Release date:
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March 24, 2017
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Director:
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Avinash Das
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Cast:
Language:
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Swara Bhasker,
Sanjai Mishra, Pankaj Tripathi, Ishteyaq Khan, Mayur More, Vijay Kumar, Nitin
Arora, Vishwa Bhanu
Hindi
|
“In future, whether
a woman is your wife, a prostitute or one step above a prostitute, ask what she
wants before you touch her.”
There is such deep
satisfaction to be had from hearing a character on the big screen utter this
sentence. That it comes from the heroine – not the hero – of the film in
question, is cause to pop open a zillion champagne bottles. It is a moment of
triumph, not just in this week’s Hindi film release, Anaarkali of Aarah, but in Bollywood history.
In 1993, the lawyer
Govind (Sunny Deol) roared out the well-remembered “tareekh pe tareekh” speech against the victimisation of a woman who
was an eyewitness to a rape, in Rajkumar Santoshi’s Damini. In 2016, Amitabh Bachchan’s lawyer Deepak Sehgal snarled
out the words “no means no” in a courtroom in Aniruddha Roy Chowdhury’s Pink. Both are significant films, no
doubt, but 2017 is now witnessing a much-needed evolution beyond them. In Anaarkali of Aarah, a woman – not a man
– storms into the lion’s den and skewers him with her wits and fury, as she
reminds him about the meaning of consent. A woman, not a man – hold on to that.
Anaarkali, the
firebrand who ticks off a male sexual predator in this fashion, is the
protagonist of a film that works not just because of its sound gender politics
though. It works because its feminism is embedded in a gloriously entertaining,
skillfully told story with the best musical score and most intelligent
choreography of the year so far. Even when it defies believability to snatch
victory out of defeat for a beleaguered woman, Anaarkali of Aarah does so with such conviction, that it is
impossible not to cheer despite knowing at some level that the real Anaarkalis of
the world are hardly likely to get off as lightly.
Swara Bhasker plays
the central character of the tale, a stage performer in Bihar’s Aarah town who
is passionate about her song and dance. When a local bigwig molests her in
public one day, not surprisingly the entire system closes ranks to protect him.
Anaarkali is not
one to be taken lightly though. She is the sort of person some might consider
foolhardy and others would call brave. She fights the man who preys on her
along with his protectors and social opprobrium to have her say and live life
on her own terms.
Writer-director
Avinash Das makes his debut with a film that can only come from genuine belief.
His writing is as assured as his direction. He obviously knows Bihar and
small-town India, which accounts for the fact that Anaarkali of Aarah at no point exoticises its setting or its
characters. Most important though, he appears to know women like Anaarkali
well.
The tone of Anaarkali of Aarah’s narrative is
unfaltering as is the look and sound of the film. Anaarkali sings erotic numbers
often steeped in double entendre, as she would in the real world, yet the
lyrics by Ramkumar Singh, Dr Sagar, Ravindra Randhawa and Das himself take dual
meanings to a different level by supplementing their sexual content with the
woman’s rebellion, resilience and lamentations. In Lehnga jhaanke she sings of the spellbinding
effect her skirt has on men, in Mora piya matlab ka
yaar she speaks of the deception by those very men,
and in Sa ra ra ra she dares them to
touch her without permission.
“Hamra ke confusiya ke gaya / Khidki se Patna dikha ke gaya / Hamra th chaukhat ke bhitri zulam hai / Saiyyaan ghoomakkad ko dharti bhi kam hai
/ Dekho suit boot zulmi taiyyaar / Mora piya matlab ka yaar,” she sings in this
telling number written by Dr Sagar.
If Das is the
captain of the ship, music director Rohit Sharma is his first officer. Not only
are the earthy, folksy tunes and lyrics compelling, but the voices too have
been chosen as if by a casting director. It is as if Swati Sharma, Indu Sonali,
Pawni Pandey and Rekha Bhardwaj were all born to sing for Bhasker and Bhasker
alone.
In fact, Anaarkali of Aarah is remarkable in the
Hindi film musical universe in the sense that at no point does it seem like
anyone but the actress herself is singing.
Swara Bhasker’s
smoothly textured voice is one of her defining characteristics. With no obvious
effort to sound gravelly or loud, she seems to have modified it to match her
playback singers.
We already know Bhasker’s
innate talent from Tanu Weds Manu (TWM), TWM Returns, Raanjhanaa and last year’s Nil Battey Sannata,
but Anaarkali of Aarah is a big step
up in her journey as an artist. She
so completely inhabits this character, that there is no Ms Bhasker to be seen
in the by turns raunchy, feisty, angry, scared, hurt and irrepressible
Anaarkali.
