The opening credits cheekily pay a nod to Don Siegel, Hollywood's connoisseur of vibrant B-grade thrillers. It's a trivial detail that is almost missed, but Sriram Raghavan always likes to pay his homages to his masters in one way or the other. It comes as no surprise, then, that Badlapur works so darn well as a tribute, while also being the first notable cinematic coup of the year. It is scintillatingly done, mesmerizing to the hilt from the get-go, and an unconventional revenge fable that packs a whopping dramatic punch.
If you have seen Raghavan's previous memorable efforts, the impressively grimy neo-noir drama Ek Hasina Thi and the exceedingly artful and pulpy Johnny Gaddar, you have a faint glimmer about what kind of film Badlapur is raring to become. Which is a pretty futile speculation to make, because Badlapur is not the grim, enthralling thriller the trailers made it out to be; it is something else, something exotic. Like Raghavan knew exactly what a typical revenge saga stocked with cliches looked like, and skimmed over the ordinaries. The twists--while not being "twists" in the truest sense of the word--lack the astonishing precision that made his previous films stand out. But Badlapur is not obsessed with exploiting its shock value or sculpting a manly protagonist or a thuggish antagonist. Rather, it concerns itself, much to our delight, with crafting a psychodrama that is brimming with gorgeous details that add flesh to its characters and constructing a no-frills narrative, the very basics of film craft.
It's a momentous occasion when a Hindi film looks beyond its materialistic potential and entangles itself in an unsophisticated, organic way of filmmaking.
The opening sequence is overwhelming in its impact. A bank heist goes terribly awry, blood is shed, lives get disrupted. It's a dive straight into the chasm of distress, and Raghavan pulls no punches. While we are busy getting used to Hindi films diluting the tragedies for us, he allows us to get a taste of it firsthand. It is conveniently, commendably shocking for an audience that has grown up watching Hindi films. While the first-half ratchets up the suspense skillfully, never leaving any margin for evident flaws in the plotting and leaving it just at the brink of a dramatic eruption, the second-half meanders early on. It's frustrating to watch a promising build-up coming undone so sluggishly mostly for comic relief, but Raghavan steadies the narrative in a jiffy with his trademark flourish: an episode of grisly violence.
And just when I was beginning to feel that the film has pulled a fast one, and is--what a bummer it would have been, had it been so--actually the same old vengeance tale slipping into a new coat, the final few minutes offered a potent thunk of emotion. It changed the whole film, and I was left to handle the surge of feeling and admire the fact that I was left dumbstruck.
The acting and writing here is of the highest order, with dark, goofy humor infused subtly instead of spattering the film with it. Raghavan's wacky dabs are apparent. A cluster of his regulars do the trick as supporting characters, as they always have done. In places, the screenplay is limp, but when one stands back to assess the final picture, its imperfections will only seem like nitpickings. The film carries a sullen, erratic look, which is essential, for it houses a bunch of cunning slime balls.
Badlapur isn't a film that lands its legs in the commercial traps of Hindi cinema. While a ton of Hindi films are enthusiastically and fraudulently promoted as "unorthodox" each year, here is a film that actually is. And Nawazuddin Siddiqui--the greasy, scrawny and scheming anti-hero who serves as such a welcome change from the hunky lowlifes posing as the baddies in our films these days--is in a class of his own. Without exaggerating to a good extent, I will simply say that this certainly is my favorite performance of his. He gives Badlapur its moody identity and pulsating energy. And how many films he has done can this be said for?
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