Veere Di Wedding: Bollywood, What’s Gotten Into You?
Two good movies in as many weeks! Bollywood, what’s gotten into you?
And not just good — both female-oriented, and mercifully away from the tired old formula. No weepy violins. No tragic martyrdom. No compulsory moral sermon masquerading as empowerment.
I loved this movie. Totally.
Finally, Women Who Are Allowed to Be Messy
Not that there’s a particularly feminine bone in me — but finally, here’s a film that allows Indian women to express themselves without being melodramatic or solemn about it.
Think of the great “female-oriented” films of yore: Khoon Bhari Maang, Mother India, and the whole lineage of suffering-as-strength cinema. Ugh, ugh.
Veere Di Wedding doesn’t want your sympathy. It wants your attention.
There’s a beautiful nonchalance about the four central characters. They’re not trying to represent all women. They’re not interested in being role models. They’re just being — flawed, loud, selfish, funny, insecure, indulgent.
And that, oddly enough, feels radical.
No Story, No Problem
There isn’t a traditional story or script to speak of. But that’s the point.
Life rarely moves in neat three-act structures, especially when you’re negotiating friendships, marriages, sex, family expectations, and personal confusion — all at once.
The film works through mini-plots, conversations, awkward silences, drunken honesty, and dialogue that flows freely rather than marching towards a moral conclusion.
It’s messy. It’s uneven. It’s also oddly liberating.
The Performances
I loved Swara Bhasker — fearless, irritating, vulnerable, and completely committed.
I also enjoyed the Talsania girl (is she Tiku’s something?). She brings warmth and relatability without trying too hard.
Kareena Kapoor looks like she’s underpaid — oddly detached, cruising through scenes on star power alone.
And Sonam Kapoor… well, I’ve never been a fan. But credit where it’s due — she doesn’t giggle as much this time.
The Language Question (And the Fingers)
Watching all the expletives and gestures — read: middle fingers — I found myself wondering:
Why aren’t there female-oriented gaalis or gestures?
MC, BC, BSDK — all male-centric. Even the middle finger is aggressively phallic.
Why not BaapC? BhaiC? Luv-Diye?
Why not curl the index finger against a straight middle finger, making a slit?
Perhaps this movie will inspire the next generation of bitches to coin a few of their own.
Language evolves. Cinema helps.
The Purple Haze
And finally, my Oscar for this film goes to the hazed-out purple di–do.
A prop that managed to offend many while quietly delivering the film’s core message:
“When you can’t baby, I can.”
Yes, it unsettled people. Good.
It’s time we unshackle ourselves from imaginary moral handcuffs and let cinema reflect reality — not the sanitized version we’re comfortable with.
Final Verdict
Watch it if you haven’t.
Not because it’s perfect — it isn’t.
But because it’s loud, flawed, funny, and unapologetic.
And sometimes, that’s exactly what Bollywood needs.
Comments