[Might contain spoilers, many of them.]
There is a moment when we see Nitesh Tiwari’s Dangal, a solid, solid crowd-pleaser, wobble for the first time. It arrives just before the intermission, a blot on an otherwise terrific first half. A man, who later turns out to be the film’s chief villain, publicly derides our hero. We are supposed to feel angry and horrified, but we don’t. We feel confused. Of what use is a villain in a film that does not need one and was doing fine without one?
But this is a Disney production. There will be heroes, and there will be villains. Dangal has them, too, which may or may not be a bad thing, but in the portions where there are no clear-cut heroes and villains, it’s simply outstanding. Based on the lives of Mahavir Singh Phogat, a retired wrestler, and his daughters Geeta and Babita, who won plaudits for the country internationally in wrestling, it loyally follows the script of every Hindi underdog sports drama ever made, but still makes for an inspiring watch. We see how two girls from an Indian state known for its dismal sex ratio battle patriarchy to come out on top in a sport that is supposedly ‘not for women’. We see how their father too fought his own battles when he began training them. We see them reluctant and mortified at first, then slowly getting thirsty for success. In a standout scene, Geeta loses her first bout to a man, the strongest of all the contenders she could have picked from, but wins the respect of the crowd that had assembled to watch it. Seeing how she almost managed to beat him, the judges decide to award her a higher cash prize than the winner, and she sullenly accepts it. Her father, like her, is a little disappointed by the result, but manages a smile when she walks up to him and silently hands him the money she has won. We see her tossing around in her bed that night. Unable to stomach her loss, she wakes up and asks her father when her next match is. This time his smile is different; he knows a champion when he sees one.
The effect is electrifying. Zaira Wasim, who portrays the young Geeta in one of the year’s very best performances, makes the moment hers. It’s stirring to watch her character, who was initially horrified at the thought of becoming a wrestler, turn into a determined young woman who cannot bear the thought of losing. I remembered a chapter in former tennis champion Andre Agassi’s superbly written autobiography, “Open,” wherein he described one of his first losses. Agassi wrote that after the match, his father watched stonily as he received a huge trophy as a consolation prize for a battle well fought. Later, when both of them were walking through the parking lot, Agassi, sensing that his father was more upset with him receiving the humiliating ‘consolation trophy’ than losing the match, turned to him said that he didn’t really need the trophy. His father swiftly snatched it out of his hands and threw it on the ground, where it shattered. Losing was not an option for him. We learn that losing is not an option in the Phogat household, too. But I digress.
What works in Dangal’s favor is the affectionate way in which it has been crafted. Tiwari tells their stories with humor and feeling, without wasting a single crowd-pleasing moment. He makes us feel the sweat they put in. And we like them, not because we are made to, but because they are ordinary people like us, nurturing dreams that overwhelm them. Their victories become our victories. Even the smaller characters find a way to add to the film’s charm. There is a butcher who supplies them with meat at the expense of his business when they start training for the national-level competitions, and when they begin winning accolades, it means a lot to him, too. We see this character only a few times and we don’t see him speaking with the girls directly, but whenever he appears, usually in the background, we can’t help but smile. We must never forget the little people who made their own sacrifices in our fight for success. Tiwari and his fellow screenwriters, Shreyas Jain, Piyush Gupta and Nikhil Meharotra, retain him till the very end, and it’s a sign of how sure they were of the kind of film they wanted this to be. Alas, this does not last for long.
In the second half, it all turns topsy-turvy. To understand why, one must first examine how the Hindi film industry usually approaches stories based on real-life heroes. I find that the industry is especially careful not to portray them as even a little flawed. We see them battling the odds and powering through them, as they might have done in real life, but filmmakers take special care to emphasize this again and again. We see them pitted against someone particularly evil, and beating them. We see everyone else’s contribution in a heroic event belittled while the subject on whom the film is made is placed under the spotlight, their contribution drawn attention to diligently. Last year’s disappointing Airlift was a good example of how Hindi filmmakers twist facts to such an extent that credibility is eventually put at risk. We get a hero, but at what cost?
