Lockdown essay #5: How ‘Mukkabaaz’ & ‘Budhia Singh – Born to Run’ addressed the ‘politics of sport’

With bullying by political bigwigs and authority figures alike currently on the rise even in the field of sports – most recently witnessed in the case of Olympian Sakshi Malik tearfully pulling the plug on an illustrious career out of protest after an unfruitful journey of securing justice for her fellow athletes who accused politician and president of the Wrestling Federation of India Brij Bhushan Kumar of sexual assault, I felt it only pertinent to pen an essay on two contemporary Indian movies, ‘Mukkabaaz’ (2017) and ‘Budhia Singh – Born to Run’ (2016), both of which have not only pulled back the curtain on dirty politics but also similar instances of the rampant abuse of power that unfortunately takes first place or precedence over the field of sports and the achievements of a sportsperson itself.


Playing for honour and equality rather than for a medal

In ‘Mukkabaaz’, art imitates reality, with caste politics running parallel to the dreams of its lead, a young boxer Shravan Singh (played by actor and screenwriter Vineet Kumar Singh) who is belittled and subjected to hate crimes propogated by Bhagwan Das Mishra (Jimmy Shergill), an entitled, sinister and highly bigoted boxing federation head who is further enabled by other such corrupt beurocratic figures whose only claim to fame is their high caste background. Thus, in an act of retaliation, both Shravan and his coach Sanjay Kumar, who is similarly wronged as a member of the Dalit community himself, feel compelled to power through and put on their boxing gloves to beat down upon casteism itself.

Ravi Kishan as Coach Sanjay Kumar in Mukkabaz

In a similar vein, ‘Budhia Singh…’ recounts the true story of perseverance and endurance of a driven coach Biranchi Das (Manoj Bajpayee) and his young protege, the titular Budhia (played by child actor Mayur Mahendra Patole), as the duo is propelled into the spotlight for all the wrong reasons, becoming the subject of a controversy triggered by the TRP-hungry press and dirty politics, with a focus on Biranchi’s futile attempts at batting off a volley of false accusations of child abuse. Due to the villification of possibly the only positive role model in Budhia’s life (the young athlete grew up in poverty, and was sold off by a desperate mother)- his flawed but overall well intentioned and headstrong coach who doubles as a doting foster parent, the titular character’s rags to riches success story reaches an abrupt halt and finds itself inadvertently turning into a hot bed for unnecessary media bias and twisted narratives that are pushed by politicos resorting to cheap tactics in exchange for public goodwill among their voters.


Standing up for rights ‘killed’ the sportsperson

Both movies also champion the need to nip rivalry and selfish motivations in the bud before they end up nipping a promising sports career in the bud, with a scene in the first act of Mukkabaz featuring the depiction of a toxic training environment wherein the supremely problematic and inhumane Bhagwan Das Mishra pits a group of boxers against each other during a training session, quite literally siccing them upon Shravan Singh like a pack of trained hounds, a distasteful tactic that is probably the biggest example of unsportsmanlike conduct!

Jimmy Shergill as the casteist antagonist Bhagwan Das Mishra in Mukkabaaz

Manoj Bajpayee plays Coach Biranchi Das

Similarly, Biranchi from ‘Budhia Singh…’ is painted as/reduced to an exploitative individual , despite his expertise on the sport of track and field. He is largely demonised even by notable but questionable figures in the sports fraternity like former athelete-turned- politician PT Usha and Milkha Singh who add their two cents on the situation, thus aggravating it, and even by non athletes like businessman Narayan Murthy crying foul at Biranchi’s methods, only seeking to gain clout from the same. Interestingly, it seems as if ‘Budhia Singh…’ foretold the ‘Brij Bhushan fiasco’, since PT Usha further received furor and backlash for her ignorant, narrow-minded and unprofessional attitude towards her fellow athletes by turning a blind eye to their pleas for justice.

Such undignified moves, whether politically or personally motivated, only threaten to reduce the longevity of a flourishing and even up-and-coming sportsperson and with it, the sense of belonging, pride and patriotism gained from playing for the glory of one’s country.


To the victor go the spoils…

Ultimately, this essay doesn’t end on the happiest of notes since it is highly demoralising (yet not entirely surprising) to note that both ‘Mukkabaaz’ and ‘Budhia Singh- Born To Run’ end with an unfair outcome for its sporting and spirited protagonists, with their antagonists securing an unfair win, thus acting as a biting social commentary on not only the power dynamics which have held many a sportsperson back, but also on the justice system itself which has devolved into a depraved joke.

However, despite repeated endeavours to keep them down, I sincerely hold on to hope that athletes with a spine such as Sakshi Mallik, Bajrang Punia and Vinesh Phogat will still keep at it with dignity and grace, with their heads held high, their eye on the prize, and with the rest of the sports fraternity also stepping up to the challenge and following suit, so that justice can eventually prevail above all else.

Lockdown Review #75: Holiday edition: Titli (2002)

Growing up on the wintry tea estate that she calls home and where the sun shines seldomly, bubbly teen Tillotoma (fondly referred to by her ‘daak naam’ Titli) can’t stop fangirling over Rohit Roy/Rana, a beloved leading man in Hindi cinema and a much older heartthrob settled in the bustling metropolis of Mumbai. One fine misty morning, while accompanying her mother Urmila to pick her father up at the airport, Titli crosses paths with the superstar himself! And what could be a more unimaginable Christmas present than the opportunity of carpooling with one’s celeb crush? However, the naive youngster’s rose-tinted view of romance turns ashen grey when she discovers that she shares a first love… with her mum!

Mithun Chakraborty and Aparna Sen in a still from Titli

The movie then follows the heartbroken Titli’s coming of age journey and her innermost conflict in navigating this ‘betrayal’, transforming from an upbeat, rather dramatic and filmy young lady to adopting a distant and cold attitude- even giving the chilly weather a run for its money. And now it’s up to this previously thick as thieves mother-daughter duo to let the iciness thaw in a mature and upfront manner. Most importantly, it sets out to answer the titular character’s pressing question- Does her mum still love her old flame and whether Titli will go on loving her favourite actor despite this awkward revelation that’s eating away at her bond with her mum?

Konkona Sen Sharma stars as the titular Titli

Late filmmaker Rituparno Ghosh’s work is more often than not marked by pure ‘stream of consciousness-esque’ conversations and poetic dialogue between the characters that are enough to leave one immersed throughout the running time of his moving cinematic pieces which unravel at their own unhurried pace. In this particular movie, poetry is utilised not just as effective conversation starters and ice breakers to bridge the generational gap between its 3 leads, but acts as a love language in itself especially to depict its core themes of the respective platonic and romantic longing between Titli, her poetess mum Urmila, and of course, the mutual object of their affection, Rana/Rahul who is quite the listener, a quality lacking in Urmila’s husband who is frequently away on business trips in faraway metropolis cities himself.

