Udan Patolas review: Amazon MiniTV show doesn't laugh enough at its own silliness

Language: Hindi The idea of Mumbai-Delhi rivalry has become some form of modern folklore. While light-hearted wars between people from these two cities over food, fashion, or climate often throng our social media feeds, it’s rarely been used as an element in our mainstream storytelling, both in films or shows. We have had web shows set in Delhi or Mumbai that tell separate stories of people living there, but no show has wondered about the possible sparks flying when these two seemingly opposite forces clash with each other. An official adaptation of the Israeli show Honeybadgers, Udan Patolas partly employs this idea for its conflict. At the core of our narrative are four women - Noorpreet, Lovelle, Puneet, and Amrit - four full-blooded Punjabi women from North India who are hustling it out in Mumbai. Udan Patolas could be seen as an interesting companion piece to Four More Shots Please, a successful predecessor in the same genre which too dealt with a bunch of urban women who while dealing with the complexities of their personal and professional lives were comfortable with their identities as upper-class citizen of Mumbai.   However, Udan Patolas is about a bunch of young women who are outsiders and are constantly reminded of it. It’s an interesting conceit, no doubt. These women, our protagonists - they are unapologetically themselves even as they aspire for a league beyond theirs – and it’s from their gaze that we see the story unfold, and Mumbai suddenly appears a little too classist and rude to outsiders like those.  Very rarely do we see characters embrace the cliches in such an unapologetic manner. There is no doubt it’s a conscious decision to bombard the stories with the collage of a swanky exterior and a rustic vibe - and you want to give the show benefit of the doubt for its brazen use of Delhi stereotypes, hoping something sharper will unleash from underneath the farcical surface. However, the makers refuse the opportunity to attempt anything beyond.   [caption id=“attachment_10780521” align=“alignnone” width=“640”] Still from Udan Patolas[/caption] Like any quintessential sitcom, Udan Patolas tackles one theme at a time. The show begins right in the middle of a restless conversation between Noor, Puneet, and Lovelle as they discuss the prospects of visiting high–end salons and getting beauty treatments; we are provided no context of who these people are, or where they are headed. The result is a sense of being disoriented - and sadly, that feeling lingers throughout the show. There are barely any running arcs for our protagonists, which leaves us somewhat distant from these people; we rarely get a peek into their inner lives.  There are new bursts of information thrown at us out of nowhere, like Lovelle’s rigid rules about sexual initiation while dating which springs upon us in episode 4, or their joint aspiration to buy a house in an uber-prime location. Episode 5 also delves a little into Amrit’s bittersweet equation with his ex-beau Angad but never tells us enough about their past to let us understand them better. These bits catch us off-guard, and yet don’t lead anywhere.   The show doesn’t look too keen to create a sense of believable universe either. We are told that Noor, Puneet, and Lovelle are accountants by profession (at one of the biggest financial management agencies, apparently), but we rarely get to see what they actually do at their workplace - most of the time, they are seen running errands for their boss like shopping for the daughter’s birthday or distributing cake at a newly-opened neighbouring bank. This show is also set in a parallel universe of sorts where pubs organise Amol Palekar karaoke nights, and where finance journalists are celebrity figures whose date nights make for page 3 stories with pictures.

Udan Patolas eventually seems only interested in provoking us with its loud tonality and relentless badgering of everything frivolous and stereotypical.

There is obviously no harm in using flaky premises for conflict, but not when it becomes a narrative crutch or an excuse to shy away from any depth or complexity.   There are some moments where the show promises to steer away from its unapologetically Delhi DNA, like when it introduces Aakash, a top-tier entrepreneur and a single dad who is not dismissive of our Punjabi protagonists. Just when we begin hoping for him to balance the show’s decibel levels, the show refuses to indulge him any further, choosing instead to focus on his snotty children who could give any adult a run for their money with their sarcastic jibes.   While these women are clearly flawed and struggling with their own limitations and vulnerabilities, there is no hint of irony or satire as they continue to indulge in privilege and entitled behaviour. The makers seem to laugh with these characters, and rarely at them - that’s not a good look for a comedy that is clearly about people constantly landing themselves in trouble. This becomes particularly evident in the embarrassingly anti-climatic season finale where our protagonists project their insecurities upon their respective domestic workers. Even the saner characters dispose of their sense of rationale for this track because the episodic theme dictates them to. The actors do not succeed much in rising above the script. It is eventually the veteran Rakesh Bedi who looks most at home dealing with this kind of comic material. Among the lead cast, Apoorva Arora, who plays Puneet, is the only one having fun hamming it up and embracing the over-the-topness of her character without getting overbearing.  I wish she was the protagonist of the show. The show however remains fixated on the antics of Noorpreet (Aasstha Ssidana), the most boisterous member of the gang who both defies our ideas of a traditional sitcom protagonist and yet lives up to a stereotypical Delhi lass in every possible way. She is unapologetically brash, sexually expressive, and lets the expletives fly when she loses her temper. In a slightly overdone yet amusing moment, Noor verbally drools over a Punjabi pop-star hunk as he walks past her, blabbering about things she would like to do with them in bed, not caring two hoots about decency.   However, it becomes hard to root for Noor after a point or be forgiving of her missteps, because the show overall refuses to indulge us emotionally - we realize this when we find ourselves feeling no remorse for Noor’s defeats, big or small. This is why the sombre-toned voiceovers about epiphanies and life lessons at the end of each episode feel all the more jarring - the show never earned enough place for those. It wants to be a frothy show about gaffes and goof-ups, while clearly uncomfortable embracing its fluff, and yet expects the audience to warm up to its characters.   Perhaps it’s a little too much to ask. Udan Patolas is available on Amazon MiniTV

BH Harsh is a film critic who spends most of his time watching movies and making notes, hoping to create, as Peggy Olsen put it, something of lasting value. Read all the  Latest News,  Trending News,  Cricket News,  Bollywood News,  India News and  Entertainment News here. Follow us on  Facebook,  Twitter and  Instagram.