Film: Madras Cafe
Starring: John Abraham, Ayushmann Khurrana,Nargis Fakhri,
Director: Shoojit Sircar
Producer: John Abraham, Ronnie Lahiri
Banner: J.A. Entertainment,Viacom 18 Motion Pictures,Risin
Music: Shantanu Moitra
If only history could be changed
by art. Cinema is a powerful medium for socio-political expression and
revolution. Alas, in this country, entertainment engages all other
aspects of life on celluloid.
But seriously, it's time now to get off
the "Chennai Express" and get into "Madras Cafe" for a cup of the
compelling. We need a reality check. And we need to regain a sense of
history in Bollywood cinema which seems lost in the hoary art of
streetside tamasha, glorified and aggrandized by processes of cinematics
that are perceived to be the elixir of pop culture.
It is time for mainstream entertainment
to grow up. Heightened realism is a means to achieve a synthesis of
fantasy and history in this deftly scripted semi-fictional account of
the processes leading to Rajiv Gandhi's tragic assassination in 1991.
The trenchant script, co-written by
Somnath Dey and Shubendu Bhattacharya, attempts and succeeds in building
the same spiral of pseudo-history that Oliver Stone built in "JFK". I
feel Indian politics, because of the country's multi-culturism, is far
more complex than its American or European counterpart. Our cinema tends
to dilute, simplify and trivialise history because we are much too wary
of and lazy about getting involved.
Not Shoojit Sircar. Not "Madras Cafe".
Not John Abraham. What a courageous producer and actor John has proven
himself to be! More of that later.
But first the plot.
Let me say right away, that to
understand the enormity of the story told in "Madras Cafe", the audience
ought to be familiar with the violent history of the Sri Lankan civil
war. But even if you don't know that thousands of Tamilians died in the
war of separatism, it is no sweat off the screenplay's back.
Tucked away in the compelling creases of
the plot is a terrific thriller about the assassination of a prime
minister, who, let it be known, is not named in the film. Nor are the
LTTE (Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam), Prabakaran and the other key
players. But then this is India. Here, secrecy and stealth are the
founding fathers of any political expose.
But you can't escape the clutches of
history's tyranny. Sircar's skillful interweavement of fact and fiction
leaves little room for scepticism. We know as we watch with helpless
astonishment, that the 'Prime Minister' will die, that the hero in this
case won't be able to save him.
Such are the heroes in real life.
Unsung, sizes smaller than life. John Abraham skips into the part of the
RAW agent Vikram Singh with an ease and comfort of a natural-born
secret agent. If James Bond or for that matter Kabir Khan's Tiger were
to have any truck with real-life politics, they would have been as
believably brave and as credibly heroic as John in this film.
Every actor seems to take a cue from the
vast resources of authenticity at their disposal. Specially riveting is
Prakash Belawade as John's associate, who seems to drink hard to escape
from the enormity of his compromise. Even Nargis Fakhri, so
self-consciously affected as Ranbir Kapoor's doomed soul-mate in
"Rockstar", nails her war correspondent's part with her radiant
presence. But I have a quibble with her character Jaya. Why does Jaya
speak in English while Vikram answers in Hindi?
The linguistic puzzle never quite
obstructs the devastating drama of war violence conspiracy and betrayal.
These are dramatic points of political reckoning. And yet Sircar keeps
the proceedings subdued and low-key. It's a miracle how Sircar's
narrative voice never gets shrill even when the occasion is so ripe for
over-statement.
Plenty of the credit for the tonal
correctness of the narrative must go to Kamaljeet Negi's brilliantly
unadorned cinematography, which locks in on stunning visuals of violence
and espionage-related action without falling into the mistake of making
the frames look prettier than the grim situation that they are meant to
capture.
Sircar's editor Chandrashekhar Prajapati
imbues a documentary style mood to the footage. But the sense of
cinematic expansiveness is retained in the way the camera moves through
the characters' restless lives, searching for positions of comfort in a
situation laden with desperate anxiety.
There's a whole lot of stifled drama in
"Madras Cafe". When a key character dies in the second-half, the tragedy
is handled without fuss. John's tight-lipped performance gives the film
a sense of tragic grandeur. We constantly feel we are in a territory
where drama has no place. The soundtrack is exceptionally honest.
Shantanu Moitra's background music underscores every scene without
hammering in the emotions.
"Madras Cafe" is a dark deep and
satisfying film about the politics of separatism. The film doesn't take
sides. If it is against anything, it is the culture of violence that
nations often feed into neighbouring countries for their own gains. This
film opens up the hitherto unexplored genre of political drama in
Bollywood.
After "Vicky Donor", we know Sircar is
comfortable exploring innovative cinematic territory. Here, he tells an
edgy disturbing provocative but rational and fair-minded story that
takes mainstream Bolywood cinema kicking and screaming into a new
horizon.
This is cinema signifying a
coming-of-age with unforgettable visuals and drama and a rousing mature
career-defining performance by its leading man.
Get off the train, baby. This is arguably the best political thriller that Bollywood has so far given us.