The year – 1977.
The place – Mandwa.
The premise – Red hot, unadulterated vengeance.
With these factoids tucked at the turf, the story opens an array of opportunities impregnating the 3 hour-ed future with possibilities of knives slashing the skin when they aren’t stabbing them, blood faucets spewing it out in fountains uncountable and betrayals abound, featuring a certain creed of quality which has the capacity of invoking the dragon of disgust lurking within the outward covers of each soul.
They say you shouldn’t redo a role that Amitabh Bachchan has done before. And if the role is the character of Vijay Deenanath Chauhan in Agneepath, then the only thing you should be redoing is mulling over your decision to replay it. But cockblocking all such ideas, Director Karan Malhotra - taking a tip off an idea shared on the sets on My Name is Khan (where he filled in the shoes of Asst. Director) shared by Dharma Production’s Karan Johar - went on anyway to reconstruct the old and present in a , well, ‘reconstructed’ new. The idea could have found its genesis in the a try to redeem the lost box-office success which was meted out to the 1990 version which Johar Senior’s project. The reasons as to why that had happened ranges from theories stating that it was the improperly conducted audiography to the rather straight-forward one: No one was ready to receive an anti-hero film then. All said and done about whatever the reason might be, we all have at hand a movie which typifies a mainstream Bollywood paisa vasool flick as it brings along a technical finesse which is for sure entering the realm of Indian film industry and is making everyone gape at the perfection with which each shot getting captured. Hello, new world!
The story opens with establishing the poetry-induced strength of Master Deenanath Chauhan (Chetan Pandit). His oceanic wisdom takes him from interpreting the Bhagwad Gita the way Mahatma Gandhi did it to devoting himself in the task of uplifting a stashed away island by relentless efforts.
Enter at this frame: Kancha China. If this character is what Sanjay Dutt meant by when he said ‘Nayak nahi Khalnayak hoon mein’ some 20 years ago, then hear! Hear! Absolutely revolting, mind numbingly disgusting, horrendously nauseating. This huge, muscular blob of flesh with a bald top, moves around hanging people on a certain exquisitely placed, coast-hugging tree at his whim. Bullied in his childhood for his repulsive features, he hates mirrors and pretty much the entire spectrum of human emotions along with it. He is dedicated to his idea of ‘karma’. And is a wantless, needless man who is but an agent of the defined evil and his designs. He, at one hand, has the capacity of throwing people down rocky stairways as he sniffs and trades cocaine and, on the other hand, the conviction to justify his perpetrated ill under the veil of his realisations on the matter of immortality of the Soul. The sheer genius of such apt casting with such apt character curve makes you make a big note in your mental notebook.
And thence, lies are flurried, plots are contrived and Master ji gets hung up in full view of his then 12 year old kid – Vijay. Who then transports himself along with his family to Mumbai where his mother (Zarina Wahab) brings in the world his sibling sister, Sikhsha (Kanika Tiwari – selected against the other 7000 odd girls who auditioned for this role.). And then a ‘Fifteen Years Later’ frame appears to give us the anti-hero protagonist, Hrithik Roshan.
Roshan’s a character with hidden pain which occasionally comes up in his determined eye. He brings to fore something which is very different from what Amitabh Bachchan is said to have brought. His wider that wide, beefed up shoulders bear the weight of rage, pain and revenge. His sensitive side is explored by the presence of Kali (Priyanka Chopra) in the movie. She is there solely to brighten up the brief windows of general merriment this film offers. In the process of working his way up the drug-mafia ladder to ascertain his invincibility by the virtue of his gained stature, Vijay uses and de-uses many a pawns along the journey. One such heavy-weight pawn which stands aside is Rishi Kapoor as Rauf Lala.
Think of Santa Claus doing a Voldemort and then add an surma-esque eye-liner to his makeup kit; the kind of cultural shock this setup image would send is not even a flickering flame in front of the surprise that is Rauf Lala. Too explicit, too cruel, too vindictive. Lala deals drug powder, is a butcher by profession, indulges in human-trafficking, and generally speaks of women in tone and content from atop a display-pod to a bunch of lustfully leering blokes that would make your insides crumble and go foetal.
Om Puri as Comissioner Gaitonde does what he does best: Act awesome.
With such an ensemble ready to be exploited, the story ticks fluidly with myriad drums blasting every second of the entire duration. Each scene is a declaration with an overdose of melodrama. Some scenes are, though, right fully understated and that makes you grip onto to it even more. As the curve progresses, we see huge number of people getting send to the astral plane and brutally so. And just when you can take no more of the intense bomblastic images coupled with sound that is about to throb your brain out, you are treated to larger-than-life showdown between two almost-ends of the Evil-Good spectrum. Stabbed and battered Roshan derives required strength from the poem recited by his father to him and offers divine justice to the entire premise. And then, lets his soul evaporate in the lap of his mother as he views his father and a little him walk away offering smiles of conformation with his act. The climax that this is, is a hands-down marvellous treat to watch.
The background score by Ajay-Atul duo almost tells you to think in the direction in which they want you to think. The Soundtrack of the movie won’t offer any chart busters, save for Chikni Chameli chiefly due to innumerable innuendos, but are nevertheless so in sync with the narrative that they actually feel like a part of the fabric.
The Art direction by Sabu Cryil deserves all the mentions it can get and more. The colors, the settings, the ambiance, the robust imagery, captured handsomely by Kiran Deohans and Ravi K. Chandran’s lens makes the view twice as real and convincing. Editing by Akiv Ali is seamless and fitting as although it seems a bit long, you can’t point a finger to section which could have been left out.
The movie brings back many things from the yore: The despicable baddie, the unrelenting avenger, the Maa-ka-tough-love and the rest. It also infuses in the ‘new’ by portraying a group of eunuchs as warriors, always ready to help Vijay in time of danger and there by vindicating this section of the society from the caricature-esque bull we have seen in most of our past movies.
There are many reasons why people will walk out of the theatre midway after putting an ear-muffin on. But there more reasons as to why this movie will tick, as it has. And one as an audience is free to make either choice. For me, the movie has proven to be a fitting tribute to the brand that it tried to reconstruct. It has given us a new villain to hate as it has made hate a Khalnayak even more. It has also topped up Hrithik Roshan’s credit-balance in the industry. Here one will again unfailingly say “He has surpassed himself yet again” yet again. Harivansharai Bachchan’s lines have, surely, in a way, given us a more-than-gripping cinema.
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