Aparna Sen and Konkona Sen Sharma in Titli

Mithun Chakraborty and Konkona Sen Sharma in Titli

The movie also benefits from subtle imagery, with Ghosh drawing comparisons between the famous Darjeeling toy train co-existing among cars on winding roads, and the coexistence of both destiny and strife in Rohit’s initial struggle for stardom, or Titli and Urmila both holding the superstar’s letters close to their heart after countless rejections, feelings of embitterment, or invitations left unheeded/unanswered. Other such parallels include Titli praying (or rather manifesting) at every monastery, akin to flashbacks of her mother as a young bride eagerly awaiting at the window, longing for a first love that she can’t quite forget. Ghosh also incorporates clever song choices and song placements to keep the proceedings interesting, and also in lending much empathy from viewers towards the respective regretful experiences of both the leading man and the leading ladies – With the chorus of ABBA’s ‘Fernando’ playing in the background of a one-sided phonecall between a newly-married Urmila and the newly-successful superstar, and later the lyrics of ‘Strawberry Fields Forever’ by The Beatles conveying how ‘Nothing is real, And there’s nothing to get hung about‘ as a teary-eyed Titli gazes out at the tea plantations from her car window, yet to recover from or reconcile with the news of her mother’s ‘secret life’, further feeding into her insecurities and in her viewing the latter as a soap opera-esque rival who intends to steal her ‘dream man’ rather than as a maternal figure.

‘Titli’ also emphasises a life lived with no regrets, be it a carefree Rana/Rohit’s age showing but him still choosing to show off for ‘the one who got away’ by picking cherry blossoms for her from a branch that’s out of his reach as she watches on in an amused, bewildered fashion, or Titli who much like her mum shares the trait of keeping the ageing superstar grounded or at least more self aware of his limitations and vices which he might regret later, thus providing him with a much needed sense of comfort and found family after years of searching for a sense of belonging in the big city, his gnawing loneliness and overall absence of a home to call his own (barring a luxurious seaside bungalow in Mumbai).

Even during her formative years as an actor, Konkona Sen Sharma shows a natural knack for slipping into the khaki/beige overalls of the whimsical Titli, without resorting to any over the top antics that could come across as forced. Aparna Sen is yet another powerhouse much like her real-life daughter, and leaves one enamoured with her riveting dialogue delivery in the role of Urmila who is an endearing support system and simultaneously the best wingman (or shall I say, wing woman?) that any growing girl could ask for, and who’s easily amused by her daughter’s fantastical musings yet never overly cynical nor restrictive of the same. Mithun Chakraborty turns in a restrained yet impressive performance as the charming superstar whose age is finally catching up to him and is compelled to seek solace from regrets in his newfound companionship.

Overall, ‘Titli’ is a touching and wholesome watch, particularly if you’re feeling alone during the holidays or disensitized to the holiday spirit. And I’d certainly highly recommend it if Rituparno Ghosh’s captivating style of filmmaking and compelling contemporary Bengali cinema stirs your curiosity as well.

Lockdown Review #74: Sirf Ek Bandaa Kaafi Hai (2023)

*TW: Themes of rape/sexual assault discussed in review.

Staying true to its title, ‘Sirf Ek Bandaa Kaafi Hai’ (literal translation: ‘Just one person is enough’) recounts the true story of PC Solanki, a dedicated lawyer and an individual who’s also quite literally one of a kind- being the only lawyer in Jodhpur well-versed with the then newly passed POCSO act/ The Protection of Children from Sexual Offences Act, who single-handedly reaffirms the power of this phrase through his courageous act of defending a teenage rape victim in a court of law… Especially when a crowd fails her.

Adrija Sinha in a still from Sirf Ek Bandaa Kaafi Hai

The screenplay and dialogue by Deepak Kingrani are just one of the movie’s many striking features, presenting the details of the case factually but also not merely focusing on the ‘wrong’ or ‘right’ party, but rather placing emphasis upon the glaring hypocrisy and divide among religious minded men and women as well as both taught and ingrained mindsets, the blurred lines between moral and immoral particularly in matters of religion- especially considering that the rapist is a god-man/false prophet and as the aforementioned crowd mainly comprise his devout followers and top lawyers who are more than willing to help him escape scot free despite such heinous crimes (it is truly jarring and difficult to digest both a narrow minded lay-person as well as educated authority figures whom you’d expect to be comparitively open-minded banding together to resort to victim shaming, but alas, it’s indeed a harsh reality!).

Manoj Bajpayee stars as the upstanding PC Solanki

Even more so refreshing is that instead of relying on graphic and triggering scenes of the traumatic incident, there is a touch of sensitivity and nuance to this courtroom drama which doubles as a morality tale and a character study of each individual- Be it from a storytelling standpoint, the parallels or its dialogues (Solanki’s haunting and unforgettable closing statement is just one such instance), all impeccably showcasing its god-fearing and humane protagonist undergoing a moral as well as religious dilemma with the case proceedings dragging on over a period of 4 years, and who unlike his peers in the profession, continues to fight the good fight by detaching himself from the personal ideals that threaten to cloud his overall final verdict and exercising sheer mental strength to overcome the same.

A still from Sirf Ek Bandaa Kaafi Hai

The movie’s first half also draws comparisons between the titular ‘bandaa’ and the guilty ‘baba’- As the visibly guilty god-man who despite multiple rape charges mounting against him shockingly lacks a fear of God nor authority, continuing to weaponise religion as an instrument of abuse against his vulnerable female devotees, calmly assuring his rapt audience even as the police arrive to arrest him at his ashram, and bribing veteran lawyers who plead loyalty to him rather than to Lady Justice, while Solanki on the contrary is introduced as a God fearing man who adheres to rituals but is ultimately not shackled to the same at his workplace, only saving his prayers to embolden himself in the last act as he asks for strength during an arduous battle for justice.

