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Release
date:
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March 15, 2019
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Director:
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Rakeysh Omprakash
Mehra
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Cast:
Language:
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Om Kanojiya,
Anjali Patil, Prasad Sawant, Adarsh Bharti, Niteesh Wadhwa, Syna Anand,
Makarand Deshpande, Rasika Agashe, Atul Kulkarni
Hindi
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An earnest child
travelling to the seat of power in Delhi to get justice for a loved one is a
theme visited more than once by Hindi cinema over the years, though perhaps
most famously in the 1957 film Ab Dilli
Dur Nahin. The problem of open defecation in India too has captured the
imagination of Hindi film makers in recent years. The Akshay Kumar-starrer Toilet: Ek Prem Katha created a
box-office storm in 2017, and in 2018 came the lesser known Halkaa by director Nila Madhab Panda,
about a child slumdweller on the outskirts of Delhi determined to have a toilet
in his home.
Rakeysh Omprakash
Mehra’s Mere Pyare Prime Minister (MPPM) tells the story of a child in
Mumbai whose campaign for a toilet in his slum begins when he realises the
danger his mother faces while relieving herself in darkened public places since
there is no toilet available to her. Toilet:
Ek Prem Katha was about women’s dignity, Halkaa was about human dignity at large, MPPM is about women’s safety. The subject is significant and a
discussion on it essential, but a film has to be more than the issues it hopes
to raise, and this one suffers in the storytelling and casting departments.
Firstly, it takes
just too long to get to the point where little Kanhaiya a.k.a. Kannu discovers
his cause. The narrative picks up from then on, but the writing of the
protagonist is not particularly novel or deep, and the actor himself does not
manage to give the character an edge.
Young Om Kanojiya
who plays Kannu is not as dynamic as the many excellent child artistes
Bollywood has discovered in the past decade nor quite as talented. I found
myself far more drawn to Prasad Sawant and Adarsh Bharti, who play his sharp,
witty friends Nirala and Ringtone respectively – if given better fleshed out roles,
these two boys have the potential to match up even to the likes of Hetal Gada
and Krrish Chhabria who blazed across the screen in Nagesh Kukunoor’s Dhanak in 2016, the ensemble cast of Chillar Party and Harsh Mayar from I Am Kalam.
The conversations between
Kannu, Nirala and Ringtone are often sweet and funny, but there are not enough
of these in the film to up its energy levels.
The scene-stealer
among the children in MPPM is a girl
who gets the least screen time of the lot. Syna Anand who plays Kannu’s buddy
Mangla is a riot in that brief passage when she confesses to his mother and
hers that she knows where Kannu has disappeared. That scene is the high point
of MPPM both in terms of writing and
acting. There is too little of Ms Anand, however, in the film.
The two main adults
are far better conceived than the child protagonist. Kannu’s mother Sargam (the
lovely Anjali Patil from Newton) and
her relationship graph with her friend Pappu (Niteesh Wadhwa) are more
captivating than anything else in MPPM.
She has been written with sensitivity and care, he with understanding, and both
actors deliver quietly effective performances. There is also a small supporting
character called Rabiya, played by Rasika Agashe, who left me keen to see more
of her.
It feels as if the
writers – Manoj Mairta, Hussain Dalal and Mehra himself – are less comfortable
with little ones than they are with grown-ups, which is obviously a big
handicap in a film with a child at the centre of the action. This is perhaps
why the trio stretch the definition of cuteness and appear to be trying too
hard too often to elicit awwws from the audience, never more so than in that
scene before the Gateway of India where the children’s begging and getting
inappropriately physical with passers by are treated with an “oh look how
chweet they are” tone. (What follows at a police station, on the other hand, is
far more relatable and fun.)
Rakeysh Omprakash
Mehra has an uneven filmography. Bhaag Milkha Bhaag was thoroughly enjoyable, Aks
was deeply problematic, but for me at least he will always remain the man who
gave us the gut-wrenching Rang De Basanti.
Mehra is not the only one not living up to expectations with Mere Pyare Prime Minister. The music by
Shankar Ehsaan Loy is as inconsistent as the film itself: Bajaa bajaa bajaa dhol bajaa re is perky and conjures up nostalgia
for a musical era gone by with its use of C. Ramachandra’s charming Are ja re hat natkhat from the 1959
classic Navrang, but the title track
is annoying. Gulzar’s lyrics are nice but not memorable. A word here though for
DoP Pawel Dyllus who has the challenging task of showing various characters
doing potty or surrounded by potty in authentic locations, yet manages to make the point each time without being
intentionally repulsive.
Mere Pyare Prime Minister no doubt means
well. The fact that so many Indians still do not have toilets in 2019 is a
matter of national shame, and it is a relief to see a mainstream Hindi film
maker zeroing in on the risk that poor women take every day with the very
basic, very human act of defecation. The most commendable aspect of the
screenplay is that it does not consign a woman survivor of sexual violence to
eternal mournful misery, nor turn her into Hindi filmdom’s
populist rape-survivor-turned-vengeful-vigilante stereotype (Zakhmi Aurat) or find a relative to take
on that role (Kaabil, Mom), allowing her instead to try to
move on with her life with laughter, her earlier verve and an attempt at
normalcy. This is a
socially important position to take, which is what
makes it even more unfortunate that the overall treatment and the casting
of the leading little man are
inadequate.
Despite its
heartwarming intentions, liberal soul and some interesting actors, Mere Pyare Prime Minister is an underwhelming
experience.
Rating (out
of five stars): **
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CBFC Rating (India):
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UA
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Running time:
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103 minutes
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This review has also been published on Firstpost:
Poster
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