Back in the day, an Indian daily had come out with a host of riveting telly ads, titled ‘A Day In The Life Of’ that exceptionally encapsulated, in a way, the politics of India.
We laughed, and applauded, the imagery of an old man, as he watched in amusement while getting a shave at a roadside barber stall, how a stretch of road was dug up over and over again to lay different pipelines, all in the course of a day. And this chaotic, political mismanagement is in essence what Dibakar Banerjee’s ‘Shanghai’ captures.
It’s stark. It’s real. It’s devoid of Bollywoodisms.
Based on Vassilis Vassilikos’ novel ‘Z’ about an assassination in Greece, Dibakar and co-writer Urmi Juvekar adapts the tale to sit perfectly in our time. The town – Bharat Nagar – is fictional, yet strikingly real in its characters and incidents.
A bunch of high-handed, rotund leaders use their political clout to trade in a town for a commercial project, one that’d win them monetary kickbacks and immense supremacy, while stripping the poor of their homes and livelihood.
Step in social activist Dr Ahemadi, whose coloured personality remains untouched in his fight for equality, upsetting the influential state heads into setting-off a rally of dissent on the night of his fiery public outburst.
He ends up in a hospital bed after being run down by, what the police claim, a drunk driver. But his loyalists, headed by his lover/student/follower Shalini, coaxes Ahemadi’s wife to demand for justice on the national media, thus forcing the local government to set up an enquiry.
Headed by South-Indian IAS officer Krishnan, who is summoned from his official duty to double up as the head of the enquiry commission, the investigation is muddled in political conspiracy from the word go. With promises of a trip to Stockholm, Krishnan’s career is indescribably connected to his findings.
Shalini is undeterred in her efforts to nab the culprits, and finds company in an unlikely, grubby videographer Jogi Parmar, who unknowingly holds the key to unlock the murder mystery. And, together they set out to convince the investigating officer to shake off his own dreams to uncover the truth.
Dibakar is meticulous as a story-teller, detailing his lead and his supporting cast with equal significance and impeccable finesse that is unheard of in Bollywood storytelling dictum. And, therein lies his strength. His narrative, however, is punctured with long pauses that appear insignificant even in a 2-hour reel time, slowing down the pace unnecessarily.
Among the top crop, Emraan’s unquestionably the finest, as he sheds his suave Casanova screen persona for the scruffy Joggi. He flaunts his dirty teeth, lavish paunch and goofy laugh just as effortlessly as he used to prance around with Bollywood damsels. Kalki is exceptional as the lover, who struggles to find the murderers while battling her inner insecurities when faced with the legitimate wife. Abhay is impeccable as the stiff, necktie-obsessed officer, who doesn’t play the South Indian stereotype of speaking Hindi with an accent.
Pitobash Tripathy spins a stunning act as the thug who aspires to move up in the ranks of the society by enrolling for an English course. His most memorable scene is when he questions what ‘mutton’ is called in English. Tilotama Shome isn’t offered much in screen time, but she’s impressive nevertheless. Bengali actor Prosenjit Chatterjee, as the earnest activist who sometimes sidetracks for a strategic newspaper slot with a Bollywood bombshell, is outstanding. Farooque Shaikh is an actor par excellence, his most impressionable act being at the very end, when he confusedly dangles a chunk of Paneer tikka, while posed with a threat to reveal his own political misgivings. Supriya Pathak, appears mostly as massive posters with very little screen presence.
Dibakar paints the political pandemonium in a way that’s unheard of in Bollywood, thus demanding our time (and money) at the cinemas.
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