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Release
date:
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January 10, 2020
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Director:
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Meghna Gulzar
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Cast:
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Deepika Padukone, Vikrant Massey, Madhurjeet
Sarghi, Payal Nair, Chitranjan Tripathy, Geeta Agarwal, Manohar Teli, Vishal
Dahiya, Ankit Bisht, Vaibhav Upadhyay, Delzad Hivale, Sharvari Deshpande,
Ipshita Chakraborty
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Language:
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Hindi
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Despite
the standard disclaimer that appears at the start of pretty much every film
these days (“any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental”
etc), Chhapaak
– as is evident from its promotions –
is based on the true story of acid-attack survivor and activist Laxmi Agarwal.
In the film she becomes Malti (played by Deepika Padukone) whose life changes
forever one day when acid is thrown on her face. Malti is 19 at the time and
Basheer Khan a.k.a. Babbu, a family friend, is 30. His motive: she had ignored
his romantic overtures and was clearly involved with a boy in a neighbouring
school.
Director
Meghna Gulzar’s film, which she has co-written with Atika Chohan, is far
from being a conventional high-pitched melodrama. Chhapaak’s narrative style is largely documentary-like, leaving the
horror of Malti’s reality to do its work on viewer emotions. Besides, when we
are first introduced to the protagonist, it is with her damaged face, and only
in the climactic moments of the film do we get to see her for what she once
was. Through most of the running time then, it is impossible not to compare the
corroded skin on screen with the beauty we know Padukone to be. The mere
thought that one human being could do this to another, that scores of men
continue to do this to women in India, is obviously shocking (and yes, dear offended MRAs, stats do show that the
perpetrators are mostly men). Unfortunately, the film’s bid to be
understated is stretched too far.
Chhapaak means well, no doubt,
but the screenplay is surprisingly thin – surprising because of Meghna’s
brilliance with Raazi and Talvar. Combine that with plotline weaknesses, an excessive effort to stay low
key and the unexpected shot at being a conformist fairytale in the end, and the
result is a film that seems curiously detached from its heroine, despite the
devastating true story that inspired it.
When Chhapaak (meaning: Splash) opens, we are
in 2012 and Delhi is out on the streets protesting against a brutal gangrape on a bus. At this point, Malti has chosen to
disappear from the public eye despite having earlier filed a high-profile PIL
demanding a ban on the sale of acid in India. She soon starts working with an
NGO for acid-attack survivors run by
journalist-turned-activist Amol (Vikrant Massey). Thus begins her journey
as the most visible face of this horrific crime in the country.
Chhapaak’s
narrative structure, which involves some back and forth in time, is slightly
confusing. When did Malti stop being desperate for a job? When did
rights-consciousness overcome her despair? What might have been a natural
progression in a linear storyline comes across as swings in the state of
mind of both the central figure and a couple of those around her
because of the jagged timeline of events.
This though is not the primary issue with Chhapaak. The primary issue is that while trying to avoid being
high-decibel masala, it ends up seeming oddly uninvolved.
Perhaps I have been spoilt for Chhapaak
because just last year I watched – and loved and rewatched – the Mollywood film Uyare starring the wonderful Parvathy
Thiruvothu as a woman whose controlling boyfriend throws acid on her face. That
Malayalam film directed by Manu Ashokan managed to be subtle yet
emotionally stirring, optimistic yet heart-rending. Chhapaak tries but fails to attain that fine balance.
The film does have its positives. Such as its unobtrusive background
score by Shankar Ehsaan Loy and Tubby, and a gentle title track by SEL. Or that amusing,
heart-warming conversation between two survivors about the kind of face that
they want post-surgery. Or the solid courtroom arguments between two lawyers
who are neither wolf-whistle-worthy in the Sunny “dhai kilo ka haath” Deol league nor the twerps we usually see
in commercial Bollywood. Their
intelligent exchanges are real, low-volume yet gripping.
