Review: “Mirzapur” adds little to its borrowed world of gun-cradling gangsters and power-hungry mafia patriarchs.

[Might contain spoilers, many of them.]

The wedding seems to be a vital element in a gangster picture. The iconic opening sequence of Francis Ford Coppola’s The Godfather, in which a mob patriarch casually conducts his business as shrieks of laughter rise from his backyard, where his daughter is getting married and people are making merry, placed the sacred white of a wedding next to the fiery red of the mob business. The first season of the Amazon Prime original, Mirzapur, created by Karan Anshuman and Puneet Krishna, opens and closes with weddings soiled by blood. It begins with a bunch of intoxicated young men infiltrating a wedding procession going through the sleepy streets of Mirzapur, a city in Uttar Pradesh, and how a moment of revelry changes lives. A gun goes off and the groom is killed. The killing is accidental, and the victim isn’t eminent, but it sets in motion events that will ultimately transform the fate of the town.

In recent years the Hindi film industry has looked towards the north, especially Uttar Pradesh, for inspiration to make gangster films. Anurag Kashyap delivered a major work with the ambitious yet flawed Gangs of Wasseypur in 2012, which brought the flamboyance and unruliness back to the Hindi gangster film. There were several smaller films that tried to emulate its style but were not half as successful. Mirzapur appears to be one of those works that are indebted to Gangs of Wasseypur for its creative vision and courage, but it lacks its epic sweep, its startling imagination, its irresistible humor, and more importantly, its nerve. The concoction here comprises of a familiar set of elements: vibrant characters, colorful language, over-the-top violence, and a smattering of tongue-in-cheek humor. And the inspirations that help brew this concoction are diverse. I could spot overt references to Vishal Bharadwaj’s Shakespearean adaptations Maqbool and Omkara, the occasional bows to Gangs of Wasseypur, of course, and maybe a few touches of Tigmanshu Dhulia’s Haasil, too.

However, for any work to be complete, it must find a way around the inspirations that gave birth to it. It must, at any cost, come of its own. In this regard, Mizapur isn’t exactly a success; it struggles to find its feet and establish its world of gun-toting hoods and simmering rivalries, but fails. Its world doesn’t look lived in – rather, it looks borrowed – and the primary characters come alive only much later. But the more urgent problem that isn’t addressed soon enough is, there’s very little originality here.

Mirzapur traces the rise of two brothers against the backdrop of the Uttar Pradesh underworld, and how a stray shooting incident puts them in touch with Akhandanand Tripathi, an arms dealer, opium smuggler and reigning don of Mirzapur, who uses his carpet business as a front for his illicit activities, thus his sobriquet ‘Kaleen bhaiya’. It’s also not particularly surprising to see that he has shades of the character of Abbaji from Vishal Bharadwaj’s Maqbool; both of them appear to have been bred in the same household. Both are married to much younger women and their right-hand men are called Maqbool. And yet, Akhandanand (played by the incomparable Pankaj Tripathi) doesn’t wield the same influence as Abbaji. Never do we believe the extent of his power. We are told about it persistently, though. It’s a little disappointing to pick up bits and pieces about the central characters and events through chunks of dialogue, and it’s one of Mirzapur’s bigger flaws. The writing lacks the polish often found in great cinematic works. The characters constantly articulate what they are thinking out loud, as if being unpredictable is a bad thing, and it robs them of the opportunity to be memorable.

The characters, in themselves, are not a bad bunch. We have the wayward, power-hungry son who is to be Akhandanand’s successor, and the two brothers who threaten his legacy. We have a group of supporting characters as well, boringly written and underused, that inexplicably vanishes for long periods of time. We have a corrupt politician eying higher office who also happens to be a nexus between rival gangs, quite the staple in Hindi gangster films these days. All in all, it’s a mixed bag, and it’s a shame that none of them sparkle. The accents appear to have been picked up rather than imbibed, and the actors seem to have a ball rattling off expletives. Given how the makers of direct-to-stream projects get to work with more creative freedom, it was always a given that Mirzapur would contain a healthy amount of swearing. (There’s little doubt that it would likely not have made it to the theatres if it had been a feature-length film.) And gore, the unwarranted amount of gore. It’s a truly visceral experience to sit through it all, but it’s also a bit of a letdown to see the boundaries of creative freedom being used in a way that eventually adds little to the characters or the plot. It does its bit to set the mood, but it strays far too often into indulgence.

In all fairness, although the brew here is composed of familiar elements, it is never less than fairly engaging. The performances might be a tad inconsistent in parts, and there is no revelation here, unfortunately, but they are strong. (Divyendu Sharma, in particular, is impressive.) And there is a reasonable amount of tension that is executed competently, and two or three powerful moments that clobbered me. I wasn’t fully convinced by how some of the character arcs developed (especially how the two brothers go from innocent students to hardened mafia henchmen in the blink of an eye), but the series moves briskly enough to ensure these shortcomings are not lingered over. The result, then, is a work of few highs and many lows, one that is not immediately promising, but one that ultimately managed to get under my skin well enough for me to look forward to its second season. Hallelujah.

[Not For Reproduction]