Bheed Movie Review: Anubhav Sinha gives Rajkummar Rao and Pankaj Kapur their best scenes to perform in a socially poignant film explaining the dichotomy of righteousness and existence.
Bheed Movie Review: What does a state of human crisis do? It brings people together. Something that it did during the independence day struggle and something it should have done during the pandemic lockdown. In Bheed, Anubhav Sinha, of Mulk, Article 15 and Anek fame, attempts to navigate through the struggles that the migrants workers and labourers faced when the government suddenly imposed the COVID-19 lockdown, closing the state borders and turning the entire country into a battlefield against the coronavirus, without much preparation in advance it seemed. Those who stayed at home learned to prepare fancy foods but those stranded outside were left with nowhere to go.
In a carefully crafted Bheed, Sinha once again tries to paint discrimination, Islamophobia, and the class divide on the big screen. This time though, he takes the real-life references into account, and addresses where we went wrong as a society. On the border of a state with a village and an upcoming township, Sinha creates his own mini-India and also draws a parallel between the 1947 partition and the situation during the lockdown. A Dalit police inspector who’s been given the charge of the checkpost – Rajkummar Rao as Surya Kumar Singh Tikas, his upper-caste girlfriend and doctor who’s on quarantine duty – Bhumi Pednekar as Renu Sharma, and an upper caste watchman – Pankaj Kapur as Trivedi Babu, the director’s version of India seems accurate and eye-opening. He also establishes the contrast by showing a beautifully pleasing Dia Mirza representing the privileged class, with the luxury of sitting in her swanky car and cribbing about migraines when the rest of the real India is out on roads, barefoot, with cracked heels.
Bheed hits where it hurts the most. It shows the mirror to the audience without mincing any words. Though one would agree that Sinha’s attempt at shaking the audience in the past has been more poignant – in Article 15 with the crude reality of caste-based discrimination, and in Mulk with a story that identifies with the pain of a marginalised community being sidelined, blamed and worst, considered not worthy of existence. In Bheed, the director collects references, scenes, and imaginations – both predictable and intelligently curated – and juxtaposes them to make a narrative.
The best part about the film is probably its worst part too. Sinha cries for social justice but doesn’t cry enough. This time, and only this time so far, he relies more on the wonderful craft of his actors than his narrative. The story, with all the brilliant efforts from the actors, and the dialogues which make you think, seems broken. Sinha picks up all the relevant issues, which though shining individually, are left unrendered and unwoven to make a smooth film. He, however, uses the most easily understandable emotions to convey his problem with the system. When Trivedi babu says, ‘Gareebo ke liye toh kabhi intezaam hua hi nahi‘ or when Kritika Kamra’s journalist utters ‘India is uncomfortable but incredible’, you resonate with this picture of wholesome India that Sinha so ardently believes in.
In probably one of the most well-performed scenes between Rajkummar Rao and Pankaj Kapur, one asks another ‘kya galti kar diye, sirf khana hi toh manga‘. The beauty of Sinha presenting helplessness, and the dichotomy of choosing righteousness over existence in that scene – explains why the discomfort of watching his film is also the most incredible thing about it. Bheed could be just another documentary but it is not. It doesn’t sell India as the prettiest thing on Earth and neither does it agree with the idea of our nation being all happy and glorious. It acts as the magnifying glass on the craters of the moon for you to see them loudly and prominently. And while it does all of that, it also makes you realise that sadly, not even a single part of it is fiction.
Stars: 3