GUNDAY DIRECTOR : Ali Abbas Zafar
CAST : Ranveer Singh, Arjun Kapoor, Priyanka Chopra, Irrfan
DURATION : 153 minutes
A large number of films
are churned out in Bollywood every year, week after week. Most of these have
gained statuses of infamy on account of having the same formulaic plots
emulated and employed in different contexts, and have even lost numbers in
terms of the viewing public on such grounds. What most of these films lack, as
commonly perceived, is the inability to try anything new, or manipulate the age
old formulae in such a way so as to dupe the viewer, arresting his boredom and
suspending his disbelief about the fact that that he/she may have been watching
something already traversed in terms of execution and translation on screen;
something definitely not worth repeating in a bid to fulfill his/her basic
motive: to be entertained.
This is exactly the
context from which, if analyzed, ‘Gunday’ seems to score a point over other
similar flicks. What we have in this film is a reworking of a large number of
tropes, plot devices and curves in the narrative that radiate an immediate
sense of ‘déjà vu’, the ‘been there, done that’ feeling that persists otherwise
in other films of similar kind, but are so well concealed, manipulated and
painstakingly reconstructed that you tend to surpass such criticism in favor of
that which demands instant appreciation and applause.
For the film seems to
have no qualms in using such elements employed earlier. The usual features of
young boys, separated from their parents in childhood, their assimilation into
the world of crime, growing up to become goons, their falling in love with a
cabaret dancer later turning into an undercover cop, and the
catch-me-if-you-can chase between police and goons. So, just to divulge a hint
of what I have in mind, we have a curious mix of elements already used in Yaadon ki Baraat/Amar Akbar Anthony, Gangster, and many more films, all
within the context of a Kala Patthar
kind of setup. This is merely indicative, and by no means an exhaustive list, and
I am sure that you would know exactly what I am talking of, if you’re aware of
the development of Hindi cinema over the ages.
The film, nevertheless
has a number of appealing and interesting dimensions fit for insights and
analysis. The first of these is about the Partition. The film opens in the
critical phase in history, 1971, in Calcutta, hostile in the wake of the War
over the creation of Bangladesh. This politically volatile time is given a lot
of importance in the film, as this is what in a way gives the film its thrust
and existence in the first place. Bikram (Ranveer) and Bala (Arjun) are clearly
displaced and refugees from their land, having been unwillingly pushed into
Bengal due to its divisional boundaries. They, then, are there by fate, not
choice. Questions of identity are raised here, and it makes us think of the
larger questions like the Calvinistic debate on predestination/free will and
its relevance in general. Each time Bala tries to change, reform himself and
avoid doing what he does, he is invariably sucked into the vortex of the
realities of crime and the dangers of implication. How much of control do we
really have on our destinies? How little can we really decide in its regard? It
is no wonder that Bikram expresses his bitter regret and anger at being a part of the “system” which
seems to completely rule over their lives, so much so that it charts out every
move of theirs, failing to conform to which they would have to face the
consequences. This may seem pretty mundane and common, but the crucial juncture
at which this comes in the film is what makes it unique and moving, which is
when Nandita (Priyanka) is exposed. He does pour invectives against it, but he
does not take into account that all of us are parts of the same system. In
fact, it is this irksome specificity of his dialogues on this that moves us,
and shows how honest the film remains, even at the most fundamental of levels.
Another interesting
aspect of the film is its portrayal of the ‘anti-hero’ figure. Bikram and Bala
are essentially ‘bad boys’, yet they are the ‘heroes’ in this film. As is evident
from the title itself, they are on the wrong side of the law, nor are they
people who go about saving the day. What we have here is a fictional account of
two goons ruling over a city, exercising power and influence over all the
commoners. While this might be seen as a pessimistic vision of a reconstructed
past, not all hope is to be given up. They are portrayed as essentially good,
and this then may turn out to be the only redemption accounted to them. Thus,
there is a clear problematization of the hero figure here, and a consistent
undermining of the common traits attributed to such figures in both classical
and popular representations.
