It’s about crowded streets, roaming dogs, filthy bylanes, hopelessness and rearing spirits. Director Ravi Jadhav’s world is a glossy version of usual Mumbai ‘chawl’ life. Banjo begins on a promising note and Manoj Lobo’s camera glides you through dirt, agony and compassion. Lobo’s filters may do the trick for people who can’t face harsh realities with bare eyes. Jadhav probably believes in serving ‘vada paav’ in a silver foil. You get introduced to key characters with some peppy numbers thrown in between. The canvas is spread, and the actors are ready to take the leap of faith. A good musical drama suddenly changes into an average formula tale of a hero with a golden heart, villains who can consider a sudden change of mind, heroine with a knack for dancing and stretched dialogue-baazi. This loosens the noose that was so intelligently set. The second half keeps dragging for no apparent reasons. At one point, you even feel like watching another film in the ABCD franchise. Thankfully, Jadhav realises it in time, and resorts again to the underdog story. Had this 137-minute film refrained from long cross-conversations and forced conflicts in the second half, it could have struck a better chord. It’s a film by someone who can see Mumbai with indigenous eyes. Scratch the filters and it’s as raw as it always was. Show patience in the second half, and it may work for you. There’s a lot to like in Banjo.

Avowedly dedicated to "street musicians all around the world", Banjo is a stodgy, sluggish film that makes a great deal of noise about giving true performers their due. It barely gets its noble point across and when it does after much hemming and hawing, it is let down badly by the lack of a believable storyline and crushed by the burden of an inept and confused screenplay. Indeed, Jadhav's first Hindi film is a complete washout. It never manages to hit the right notes, playing out like a dreary song on loop that quickly turns into an irritating drone. The film starts flat and ends flat. So let's mince no words: Banjo is a painfully pointless exercise that does no justice to either the instrument that it extols or the street musicians that it showcases. Neither the struggle of the slum boys to break out of their impoverishment nor the street and slum scenes the film banks upon to acquire grittiness yield the desired results, leaving Banjo dangling in a yawn-inducing limbo. Rarely does a film press so much noise into service to achieve so little in the end. Heed this warning: don't get within the earshot of Banjo.

I had hopes from Banjo because of a couple of things: director Ravi Jadhav has done a bunch of good Marathi films (Natarang is terrific; Balak Palak places an important conversation at the heart of a ‘children’s’ film; Balgandharva has great music), and lead actor Riteish Deshmukh is light on his feet, even in the  broadest comedies he almost always seems to be seen in. But Banjo has practically no redeeming features. The painful progression to that climactic point is filled with uniformly terrible acting, clichéd situations and shouty, obvious dialogue. The only time the film stops trying your patience somewhat is when it bursts into song, and even there, it has only one which is foot-tapping. Really, you expect better from Deshmukh, whose artfully dusty, tangled tresses and toned, worked-out frame don’t match up to the required grunginess of his character description. And from Jadhav, who has done so much better in his previous outings.

Director Ravi Jadhav, who has some outstanding Marathi films to his name (like Natarang), captures the pulse of Mumbai and the city's buzzing chawl culture in Banjo with simplicity and a dash of humour. His characters exude the quintessential middle-class values, which are bound to resonate with many. The underprivileged are not conditioned to dream big, so even their wishes are realistic. While the story is pretty formulaic (a bunch of street musicians making it big by winning against all odds), the execution and supporting performances are heartfelt. The music could have been better though. Addition of unnecessary drama and random events in the second half slows down the pace considerably, also making the film a tad clichéd. The gorgeous Nargis overdoes the American accent but grows on you eventually. Riteish essays this brash yet vulnerable character effortlessly, proving that he can hold a film on his own if given the right opportunity. The film's cinematography is splendid as well. If you are familiar with Mumbai's working-class neighbourhoods, where the hearts of the poor are bigger than the pay packages of those residing in the mushrooming high-rises, you'll be able to notice the beauty of Banjo. It also makes you respect the street musicians a little more.