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Release date:
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July 1, 2016
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Director:
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Jitendra Tiwari and P. Singh
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Cast:
Language:
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Jimmy Sheirgill,
Ashutosh Rana, Sanjay Suri, Narendra Jha, Anirudh Dave, Suha Gezen, Hiten
Tejwani, Eijaz Khan, Deepraj Rana
Hindi
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First, let us get
this out of the way: Muzaffarnagar is not mentioned anywhere in Shorgul. The allusions are unmistakable
though, which explains media reports that BJP MLA Sangeet Som has been raising
a ruckus about this little-known film.
Som is a prime
accused in the Muzaffarnagar riots of 2013. Actor Jimmy Sheirgill in Shorgul plays a fictional Ranjeet Om, an
MLA from a right-wing Hindu party who engineers communal riots in the town of
Malihabad – in a state ruled by a Chief Minister Mithilesh Yadav (Sanjay Suri)
– to further his goal of becoming a Member of Parliament in the next election.
Som clearly does
not know when to shut up though, because the fact is, Shorgul makes allusions to other contemporary political leaders and
situations that could very well place the story elsewhere too. Such as the
film’s slim Muslim leader Alam Khan (played by Narendra Jha) who delivers an
inflammatory speech about the likely consequences of India’s Muslims rising up
against the country’s Hindus, which sounds almost like a replica of the real-life
speech allegedly delivered by All India Majlis-e-Ittehad-ul Muslimeen MLA Akbaruddin Owaisi
in Adilabad in 2012 for which he was arrested in 2013.
All right then,
that point has been addressed. Onward to the review. If you have been brought
up in a secular, liberal environment, it is easy to dismiss some of the
situations and conversations in this film as a figment of the writers’ minds. That
scene, for instance, in which a Muslim student asks a fellow Muslim collegemate
to hang out with her own people instead of Hindu friends. Improbable? Actually,
not. If you have kept your eyes and ears open and looked beyond your own
immediate family, you would know that such words have been – and are – routinely
spoken in homes and public places across India, earlier in whispers and now
increasingly openly.
The point is, the
film’s story is believable. A Muslim girl called Zainab and a Hindu boy called
Raghu grow up as friends. He falls in love with her but she is unaware of his
feelings. When her fiancé Saleem discovers the truth, it leads to tension
between all parties involved and ultimately, an unplanned act of violence that
is used by Ranjeet Om to incite riots in the town.
Caught in the
crossfire along with the youngsters is Raghu’s father, Chaudhary (Ashutosh
Rana), a respected local leader who is constantly at loggerheads with Om.
Plausible plotline,
as you can see. The execution is a different matter altogether.
Shorgul’s screenplay by Jitendra
Tiwari is effective in not taking sides with either community
involved. Unfortunately, it takes its title very seriously and ultimately loses
itself in its own din.
The film – co-directed by Tiwari
with P. Singh – is noisy, lacks finesse and depth, and the political
machinations are diluted to irritating effect by too many loud songs and problematic
production quality.
At the centre of it all is an
actress so uncharismatic playing Zainab, that it is hard to understand why two
men – not one, but two – are so smitten by her as to be willing to give up their
lives for her. Newcomer Suha Gezen lacks a screen
presence. Making things worse is the director duo’s evident fixation with what
they consider her immense beauty. As a result, she is given a lingering
introductory shot and the camera gazes lovingly at her throughout.
It does not help Gezen’s
case that Zainab’s suitors are played by TV stars
Anirudh Dave and Hiten Tejwani who are both easy on the eye and better actors.
Dave does twice resort to screaming to convey a burst of temper but there is
reason to forgive him that folly in the scene in which Raghu acknowledges his
feelings for his lady friend. Tejwani, who is his senior, lends a quiet
likeability to Saleem.
There is also some
pleasure to be derived from the performances of Messrs Sheirgill, Rana and Jha.
All three manage to avoid sounding bombastic for a considerable part of the
film, despite the decibel levels that surround them (not counting a verbal
explosion by Rana in his final scene).
There is a
not-entirely-uninteresting twist in the tale. The real mystery though is why,
through Sanjay Suri’s cameo, the filmmakers have tried to place a halo around the
head of real-life UP Chief Minister Akhilesh Yadav.
Be that as it may, Shorgul is a perfect example of the
Central Board of Film Certification’s persistent inconsistency. Despite its
communal language and intense violence, the film has got away with a UA rating
and, according to co-director P. Singh, a directive to remove just three words
– gau, Ganga and Godhra. This seems
like an act of extreme indulgence from a Board that just last month fought hard
to prevent the release of Udta Punjab
and had to be forced by the judiciary to let that film come to theatres with an
A certificate.
It is not this
review’s case that Shorgul should be
banned – of course it should not be. Question is, by what yardstick does its
content not merit an A (restricted to adults) rating? And why the double
standards?
The lasting memory
from Shorgul though is of its overall
air of tackiness. The song and dance routine accompanying the opening credits
should have been a sign of things to come: it features a poorly shot Hrishitaa
Bhatt stuck with some of the most awkward choreography seen in a film in recent
memory. Closing the brackets on the mediocrity is a ridiculous video of a wailing,
weeping Zainab/Gezen filmed underwater and running alongside the closing
credits, possibly to convey some deep philosophical point. It is unwittingly
funny.
Between the two
ends, we get an array of junior artistes with limited talent, a scar on Eijaz
Khan’s neck that proves the prosthetic make-up department lacked funds and oh
yes, a couple of songs with lyrics by Congress politician Kapil Sibal that are
unmemorable enough to merit this cliché: his writing is nothing to write home
about.
The Muzaffarnagar
riots are a blot on contemporary history and the wounds from that blaze are yet
to heal. It is almost criminal to use references to this human tragedy to draw
audiences into a
deafening, unimaginative, ordinary film.
Rating
(out of five): *
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CBFC Rating (India):
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UA
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Running time:
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132 minutes 47 seconds
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This
review has also been published on Firstpost:
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