On their initial release, there are some films that don’t make a big splash either by an inherent novelty/glamour factor or due to their modest publicity deals with the voyeuristic media. But then, in the long run, they stand up well enough to elicit multiple viewings from an ever so difficult to please and predict Indian audience and go on to become models for execution on alternate treatments of common themes.
Prakash Jha’s APAHARAN(dec-2005) is one such film that works marvelously well on many levels. At one level, Apaharan is an indictment of the complex socio-political system in Bihar that’s given rise to the ludicrous but lucrative industry of Kidnapping for regular profit. (The phenomenon is not unique to India, anyone familiar with Mexico City can vouch for the same in the American context.) At another level, Apaharan is the study of a souring relationship between an idealistic, senior journalist/professor (Mohan Agashe) and his rapidly degenerating son(Ajay Devgun). At yet another level, it’s a satisfying thriller (without the diversion of song/dance and regular melodrama) that hits you where it hurts and has you worrying about the ultimate consequences of at least three of its central characters (Ajay Devgun as the aspiring police officer who turns into a hardcore criminal, Nana Patekar as a corrupt MLA who’s an expert at milking the political system and his minority card to maximum effect and Mukesh Tiwari as the belittled, upright Police Inspector Salim )
So far, the plot sounds as run of the mill as anything could get. Yes, so what if the film’s supposedly based in the badlands of Bihar and has everyone talking in an authentic bhojpuri dialect? (Apaharan was actually shot in and around Satara in Maharashtra) So what?
So this. Apaharan has the most beautifully written story and screenplay that Jha could lay his hands on after his self-conscious emergence from the badly-lit art house cinema that gave his ilk such a bad name. Like his (Bhagalpur case inspired) Gangajal, Jha re-walks the thin line between reality and myth and emerges with a riveting tale of ambition, organized crime, political machinations, changing loyalties and their clash with truth, conviction and old world values. With Apaharan, Jha proves that a film need not have to be drab and boring to be making an important statement about a system on the verge of a breakdown and also that a thriller does not need to really stretch our imagination beyond the realms of reality to be able to hold our attention.
For anyone familiar with the state of Bihar, Jha pulls the dirty bed linen off the police-bureaucracy-political system and lays it naked for everyone to spit on and lament. ( Nana Patekar’s Tabrez Alam is obviously inspired by the infamous Mohammad Shahbuddin.) But unlike Gangajal, which did not have a satisfactory third act, Apaharan only gathers steam in the last thirty minutes to end in a dramatic yet logical and realistic finale.
For anyone unfamiliar with the state of disgrace in Bihar, the farcical (yet totally true) depiction of criminals/politicians periodically cooling their heels in customized jail quarters has to be seen to gauge the failure of the law and order system in the semi-rural/rural areas of the cow belt. Upstart, hot-blooded young men who spring out of no where and take to a life of crime are hand-picked by local politicians, given political patronage, protection from the police and used selectively to further their own causes. Whenever the situation becomes too hot to handle, these young-guns are quietly advised to retreat behind bars as a sign of the noble dispensation of justice. When the media uproar subsides, these young-guns are let loose on civil society again.
In retrospect, Apaharan should go down as a must watch film, especially for those mourning the demise of the art of conscentious story-telling in modern hindi cinema. Hope lives!
Prakash Jha’s APAHARAN(dec-2005) is one such film that works marvelously well on many levels. At one level, Apaharan is an indictment of the complex socio-political system in Bihar that’s given rise to the ludicrous but lucrative industry of Kidnapping for regular profit. (The phenomenon is not unique to India, anyone familiar with Mexico City can vouch for the same in the American context.) At another level, Apaharan is the study of a souring relationship between an idealistic, senior journalist/professor (Mohan Agashe) and his rapidly degenerating son(Ajay Devgun). At yet another level, it’s a satisfying thriller (without the diversion of song/dance and regular melodrama) that hits you where it hurts and has you worrying about the ultimate consequences of at least three of its central characters (Ajay Devgun as the aspiring police officer who turns into a hardcore criminal, Nana Patekar as a corrupt MLA who’s an expert at milking the political system and his minority card to maximum effect and Mukesh Tiwari as the belittled, upright Police Inspector Salim )
So far, the plot sounds as run of the mill as anything could get. Yes, so what if the film’s supposedly based in the badlands of Bihar and has everyone talking in an authentic bhojpuri dialect? (Apaharan was actually shot in and around Satara in Maharashtra) So what?
So this. Apaharan has the most beautifully written story and screenplay that Jha could lay his hands on after his self-conscious emergence from the badly-lit art house cinema that gave his ilk such a bad name. Like his (Bhagalpur case inspired) Gangajal, Jha re-walks the thin line between reality and myth and emerges with a riveting tale of ambition, organized crime, political machinations, changing loyalties and their clash with truth, conviction and old world values. With Apaharan, Jha proves that a film need not have to be drab and boring to be making an important statement about a system on the verge of a breakdown and also that a thriller does not need to really stretch our imagination beyond the realms of reality to be able to hold our attention.
For anyone familiar with the state of Bihar, Jha pulls the dirty bed linen off the police-bureaucracy-political system and lays it naked for everyone to spit on and lament. ( Nana Patekar’s Tabrez Alam is obviously inspired by the infamous Mohammad Shahbuddin.) But unlike Gangajal, which did not have a satisfactory third act, Apaharan only gathers steam in the last thirty minutes to end in a dramatic yet logical and realistic finale.
For anyone unfamiliar with the state of disgrace in Bihar, the farcical (yet totally true) depiction of criminals/politicians periodically cooling their heels in customized jail quarters has to be seen to gauge the failure of the law and order system in the semi-rural/rural areas of the cow belt. Upstart, hot-blooded young men who spring out of no where and take to a life of crime are hand-picked by local politicians, given political patronage, protection from the police and used selectively to further their own causes. Whenever the situation becomes too hot to handle, these young-guns are quietly advised to retreat behind bars as a sign of the noble dispensation of justice. When the media uproar subsides, these young-guns are let loose on civil society again.
In retrospect, Apaharan should go down as a must watch film, especially for those mourning the demise of the art of conscentious story-telling in modern hindi cinema. Hope lives!
No comments:
Post a Comment