The quiet resilience of Andaz Apna Apna and its women

Andaz Apna Apna opened to houseful theatres last week, a rare sight now in an industry that is struggling to stay afloat amidst a redundant and cursed hierarchical system, the looming threat of AI and tough competition from the OTTs, not with something new and fresh but with a plethora of options in various languages from around the world. But to talk about this film that pulled us back in the theatre thirty years after its release, instead of a bar on a hot Friday evening, I have to take you back to early April, when I met someone.

No, this isn’t a meet-cute from a rom-com, but the kind most of us in our thirties are looking forward to even more—meeting people who share similar interests and vibes. It was after the screening of Aunty Sudha, Aunty Radha, a sublime film about love and longing by Tanuja Chandra that shows the beautiful and very real bond shared by two sisters in their late eighties, and retire into a life of peaceful bliss in the village, together. An eclectic bunch gathered for dinner after the screening, and it was a riot from the word go. What amazed me was that I did not even have to bring out my several colourful personalities to fit in—these people were vibing with who I am, which was new to me. Because all of us were related to films in some way or the other, the conversations invariably veered towards cinema after meandering around the regular subjects strangers fixate over in a first meeting—birth name, birth place, birth date—basically who you are and why you exist. I bonded with several people that night only because I gave a spot to Andaz Apna Apna in my top three all-time favourite Hindi films.

Definitely, absolutely worth a watch on the big screen

Back to the Theatre, In Costume When the film re-released last week, I was invited by R (let’s call her that) for a group watching session. She had already booked a dozen tickets for a cozy night show; All I had to do was show up “In Costume”. Every time we texted, R would nudge me to dress up in costume and I would laugh it off. As the day of the screening neared, I sat down and gave it a good thought. Should I just go to Maganlal Dresswala and see if he has an Andaz Apna Apna costume tucked away in the back somewhere? I am sure he would have atleast half a dozen Crime Master Gogos in a closet, ready to spring on unsuspecting passersby, just like in the film. But general laziness and some genuine work deadlines dissuaded me from stepping out in search of a costume, and I decided to do what I do best, ever since the infamous Engineering exam days—cook up something last minute. After a quick rummage through my closet, I figured I could be Raveena aka Karishma (A 30-year-old-too-late-for-a-SPOILER: the character played by Karishma Kapoor). Pairing an oversized striped shirt, and mom jeans, I would thicken my brows and wear ballet flats with two pony tails to sum up the character’s look in the film, and also a generic “heroine from the 90s” feel. After I had dressed up, I had no idea I had it in me to look anything like the ravishing Ms. Kapoor, but the brows and ponytails sealed the deal.

As I arrived at the theatre feeling cute in my Karishma aka Raveena outfit, I bumped into not one, not two, but atleast seven Crime Master Gogos on the way to the theatre. One of them was also R, literally jumping around like she was possessed by his character from the film. We also met Amar-Prem, a duo who had dressed up exactly like Amir and Salman from the song “Do Mastaane”. After a round of pictures and selfies were clicked, and I settled in my seat, I realised that I had not only arrived to watch the film with the group that my new friend R had booked tickets for, but with the entire theatre. Iconic dialogues were echoing through the theatre, the songs were sung in unison, and audience Amar-Prem even went up to dance with the originals. All in 2025! Who says cinema is dead. This film brought it alive on this night for me. When was the last time you actually saw a film in a theatre that was houseful with people dancing, hooting, laughing and clapping ostentatiously without some or the other group getting offended about caste, religion, identity or taking everything a bit too personally? I can’t think of a single such film in the last five years. But thanks to R and this once-upon-a-time box office dud, I witnessed the magic of Hindi cinema, once again.

A Film That Refuses to Age

What made Andaz Apna Apna age so well? Is it because we’ve never otherwise seen the dhamakedaar jodi of Salman Khan and Aamir Khan on the big screen apart from dancing at the Ambani wedding? Or is it because the ensemble cast nailed their characters so well, that even three decades and many other iconic roles later, they have been immortalized for their characters in this film. Or maybe because nostalgia seeped into the collective consciousness of the audience and their love simmered on a slow roast for the last 30 years, making it eternal? As a screenwriter, I feel it is all of the above but for me, the top award goes to the writing team and gumption of the producer. Two things absent from today’s cinema ecosystem for reasons that feed into each other. Is the film foolproof or does it even pass the Bechdel test? No. Is it insanely hilarious and an absolute riot to watch, especially with an engaged audience. Hell, yes!