Now coming to the performances, I’m still reeling from the major whiplash that I’m subjected to every time I witness Manoj Bajpayee simply embody just anyone from sinister baddies and car-jackers in his early outings such as ‘Road’, more recently as a secret agent in the ‘Family Man’ web series, and now in his accolade-fetching turn as Solanki, the upstanding lawyer. The actor deftly switches between and captures the many facets of this ‘banda’- Such as  the feisty quality of a good lawyer in swiftly batting off countless false accusations against his client simply with facts and a side of snark, and simultaneously infusing him with a fatherly deameanor as Solanki is a single father, and is thus only naturally inclined to view his young client with a familiar protective gaze like one would towards their own child. Watching Bajpayee onscreen only further led to an increase in my appreciation towards not only the talented actor himself, but also in my respect for ‘green flags’ like Solanki who act as unwavering and selfless allies to women when all common decency is lost, and a need for more bravehearts with the courage to relentlessly argue against the red flags who dare shamelessly harass or raise questions on a woman’s dignity rather than  posing questions on their own problematic beliefs! Among the supporting cast, I will single out young Adrija Sinha as Nu (Solanki’s client and the rape victim), as well as Amrita Chakraborty in the crucial role of inspector Pushpalata who records Nu’s statement in the very first scene of the movie and later, whose subtle reactions to Solanki’s statements on women’s safety in the courtroom sequences felt apt and perfectly conveyed the harsh reality faced by women everywhere with minimal dialogue. Lastly, a special mention to Veena Mehta as Solanki’s mother who manages to put aside her own beliefs, in order to cajole and comfort her son when the going gets tough in the fight against evil.

A moving heart to heart between Solanki and his mum

Amrita Chakraborty as inspector Pushpalata

‘Sirf Ek Bandaa…’ also benefits from good direction by Apoorv Singh Karki and equally impeccable vision that must also be lauded. The marriage of both these aspects can be witnessed in one of my favourite sequences in the movie- The back and forth between Solanki and senior counsel Ram Chandvani, noticably in the nuanced manner in which body language is utilised to its fullest to convey the two distinct personalities and moralities of both individuals: With the veteran lawyer coming across as an entitled, condescending, even acting dismissive/belittling by thumping his fists upon the table as if to assert power over his ‘opponent’ (even if this just makes him come across every bit of a caveman!), and Solanki instead winning us over with his level headed and sardonic demeanor and altogether justifiable startled reactions that are perfectly timed with each thump, ultimately coming into his own by appropriating this same ‘power move’and turning the tables with his own victory thump, as if to indicate a subtle ‘F-you’ to the former. And the last half itself should itself stand as a final testament to the power of layered charactersiation, thought provoking dialogue and the importance of building up an engaging narrative, ultimately proving to be goosebumps-inducing to its core!

The art of coaxing out the truth

Overall ‘Sirf Ek Bandaa…’ is a well executed, engrossing court drama that ranks right up there with the likes of other works in the same genre (some of which are my personal favorites) such as ‘Talvar’, ‘Shahid’ or even the David Tennant-starrer ‘Escape Artist’. And much like its counterparts, it too is deserving of a coveted 14 hour standing ovation!

Lockdown Review #73: Mast Mein Rehne Ka (2023)

This whimsical slice of life dramedy follows Kamath, a soft spoken suicidal loner and Parkash/Mrs. Handa, his unlikely partner in crime who’s also a politically incorrect Punjaban, as well as an ambitious tailor named Nanhe who all reach their respective breaking points at the same time, after tolerating all that life and the overbearing city of Mumbai has to ‘offer’ to them, thus developing a mutual obsession with breaking and entering homes.

Neena Gupta and Jackie Shroff in a still from Mast Mein Rehne Ka

While this setup indeed sounds strange on paper, writer-director Vijay Maurya excels at selling this concept to viewers, with little to no masala/melodrama yet plenty of maturity and heart: Intricately weaving together a story of shattered dreams, and old habits that die out as new ones replace them, all of which is set in an urban jungle that never sleeps nor lets its inhabitants sleep. The characters especially grow on you and grow themselves as the movie progresses- An instance being Nanhe’s arc as we are introduced to him initially attempting to rise in rank or status, while also seeking reform from unhealthy habits resulting from equally unhealthy circumstances, and thus in the process finding love in the very city that he’s grown to loathe.

The movie also explores loneliness and how almost every individual, regardless of class or social standing is susceptible or vulnerable to it, and scenes such as a conversation between Kamath and a police officer advising the elderly man on being more social as a precautionary measure in a lonely world, and especially in a vast city where break-ins and preying on the vulnerable are commonplace, further convey this theme effectively. Maurya’s use of parallels is also commendable, with scenes such as Nanhe crossing paths with Kamath (who is also a victim of the former’s many theft attempts) in multiple scenarios/venues, eventually building up to a satisfying resolution that I won’t spoil for you here.

Abhishek Chauhan and Monika Panwar as Nanhe and Rawas

‘Mast Mein Rehne Ka’ also connects its distinct characters through common motivations- Be it Nanhe, Kamath and Mrs Handa all inadvertently discovering emotional attachments in a vast crowded, starless yet star-studded city, and comparisons drawn between Nanhe’s employer, Bilkis and her dance troupe flying to their star studded Dubai shows, all while Nanhe’s love interest Rawas, a free-spirited beggar who has never flown to Dubai herself chuckles over the rumours of Sheikhs who roam about with gold biscuits hidden up their Afghans (ahem, I mean Kaftans!). And much like Rawas finds contentment in the simpler aspects of life, similarly Kamath’s introverted dreams too extend to simply finding someone to converse with, particularly someone who won’t shut him down or misconstrue him.

The advent of streaming platforms in India has certainly allowed for a breather from the overexposure of the audience to mainstream stars who rely on regressive narratives, and this movie too subverts expectations by casting lesser known actors or once established veterans who were either sidelined due to age, utilised as comic relief or featured only in item numbers in the early 2000s, and who were waiting in the wings for a comeback. While Jackie Shroff may have cemented himself as a contemporary pop culture icon with his ‘environmental endeavours’ and with a comedic viral video featuring him swearing in true blue Tapori/Mumbaikar fashion (this movie cleverly references the same in a scene wherein the innocent-minded Kamath is taken aback by Mrs. Handa’s liberal use of expletives in public!), here his acting chops are the star of the show. The actor’s puppy eyes definitely had me in a chokehold and Shroff is nothing short of impressive in conveying not only the character’s endearing nature but also the bleak heartbreak he carries within, cursed to nurse it yet from which he desperately seeks respite or an escape. The youthful Neena Gupta yet again defies the tag of a Bollywood actress confined to a ‘fixed shelf life’ and is a treat as the kindred spirit Mrs Handa who bubbles over with an imperfectly perfect, often infectious candour. It was also refreshing to watch both veteran actors paired opposite each other in age appropriate roles and who play off each other in an organic fashion. Abhishek Chauhan and Monika Panwar (as Nanhe and Rawas respectively) also impress with their individual performances, confident screen presence and a charming chemistry. Rakhi Sawant features in the juicy role of Bilkis, a choreographer with a heart of gold and she particularly rocks it in her meta subplot/character which is an obvious nuanced take on her off-screen persona. Sawant oozes glam even in the kitschiest of costumes, and her comic timing is also bound to tickle viewers silly. I, for one wouldn’t mind a spin-off on this charismatic, colourful character and her troupe!

