Most of us grew up with elders who constantly chimed, “Do not waste food.” On one hand, it was the sentiment that a wasted serving could have fed someone poor. On the other hand, they knew the effort it takes to harvest a basket full of cauliflowers or tomatoes. Having grown up (and past these ideas), we now casually discard food if the preparation isn’t to our liking. But where do the raw materials come from? After all, a typical Indian dish requires ten ingredients, including oil. In Subhash Kapoor’s Jolly LLB 3, we take a riveting trip down those lanes – into the thankless lives of Indian farmers, steeped in poverty and systemic neglect.
As we know, Jolly LLB 3 is a franchise film where a not-so-smart lawyer (Arshad Warsi and/or Akshay Kumar) takes on the system and earns justice for a needy person or community. Also, the guys share a common name. Jolly No. 1 (Arshad Warsi) and Jolly No. 2 (Akshay Kumar) practice in a Delhi court, and their squabbles over hijacking each other’s clients are a running joke.
Subhash Kapoor wastes no time in setting the context. The franchise is known for its humour, so it opens with a court proceeding involving the men in a slightly transphobic comedy routine, which certainly isn’t politically correct if viewed beyond mere humour.
Soon, we meet the spouses, Amrita Rao and Huma Qureshi, and get a glimpse of their shaky family finances. The good part so far is that Jolly LLB 3’s context-building never gets clunky. Cutting quickly to the core, the film takes a turn when Sandhya (Rao), an NGO worker, sends an elderly lady, Janki (Seema Biswas), to meet her husband for legal help.
Given the comedy of errors that Kapoor sets up, Janki ends up meeting both men, only to face their refusal to help her cause. On a side note, why is Janki such a common name in films for women fighting alone in court? If it’s the Goddess Sita metaphor, we got the point two decades ago in Lajja.
Okay, no more digressions. Jolly LLB 3’s key antagonist is a scheming Gujarati (cough, cough) industrialist, Haribhai Khetan (Gajraj Rao), who wants to raze Janki’s (and several others’) farmland to build a world-class race track, optimistically named “Bikaner to Boston.” The farmers don’t want it, nor do they want a cheque. “If a farmer doesn’t do farming, what would he do?” asks a distraught man at one point. “Labour (a job),” comes the pat reply.
But what is a job? Is it meaningful for a rice farmer to sit outside an ATM with a potbelly and a droopy face? In Jolly LLB 3, the farmer-poet’s son is a war martyr, while our heroes are in search of a monthly paycheck. Jolly No. 2 relentlessly chases Haribhai’s staff and the man himself to encash an invoice that would pay off his son’s hostel fee. That’s the pain of being middle-class, which the film identifies and articulates in clear words. When both Jollys finally step out of their fears, pushed in the right direction by their spouses, the film soars.
The trump card remains Justice Sunderlal Tripathi (Saurabh Shukla), whose National Award-winning first appearance had us in stitches. This time, even though the comic shades are considerably heightened, there isn’t a single false note in Shukla’s portrayal. He goes on dates with a much younger cop (Shilpa Shukla), loves red roses, and gets palpitations upon seeing either of the two leading men. Even in the high-voltage scenes, he adds courage and conscience to the franchise, like he always did.
My favourite moment of the actor is when a subordinate asks him if he was being partial to Jolly (Warsi). It’s a serious exchange within closed quarters when Tripathi points at the Constitution and elaborates on the letter and spirit of the law.
Gajraj Rao’s Haribhai, whose permanent frown works greatly in the film’s favour, is presented as a man who understands only the language of money. He is surrounded by cronies and “research experts” who certify the need for the poor to make small sacrifices (or invest in the share market, if they have a choice) so the nation can progress. In two marvellously written staged monologues (one each for Kumar and Warsi), the film dismantles the problematic statements made by the defence counsel (a terrific Ram Kapoor).
It’s simplistic at times, but Jolly LLB 3 is a well-meaning film that also makes us think. It tells us to raise a generation that doesn’t believe the ingredients in their food come from Swiggy and Zomato – a powerful and timely statement today. In Kumar’s last wholesome film, OMG 2, there was a similar message, but Kapoor’s writing here steers clear of religion (except for a minor mention). It is also a rare film that challenges the capitalistic idea of development. How many times have we heard governments gloat about bullet trains? Jolly LLB 3 boldly holds up a mirror to them.
Kapoor’s film also gives Akshay Kumar a rare chance to showcase his acting chops with material that lets him come alive. He is a proven actor, especially in comedy, but has often been burdened by mediocrity. Here, he makes us laugh, cry, tremble, and take pride in the cause the film espouses. He even gets a mini-Khiladi moment, which is genuinely enjoyable, and for a change, he does not appear bored in a single frame. And the best part is that he gives his co-star enough room to shine, stepping back whenever he must.
ALSO READ: ‘Jolly LLB 2’ review – A basic yet engaging courtroom drama
Warsi is superb, and it’s baffling why he is so often typecast in comedy. Filmmakers must revisit Sehar, Asur, or Kabul Express. The subtlety he brings in the closing statement towards the finale is exactly the version of Warsi that the industry once accepted – before Munnabhai MBBS’s Circuit hit him like a truck.
The screenplay is peppered with small jolts at the big rats – one being a flamboyant billionaire named VM, whom top lawyer Vikram has just saved from a massive mishap. This is the kind of fun we used to have in films before everyone started getting offended at the drop of a hat. Even the ladies in Kapoor’s film aren’t the dinner-serving kinds. If Pushpa (Qureshi) loves her whisky and insists that Jolly make the rotis, Sandhya (Rao) is confident enough to live a less lavish life if their finances dip. The talented actresses don’t get to do much, but these are the kind of women we need in cinema – especially Bollywood – as a discourse on equality in marriages.
The film also has an extended light sequence, which is a welcome relief from its serious proceedings. However, the decision to edit out the song (the peppy ‘Glass Uchi Rakhey’) is a good decision for its placement could’ve caused a bigger and unnecessary tonal shift.
The conscience and heart of the enterprise is Janki (Seema Biswas), whose quietude and powerful final scene can make your eyes well up. Through her, Jolly LLB 3 salutes the farmer community, now infamous for deaths by suicide. In an era where a politician publicly calls a farmer a terrorist (and nobody reacts), this conversation and identity-seeking feel essential. As the film ends with its intended message, I thought we must thank the farmer who harvested what we eat each day – the ones whose permanent tans will never be undone by SPF 50, and whose loss-making sales still yield a tasty dish in your kitchen.
It’s a vocation that probably no child in the history of schooling has ever proudly announced to a teacher: “I shall grow up to become a farmer.” In its own way, Jolly LLB 3 breaks the barriers of law and entertainment, standing out as a rare Bollywood film that holds and honours the hands that feed a nation of 1.5 billion.
Rating: ★★★★
