Andhadhun
Sriram Raghavan’s first film since the brutal Badlapur opens in as un-Badlapur a way as is possible. We see a rabbit trying to get away from a farmer whose crop he seems to have been feasting on. The man-and-rabbit game plays out for a few minutes and then the man fires a shot from the weapon he’s carrying. All we see is a milestone that says – in Devanagari – “Pune 32”.
Raghavan then takes us to Prabhat Road in Poona, where his protagonist Akash – a blind piano player – resides. Within minutes, we see Akash befriend Sophie, a young girl who knocks him down while he’s crossing the road. Raghavan then proceeds to take us on a mini-tour of Poona – Goodluck Café, East Street, Victory Theatre and Rahul Theatre all whiz past, a hat tip to the city where Raghavan grew up and probably to spots he frequented.
In a parallel world – not exactly, but given that this track is set in Magarpatta, it’s fair to call it a parallel world, we see yesteryear actor Pramod Sinha (yesteryear actor Anil Dhawan playing the part makes it quite meta) obsessed with his time on the silver screen, something his much-younger wife Simi couldn’t care less about.
The two stories collide quickly when Pramod approaches Akash – who now plays the piano at Sophie’s family restaurant (which looks like a place in KP) – for a “private concert”. The occasion is Pramod and Simi’s wedding anniversary. Akash accepts and turns up on the appointed day.
The scene that follows is straight out of a silent film (the film is also inspired by one, legally so). I’m not going to say what it is except this much: Akash realises soon into his performance that he has witnessed a murder. Or at least a crime scene. He has seen too much. But how can he? He’s blind, right? Or is he?
Usually when films have more than two writers, they become a mess. We saw that happen with Spectre (four writers) and Mukkabaaz (seven). Andhadhun faces no such problem. Written by five people (Arijit Biswas, Pooja Ladha Surti, Yogesh Chandekar, Hemanth Rao and Raghavan himself), it is easily one of the best-written films this year. The writing brings out the darkness that resides within all human beings brilliantly, and the way the humour is blended into it is pure genius. It’s very macabre, yes, but it’s downright hilarious. Seriously, there have comedy films where I’ve laughed a lot less, but then I tend to laugh when characters cry too, so maybe it was just me. The references to pop culture are plentiful, like songs from Anil Dhawan’s old films playing on-screen and stray chords of Beethoven popping up, but the two I really liked were about Hamlet and Macbeth, whose Hindi adaptations Tabu has appeared in.
Aiding the superb writing is the cinematography (KU Mohanan) and the editing (Pooja Ladha Surti). Mohanan keeps the film clean of any fancy angles and movements but the simplistic style of shooting actually allows him and Raghavan to conceal in plain sight, one of the key elements in the film. They create enough drama in the foreground so as to not let your attention wander to the goings-on in the background, which is where Surti comes in. She cuts quickly and cleanly. The film stays lean and doesn’t wander off on a different tangent even though that seemed like a vague possibility in the second hour. She and Raghavan make the pace of it smooth enough for you to enjoy the film and relentless enough for you to not wonder too much about what has just happened: that liberty the audience is only permitted when the screen fades to black at the end.
Amit Trivedi’s spanking soundtrack gives the film a quirky, fun vibe, and the two instrumental pieces he has composed ramp up the tension. Matching his tunes with words is lyricist Jaideep Sahni, who is one of the few who can write a song about a girl without it necessarily including daaru, paisa, gaadi and daddy. Props to Daniel B. George as well, for a remarkable score.
While Raghavan and his team of writers go and create a great bunch of characters on paper, it is the actors who bring them to life. Anil Dhawan is a hoot as the has-been film star who is obsessed with himself. Manav Vij plays the slightly ditzy cop who eats 16 eggs for protein but is shit scared of his wife. While menacing in his earlier portions, he too cracks you up with his antics later on. As does Ashwini Kalsekar, the actor playing his wife. She plays the molly-coddling spouse to perfection and I really enjoyed the reference to Chinese Bhel (what on earth is wrong with people who make it and those who eat it?! CHINESE BHEL IS BLASPHEMY!).
Radhika Apte apt-hai (terrible and overused but kya karein?) but she has very little to do here apart from playing the quintessential girl next door.
Ayushmann Khurrana finally gets a part which tests his acting chops and boy, does he rise to the occasion. There is not a trace of caricature in his performance. It feels absolutely natural. He seems innocent, but he’s also sly. He’s not looking for trouble, but he has no qualms about seeking it out when he does get into a soup. It’s a role that brings Ayushmann out of the nice guy zone he’s been occupying for ages and he doesn’t disappoint at all.
But, as it often happens in films starring this lady, the show is stolen by her. Tabu is fantastic as the femme fatale Simi. You just don’t know what trick she’s going to pull next. She is a sweet, beautiful woman one minute, seemingly incapable of harming a fly, and absolutely nuts the next. The scene in which she is shown to be cooking crab…..wow, whoever knew that such a simple thing as cooking could be made to sound so risqué? Tabu alternates between Simi’s personalities with ease and without turning the eccentricities into a mania of any sort. It’s yet another masterful performance by this woman who cannot put a foot wrong.
Sriram Raghavan’s Badlapur was about vengeance and people. It was brutal, gory and disturbing. Andhadhun is lighter, but more enjoyable. Raghavan enjoys creating people who exist in the grey area between the black and the white. And they are entirely unhinged in the way they conduct themselves. They have no qualms about being kabhi idhar, kabhi udhar. Raghavan – often called the Indian master of thrillers – serves up a roller coaster ride so dizzying and so delightful that you want to jump back on as soon as it’s over.
Watch Andhadhun. There is probably not going to be as good a Hindi film as this one in 2018.
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