Kajol and Kriti Sanon in Indian Netflix Drama

Do Patti (Two Cards) is a film with an identity crisis, in that neither director Shashanka Chaturvedi nor writer/co-producer Kanika Dhillon seem to be entirely sure of its primary instinct.

Is it a twisted tale of identical twins, one good and one bad? Or is it one more hill station mystery? (For some reason, streaming platforms seem enamored with these — think of Netflix’s Aranyak or Mrs. Serial Killer, Voot’s Candy or ZEE5’s Rautu Ka Raaz. Perhaps the hope is that the beauteous mountain views will distract from the bumpy storytelling.)

Is this an impassioned plea against domestic violence, or a courtroom drama in which it’s difficult to decide who played whom? Is it an exploration of the nature of justice, and of whether the letter of the law or the spirit of the law is more important?

Do Patti attempts to be all of these, but ends up being mostly a mess.

When Dhillon, who is also the architect of Netflix’s Haseen Dillruba franchise, was asked in an interview what a Kanika Dhillon woman is, she replied that her characters embody strength, vulnerability and complexity, that they are nuanced and real characters. While this was true for Rumi in Manmarziyaan and Bobby in Judgementall Hai Kya and even to an extent for Rani in Haseen Dillruba, these traits elude both Saumya and Shailee, the twins played by Kriti Sanon in Do Patti.

It’s easy to see why Sanon, also a co-producer, chose Do Patti as the feature debut for her production house, Blue Butterfly Films. The dual role offers her an opportunity to show her range — from the timid, tremulous Saumya, who suffers from anxiety and depression, to the provocative, vindictive Shailee, who will seemingly do whatever it takes to one-up her sister — and Sanon goes at both parts with gumption and sincerity.

But this movie just isn’t as smart as it thinks it is. The trope of twins who physically look the same but have distinctly different personalities has been a staple of Hindi cinema for decades. Dilip Kumar set the gold standard with Ram Aur Shyam nearly 60 years ago; Hema Malini solidified her star status with a superb double turn in Seeta Aur Geeta (which Do Patti references in dialogue); and then the fabulous Sridevi played both Anju and Manju in ChaalBaaz.

With Do Patti, however, Dhillon seems to take inspiration from 1971’s Sharmeelee, in which Rakhee played Kanchan and Kamini — one vivacious, extroverted and more Westernized, and the other docile, shy and dressed in Indian clothes. No prizes for guessing which one turns out to be wicked and which one eventually gets the guy.

Fifty-three years later, the signifiers for good and bad are the same. Shailee loves drinking, smoking and revealing clothes; she can’t resist baring her midriff even while giving testimony in court. Saumya, of course, refrains from all of this. Both sisters are besotted with Dhruv (Shaheer Sheikh), the scion of a wealthy politician, although it’s impossible to understand why — he does terrible things, especially to Saumya. While Sheik shows some spark, he, like the rest of the cast, is let down by the script.

In order to spice up this clichéd plot, Dhillon adds an unreliable narrator in Maaji, the sisters’ childhood nanny. Actor Tanvi Azmi is so solid in the part that she salvages even the silliest scenes. In one, she offers Dhruv two glasses of sherbet and, when he reaches for one, looks at him meaningfully and suggests he might be making a mistake in his choice.

But the worst served by the writing is Kajol, in her first cop role. Named Vidya Jyothi (meaning “a beacon of knowledge and light”), the character is a single woman determined to bring order and justice to the sleepy fictional hamlet of Devipur. Though the character has an arc, as she investigates an accusation of murder against Dhruv, it plays out only on a superficial level. Aside from one scene in which Vidya is attacked, giving us a glimpse of her vulnerability, she is mostly a one-note character.

Conveniently, Vidya has a law degree, and continues fighting the case as a lawyer in court. A quick Google search reveals that an Indian Police Service officer in fact cannot be an advocate, since advocates are not allowed to be full time salaried employees of the government. 

But Do Patti has little regard for facts or even cursory logic. Vidya’s Haryanvi accent comes and goes. Paragliding plays a pivotal role in the plot, but the CGI is so clumsy that it’s impossible to believe that any of those characters are actually in the air. Perhaps the unkindest cut, however, is the predictable climactic twist. This confused film stays confused till the end.