Review: Why Hansal Mehta's "Shahid" took my breath away.

A few terse words, pleasantries and then, the sound of a livid gunshot punctuates the arid air. 

That's how you are introduced to Hansal Mehta's Shahid, a spectacularly gripping biopic that susses out why that gun went off in the tiny office of the lawyer in the Kurla suburb of Mumbai on a cold February night in 2010. Shahid Azmi, thirty-two at the time of his death, was gunned down in cold-blood in retaliation for him defending some of those accused in terrorist activities. Because of my perpetual love for newspapers, I vaguely remember having read numerous articles in the papers regarding his death. A controversial figure who was a subject of a number of caustic debates, I didn't find it surprising when Mehta wanted to make a film on his life.

What surprised me though was how vitriolic he made it. Mehta goes on a gleeful offensive against the general belief of how a film should be made in the Hindi film industry. The film opens with a horrific recollection of the communal riots that plagued the streets of Mumbai, then Bombay, in 1993. Azmi, just fourteen then, witnessed murder when he ventured out on the streets to investigate the source of the screaming. Enraged, disillusioned and desolate, he joined the terrorist resistance but ran away from the camp when he witnessed the beheading of a man. Returning back to his unsuspecting family, he was picked up on charges of suspicion of terrorist activities by the police, tortured and flung into jail. Diddled out of a normal life, he sought to complete his education whilst serving out his sentence.

Azmi studied law while languishing in Tihar Jail for seven years. Once out, he pledged to help people like him, who were withering in jail because they could not prove their innocence. 

I know, I make it sound pretty jejune, because a movie like this must be watched, not read about. It dejected me that a film like this had only a few takers, not to forget that it made the long, winding path to the theaters three years after it was completed. But it was well worth the wait. It's the sort of film that piles you with hope and compassion without even aiming for it. The only tribute we can pay a valorous film is to watch it and learn from it. That's precisely what I did with Shahid.

You know, Mumbai's grit and grime isn't easy to put on celluloid. You need to have the coarseness of Anurag Kashyap's masterful Black Friday, you have to make it look bleak, hopeful and redeeming. Filmmakers get it wrong most of the time, take it from a guy who's lived his whole life here. It isn't all about college kids driving chic cars, sitting on a pavement overlooking the sea or shopping in opulent malls. That's the picture the Hindi film industry feeds you. Mehta, thankfully, knows that too. 

His version of the city is a meld of people and noise, all remarkably detailed right down to the way they talk. The Bombay slang is unerring, with the characters conversing in expletives even while praising each other. In one magical scene, we see the character of Azmi cooling off with a quick drink of lemonade before his train arrives. That's the city I grew up in, and it makes me blissful to see the city peopled with characters I know and not some caricatures that have been dreamt up by someone from fluffy romance movies.

Shot on a paltry budget, which is a tenth of what it took to make The Lunchbox, the best film of last year, Mehta's film is indisputably richer than that. And the sort of passion that went into making it makes it swanky, a deep love for craft and detail. Like Azmi who turned a blind eye to money, Mehta crucially chooses to tell a story without making it a lavish extravaganza. Whatever he knows about the art of filmmaking, he puts into it, catches the spunk and vigor of a young man driven by a cause and how the circumstances change him. It's a fearless escapade that you seldom get to watch, and Mehta makes no mistake. He doesn't cower, even during a disturbing torture scene, he makes you watch as the victim gets pummeled and finagled to sign his own doom. 

There is a warning put in by the makers which states that the facts may have been twisted for dramatic effect but you know that the warning is as useless as a sweater on a wintery morning in Delhi. The film would not have seen a release without that little message, that was my gut feeling. I can't really say how much of it is fact and how much is fiction, but I suspect a lot of it is indeed factual.

Raj Kumar is on some sort of mission, I think. After proving his salt as an actor in Love, Sex Aur Dhokha, Gangs Of Wasseypur II, Talaash and Kai Po Che!, he delivers a soulful performance that is perfectly nuanced. His Shahid is a man of suppressed anger, enamored by his obsession with justice. Keep an eye out for a wonderfully executed sequence, where he questions his own boss, played by Tigmanshu Dhulia in an effective cameo, as to why he is defending a overtly guilty client. Raj Kumar is outstanding in the role, going from angry to desperate to happy without missing a beat. And when he smiles, you smile. That's how good he is.

The rest of the cast is terrific. I think it's safe to say that Shahid is the second best-acted film of last year, after The Lunchbox which was an obvious choice. Baljinder Kaur as his mother and Mohammed Zeeshan Ayub as his overbearing older brother are first-rate, Ayub proving that Raanjhaana and No One Killed Jessica weren't flukes. Give this man more films, please. Vipin Sharma and Shalini Vatsa as the two prosecutors are marvelous, as is Prabhleen Sandhu, a newbie who plays his wife. Confident and commanding your attention, it's a wonderful, wonderful debut from her.

Shahid was one of the very best films I had seen last year, and one that shouldn't be ignored. Well-crafted, well-acted and neatly written, it's a brave little film that deserves to be lauded. This is how films should be made.