Rakhi Sawant as Bilkis

Lastly, the cinematography captures the soul of the city with the riveting visuals of ‘Aamchi Mumbai’- After all, the city itself is the central character of ‘Mast Mein Rehne Ka’, and without its parks, footbridges, crowded shorelines, etc, neither its ensemble nor their captivating stories would ever feel complete and interconnected.

If what you seek is a movie peppered with chaos and clever jokes, that infuses life into a world which often feels lifeless to live in with its comforting repartes between characters, as well as multiple heart to hearts and full on feel-good vibes, then don’t miss out on ‘Mast Mein Rehne Ka’!

Lockdown Review #72: The Illegal (2021)

After securing admission into the university of his dreams, Hassan travels from Delhi to the States in order to pursue a degree in filmmaking, and while the doors of the prestigious institution are thrown open to him and he also easily finds acceptance in this strange new land among his classmates as well as helpful teachers, he is in for a shock and struggles to find footing within his own community and kin who find reasons to either judge, invalidate or frown upon him for his chosen career path, or even at times, from fellow immigrants whose idea of adjusting to life in the States is by giving in to a dated colonist mentality, thus further alienating the young dreamer from Daryaganj with a middle-class upbringing who isn’t kin on keeping up with these same posh Westernised ideals. And while initially Hassan acts as the lead and narrator of this movie, the character’s short-lived bouts of happiness are a common occurrence among many of the countless immigrants who viewed life in the States as an escapist fantasy, only for their expectations to fall short, with each ‘illegal’ harbouring a story to tell, and dreams as well as desires that are stifled and lie stagnating in the long run, with no country to call their own.

The movie is driven by its scenarios and situations, and one also needs to applaud filmmaker Danish Renzu’s no frills approach to tackling internalized racism and cultural appropriation- via instances of tempers flaring between Hassan and a temperamental Latino chef at his workplace (an Indian restaurant where the staff is overworked to the bone), as well as through confrontations with his employer, a more privileged and sly restauranteer with desi roots who shows a strong disconnect with the community and who ruthlessly exercises bullying and gaslighting as methods of ‘keeping the staff in check’, more often than not treating the underpaid employees working for him (a lot of whom are fellow immigrants themselves) as third class citizens and even ‘stealing’ their identities quite literally by withholding their passports! The depiction of such a toxic work environment further alludes to the aforementioned colonist mentality of Indian immigrants in playing to the gallery and in catering to the West’s exoticised perception of Indian cuisine and culture, with Hassan staring in disbelief and amusement at the distorted and sugar coated reality of India sold by his employer at the restaurant-Ranging from photoshopped tourist hotspots, to the bowls of ‘authentic’ chicken balti that’s overseasoned beyond recognition!

Other scenes that stand out include the irony laced speech in the first half as Hassan’s mamujaan/uncle projects his own insecurities upon the former, preaching sermons on responsibility which exposes his holier than thou attitude, but who turns his millennial nephew out on the cold streets in an unknown country soon after! This particular instance also sets the scene for a debate between the mentality of older generations in enabling regressive norms under the guise of practical thinking, and the more free spirited views of the youth who are unfortunately guilted, rather than guided into sacrificing their ambitions in service of said practicality.

Renzu also incorporates wholesome moments, rather than solely dwelling on the insipid and unjust nature of unfulfilled dreams and wasted prowess, as Hassan lives vicariously through the kindness of Babaji (a loyal but ultimately overworked and veteran server at the restaurant) and phone calls/Skypes with his sister Mahi, both of whom play a key role in motivating the sullen and demotivated young man, even as they face their own individual struggles, such as Babaji’s distant dream of flying home to India to spend time with his grown daughter finding hurdles in the form of the manipulative restauranteer selfishly refusing to part with the elderly employee’s passport, and Mahi harbouring the dreaded news of their father abruptly taking ill from her sibling.

The self aware cheesy nature of dialogues works two-fold by lending charm to its lead, but also acting as a bittersweet parallel to the gradual reveal of Hassan’s more volatile nature as the obstacles only steadily stack up against the otherwise calm millennial who begins to put up walls to cope with a dream that keeps slipping out of his reach, despite his countless improvisations and sacrifices.

The movie isn’t free of flaws, as the melodramatic tone does prove to be a drawback and could have easily been substituted with a far more subtle tone to convey the same messages. The romantic interlude between Hassan and Jessica could have been allowed to breath, and while the movie alludes to Jessica’s white privilege, her character is one-note with no real backstory/knowledge of her background, thus resulting in an overall paper thin subplot.

I’ve always been left spellbound by Suraj Sharma’s script choices and acting prowess since his debut in ‘Life of Pi’ and his growth as a performer with screen presence that’s on par with his seasoned peers definitely shows here. While the LA- based actor’s slight Americanized twang occasionally distracts from the fact that his character Hassan is originally supposed to hail from Daryaganj (although judging by the actor’s more natural intonation in the recent award winning ‘Gulmohar’ where he also plays a Delhi-bred entrepreneur, thankfully it has since mellowed), his command over Hindi especially in the several scenes where the character is required to speak in his native tongue, and his nuanced facial expressions as well as effortless ability to capture Haasan’s innocence, initial naivety and later his explosive angsty tirade proves to be a far more memorable facet of this performance. Sharma’s onscreen reparte with his fellow co-stars such as the tender and heartfelt interactions with Iqbal Theba (who plays Babaji) and with the ever charismatic Shweta Tripathi (Mahi) is yet another testament to his undervalued talent. Adil Hussain hardly has screentime, but leaves a mark in a brief climactic sequence wherein a homesick Hassan scrolls through his video recordings, to discover a reassuring message from his father.

