Glow-getter who can’t be kept at Bae

A rich heiress thrown out of her palatial mansion… the basic theme of ‘Call Me Bae’ might remind you of ‘Schitt’s Creek’ in which a multibillionaire family suddenly has to rediscover themselves sans their riches. Baeurf Bella (Ananya Panday), too, is on a similar journey. But this is where the similarity with the Emmy-winning series ends. Bae finds herself on the road after an altercation with her uber rich husband. She has erred and he has not forgiven.

Who understands the glitz and glamour of the ultra-rich better than our KJo, whose Dharmatic Entertainment is behind the eight-episode series streaming on Prime Video. But what happens when he moves into OTT space? Well, as we have seen lately, be it streaming platforms or theatrical releases, his productions not only have the trademark Dharma fluff, but also a meaningful tadka of progressive values. So, there she is, our golden girl Bae, the Indian equivalent of a dumb blonde who will soon find purpose and meaning. Quite a bimbo and chirpy, whose only job is to ‘get up, dress up and show up’ and only claim to fame is ‘good looks, good looks and good looks’. She will indeed learn to look beyond her showy blinkers.

As the show opens, this ‘glow-getter’ is rather clueless about what real life minus those exclusive platinum credit cards is all about. She goes about uttering mumbo jumbo like ‘how people underestimate good-looking people’ and throws money at all and sundry, strangers very much included.

A reality check brings her to ground zero. Ananya Panday, the right fit for the rich poor girl Bae, is dressed to the nines. She might be homeless but is not without her designer couture and her irreverent hashtags. She lives and thrives on social media. Everything she does, even being accosted by the police, is food for her social media live feeds. Brand knowledge is her special domain… after all, how many of us can spot a real Gucci, Prada or LV. Bae’s discerning eye makes her decode celebrity anchor Satyajit’s (sharp and stinging Vir Das) fake desihood. This makes the ‘master of character assassination’, who runs a TV show Confessional (much like the ‘Nation wants to know’ media hound), a butt of ridicule. Her scathing comments, ‘Satya nahi satyanaash’, put her in the spotlight.

Viral videos and a ticket to stardom — we have seen this before. Is she the new influencer in the making? Nah, she lands up in the same news studio where Satyajit works. It is cheekily called TRP and it’s only a matter of time before she, with a laughable ‘summer course in social media journalism’, will find her metier and get the better of her bete noire.

The tempo of the series is light-hearted; much is tongue-in-cheek. But not all is super fun and frolic as it aims to. Writing by Ishita Moitra, also the creator, Samina Motlekar and Rohit Nair is pungent.

‘Pneumonia ke P ki tarah non-existent ho jaaogi….’ ‘Yeh life hai Ravi Shastri ki commentary nahi, badal jaayegi’ — the wisecracks add spice. Meta references, too, are astutely crafted. But situational humour does not always land.

The Colin D’Cunha directorial is not an out and out joyride, but oscillates in many directions. A satire on the TRP-driven world of television news, self-discovery and unmasking of a powerful tycoon, in fact there is more than one issue in this palatable mishmash. Any talk of the #MeToo movement that was born in Hollywood and died in Bollywood would have sounded a bit obsolete today. Only if the Malayalam film industry had not been rocked by sexual harassment charges, as we speak. So, there is no denying its relevance and ‘behn code older than The Da Vinci Code’ that binds the women in the show.

Hail sisterhood… and the show brings several actors such as Muskkaan Jaferi (Saira) and Niharika Lyra Dutt (Tammarrah Pawwarh) of calibre together. ‘Woman-up’… and they do chin up, even Satyadev’s girlfriend Harleen (Lisa Mishra) finally joins the girl power. If there is sisterhood, can romance be far behind… Gurfateh Pirzada as the dour but conscientious journalist Neel and Varun Sood, the eye-candy gym trainer-cum-techie Prince, provide romantic relief. They have their own stories to tell, but exist primarily to buttress our heroine, the ineffable Bae.

From start to finish, it’s Bae’s story. Ananya perfects the bimbo act, and has enough spark to sustain the breeziness of the show. Even her coming-of-age dramatics are in the same amusing vein.

Her rivalry with Satyajit, too, has chuckle-some moments. Finally, her ‘sting’ pans out the expected righteous way. Conscious attempts to make us feel for the attention-starved richie rich with a backstory to boot, however, mostly leave us cold.

‘Posh lives matter…’, but only if there is more nuance to them and substance in shows around them. Nevertheless, this desi Emily in Mumbai keeps us engaged with her artless charm and disarming candour. To paraphrase Chris Archer, ‘Surface gloss might reflect more than it reveals’, it hurt no one.