What we also have here
is a very intriguing homoerotic angle, implicit in the narrative, and waiting
to be unearthed as a subtext. The film seems to be in a constant dialogue
between a deep homoeroticism and surfacing heteronormativity, and the constant
escaping of what it inevitably ends up hinting at, by pulling in the explicitly
ruling text - that which the society approves of. We have thus, an evident
homoerotic angle between the two lead men, right from their childhood and a
kind of unity in all their enterprises, to the effect that not only do they
stick up for each other in every case, but also seem to know nothing apart from
each other. There are of course, such overtones in certain instances, like the
scene in which they sleep together bare-bodied, complement each other in the
united action sequences, and even stick up for each other, lust for Nandita as
a duo, and so on. This is clearly illustrated in the scene where Bikram’s
promise and affection for Bala overrides his love for her, and he is even ready
to not meet her again, but in no way fail to keep his word to him. Also, the
scene in which she is shot accidentally may be seen as an expression of the
anxiety related to, and the disapproval of the usurpation of Bikram by Nandita.
Even in the end, the normative man-woman bond is rejected in favor of a male
bonding, though we are not privy to its future. However, the film goes to every
possible length to conceal this mutual affection and bonding, and there is a
constant sliding of the homoerotic under the heterosexual, socially approved
scheme of things. Nandita, then, comes as a plot device to bury the subtext,
driving it to a repressed affinity, only to be unearthed by those sensitive
enough to interpret its worth.
What actually works for
the film and makes it worth it is the script. It may not be a very unique or
novel concept that the film explores in terms of plot and action. But the
tautness of the script and the logically sound moves are what grab your
attention, thereby commanding interest and absorption. There are very few
loopholes that I could notice, and very rare instances of straying into the
bizarre, though they are not wholly non-existent (like the Metro Cinema
accidental shootout, and Nandita’s abduction), but they seem to be just passing
instances of erroneous slips on the part of the storyteller. Compensating for
any such mistakes is the stark realism in the film. Set in Calcutta, in a
historical time frame and an eminent time of strife and displacement, the film
makes history as much a part of the plot as it does to the root story itself.
The pain, trauma and helplessness of the specific is accurately incorporated into
the universalist narrative, and this is what makes the tale told more
convincing. Another unique feature is the accuracy of extraneous detail in the
film, where even the most unimportant negligible instances are correctly
articulated, especially the use of the Bengali script/writing where it needs
be, even considering its unimportance in the film and as regards being a part
of the story.
The performances of the
film are noteworthy too. Both Ranveer and Arjun do a wonderful job, and their
onscreen chemistry is striking. Priyanka does a convincing job as the cabaret
dancer turned cop, though the transition from one to the other is not as
shocking and spine-chilling as I would have liked it to be. Irrfan is superb,
as always, having played the role of Officer Satyajeet Sarkar, acting as a
propelling, catalytic force in the film, pushing events forward. He is his
usual self, dry, humorous and unassuming.
Director Ali Abbas
Zafar does a decent job with the direction, and the film does seem constructed
with a lot of honesty and care. The dialogues, both in terms of composition and
delivery, are show-stealers, clearly reflecting states of mind and the tension
welling up within. The music is average, with only one or two songs, like Jashn-e-ishqa and Tune maari entriyaan managing to strike a chord. The editing seems
slick and cautious, and the cinematography and choice of locations are
realistic and intelligible.
‘Gunday’, thus, turns
out to be more than just the thief-police game you had been expecting to unfold
on screen. The film has several layers to it, and has something really
appealing in terms of its execution, owing to which it makes for an engaging
watch. Not a dull moment, it comes across as an interesting and absorbing
viewing experience from start to finish. The open-ended conclusion may have
been dissatisfying for many, but the very hope laid out by the film lies in its
ambiguity; that of redemption, freedom and escape, and the refusal to be bowed
down by the very system that makes victims out of innocent people for no fault
of theirs. Subjective interpretations on this will vary, but there is no
mistaking that optimism which is laid out even in the face of defeat and doom.
And this remains one of the unalterable and invincible truths of the film, angutha laga ke.
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