It’s not a bad thing, though. We love heroes. But the facts, which I find more interesting, drown when a true-life story is embellished with fiction to become more entertaining. In Dangal, facts become insignificant when the filmmakers amp up the drama by shifting their focus on turning Mahavir Singh Phogat into a hero, as if he weren’t one already. We see Geeta turning into a weak athlete under the tutelage of her new coach, the film’s ‘villain’. We see him as incompetent and jealous and hungry for personal glory. We see her decline under him, thanks to his ineptitude, and then her ascent when she goes back to training under her father’s watchful eye. It’s clear what the film is getting at, but at the same time, it is so silly a move to introduce him that I could barely accept him as a principal character. It isn't enough that he's shown as a clown; because of his inability to understand Geeta's natural game, it is up to Mahavir Singh Phogat to ghost-train her for the international matches. The film goes so far as to show his envy hit its peak before Geeta's final match at the 2010 Commonwealth Games when he gets her father locked up in a room, thereby depriving him of a chance to watch his daughter win gold for the country. Although it is intended to be Geeta's coming-of-age moment, her moving out of her father's shadow, one can't help but wish it was handled with more tact.
In spite of these very real problems, Dangal seldom loses its grip. Its wrestling sequences are choreographed to perfection, and one has to try really hard not to jump out of their seat and cheer. (I came close twice or thrice.) No other sports movie in recent memory manages to so effortlessly generate the pulse-pounding excitement that Dangal does with its showdowns. There is the much talked-about sequence where Mahavir Singh Phogat and Geeta wrestle after she returns home from the National Sports Academy a different athlete. The training imparted there changes her both as an athlete and as a person. Her enraged father is wrestling for his faith in himself and his abilities as a trainer while she is wrestling for her independence that was taken from her by him as a child. She is desperate to be on her own, to have her own identity, while he still wants to be able to guide her. It's an emotionally charged sequence, and its execution is flawless. The same can be said of the other wrestling sequences in this film that manage to not make the second half look considerably poor in comparison to the first.
Dangal would not have worked if it wasn't for its remarkable cast. The amount of effort that has been put in to nail the Haryanvi lingo as well as the more physical sequences is evident. As I said before, there is no doubt that the filmmakers were sure of what kind of film they wanted to make. I just wish they were wise enough to not bow to commercial demands.
(Not For Reproduction)
There is a moment when we see Nitesh Tiwari’s Dangal, a solid, solid crowd-pleaser, wobble for the first time. It arrives just before the intermission, a blot on an otherwise terrific first half. A man, who later turns out to be the film’s chief villain, publicly derides our hero. We are supposed to feel angry and horrified, but we don’t. We feel confused. Of what use is a villain in a film that does not need one and was doing fine without one?
But this is a Disney production. There will be heroes, and there will be villains. Dangal has them, too, which may or may not be a bad thing, but in the portions where there are no clear-cut heroes and villains, it’s simply outstanding. Based on the lives of Mahavir Singh Phogat, a retired wrestler, and his daughters Geeta and Babita, who won plaudits for the country internationally in wrestling, it loyally follows the script of every Hindi underdog sports drama ever made, but still makes for an inspiring watch. We see how two girls from an Indian state known for its dismal sex ratio battle patriarchy to come out on top in a sport that is supposedly ‘not for women’. We see how their father too fought his own battles when he began training them. We see them reluctant and mortified at first, then slowly getting thirsty for success. In a standout scene, Geeta loses her first bout to a man, the strongest of all the contenders she could have picked from, but wins the respect of the crowd that had assembled to watch it. Seeing how she almost managed to beat him, the judges decide to award her a higher cash prize than the winner, and she sullenly accepts it. Her father, like her, is a little disappointed by the result, but manages a smile when she walks up to him and silently hands him the money she has won. We see her tossing around in her bed that night. Unable to stomach her loss, she wakes up and asks her father when her next match is. This time his smile is different; he knows a champion when he sees one.
The effect is electrifying. Zaira Wasim, who portrays the young Geeta in one of the year’s very best performances, makes the moment hers. It’s stirring to watch her character, who was initially horrified at the thought of becoming a wrestler, turn into a determined young woman who cannot bear the thought of losing. I remembered a chapter in former tennis champion Andre Agassi’s superbly written autobiography, “Open,” wherein he described one of his first losses. Agassi wrote that after the match, his father watched stonily as he received a huge trophy as a consolation prize for a battle well fought. Later, when both of them were walking through the parking lot, Agassi, sensing that his father was more upset with him receiving the humiliating ‘consolation trophy’ than losing the match, turned to him said that he didn’t really need the trophy. His father swiftly snatched it out of his hands and threw it on the ground, where it shattered. Losing was not an option for him. We learn that losing is not an option in the Phogat household, too. But I digress.