Suraj Sharma turns in an impeccable performance as Hassan

Ultimately, ‘The Illegal’ isn’t your run of the mill motivational story about passions, goals and dreams, but more so a cautionary tale about the drive behind ‘making it’- Be it on the streets of Delhi or the hectic kitchens of the not so authentic restaurant in suburban Hollywood, where ‘dreams do eventually get lost, but ambitions don’t’. As a fresh-faced literature and media studies graduate who’s based in India herself, but who opted for postgraduate studies abroad, the depiction of Hassan’s struggle and dedication to earn his keep in order to pay off living expanses and international tuition, all while working full-time jobs and the toll of juggling one’s personal life and creative ambitions resulting in multiple burnouts and an embittered personality in one’s twenties was realistic yet overwhelmingly cathartic to watch. Rest assured, ‘The Illegal’ is only recommended viewing if you’re a braveheart like me who’s intent on reliving this experience, or in swallowing a bitter pill. Be warned, you’ll be in for a reality check!

Lockdown Review #71: The Railway Men (2023)

‘The Railway Men’ , a limited series on Netflix, recalls one wintry night in 1984 when the fatal MIC gas wafted from Bhopal’s now defunct Union Carbide pesticide plant, snuffing out countless lives in the process. The series primarily sheds light on the beacon of hope that emerged during this nightmarish and tragic ordeal, in the form of the Indian railways-The literal lifeline of a country and in this particular instance, of almost an entire population.

Kay Kay Menon in a still from The Railway Men

Maybe it’s because we’re nearing the anniversary of this absolutely avoidable tragedy next month (also, next year marks 4 decades), or the combination of stellar writing and fine performances that bring to the fore real-life overlooked heroes and heroines, as well as documented records of grit & humanity, backed by footage and other documentation pulled straight from the archives, but it feels depressingly cathartic to watch the events in this show unfold. The taut writing by Aayush Gupta doesn’t shy from cutting straight to the chase, calling out negligence by the plant’s managers who hide behind red tape and denial, as well as government officials who fumble and leave the choking residents of Bhopal in the lurch. In fact, the pilot episode is so direct that it even opens with a depiction of the Union Carbide CEO, Warren Anderson leaving the country scot-free as a peeved populace of survivors looks on, and its final episode features a haunting imagery of a widow living in a ramshackle colony with her son who grew up disabled as a result of the toxic effects of the gas during his infancy, further left lamenting the hypocrisy of the government and the appalling lack of accountability and the rights that were snatched from her kin and neighbours alike post the tragedy too, thus acting as a parallel to the happy go lucky nature of Anderson evading, or rather, escaping punishment.

Other equally haunting and graphic imagery that’ll surely sting one’s heart include a marriage ceremony taking place in an open courtyard that instantly transforms into a graveyard for men and beast alike, with the guests lying choking on fumes/vomiting and horses galloping fearfully, while crows drop dead from the sky around the bride as she cowers at the cruel sight that unfolds, and a thick layer of MIC gas continues to linger over her. Even the arch that once welcomed visitors into Old Bhopal is transformed into a doorway to doom/death, as a cart emerges from it, pulled by bulls fleeing fearfully in the opposite direction while the owner of the cart is sprawled lifelessly in it.

The series also manages to strike a fine balance between imagery that induces trauma in the viewer, and multiple flickers of hope too- As even when nobody picks up general manager Rati Pandey’s phone calls, or even when relief appears a tad late since casualties have already increased by the crack of dawn, and even when the young loco pilot Imad confides to Kumawat, an honest photojournalist about feeling helpless in protecting his fellow Bhopalites even if he wants to after this hazardous gas claims one of his friends (a worker at the plant), simultaneously none of these aforementioned individuals can afford to lose again even if it ultimately means they’ll have to will themselves into a state of alertness and resilience to save themselves but also their fellow humans.

‘The Railway Men’ would also feel incomplete without its stacked ensemble cast, all of whom impress with a sheer ability to emote with their eyes alone (this facet stands out most, considering that the actors are limited/constricted by the face masks and scarves they don for a majority of the show’s running time). Kay Kay Menon leads the pack as Iftekaar Siddiqui, the station master who is determined to put Bhopal junction back on the map with what remains of his trusty staff after the failure of the railway comms, and remains loyal to his duty as he puts his life on the line, blowing his whistle till his last breath (quite literally). Setting aside a slightly stilted dialogue delivery which hopefully improves with time, Babil Khan’s strength is that he’s certainly inherited his father, the late Irrfan’s Golden Retriever energy and the spirited newcomer is endearing as the hard working novice Imad. Babil even manages to keep up with Menon, his father’s peer in the industry and a veteran of the craft, and this duo is equally a treat to watch in scenes where they play off each other quite naturally. Despite a character whose arc lacks a bit of consistency, Divyenndu is equal parts confident and conniving as the ‘Express Bandit’. R. Madhavan is yet another powerhouse performer in the role of the defiant Rati, and Juhi Chawla too leaves a lasting impression with her cameo as the level-headed Rajeshwari Janglay, one of the few effluent authority figures who isn’t cold hearted, even compromising her high position as she presses fellow higher ups, pleading and even battling for a few precious minutes to ensure that the rescue mission isn’t thwarted at the last minute. Sunny Hinduja packs a punch as the headstrong Kumawat who fearlessly rides into the toxic environment on his moped, armed with a camera to detail a night that would otherwise only have remained as a footnote. Mandira Bedi rounds off the cast with a formidable performance as a Sikh mother aboard the inbound Gorakhpur express who’s frightful about her own fate and that of her son in a subplot centred around the anti-Sikh riots of ’84, an incident of communal violence instigated by egotistical politicos who knowingly fuelled a hateful mob mentality, which in itself feels like a direct parallel to the kindness of the railway men and aid workers at Bhopal junction.

Juhi Chawla in a still from The Railway Men

Sunny Hinduja in The Railway Men

The new kid on the block- Babil Khan

R. Madhavan as the defiant Rati Pandey, based on Gauri Shankar

Lastly, the passion of YRF studios (in their OTT debut) in sparing no expense at executing good stories also shines through tremendously, via this show’s set design, color grading and cinematography. The visuals that make use of a sparse but effective use of Dutch angles and rotating shots to create an aura of discomfort, as Iftekaar’s physical and mental health spirals due to the ongoing chaos and from PTSD inflicted by a prior accident, particularly stand out. After the current strikes that took place in the film industry this year, it’s quite heartening, albeit rare, when a major big budget production house takes up the initiative to allot space for creativity, minus studio interference, instead of reducing or relegating the grim subject matter/the quality of this show to a melodramatic and sugar-coated mainstream Bollywood formula.

Above all, ‘The Railway Men’ is a triggering watch that leaves one in shambles and in a mood to rage against the machine, with feelings of anger and frustration at the injustice and inaptitude of the ‘men in power’, while serving as a cruel reminder of the cowardice of the corporate monsters behind Union Carbide who had nothing to lose on that fateful night, and of the endless grief that still plagues the people of Bhopal who lost everything- The brave railway men who lost their sleep, sanity, even their own families, the underpaid factory workers who lost their lives on the job, mothers who lost their babies, children who lost their parents and siblings, as well as the countless displaced Bhopalites who continue reeling under the aftershock of this disaster till this day.