The
winner among all the episodes in Chhapaak
is the one where Malti in a celebratory mood has a face-off with Amol. The
writing and acting in this scene are flawless.
The treatment of the villains’ Muslim identity too is
interesting. The man behind the attack on the real-life Laxmi was Muslim,
so too are the antagonist in Chhapaak
and his accomplice, but they are portrayed factually in the film, not as ugly
Muslim stereotypes of the sort that have pervaded Hindi cinema in the past
couple of years. In the current political atmosphere in India, this was perhaps
the trickiest part of the story and Meghna acquits herself well here. Not so
smoothly done is a fleeting scene involving Malti’s brother and a member of
Basheer Khan’s family.
(Alert: minor spoilers in the next four paragraphs)
Considering that Meghna’s handling of gender is usually faultless, it is
surprising to see her go down a conventional path in Chhapaak’s finale. The last we see of Malti in her present-day
avatar is of a man she loves acknowledging his own feelings for her. Read: the
standard happily-ever-after of formulaic fairytales. A woman getting a man is
the socially accepted definition of a happy ending because getting a man was
and still is widely assumed to be every woman’s primary goal and ultimate
achievement. In a changing world, where Hollywood has tossed convention out of
the window in films like Frozen and Maleficent, and our very own Uyare refused to go down that well-worn
road, it needs to be asked why Chhapaak
alters Laxmi’s truth to fit this old straitjacket.
For a film that aims at realism, this and one other element are
particularly jarring. You see, the real Laxmi did indeed fall in love with the
founder of the NGO she worked with, they did enter into a relationship and even
have a child together. The inconvenient ‘after’ to this ‘happily-ever-after’ that the film
avoids though is that they soon broke up, and
according to media reports, as of now she is a financially struggling single
mother.
Everything else in Chhapaak is
perhaps debatable, what is not is its portrayal of Malti being recruited as an
anchor by Aaj Tak. Considering this media group’s reputation for wanting its
female anchors to look like Fox-News-style models, this part of Chhapaak is almost laughable. It is
unclear why the writers could not have thought up a fictional TV channel or,
better still, come up with a more believable profession for Malti.
This
passage in Chhapaak defies
believability in another way. While Malti is giving an interview in Aaj Tak’s
studio, a producer watching from the control room says “she is good”, and
seconds later she has a job offer. Actually, Malti is particularly ineffective
while answering questions in that scene. The writing and acting here are at
their feeblest.
(Spoiler alert ends)
The
fulcrum of Chhapaak is Padukone. The
superstar, who also debuts as a producer with this film, has the benefit here
of sensitive camerawork by Malay Prakash
and prosthetic makeup that somewhat mirrors the real-life Laxmi’s
appearance. This is a talented actor who managed to make a mark
even in the horribly Islamophobic, misogynistic and clichéd Padmaavat in 2018. In Chhapaak, however, she is inconsistent.
She does a good job of her present-day scenes, especially her hesitant
flirtation with Amol. In the passage where she is shown as a teenaged
school-goer though, she is decidedly awkward.
The
supporting cast is fair enough. The one actor who truly stands out in Chhapaak is Massey playing Amol. Hindi
TV’s Darling Young Man, the sturdy Dev from Lootera
(2013) and the loveable, troubled Shutu from A Death In The Gunj (2017) is all grown up and a really sexy man in
Chhapaak. He is so hot, and his
performance so nuanced, that it becomes easy to see why Malti would fall in
love with the irritable Amol.
The
blend Massey achieves is what Chhapaak
needed as a whole. Without that, what we are left with are good intentions, a
heart in the right place, a major star taking a huge risk with an unorthodox
role and a bunch of pluses that somehow do not come together to deliver an
immersive experience.
Rating (out
of 5 stars): 2.5
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CBFC Rating (India):
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U
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Running time:
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123 minutes
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This review has also been published on Firstpost:
Poster
courtesy:
