar to interrogate her. You’d think they were dating officially, in the open, where Maya thinks nothing of accepting his dinner invite and performing an unplugged version of the title track on stage. The way she looks at him, magically switching into movie-siren mode, is vintage Kareena Kapoor – but it’s also neatly written into Maya’s personality. As an ex-dancer, she derives trauma from the stage, yet feels confident enough to sing in front of the man ‘pursuing’ her. In a parallel universe, Naren is stalking her, while Karan is seduced by the chase.
The undoing of Jaane Jaan, though, is its funky reframing of the original story. I don’t mind that the devotion (of suspect X) here is presented as madness. It’s a leap of faith, a riff on the perception of love as a form of insanity. A Darr nod appears early on. Naren is addressed as “Teacher” by everyone in town, which implies that he’s already more of a concept than a person. He’s the nutty professor, in more ways than one. But the film’s reckless desire to outwit the viewer – and fetishize a love story for the sake of a twist – is ironically what sinks it. There is no precedent, no tangible reasoning behind the change. It’s like the film is striving, unsuccessfully, to reach the absurdist realms of literature. All I can think of is that the writers decided to debunk the more orthodox choices and take the least expected route.
What’s jarring is that Naren’s job plays a key role, to an extent that even the story looks blindsided by its extended cameo. It’s not just the reverse-engineered clues: His book-strewn house, the equation-laced dialogue, the math metaphors, or the awkward scenes of Naren losing his cool with students who complain about his exam papers. It’s the literalization of science as a medium of logic and obsession. It’s the intellectualization of madness as something that transcends human relationships. It’s also the misguided notion that thrillers must, at any cost, surprise the audience. I get the intent – the film sets out to subvert the relationship between genius and heartbreak. But not even a fine actor like Ahlawat can pull off the conceit in a manner that’s less than preposterous. It brings to mind his losing battle in the Ajeeb Daastaans (2021) segment. The final scenes let him down, with their design as much as their resolve to diverge from conventional mystery. Effect makes way for affectation. And the climax evokes a familiar reaction: What in the (atmospheric) world were we – and they – thinking?