Butch Coolidge is hardly what you call a hero. The first time you see him in ‘Pulp Fiction’ is with a grimace of disappointment on his face, as Marsellus Wallace talks, explaining about why he should lose his next boxing match. It is nothing personal, you see. It is the norm of the world of prizefighters that a day would come for them to lay waste to all their accolades to keep the mob bosses, who put them there in the first place, smiling contentedly. It is supposed to be a matter of little significance and Coolidge should do it. He will do it.
Except that Coolidge, either by accident or intention, breaks this golden rule and then becomes, unexpectedly, the hero of the film, a befuddled yet undeniably brave character whom we root for amidst a gallery of loveable goofs and despicable goons.
The greatest, most enthralling cinema is the one that frequently snatches away the rug beneath our feet and Anurag Kashyap, much more than just yet another Tarantino wannabe in Bollywood, has done that time and again, subverting genre and exceeding our expectations, on occasion a touch self-indulgently.
And so, it might deceive everybody that his latest film ‘Mukkabaaz’ might be as simple and formulaic as its name, roughly translating into ‘The Brawler’, suggests. Sure, formulaic it is, doffing its hat to a bit of Sylvester Stallone and Salim-Javed and armed with a grungy, gritty style that could have dazzled Martin Scorsese again and yet the final film is anything but simple, every bit a Kashyap creation, bursting with sizzling flavor, bruising wit and subversive storytelling.
Like Coolidge, our hero Shravan Kumar Singh has just defied his master’s commands. A rookie boxer in stifling Bareilly, who is exhorted, between training, to do piffling household chores, he has just lost his heart a girl whom he never saw before and, filled instantly with the heady and suicidal thrill of inevitable romance, takes a stance, delivering a sucker punch that takes his tyrant of a coach by brief surprise before he himself is beaten to a pulp and condemned to lose all his chances in one swift stroke.
The fact that the girl is Sunaina, the speech-impaired yet spunky niece of the said tyrant Bhagwan Das Mishra, does not do anything to rob off Shravan’s giddy delight, propelling him with hope towards being a winner inside the ring. The stage is set for his own test but not before Kashyap, armed with a deft and even nuanced screenplay co-written by a team of skilled writers including the film's hero , fills the frames with the irresistible yearning that our two lovelorn souls share, even as the town and its casteist and communal milieu feel unmistakably stifling.
Most Bollywood films mistake romantic chemistry for just repartee and post-modern banter; the director, who reinvented the ground rules in ‘Dev.D’, instead fleshes out their stolen glances and moments with a lovely essence of longing that feels genuinely refreshing, even poignant by turns. It is not just about the way Sunaina ruminates indulgently on her bubble gum while Shravan blushes coyly or in how this eloquent-eyed lass describes how her man stares at her like Ranveer Singh (punctuated as ‘Ranbir’ by her mother). It is also in the way how he tries at being cocky while she pens a letter that spills with such stirring emotion that can only be found in her glistening eyes. Beautiful.
To make us root for such a spectacular romance, the trick would be to dole out stakes that feel too insurmountable to overcome. ‘Mukkabaaz’ does that, sticking more faithfully to the very pulpy love-against-all-odds template that Kashyap has deferred from time to time, letting the simmering and seething Bhagwan Das Mishra, a man who takes his first name literally and his Brahmin lineage seriously, loom like a constant menace over this star-crossed pair. And yet, in the process, what we get are challenges and hurdles that feel not just genuinely dramatic but most crucially credible and hard-hitting. The film skewers adroitly not just the infuriating bureaucracy and petty mediocrity so ubiquitous in the world of sporting in our hinterland, from the inadequacy of funds for equipment to rejection of players on the flimsiest of excuses right down to the rampant use of illegal drugs to rig matches but also the political and social foibles and how they can be misused in blithe, even brutal abuse of power.