What works in Dangal’s favor is the affectionate way in which it has been crafted. Tiwari tells their stories with humor and feeling, without wasting a single crowd-pleasing moment. He makes us feel the sweat they put in. And we like them, not because we are made to, but because they are ordinary people like us, nurturing dreams that overwhelm them. Their victories become our victories. Even the smaller characters find a way to add to the film’s charm. There is a butcher who supplies them with meat at the expense of his business when they start training for the national-level competitions, and when they begin winning accolades, it means a lot to him, too. We see this character only a few times and we don’t see him speaking with the girls directly, but whenever he appears, usually in the background, we can’t help but smile. We must never forget the little people who made their own sacrifices in our fight for success. Tiwari and his fellow screenwriters, Shreyas Jain, Piyush Gupta and Nikhil Meharotra, retain him till the very end, and it’s a sign of how sure they were of the kind of film they wanted this to be. Alas, this does not last for long.
 |
| Image source: www.indianexpress.com |
In the second half, it all turns topsy-turvy. To understand why, one must first examine how the Hindi film industry usually approaches stories based on real-life heroes. I find that the industry is especially careful not to portray them as even a little flawed. We see them battling the odds and powering through them, as they might have done in real life, but filmmakers take special care to emphasize this again and again. We see them pitted against someone particularly evil, and beating them. We see everyone else’s contribution in a heroic event belittled while the subject on whom the film is made is placed under the spotlight, their contribution drawn attention to diligently. Last year’s disappointing Airlift was a good example of how Hindi filmmakers twist facts to such an extent that credibility is eventually put at risk. We get a hero, but at what cost?
It’s not a bad thing, though. We love heroes. But the facts, which I find more interesting, drown when a true-life story is embellished with fiction to become more entertaining. In Dangal, facts become insignificant when the filmmakers amp up the drama by shifting their focus on turning Mahavir Singh Phogat into a hero, as if he weren’t one already. We see Geeta turning into a weak athlete under the tutelage of her new coach, the film’s ‘villain’. We see him as incompetent and jealous and hungry for personal glory. We see her decline under him, thanks to his ineptitude, and then her ascent when she goes back to training under her father’s watchful eye. It’s clear what the film is getting at, but at the same time, it is so silly a move to introduce him that I could barely accept him as a principal character. It isn't enough that he's shown as a clown; because of his inability to understand Geeta's natural game, it is up to Mahavir Singh Phogat to ghost-train her for the international matches. The film goes so far as to show his envy hit its peak before Geeta's final match at the 2010 Commonwealth Games when he gets her father locked up in a room, thereby depriving him of a chance to watch his daughter win gold for the country. Although it is intended to be Geeta's coming-of-age moment, her moving out of her father's shadow, one can't help but wish it was handled with more tact.
In spite of these very real problems, Dangal seldom loses its grip. Its wrestling sequences are choreographed to perfection, and one has to try really hard not to jump out of their seat and cheer. (I came close twice or thrice.) No other sports movie in recent memory manages to so effortlessly generate the pulse-pounding excitement that Dangal does with its showdowns. There is the much talked-about sequence where Mahavir Singh Phogat and Geeta wrestle after she returns home from the National Sports Academy a different athlete. The training imparted there changes her both as an athlete and as a person. Her enraged father is wrestling for his faith in himself and his abilities as a trainer while she is wrestling for her independence that was taken from her by him as a child. She is desperate to be on her own, to have her own identity, while he still wants to be able to guide her. It's an emotionally charged sequence, and its execution is flawless. The same can be said of the other wrestling sequences in this film that manage to not make the second half look considerably poor in comparison to the first.
Dangal would not have worked if it wasn't for its remarkable cast. The amount of effort that has been put in to nail the Haryanvi lingo as well as the more physical sequences is evident. As I said before, there is no doubt that the filmmakers were sure of what kind of film they wanted to make. I just wish they were wise enough to not bow to commercial demands.
(Not For Reproduction)
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