Lockdown Review #70: Hungama Hai Kyon Barpa (2021)

Based on the short prose of acclaimed filmmaker, the late Satyajit Ray, director Abhishek Chaubey’s contribution to the ‘Ray’ anthology series on Netflix, ‘Hungama Hai Kyon Barpa’ follows 2 eccentric strangers on a transformative train journey. One of them, Musafir Ali is a former pickpocket-turned-famed Ghazal singer/poet, while the other who goes by the moniker of Mr Baig is a sports journalist who once achieved success as a one-hit wonder in the field of wrestling. This isn’t their first meeting, as both the travelers are connected via a common object of their desire- a golden pocket watch, aptly named as ‘Khushbakht’ (which translates to ‘lucky’ in Urdu) which, as per its name, bequeaths its wearer with good fortune. This same object of desire hounds Musafir with guilt now, as he finds himself seated opposite Mr. Baig once again, and he finds himself grappling with feelings of frustration over an inability to come clean to his fellow traveler from whom he’d snatched his ‘destiny’ away in the very same compartment years prior to his successful singing career. Now this remorseful poet must muster up the courage to unload his heavy burden at the next station, lest it eats away at his soul…

Manoj Bajpayee as Musafir Ali

Instead of offering a comparison of the onscreen adaptation with its literary counterpart (mainly since I haven’t read the latter as yet… Ray fanatics, don’t come at me!), I’ll focus on this adaptation’s many strengths, such as its strongest forte yet- The comedy writing which is punctuated with witty puns galore, wordplay joke upon wordplay joke, and personally, the scene featuring Musafir Ali visiting a physician who diagnoses him with ‘kilepato-maaniya’ is especially one that lives rent-free inside this English lit major’s head.

The dialogue is a unique blend of Hindi and Urdu, interspersed with shayari/couplets, and is as whimsical as it is verbose, even nuanced if one pays close attention. But don’t worry, as even for those viewers not fluent of either language like myself, even with the English subtitles turned on, the nuances aren’t entirely lost either. Pay even closer attention, and you might even catch a meta reference or two, particularly if one is an admirer of both Satyajit Ray and Manoj Bajpayee’s works. The jest and jokes also run parallel to a thought provoking social commentary on topics such as greed, the human tendency to blame one’s stars rather than actually hold oneself accountable, atonement, vanity, etc.

Its storytelling is interlaced with a healthy dosage of magical realism, and another noteworthy element is the experimental nature of its execution- Ranging from the visual storytelling and cinematography on display here- Such as Musafir constantly breaking the fourth (maybe even the fifth) wall as he addresses his omnipresent audience who tags along on the train journey and thus simultaneously the metaphorical ghosts of his past which finally catch up to him, hallucinatory sequences that feature him imagining his ‘victim’ lunging at him from across the berth, even cursing an already accursed man in a vindictive tone, and the mirror shots that are indicative of the two-faced attitudes prevailing within both the men.

Hungama Hai Kyon Barpa reunites Gajraj Rao and Manoj Bajpayee two decades after Aks

Gajraj Rao showcases his versatility in the role of the two faced Mr. Baig, whose cuddlesome Paddington Bear-esque persona acts as a facade for his ‘Jekyll Hyde moments’. Watching this veteran of the craft transition between a sweet and righteous gentleman offering bittersweet concoctions such as tea infused with dried lime (an Arabic delicacy that’s also an acquired taste) to his fellow passenger, and an unhinged former wrestler threatening to break the latter’s jaw with his bare hands is truly what one might call a masterclass in acting. The rubber faced Manoj Bajpayee excels at lending ample support to his co-star. Bajpayee showcases his prowess in a memorable instance wherein his character finally finds peace and redemption at the next station, undergoing a subtle evolution in his body language as this formerly disgraced man arrives at his destination with a reassured skip in his step. Both actors, who were last sighted sharing screen space two decades ago in the neo-noir paranormal thriller ‘Aks’, share an effervescent chemistry that needs to be bottled, and fortunately, this time around the duo is afforded a lot more screen time together. Their onscreen charm further enlivens proceedings and I demand a buddy cop flick starring these two in the lead stat! In fact, their natural banter almost made me feel as if I was impeding upon a private conversation between two drunk uncles. A special mention to the set design and suave styling of the characters, be it Musafir’s classy suede brocade vests that catch the eye or the colour coordinated outfits of Musafir and Baig, the latter of which achieves the desired effect of foreshadowing the shared lifestyle choices and traits of both these men who are more similar than they might think.

Clocking in a running time of nearly an hour, ‘Hungama Hai Kyon Barpa’ is occasionally derailed by a handful of scenes in the first half that are unnecessarily dragged out or feel a tad over indulgent, and could have been trimmed. Additionally, while the surrealistic plot points are well-executed, it certainly had potential to be far trippier, thus pushing the envelope even further (then again, I might sound biased since I haven’t read the original source material and thus am entirely clueless regarding the quirkiness in the original).

Overall Abhishek Chaubey still serves up a cinematic offering that’s as slurp-a-licious as the tempting snacks served up at the fictional Ghalib’s snack shop, so do treat yourselves. However once you’ve gotten a taste for it…

Lockdown Review #69: Aarya season 2 (2020-present)

Everyone’s favourite bad-arse working mother-turned-mafia doyen Aarya Sareen returns for yet another intense and unease-evoking season. This time around too, just like in season 1, the emphasis is still on Aarya doing everything in her power to protect her children from lurking threats.

The events of season 2 unfold with Aarya returning from her safe haven in Australia with a daughter whose mental health is spiralling out of control and her youngest son still in therapy due to severe PTSD triggered by the events of season 1. As soon as she and the kids touch ground in Rajasthan once more, fresh new antagonists come climbing out of the woodwork- ranging from the vengeful relatives of a deceased mob boss to the Russian mafia, and the odds are stacked against Aarya’s favour more than before.

Furthermore, despite pleading her innocence in a court of law, she is still a prime suspect in the eyes of ACP Khan who is simultaneously her confidante and an arch enemy who holds the keys to her freedom, and after a failure to cooperate with a prosecutor who has her own agenda in mind, Aarya and her children Veer, Arundhati and Adi are left susceptible to life threatening attacks from friend, family and foe alike. And while Aarya took on and persevered against every hurdle in the first season in a discreet and level minded fashion without losing neither her charm nor her morals, she is definitely starting to show shades of grey in the second outing.

