The distinction of the Dhoom franchise, for me, was that the outlaw, apart from having the coolest bike and the love of the most desirable maiden in the movie, was evilly eccentric beyond examination. The outlaw had an ambition, but never a moral justification: whether it was scheming to acquire material wealth over the New Year night by robbing from the cash stash of the enterprise hosting the most luxurious shindig, or striving to stick the tongue out at law enforcement by stealing stuff from secure premises in ways that should leave one lamenting a perverted genius. As baffling as it might be to the proponents of the rational world, this depiction of crime not rooted in an expository backstory was about the only reflection of reality in the rear-view mirrors of those roaring bikes. So, when the third edition regressed to the familiar formula of an unconscionable system moulding the martial nemesis who slays it with vengeance, I was disappointed.
A circus whose defining act is a magic trick is the home of this soon-to-be bankrupt nemesis, who along with his autistic, savant twin - introduced only at the stroke of the interval, pledges his life to bringing down a bank that wouldn't offer his dad a moratorium on a loan and thereby murdered him, though he himself put the gun to his temple and pulled the trigger. Unlike the earlier editions, the crime neither occurs in or brings itself to the jurisdiction of the super cop whose side-kick is a reformed goon who is beyond refinement by induction. The super cop, who still works with the Mumbai police and hasn't been promoted despite his daring detection of diabolical crimes, is flown to Chicago to help the local police catch a crook, perhaps because his preferred getaway is a gorgeous motorcycle, whose upkeep may well be the motive behind his robbing the banks.
As usual, the super cop gets his face rubbed in the greasy dirt chasing the escaping crook. Then, not in the interest of justice, but to keep his and his nation's reputation rumbling, decides to catch the perpetrator in his personal capacity even after being dismissed from the task force looking into the case. And lo and behold, he unravels the modus operandi, aided by a disguise consisting of stuck on beard and moustache, a donned long mane and a pair of spectacles. Why did Sherlock have to be so rigorous to pass himself as someone else?
Meanwhile, the evil twins have their own tense moments over the girl who stars in their act in the reopened circus. The autistic one has fallen in love, while the dastardly one is sufficiently interested, leading to a near showdown. The girl, the liquid electricity through whose system must have fried her cognitive circuitry used to distinguish between two individuals who are only identical in appearance but vastly different in behaviour, confesses her love to the autistic one, who has, incited by his newly found and only friend who is the cop sporting a beard, stubbornly upstaged his twin to twirl with her through the finale of the act.
I would've written about the climax, too, if only I was fully attentive, what with the plot being so soporifically predictable. Yet, the clouds do dissipate in passing, if only to accumulate again, to reveal a few starry moments: the tap dance by the perfectionist Aamir Khan; Alia's audition - one bordering on a strip-tease, her acrobatics increasing in awe with each layer she sheds - for a role in the circus; the show-piece act of the rejuvenated circus which is almost operatic, and mostly a dance drama that ends with a magic trick; the absurdly hilarious cinematic entry of Abhishek Bachchan; Aamir Khan's acting skills coming to the fore when they've been rarely allowed to by the script; the bikes that can go airborne and are amphibians - move over Batman and James Bond, the twins designed their bikes themselves! Depending on your entertainment choices, you may even like the Kissing 101 in slow motion - seemingly only the second on-screen lip-lock involving Katrina that is remotely relevant to the narration.
As my sister pithily summarized, Dhoom 3 is a high-octane, histrionic melodrama that may well have been pseudonymously made by Karan Johar.
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