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Do Patti collapses like a house of cards when it aims to be clever, notes Sukanya Verma.
Dressed in the exact same attire as her newly wedded sister at her reception, the lookalike twin poses right next to the bride and groom as if fulfilling Bollywood's bawdy fantasy of saali aadhi gharwali in a tasteless, thunder-stealing move.
It's a rare tantalising moment in a pile of trite twists and turns where Do Patti, directed by Shashanka Chaturvedi, gives in to its basest impulses but collapses like a house of cards when it aims to be clever, or worse still, a crusader.
Credited for its story, screenplay and dialogues, Kanika Dhillon cannot tell her femme fatale from her feminist in her increasingly formulaic vision, split between ambiguous motives, unhinged interactions and stagy big reveals.
Always seeking an element of danger through her precarious protagonists and their unhealthy preoccupation for toxic relationships, Dhillon's women are either rebelling or recoiling.
Do Patti is a showcase of those limitations.
Repackaging the premise of sisters rivalling for the affection of the same guy into a thriller about identical twins, as different as chalk and cheese, navigating hate and a history of violence, Do Patti's potential is marred by scatterbrained writing.
Saumya and Shailee, played by Kriti Sanon, stir the peace of a sleepy hill station in North India when the escalating tension between them catches the curiosity of a sincere cop (Kajol), wanting to be taken seriously by her male bosses.
What looks like a catfight over Saumya's husband and Shailee's ex, Dhruv Sood (Shaheer Sheikh is a picture of hammy outbursts and seedy charm), a powerful minister's brash businessman son has its roots in events from the twain's childhood, resulting in one's depression and another's defiance.
The backstory is the big reveal and its investigation kickstarts after a paragliding accident is believed to be an attempt to murder.
Withholding information can be a smart move but in the absence of buildup, it feels like a lazy trope to justify actions triggered by generational trauma, something Dhillon's Judgementall Hai Kya achieved imaginatively.
Do Patti's lack of inspiration shows in how tamely it introduces its characters.
There's not even a shred of authenticity in the milieu, save for Saumya's winter red nose every now and then in a scenario saddled by Anurag Saikia's hyper, overworked background music.
You'd think there's some quirk in Kajol raising a pet bunny; there's none.
He's as sporadic as Saumya's dance teacher or Dhruv's influential daddy.
There's Vivek Mushran too as Saumya-Shailee's uncle doing nothing except staying mum.
AWOL existence is not its only crime.
The reasoning behind Saumya and Shailee's animosity is as piddly as is its sudden turnabout.
Do Patti struggles to give substance to their conflict and contrasts. Even when we come to see there's more than meets the eye, the lack of conviction is appalling.
Despite the odds, Kriti Sanon's smooth balancing act is the saving grace of her maiden co-production with Kanika Dhillon, as she goes from one extreme to another playing both naughty and nice.
There's a relaxed relish in her behaviour, which sets her apart from her effective neurotic counterpart. Her adventurous artistry deserved a better outlet than Do Patti.
On paper, Kajol's spunk is ideal for the robust, small-town cop, but her fake, fumbling accent and wishy-washy characterisation as she looks for a middle ground between maverick and moral is completely off the mark.
Juggling back and forth as a cop and lawyer, it's no different from Johnny Lever showing up in various avatars in mindless comedies of back in the day.
Tanvi Azmi -- as the concerned mother-figure of these warring twins -- guzzling down a shot of alcohol before sharing their story to Kajol, is an unintentionally hilarious indication of how absurd the yarn is.
A hot-headed dude yo-yos between the siblings, yet neither is averse to being used or using him as long as it serves their purpose of settling scores.
Between Saumya's masochistic sufferer craving motherhood and Shailee's idea of agency being Dhruv's on and off thing, their hollow fight for supremacy makes Do Patti a hard sell for the justice-seeking it has in mind.
Sizzle and serious make for a deadly combination when done intelligently, but Do Patti's clumsy depiction of courtroom drama, what with the accused openly threatening and admitting to his father's felonies in front of the judge, or a lawyer reopening a case or calling it off on whim without consequences, Dhillon's cinema could do with some reality check.
For all its contemporary edge and desire to address spousal abuse, Dhillon's storytelling stinks of out-dated sensibilities and their perverse ideas of reconciliation -- be it the simple twin scoring over the sassy one as wife material in Sharmeelee, jilted cousin seducing her lustful jijaji behind her indisposed sister's back in Aakhir Kyon? Or competitive big sister looking to reignite her relations with old flame turned brother-in-law much to her sissy sibling's dismay in Aaina.
Dysfunctionality triggered by scarred childhood is a valid point but doesn't find an active voice in Do Patti's half-baked diabolism, which needed to be more Dead Ringers than The Parent Trap.
Do Patti streams on Netflix.
