“The idea of ‘Crime’,” once said P. D. Ouspensky, “in existing criminology is artificial, for what is called crime is really an infringement of ‘existing laws’.” These ‘existing laws’, he went on to argue, are often manifestation of barbarism and violence themselves. This idea gets handsomely captured when Irrfan Khan - while embodying the namesake character of the film under discussion - obdurately maintains throughout its length, that he is not a ‘dacoit’ but a ‘rebel’ and if one must find and call someone a ‘dacoit’, they better scan the parliament for better results. The film, based on a true story, tries to adopt this theme as its primary undercurrent as it takes its course.
Way back in the 1950s, a certain Paan Singh Tomar who hailed from Morena and who was enrolled with the Indian Army, was discovered by the Major of his regiment as someone who held within his slender frame the stamina to keep his feet moving and how. Gauging from his Shatabdi Express-esque swiftness which he put on display as he ferried a family pack ice-cream for the Major’s wife and also from his insatiable appetite with which he could demolish a set of chapattis made for an entire unit all by himself, he was aptly transferred to the Sports division of the Army. Once there, he quickly aced the 5000 M category and later when transferred to 3000 M Steeplechase, due to some reservations on the part of his coach, he took his skill to the next level and broke his own set records as he went around doing rounds of the National Games, the Asian Games and later The International Military Gamesmany times over. What he couldn’t do for the nation by being on the proverbial front in ‘62 and ‘65 war, he more than made up for it on the sports field. So far so good.
A twist on the home front makes him turn-about and quit the Military to tend to domestic issues. His Cousin from the paternal side, Bhanwar Signh, had illegally acquired his share of the land and was being a sort of a thick-head about with a set of licensed riffles at his disposal. When a reasonable common-ground isn’t reached between the two, Paan Singh gets in touch with the District Collector and the Police. Both of these visits, if only anything, help in aggravating his existing pandemonium. With his trust in the system shattered – which he so believed in being an Army athlete who brought laurels to his unit and the nation – his insides go crestfallen. The required stoke to the fire is dealt when in a cowardice-esque face-off, Paan Singh’s mother is killed by the hands of Bhanwar Singh. This is when he a turns a feared dacoit of the Chambal Valley, or as he would say: a “rebel.’ To stop from further spoiling the story for you, let’s just deem it sufficient to say that what happens then on is what the film tries dwell upon.
Sitting atop the Director’s chair, Tigmanshu Dhulia renders a most realistic texture to the movie. The script, marvelously written, sprouts out plots which are crispy and poignant. Like the scene where Paan Singh Tomar expresses his passion to his outwardly-shy but inwardly-dominating wife Indra, played by earth-ily sensual Mahie Gill – there’s something about her… something. Or the scene where when he opens the Pandora’s box when he is just about let go off his catch to his father upon receiving the required ransom when he begins kidnapping people to fund his future plans. There is a pinch of wise-crackery in every dialogue that is spoken and in every glance that is hurled. The tensest moments of the film are marked invariably with light comical banter which makes you take note of the directorial finesse with which the entire film is conceived. The cinematography is an art in itself, so is the apt background score. The film gives off a feel of being made with threadbare frugality in terms of production value, but still, this aspect, in a way, sort of seem to be working for the advantage of the narrative. The negatives are earned by the editing department with Aarti Bajaj at the helm, though. The film jumps wide time-gaps without being sympathetic of the ensuing cluelessness of a viewer way too many times. And some very powerful scenes are made to fizzle out without a required pause which they should offer for the effect which they so beautifully created to be allowed to properly sink in. But of course, these propositions just get thrown out of the window when the product is looked at as a whole. Irrfan khan’s eyes just reach out to you in a most tragic sense. He has made every scene his own. Whether it be the innocent Paan Singh of the first-half with a knack for jumping-the-gun or it be the stoic ‘Robin hood’ one of the later half. One gets no points for guessing that all the points he could grab with this one, he sure would and, actually, already has grabbed. This film epitomizes the idea that is ‘Honest Cinema’. Not one extra frill is played ever, not an inch of fluorescent colored gift-wrap is draped around it ever. The content stands for itself and takes the movie forward.
And that’s what it all is about at the end of the day, isn’t it? The ‘content’. The plight of Indian athletes who were left to perish without medical support or pecuniary assistance in time of need and owing to which they had to turn either to a life of calm extinguishment or, as in this case, fierce extremities, is portrayed in a very sensible, touching and emotive manner. This is the kind of brave cinema which is slowly entering the green patches of Bollywood. A set of movies which no one would, at the onset, believe in, but ends up ruling the charts and garnering deafening applauses. To borrow a leaf from Director Anuraag Khashyap’s recent tweet in praise of Paan Singh Tomar: “Go watch it, and make it what no one thought it would be…a hit.”
Thank you.
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