Adding to her
understanding of the character is the delightful work of the film’s costume designer
Rupa Chourasia and choreographer Shabina Khan. Anaarkali’s dance moves in Sa ra ra ra and her complete immersion
in that song gave me goosebumps.
Anaarkali of Aarah is a good lesson for those
who seem confused by the ongoing debate on the portrayal of women in Hindi
cinema. Anaarkali is objectified by the male characters in the film, but never
by director of photography Arvind Kannabiran’s camera. Her character is
demeaned by several men in her life, but never by Das, the man who has written
the story of this film. She sings of the reality of women who are subjected to
a sleazy male gaze, but Bhasker at no point submits to being degraded herself
as a woman, as Kareena Kapoor Khan did when she danced to “Main toh tandoori murgi hoon yaar, gatka le saiyyaan alcohol se” in
Dabangg 2.
Bhasker’s choices
in this film, her performance and the manner in which Das has conceptualised
and fleshed out Anaarkali all add up to a unique moment in Hindi cinema.
Anaarkali… features other interesting characters too.
Rangeela, the man who runs the ‘music company’ of which the heroine is a
member, is played with admirable control by Pankaj Tripathi. His gestures and
body language in several places might conventionally be considered effeminate,
yet Tripathi never reduces Rangeela to a camp caricature.
Sanjai Mishra as
the film’s antagonist delivers a performance of great depth here. He makes
university vice-chancellor Dharmender Chauhan a slimy fellow without resorting
to easy gimmickry and over-the-top acting that usually defines the Hindi film
villain even today. Watch out for that moment when the camera rests on his face
in the climax.
If I have a grouse
against Anaarkali of Aarah, it is
that Rangeela is not better explored by the script. His relationship with
Anaarkali is obviously complex, which is why she forgives him his aggression,
unlike Dharmender Chauhan. Something is missing in the portrayal of that
equation.
Another character
who should have been better explored is Anaarkali’s young ally Anwar played by
the loveable Mayur More. Anwar is cute, his unflinching support is endearing, and
it is nice to see that this relationship does not take a predictable course (nothing
in the film does). It would have been nicer still to discover more of Anwar through
the script.
(Spoiler alert) There is a scene in the
film in which a man walks seemingly menacingly towards a cowering Anaarkali in
a closed room. He turns out to be a well-wisher, and that flash of intimidation
appears to have been designed to throw us off. Brief though it is, it sticks
out because it is the only point at which the script momentarily takes its
theme lightly to manipulate the audience. (Spoiler
alert ends)
The best written
supporting character in Anaarkali of
Aarah is another of the heroine’s allies, Hiraman played sweetly by
Ishteyaq Khan with control that rivals Tripathi’s.
Among other things,
Avinash Das appears to be having fun with names here – Anaarkali, Hiraman, Bulbul...
Will this Anaarkali, for instance, be buried alive by patriarchy or banished to
another kingdom, like her legendary forebear? My favourite of the lot is the corrupt
cop Bulbul Pandey, as different from Salman Khan’s Chulbul Pandey in Dabangg as chalk is from cheese.
All this is the
background from which emerges that one line from the heroine, translated at the
start of this review: “Randi ho, randi se
thhoda kam ho ya biwi ho, aainda marzi poochh kar haath lagaaiyega.” It may
read like a conventional Hindi film dialogue of the sort that tends to attract
cheers and wolf whistles from the masses, but be assured that it is
discomfiting to status quoists. For proof, look no further than the Censor
Board’s A rating for Anaarkali of Aarah.
When a ‘hero’ is
violent with a heroine, as Badrinath was in Badrinath ki Dulhania earlier this month, and that heroine says in so many words that
his behaviour is all her fault, the Board finds his violence worthy of a UA
rating (meaning: fit for consumption by children if their parents consider it
so). But when a woman on the margins of society fights back, she is deemed
suitable only for adults. Pahlaj Nihalani and his ilk apparently do not want our
“Bhartiya sanskriti” and impressionable
children to be influenced by “uss type ki
aurat” (that kind of woman).
Bless you Avinash
Das for celebrating in a most entertaining fashion, every gutsy, rebellious,
non-malleable, non-compliant uss type ki
aurat through your Anaarkali. And bless you Swara Bhasker for bringing this
wonderful woman to life on screen.
Rating
(out of five stars): ****
CBFC Rating (India):
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A
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Running time:
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113 minutes 5 seconds
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Poster
courtesy: IMDB
