Handpicks: Favourite Hindi Films of 2020, Ranked

[Contains spoilers.]

It has been a rather disappointing year for Hindi cinema. Mediocre and bad films outnumbered the good ones. We did not produce a single great film, in my opinion. There was one that flirted with greatness. And that’s all it did. Even the ones that seemed promising initially ended up being letdowns, and the pandemic ensured that we got access to films (some of which are listed below) that would have otherwise drifted into oblivion. Dibakar Banerjee’s “Sandeep Aur Pinky Faraar,” completed two years ago, would have released in March had the pandemic not happened. Crushingly still, there is no word on its new release date. If his segment in the otherwise disappointing Netflix anthology film “Ghost Stories” is anything to go by, it should make for a riveting watch.

But what was happening in the world of web-series is another deal altogether. In April came the charming “Panchayat,” lighter than air and with a superb set of characters. Borrowing its flavour from India’s early television sitcoms, “Panchayat” played to TVF’s strength: masterful writing with a keen eye for detail. And lest we forget, it ranks among the actor Raghubir Yadav’s best performances. Anyone who has followed his thirty-five-year-old career closely would know what a glorious feat that is. Not long after “Panchayat” came the nine-part web-series, “Paatal Lok,” created by Sudip Sharma and directed by Avinash Arun and Prosit Roy. Loosely based on Tarun Tejpal’s 2009 novel, “The Story of My Assassins,” the series is what I will remember the year for. A staggering achievement that reintroduced us to the gifted Jaideep Ahlawat (and we will do well to remember him now), it captured a contemporary India entangled in its own prejudices like no other cinematic work in recent memory. And lastly, in October, Hansal Mehta delivered his best work since 2012’s “Shahid” with “Scam 1992: The Harshad Mehta Story.” Rock-solid and strangely addictive, “Scam 1992: The Harshad Mehta Story,” based on the non-fiction book “The Scam: Who Won, Who Lost, Who Got Away” by Debashis Basu and Sucheta Dalal, brought the actor Pratik Gandhi into the limelight, among other coups. I’ve seen it thrice already and look forward to going back for another helping.

On an even smaller canvas, even better things happened. The streaming service MUBI released several features and short films through MUBI India, the most notable being the retrospective of Amit Dutta, one of our foremost filmmaking voices. Dutta largely works in experimental cinema, which might explain why his works are elusive, literally and figuratively. The access which MUBI India provided was priceless. After a long wait, I was delighted to sink my teeth into 2010’s “Nainsukh,” his most popular and distinguished work. Also among MUBI India’s offerings was an outstanding short film, Shazia Iqbal’s “Bebaak.” Extracting a chapter from her life, Iqbal’s film followed Fatin, a young architecture student, who is rebuked by a cleric during an interview for a scholarship. Given a directive to ‘amend her ways’ or risk losing the scholarship, Fatin’s dilemma is vividly captured by a combination of neat writing and competent acting. Right after the interview ends, Fatin lambasts her father, saying, “Why did you have so many children when you couldn’t afford it?” Her father is dumbstruck. The answer to her question is shown, not said: the fourth child, Fatin’s youngest sibling after two younger sisters, is a boy. This unquenchable desire for a male child is laid into ferociously, as it should—remarkable for a first-time filmmaker. “Bebaak” ends on a touching note, hopeful that things can change and will, and we will have to keep fighting whatever comes our way and not concede. Courage is the tonic which will pull us through. I can hardly wait to see what Iqbal comes up with next.

Here are my ten favourite Hindi films of the year. First, a note: As some of them have already made rounds of various film festivals, or were completed years ago but were unable to find distribution, one can argue they are not ‘films of 2020’ and therefore do not qualify to be on this list. However, given the unusual year we had, and considering that many movies were made available to the public through OTT releases this year, I am including them on this list. 