‘Mukkabaaz’ spends its first half as the terrifically imperfect yet willingly heroic Shravan sets out to achieve glory in the ring, taken under the wing of Dalit coach. Kashyap hits his trademark strokes, peppering his urgent, crackling frames with a deft, self-assured hand; not for once does the authentic flavouring feel exaggerated or out of place. The dialogue, as always, is pitch-perfect and devilishly clever; a father confuses ‘passion’ for ‘fashion’, the said coach confesses to having been inspired by Pele and a humdrum, even annoying bureaucrat relishes English mannerism as a way to keep Shravan on a leash. And there is enough cheeky political incorrectness as well, right down to Shravan declaring that Bruce Lee was from Hollywood and not China.
And then, unexpectedly, it turns the tables and what follows in the film’s latter half is a bigger, riskier game, a standoff of an underdog against a domineering kingpin who never forgives an insult or injury. It is here where ‘Mukkabaaz’ takes such incredible leaps that they are risky, to the point of slowing down the film and even hurtling it into inevitable territory. But the director plays these tropes with sly, salacious wit, pushing our star-crossed lovers into the darkest corners, all the while padding troubling subtext and real immediacy and yet making the stirring drama so winningly believable that we cannot help but root only for escape, a happily-ever-after even amidst such palpable menace and one that he hands us eventually, though not how you expect it.
Visually and aurally, as said before, ‘Mukkabaaz’ feels as earthy as ethereal and while Kashyap has always been a most fantastic, almost addictive visual stylist, there is something almost mesmerising about this film, about how he eschews stylistic flourishes, except when lingering slow-motion captures both ups and downs in the relentless narrative. It’s a superbly shot film, rich with texture and flavour, the boxing scenes are stripped-down and punchy and the music by Rachita Arora and Nucleya never misses a beat. This is a showcase of the ace filmmaker now in total command of his craft.
In Zoya Hussain’s Sunaina, we get a heroine unlike any other. She sparkles with effervescence, spirit, vulnerability and enough spine to make her more refreshing and loveable and Kashyap and his writers etch her out with such strong, indelible strokes that, at some places, she emerges as more heroic than Shravan himself. This film makes no muddled concessions to being feminist; it gives us a real, preternaturally striking woman endowed with the courage to protest against the evil instead of much-abused stereotypes.
Ravi Kishan is reliably endearing as the coach, a man whose eyes gleam with focused determination and fiery defiance, as he wears both his warmth and skepticism on his sleeves. Jimmy Shergill, playing Bhagwan Das, creates a cinematic monster who is more cold-blooded than any of the grand villains that Kashyap has created before. His real intentions remain always inscrutable but his vitriolic and vicious fury at being challenged or defied are always unsettling. The actor portrays this seething evil with tremendous balance, never exaggerating the depths of darkness that his stony eyes betray and yet remaining convincingly repulsive, nailing him as someone who deserves his comeuppance.
And yet, 'Mukkabaaz' would be incomplete without its titular hero, played superbly by Vineet Singh. Singh, who has played intriguing parts in previous Kashyap outings, is in blistering, breathtaking form here, playing the naive yet always admirable Shravan Kumar Singh with such boyish pluck and irresistible spontaneity that it is impossible not to cheer or whistle at his exploits. His is every bit a foolhardy character, a fighter who leaps before he thinks but while all of the director's trademark rebels in previous films have been destined to lose it all, here is also a hero who comes of age as he lets it rip in the battle that rages outside and inside the ring and becomes, in the end, wholly deserving of the glory and happiness that the narrative rewards him. It is a sensational, revelatory performance.
'Mukkabaaz' is more than just a radical, seminal film. It is, quintessentially, also a thrilling, deliriously drunk celebration of the pure power of pulp when served with so much delicious enthusiasm and energy as can be expected from a true artist of the medium. Sure, it has enough political and satirical punch but, as that fabulous climax reveals, everything takes a backseat once you have won the ultimate trophy of love against every conceivable odd.
Those boys were right then. All you need is love, really.
My Rating- 5 Stars Out Of 5
