Monica O My Darling: The soundtrack has the battiest personality in this fabulously bonkers black comedy

Bollywood hasn’t had the best track record with comedies of late, and the attempt at black comedy resulted in Alia Bhatt’s Darlings. That wasn’t a bad film at all—it was just the opposite in fact—but while it had its moments of humour, it wasn’t really a comedy, it hurt a little too much to be one. Bollywood’s brand of humour has usually been limited to horror comedies of late, which are generally unfunny. Sriram Raghavan’s Andhadhun cut through this clutter, even with a slightly rambling second half. The first half of the film was almost exquisite, with Tabu and Ayushmann Khurrana feeding off each other’s energy. But that is not even far and few in between — that’s just one shining star in the relentless cesspool of mediocrity that the film industry has produced.

Netflix’s latest offering Monica O My Darling, Vasan Bala stands on its own, rendering all comparisons to Sriram Raghavan null and void. This is Vasan Bala’s work, and to call him the ‘next Sriram Raghavan’ seems a sincere disservice to him. It’s a slick, fast-paced film, with events unfolding quickly, while you catch your breath from laughing. His film is the actual definition of a black comedy—deliciously dark, with no space for excessive soppy monologues and exposition. No one wastes their breath with eulogies or any sort of tears, the message it intends to send out is strewn in one scene—take what you may.  You are served a taut film that’s almost perfect with its completely batty hilarity. There’s such a mad and bizarre energy in this film that seems to infect the whole cast, down to even the supposedly side characters. It seems as if Bala literally shook the craziness out of everyone and produced the best comedy that Bollywood has seen in a while, without grappling at toilet humour and offensive jokes at the expense of women. See, that’s actually possible, but Bollywood works hard to let you believe otherwise.
The definition of chaos
Chaos has never looked so good. Monica O My Darling plot is fairly simple at a glance. A fabulous Huma Qureshi plays the titular, and seductive Monica, who isn’t going to let Rajkummar Rao’s Jayant forget his affair with her quite so easily. He can’t afford that, he’s engaged to Nikki (a fantastically simpering Akanksha Ranjan Kapoor). As it turns out, Monica seems to be blackmailing Sikander Kher’s decadent Nishikant as well and poor hapless Arvind (I demand an Arvind spin-off, this man was pure gold in every scene he was a part of). Nishikant demands to have her killed, and details the process on getting rid of the body.
Of course, when does such a plan ever work out? There are more insidious factors at play—including Sukant Goel’s siner Gaurav, employees at his robotics company, who play their cards close to their heart. There are snakes and robots prancing around too.
In walks Radhika Apte’s police officer Vijayshanti Naidu. This is the wildest and the weirdest Radhika Apte has ever been—no really, till now, barring a few appearances here and there, she clearly has crackling potential for the unusual, and obscure. She is the full vibe—playing carom while criminals sob next to her, eating kulfi while humming songs, and produces such iconic dialogues that she deserves a spinoff as well, along with Aravind. There are more tws to the story, and it all leads to a rather heart-stopping ending.
The soundtrack is the main character
 Yet, while the characters and storytelling are near perfection, it’s the OST that fuels the madness in the film. It’s got a personality of its own, just as kooky and eccentric—almost as if it is responsible for the antics of the cast. It’s slam poetry, but just infinitely better, with a vintage 70-80’s touch, almost deluding you into believing that it actually belong to a different era, till you hear the lyrics. The words echo and shriek the current predicament of the characters without overstating too much, and portray a range of emotions, from frazzled to lust. They’re not intending to be profound and neither do you have to read between the lines. It’s so out there, like the film itself. There’s no overtly soulful, melodramatic song that accompanies Rajkummar Rao as he walks in the rain contemplating his future after a failed murder, no—there’s just a pumping OST that matches him and his frantic bike ride from one state to the other.
The film’s title itself takes after Asha Bhonsle’s 1971 song and frantically plays as Rajkummar tries to rid himself of a body that’s now his responsibility. The name and the song won’t leave him alone—even a random passenger at night seems to be playing the song. The merrier the song gets, the more frantic Jayant becomes, and that’s the pattern in the rest of the film.
Huma’s entrance scene has this jazzy night-club vibe as she emerges in a red thigh-slit gown with Yeh Hai Zindagi playing — this sets the tone for the rest of the film. The words ‘Yeh ek zindagi kaafi nahin hai’ reverberate till the end. Huma’s Monica revels in these songs, it matches her confusing multi-faceted personality as well. The film doesn’t reduce her to a glamorous seductress, oh no, she packs a punch when she wants, one of the best scenes being her knocking down Jayant and yelling, “Mereko marega?” All the glam is gone, but it’s still Monica, and yet the OST easily fits her vibe.
As the scene unfolds—a murderous scene at that and yet the song that plays is ‘Love you so much I want to kill you’—with lyrics that read, “He say he was a biker, he say he take me home, he say he was a lover, who never let me down, he say he was Thalaivar but turned out to be a clown…” The chorus that follows is, “Love you so much that I want to kill you.” You’re horrified, invested, and yet, still in splits—almost questioning yourself, am I laughing at a murder attempt? But if the music’s that good, what to do? It’s so outrageously saucy that I almost wondered if there was a contest held among prominent lyrics to see who could write the most outlandish lyrics. The last time a film’s soundtrack could rival such lyrics was Delhi Belly, with Vir Das screaming Jaa Chudail and the iconic lyrics ‘I hate you, like I love you’. Ah, the kind of humour we need, sometimes.
She gets another memorable song, Suno Jaanejan Saud Khan and Varun Grover. The song has all the vibes of a reincarnation track that would have been used in the 70s a vengeful lover, as the lyrics go something like, “Suno jaanejan, yun dil na jalao, mauka milega naya…” Monica smiles mysteriously at the terrified men in the room, who have literal goosebumps. She knows something that they don’t know, and now they’re in trouble. Little does she know that she’s also in trouble.
But undoubtedly, the best is saved for Akanksha Ranjan’s Nikki. I was almost afraid at first, was she just going to be the annoying, clingy girlfriend in every Bollywood film? But Nikki falls into the pit of crazy just like everyone else. She has no hesitation in admitting that she can destroy men who upset her best friends; she’s just as diabolic and couldn’t care less about her murdered family members. As they attend a family funeral, the song that plays is ‘Adios’. It actually starts with ‘Tata’, and the lyrics say, “e e, adios. e e adios.” It’s a terrifyingly cheerful song while family members bid goode to the departed. She tells Jayant blankly while taking off her sunglasses, “I’m glad he’s dead. Acha who mar gaya. Good riddance.” The song continues to play in the background. e e, indeed.
Monica O My Darling is fabulous teamwork the whole cast and crew—direction, screenplay, dialogues, acting and soundtrack. It’s been a while since Bollywood served something this good and hysterical, it shows the tremendous acting skills of the whole cast—especially Huma Qureshi and Radhika Apte.