Real-life Amar-Prem with their on screen avatars | Mumbai, April '25

For the uninitiated, the Bechdel test is a simple, three-part test used to evaluate the portrayal of women in fiction, particularly films and television shows. It asks if a work features: (1) two named female characters, (2) who talk to each other, (3) about something other than a man. Do Raveena and Karishma ever talk about anything apart from a man, well no. But here are two women looking out for grooms, or rather looking for love. But I feel that was very out of the ordinary for the 90s, and perhaps even audacious? In 2025, it has become customary to see our female characters go through a gamut of roles and emotions, and not many that revolve around love alone or running around trees, and that is a giant leap for Indian cinema. But where are the men and women looking for love? Wanting to find their happily ever after has suddenly become uncool. The film’s titular male characters are definitely charming and have the best dialogues, but it is the two girls travelling sans a rigid bhua, or a strict father, or even a cunning uncle all the way from London to find the men of their dreams, that seems a stirring rebellion for the times the film was made in.

Karishma<>Raveena, and the Quiet Rebellion

In Communion, bell hooks¹ writes—"Feminism offered us the promise that a culture would be created where we could be free and know love. But that promise has not been fulfilled. Many females are still confused, wondering about the place of love in our lives. Many of us have been afraid to acknowledge that quote "love matters," for fear we will be despised and shamed by women who have come to power within patriarchy by closing off emotions, by becoming like patriarchal men we once critiqued as cold and hard-hearted."*

And so, to me, what Karishma and Raveena do in the film is an act of defiance not many female characters were allowed. If you compare their characters with the titular roles women played in other films of the early 90s, this is perhaps one of the few films that follows women who have set out to choose their life partners, without the interference of opinionated elders from the family or the diktats of a patriarchal society influencing their desires that are actually quite simple—should look good, and be good. In fact, the two do not need the father to shortlist, but merely approve the men they like, and his advice for them is liberating by all standards—no idiots allowed. To make the plot even more interesting, the two girls exchange their identities so that the men they marry do not do so for only money. Towards the end, Raveena aka Karishma in the film, does wander off to kill herself when she finds out that the man she loves doesn’t love her back, but Amar’s timely confession of his love leads to a hug on a cliff and eventual bliss. It is, of course a light-hearted comedic representation of a lover’s tiff. But the true zest of the women in the film is punctuated by the fact that they have the power of “choice”, something their counterparts from other immensely successful films like Simran’s fate in Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayengey is tied to a man she has never met by the patriarch of her family, or the duty-bound Nisha who is about to be married off to her widower brother-in-law in Hum Aapke Hain Kaun, if not for the love-bound Tuffy. In that sense, the only two females in a sea of men are icons in their own right. Befitting a costume tribute at the re-release, if I may. So although the Gogo’s and Amar-Prem’s caught all the limelight, just like in the film, this author was very pleased to exercise her choice and dedicate an evening to the quiet, yet powerful portrayal of choice on screen.

Sheer madness of the good kind at PVR, Juhu | April '25

No Message, Just Magic As I walked out of the theatre, I heard people talking, some known and some unknown faces, “this film was way ahead of its time…”, “it feels like it just released today!”; “I am so happy that I stepped out to see this today!”. And we all had huge smiles on our faces. I couldn’t believe how much I had laughed in the two-and-a-half-hour film, and did not reach out to my phone even once, which to me, feels like a definite win. As I went back home, I wondered what had happened to the good old cinema days… and somehow it got me thinking. Andaz Apna Apna does not try to be anything—it has no message, no historical facts and no major intentions apart from goofy caricaturish characters that were made for entertainment alone. The wokeness and patriotism in cinema today is a tad bit suffocating to be honest, and since when did something that brought the community together in such a wholesome way have to be educational too? Perhaps, this is where we failed cinema. In trying to be too right, we probably got it too wrong.

And maybe that's the secret Andaz Apna Apna knew all along. That we don’t always need cinema to instruct us, correct us, or enlighten us. Sometimes, we just need it to act as a catalyst that helps us laugh with each other, create a safe-space where human connection shines, feel the silliness through our bones, and remind us of who we were—before all the noise. And in its own playful, bumbling way, this film gave two women the rare agency to choose love on their own terms. Quietly, without protest or permission. That’s more than most films dared to do back then. As one of the most iconic characters ever played by a woman in Hindi cinema says as her audacious self, “Filmein sirf teen cheezon ki wajah se chalti hain... entertainment, entertainment, entertainment...” Ekdum correct boli madam! Now manifesting this to resonate with studio execs and producers.

Long live Hindi cinema.

References - ¹ bell hooks, Communion: The Female Search for Love (Harper Perennial, 2002)