Film Review: Ek Ladki Ko Dekha Toh Aisa Laga

Bollywood doesn’t have the best reputation when it comes to LGBTQ representation, and whenever they do appear on screen, they’re often broad caricatures and stereotypes typically used as comic relief, with filmmakers showing no further interest in exploring their lives. Unfortunately, their treatment in media was very reflected in how society viewed them. It has largely been bleak for members of the LGBTQ community for a long time, but things are beginning to improve. On September 6th of 2018, the Supreme Court ruled that Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code (which was introduced by British colonizers) was changed so that consensual sex with same sex partners became decriminalized.

It’s within that context where the release of Ek Ladki Ko Dekha Toh Aisa Laga feels like a massive cathartic release. It’s the first big mainstream Bollywood film that centers on a character that is a part of the LGBTQ community, specifically a lesbian. Indian cinema isn’t necessarily a stranger to this, but they’ve mostly been explored in independent films, there is one on Netflix called Loev, which I highly recommend. What makes Ek Ladki Ko Dekha so special is that it’s a mostly standard crowd pleaser, one where if you changed the lesbian love interest into a man (which the film actually toys with in an amusing fashion), the film would be nearly identical to a number of masala films, but bringing that sense of normalcy to a LGBTQ-themed stories, like last year’s Love, Simon, is what the film accomplishes so well.

The story follows Sweety Chaudhary (Sonam Kapoor), a young woman from an affluent Punjabi family, who is keen on getting her married very soon. We also meet Sahil Mirza (Rajkummar Rao), the son of a Bollywood filmmaker, trying his best to make a name for himself as a playwright. Sweety interrupts a rehearsal of his recent show in Delhi, and ends up helping her escape her brother, Babloo (Abhishek Duhan). He is smitten by her, and hopes to meet her again, eventually catching the attention of her father, Balbir (Anil Kapoor). However, things get complicated when Sahil realizes she doesn’t share the same feelings towards him, and is actively hiding a secret from her family, that secret being her affection for another woman that she’s been meeting in secret for over a year.

What’s interesting to me about how revelatory this feels is that in Hollywood, we’ve mostly gone through phases in how LGBTQ stories are presented. First, they were stories about trauma, stories about AIDS, stories that focused on the horror and misery that the characters experienced. Then the films mellowed out a bit, becoming bittersweet stories about longing, and “love that can never be.” Intentions are admirable, and there are some great films that can be found within these approaches, but it’s almost as if filmmakers were allergic to queer stories with happy endings, and it’s only until recently that we’ve been getting more and more stories that don’t wallow in misery. Meanwhile, Bollywood makes its first movie about a same sex couple, and it’s a joyful, emotional, and colorful romp that is helmed by a female director, Shelly Chopra Dhar, who co-wrote it with co-written by, Gazal Dhaliwal, a transwoman.

One thing the film does brilliantly is that on top of being a well constructed crowd-pleaser, it’s also has a meta-layer that is all about the necessity and importance of representation in media. Sahil, refreshingly, is immediately empathetic to Sweety’s plight, and he comes up with a delightfully convoluted plan that involves putting together a play as a way to promote Balbir’s clothing business, and he encourages members of the family to essentially play themselves, not realizing that the story is literally just a recreation of how Sweety came to realize who she is. She even says at one point, that the show isn’t just for her, it’s also for the other Sweetys in villages all across India, who are sad, angry, and confused about their sexual identity, and are completely lacking in a healthy environment to explore that. It’s blunt, but it does get the point across that the film is ultimately bigger than just a story about one Punjabi girl, it’s to show still developing or closeted people that it’s OK, that they are valid, and nothing is wrong with them. The meta storytelling also extends to the title, which is the name of an iconic song (which, by the way, translates to “How I Felt When I Saw That Girl”) from the 1994 epic romantic drama, 1942: A Love Story, which starred Anil Kapoor, who is here acting alongside his actual daughter, and that was directed by Vidhu Vinod Chopra, who produced Ek Ladki Ko Dekha. It all serves to connect to the idea of taking something largely considered abnormal and taboo, and associating them with what is considered normal and acceptable.

The performances from the cast is pretty great all around, with other actors like Juhi Chawla, Regina Cassandra, Madhumalti Kapoor, Sara Arjun, and Brijendra Kala also shining whenever they pop up on screen. The only aspects that felt a bit rough around the edges was mostly in the film’s diversions into various subplots, like one involving Balbir being attracted to Juhi Chawla’s Chatro, which is amusing enough to forgive, and especially if you’re a fan of the actors, who were a popular pair during the mid-to-late 90s. The most unsubstantial plot elements usually involved the helpers who worked in Balbir’s large home. They are here mostly for comic relief, but their shenanigans didn’t really payoff in any significant way.

There are some small hurdles you do have to get over with this film. The big one being that the film is not a romance, it is purely a coming out story. As a result, we don’t get as much time with Sweety and her girlfriend as much as we would like to. In fact, a number of sequences in the film are from the perspective of Sahil, which is how the film manages to keep some of its secrets. It is a bit unfortunate that a film about a lesbian relationship relies as heavily as it does to be from a man’s point-of-view. However, as not particularly ideal these choices are, they are done with purpose, and the story builds on it on it very well, never losing sight of the message that they want to get across, and the humanity in its characters.

By the time we reached the big climax of Ek Ladki Ko Dekha Toh Aisa Laga, I was ugly crying for maybe the third time over the course of the film. It’s not flawless, but it’s an astonishing achievement in LGBTQ representation for mainstream Bollywood. It’s an urgent call for empathy and understanding, rooted in emotional honesty and a real love for its characters. It’s everything you’d want in a crowd-pleaser, it’s funny, charming, kind-hearted, it’s written with wit and grace, and directed with sensitivity and elegant flourishes. I do wish we spent a bit more time with the central couple, but it’s impossible to deny how groundbreaking so much of it is, and how safe they could’ve played things out, which was my biggest worry going in. I was surprised by its commitment, and I came out feeling euphoric. It wouldn’t surprise me if this is considered a classic at some point in the future, but – more importantly – I hope it inspires other Bollywood filmmakers to explore these kinds of stories.