There are plenty of twists and turns interwoven with anxiety-inducing moments the second time around and the show also steers clear from ludicrous and over the top moments, so there’s never any sense of inauthenticity to the proceedings. There is also plenty of interesting characterisation and surprising character arcs in store and I was particularly impressed by ACP Khan’s character arc as the calm and composed officer whose unwavering and relentless commitment to the case at hand also gradually becomes his weakness and poses a potential risk to his morals and ethics as an authority figure. Khan’s relationship with his fiance Ajay too is developed further, with scenes such as the latter acting as the former’s moral compass during moments of mental and emotional duress standing out for me.

The character of Aarya too is impeccably written and you’ll find yourselves rooting for her to win against all odds again. Sushmita Sen is in top form yet again as she slips into the skin of Aarya effortlessly and indeed very elegantly. Here’s hoping that there will be more accolades coming her way in the future. Sen also gets an opportunity to cut her teeth into a few stunt sequences, such as during the interrogation scene wherein Aarya defends herself against a threat by using a lethal chokehold. Such scenes bring to the fore this scorned character’s volatile nature and her ability to resort to physical violence when push comes to shove. Sen also shares an endearing bond with the actors playing her onscreen kids- Pratyaksh Panwar, Viren Vazirani and Virti Vaghani- all of whom show tremendous promise in their respective roles.

Fellow female characters such as Aarya’s loyal support group comprising of Hina and Maya too have a lot more screen time in season 2. Hina’s character arc in particular and her transformation from a loyal friend to Aarya in season 1 to an unhinged adversary with her own bone to pick in the second outing only further add to Aarya’s overflowing plate of problems. Sughanda Garg is a revelation as Hina and she captures this character’s grief and shattered mental state in a nuanced manner.

Sikandar Kher returns as ever loyal Daulat

Sikandar Kher turns in a formidable performance as Daulat, the chivalrous hitman who seems to harbour more than just feelings of loyalty towards Aarya and Vishwajeet Pradhan isn’t too far behind in portraying Sampat, a goon with a similar penchant for chivalry when the occasion calls for it. Akash Khurana and Charu Shankar are equally intimidating as the German-spouting duo of a father and daughter who are intent on making Aarya’s life hell. Shataf Figar has a brief but pivotal role as a potential father figure for the young, impressionable and troubled Adi, who also finds himself embroiled in Aarya’s tumultuous life and Figar’s charming screen presence leaves a lasting impression. Hopefully we’ll see more of this character and a few others like Geetanjali Kulkarni’s policewoman Sushila Shekhar in future episodes, since the door is left open for a third outing.

Vishal Khurrana’s soundtrack is also a highlight in this season since it delivers the desired emotional impact in a show that is high on family drama, intrigue as well as gutting and heartbreaking moments. The retro Bollywood songs that were integral to both the background score and storyline in season 1 are also back in this season and yet again, they complement the unfolding events perfectly.


If you’ve been a fan of Aarya since season 1, then the second season won’t leave you disappointed.

*Read my review for season 1 here: https://www.themoviebuff.net/2021/11/trust-issues-within-a-family-lead-to-murder-and-mayhem-in-the-revenge-thriller-aarya/

Lockdown Review #68: Chittagong (2012)

Vijay Varma as the older Jhunku in Chittagong

Seeking to prove his loyalty to his motherland and simultaneously, to win over his peers who only think of him as a coward/traitor, Jhunku, a teenager who’s lived a privileged life forever indebted to British imperialism signs up to join a long-growing army of emboldened youth, all of whom have been recruited by a humble and respected teacher and freedom fighter Surya Sen (fondly known as Master Da) in order to overthrow the oppressors by raiding their armory. And while not entirely successful, Master Da’s efforts indeed bear fruit in the long run, even inspiring more such progressive and bold rebellions to uproot imperialist powers and break free from the shackles of the ruthless colonists.

This underappreciated gem of a movie sheds light on the revolt that Sen initiated (which would later earn the moniker of The Chittagong Uprising) that unfortunately remained largely forgotten in the footnotes of history and also spreads the message on how courage to achieve the impossible ultimately prevails over all else.

Manoj Bajpayee, Rajkummar Rao and Nawazuddin Siddiqui in a still from Chittagong

‘Chittagong‘ features a stacked ensemble cast, each of whom carries the movie on their shoulders with their performances-Be it the versatile veterans comprising of Manoj Bajpayee oozing simplicity and sincerity as the motivating Master Da, his fellow ‘Gangs of Wasseypur‘ alum Nawazuddin Siddiqui stepping into the shoes of Nirmal Sen, Barry John (who also happens to be Bajpayee’s acting coach) playing the shrewd Wilkinson, Dibyendu Bhattacharyya of ‘Rocket Boys‘ fame as the calm and composed Ambika, Jaideep Ahlawat as the fiery Anant Singh, Anurag Arora as the unforgivable sell-out Ahsanullah, or even the younger child actors and the then up and coming, promising fresh faces such as Rajkummar Rao and Vijay Varma- all excel in disappearing into the skin of the flesh and blood individuals involved in the revolt.

Vega Tamotia and Manoj Bajpayee in Chittagong

The well paced storytelling also doesn’t fail in keeping one engaged throughout the bad-arse yet grounded actions of the freedom fighters, their resilience against the graphic atrocities committed by the colonists and their blossoming albeit short-lived camaraderie/bromances/ relationships, with a satisfying final act which keeps the movie’s central idea of hope and pushing back and rising against the oppressors alive. The organically occurring parallels and call backs to earlier scenes prove impactful, as do its punchy dialogues, such as Sen’s brief yet mighty speeches and later him questioning his faults as a guardian to the young men and women who take up arms and pay the price of their life with their sacrifice in the prime of life, even if it is for a just cause. The unpreachy execution and delivery of the same is also commendable.

The movie also makes each minor character and minute yet moving interaction count, thus allowing for the audience to care for these individuals, their progressive ideologies and their mutual desire to lead a life of unrestricted harmony. An instance of the same can be viewed in a scene wherein the Muslim community shelters their Hindu counterparts (Sen and his fellow freedom fighters) and later when a Muslim shopkeeper provides the Chittagong crew with basic necessities and refreshments sans charge. Such moments instill a true sense of national integration, that is often lacking in the more mainstream war movies that are often patriotic to the point of appearing jingoistic in nature and bordering on problematic instead (the exception being recent offerings such as Shoojit Sircar’s Sardaar Udham which also skillfully subverted the war genre in a similar vein to Chittagong).

It however occasionally falters with its technical aspects, as the background audio often drowns out the dialogues, and as a result of its lesser budget, the production design appear shoddy in certain scenes. Personally, I also felt robbed of more interactions between the bankable duo of Bajpayee and Nawaz (also fondly revered as Sardar Khan and Faijal by the Wasseypur fanbase, both of whom go all the way back in the film industry), and I’ve to admit, even the one climactic scene wherein they do share the most screentime together definitely left me moist-eyed!

Ultimately, Chittagong is a biopic that leaves one in tears and with goosebumps, as well as a patriotic after taste while presenting a historical event in all its raw glory sans glossing over (trigger warning: the movie legit opens with a very graphic scene of finger nails being yanked out. Just when I thought Sardaar Udham left me feeling woozy, this movie pulls me right back in!). And one can also tell that filmmaker Bedabrata Pain along with his powerhouse cast definitely poured their collective heart and soul into paying homage to an empowering uprising through this equally empowering movie.

Lockdown Review #67: The First Wives Club (1996)

I was enticed into watching this movie primarily thanks to a clip making the rounds online featuring its 3 leading ladies, Diane Keaton, Goldie Hawn (one of my faves and all time girl crushes) & Bette Midler dancing to ‘You Don’t Own Me’ , an iconic girl power anthem by singer Lesley Gore. I was instantly enamoured by the trio’s electric energy and the character dynamics but even more so, the overall context behind this scene piqued my interest as well.

Adapted from Olivia Goldsmith’s novel by the same name, The First Wives Club follows the aforementioned trio of girl bosses Brenda, Elise and Annie on a mission to snatch back their power from their exploitative ex husbands who’ve snatched them of their youth, milked them of all self worth, and manipulated them via various wicked methods of power play. While initially, their sole intentions to create the club stem from a desire for regaining said self worth, maybe even earn back their literal royalties, this quest proves to be more life changing than ever, as it grows into a larger safe space for fellow women (regardless of sexual orientation) who wish to be viewed as equals in a patriarchal society that squeezes out every ounce of them until they’re a shell or who are subjugated to mental abuse in a marriage/workplace by the very society whom they work hard to please, the last of which actually sets up the premise of this idea as the movie opens with a scene of the trio’s well-off but emotionally exhausted classmate ending her life after nagging thoughts instill in her the fear and desperation that she’ll never be as talented or happy as her fellow female classmates (even if Brenda, Elise and Annie are also in the same boat in terms of professional and personal ambitions that fall short due to the pressures of being a woman in the competitive, frustrating world, only to be rivaled by their male counterparts).

Sarah Jessica Parker in The First Wives Club

The movie and novel may have released back in the 90s, yet are rather ahead of the time when it comes to touching upon themes such as women attempting to fit into traditional yet regressive moulds (one of which is Annie’s mum putting her down for not putting enough work into her marriage with an estranged husband, a worldview that is far from that of Annie’s more progressive Gen Z daughter who encourages her mother’s desire to reclaim her independence as an individual), desperate young ladies who auction off their last penny on material desires just to ‘debut’ into high society, actresses coming under scrutiny for their changing bodies, thus burdened by body image issues and more such insecurities, and later being pitted against glamorous youthful newcomers in the industry and only reduced to their looks, all of which only act as a shallow measure of a woman. Storylines and arcs that meticulously showcase the aforementioned themes include Elise explaining away her excessive Botox/filler treatment as a tool to appease not only the Hollywood elite in order to gain more roles (conditioned into a mentality that youth reigns supreme in the industry, the actress avoids age appropriate roles like the plague!) but also to ‘market’ herself to filmmakers and producers who discredit older actors and only crave virginal beauties onscreen, and ultimately to society itself. And much like Elise, Shelly (the misconstrued young mistress of Brenda’s husband) is herself a victim, restricted to playing along with the ‘dumb blonde caricature’ in order to rise among the ranks, thus causing an unhealthy need to compete with the older generation, ending in ugly spats which drives a wedge between the women in this movie.

Another memorable scene involves the three straight women envying the gay club scene, especially the lesbians on the dance floor who revel in their limited freedoms in spite of the prevailing rampant homophobia outside the club. This location even acts as an all-inclusive safe space for Brenda to reflect upon or find solidarity with a lesbian character with both women exchanging tragic anecdotes of their respective partners leaving them for a younger, more lithe woman. I must also admit that Goldie Hawn being fawned over and gawked at by a besotted bunch of lesbians in this very scene also certainly ranks high up in my list of outrageously camp scenes that would evoke hoots and cheers from the LGBTQIA+ community even decades later (at least it’s a close second to the sequences of homoerotic sword fighting and Edward Teach achieving a sense of closure as he watches the Gentleman Pirate glide over to him in all his merman glory in the more contemporary gay pirate show/Our Flag Means Death)

Jennifer Dundas in The First Wives Club

Lastly, for every cheating, domineering or exploitative male in this movie, there is inevitably an ally- Be it Annie’s anarchy-loving lesbian daughter who offers harsh but much needed reality checks to her forlorn mother, a couple in the midst of a lovemaking session who offer validation to Elise as she quite literally drops by their apartment window at breakneck speed, and a relative with a shady past who offers to ‘take out’ Brenda’s husband Mortie in a hush hush fashion post a bar mitzvah! And thus, the movie maintains a fine balance in terms of characterisation too. Tonally, it is not too moody or grim either, but offers a healthy dosage of satirical quips.

Goldie Hawn and Bette Midler in The First Wives Club

The versatile ensemble (particularly its three leading ladies Midler-Hawn-Keaton, with Sarah Jessica Parker, Stockard Channing and Jennifer Dundas providing ample support) all deliver to the utmost of their abilities, be it with their on point comedic sensibilities in over the top scenes, or evoking sympathy during more emotionally intense scenes such as their respective characters spiralling into a breakdown or achieving a breakthrough as they navigate love, loss and self discovery.


The movie, of course can’t shake off a few problematic tropes that render it a product of the nineties (in an unsavory way), such as a fair share of throwaway gags on anorexia and bulimia that certainly show their age, as well as jokes that border on slut shaming which might leave a bad after taste and contradict the overall message of women supporting women. Yet , The First Wives Club is still worth a watch for the optimistic ending, the women-centric vibes and the invaluable core message of holding patriarchal society complicit in its actions, moreover, calling for more women to unite and stomp out patriarchal norms with their stilettos… all while dancing in elan to a Lesley Gore track, in order to bring a change for the good of all womankind!