10. LOOTCASE (Dir.: Rajesh Krishnan)

There’s little that is particularly memorable in Rajesh Krishnan’s breezy comedy of errors, but “Lootcase” brightened up many a Sunday for me this year. Most jokes meet their mark, the characters (not too different from the quirky ones we met in Abhinay Deo’s “Delhi Belly” in 2012) serve the plot well, and the actors seem to have a blast. Not a bad way to spend a couple of hours, especially when Kunal Khemu and Gajraj Rao are in spiffing comic form. 

(Trailer here.)

09. AK VS AK (Dir.: Vikramaditya Motwane)

The pull is in the pitch: the filmmaker Anurag Kashyap and the actor Anil Kapoor (playing fictional versions of themselves) square off and a camera captures the duel. Kashyap: enfant terrible, egotistical, crazy. Kapoor: suave, shrewd, privileged. A public spat between the two leads to Kashyap taking revenge by kidnapping Kapoor’s daughter. It’s satire. It’s irreverent. It’s fun. For the first twenty odd minutes, Vikramaditya Motwane’s “AK vs AK” coasts along delightfully as Kapoor and Kashyap trade insults, each claiming to have conquered Bollywood. We settle back comfortably—finally, the film industry is willing to laugh at itself. No one is spared as the film roasts film-makers (including the makers themselves) and film-watchers alike. And then, “AK vs AK” takes a nosedive. The jokes become forced, the plotting becomes tedious. The final twist is especially sloppy—was that really required? There are a couple of nice observations here about the fragility of stardom and the vulnerability of people who have spent most of their adult lives in the spotlight. It works as satire—as a thriller, it fizzles out without actually taking off.

(Trailer here.)

08. RAAT AKELI HAI (Dir.: Honey Trehan)

It’s a shame that Honey Trehan’s “Raat Akeli Hai” is not able to replicate the brilliance of its opening sequence. When it arrives at the coal-black heart of a gruesome murder at the end of 149 minutes, the sagging feeling of disappointment is hard to shake off. Confidently mounted but ultimately a touch overlong, Trehan’s directorial debut gets the basics of a murder-mystery right (the mood, the detailing, the shifty characters, and the dark, dark secrets) but is unable to avert a disappointing finish. In all fairness, the journey is fairly absorbing, with some exquisite images (the film has been lensed by the great Pankaj Kumar) and occasionally sharp writing (by Smita Singh). It could have been a masterpiece. Alas. 

(Trailer here.)

07. BULBBUL (Dir.: Anvita Dutt)

Lyricist and writer Anvita Dutt’s sweeping Gothic fairytale about an avenging witch who wreaks havoc upon men suspected of cruelty towards women was among the year’s most pleasant surprises. A happy fairytale this is not: “Bulbbul” is about cruel violence, oppression, and jealousy, and the scene at its core—unfolding poetically on a rainy night—made my stomach turn. It’s exquisitely photographed and made, and features a slew of wonderful performances. But, there was something lacking. Perhaps another viewing will provide an answer.

(Trailer here.)

06. KADAKH (Dir.: Rajat Kapoor)

A stranger arrives to meet our protagonist, Sunil, on Diwali morning. He introduces himself as the husband of the woman Sunil is having an affair with—strangely at peace with the situation. But when an argument escalates and the stranger shoots himself, Rajat Kapoor’s morbidly funny “Kadakh” is set in motion. Borrowing the idea of a party taking place with a dead body in the house (whose presence is known to only two people) from Alfred Hitchcock’s “Rope,” “Kadakh” examines the crumbling of a marriage and other friendships over the course of Sunil’s Diwali party. Posing moral questions even when it meanders (and it does meander plenty), “Kadakh” is a fascinating addition to Kapoor’s oeuvre as a director, but far from his best work.

(Trailer here.)

05. CARGO (Dir.: Arati Kadav)

If we were to draw up a list of Hind cinema’s strong points, ‘low-budget science-fiction’ would likely be left off it. Even ‘science-fiction’ for that matter. So it’s rather swell to see Arati Kadav’s debut feature “Cargo” come out of nowhere and attempt to correct that. And what a plucky attempt it is. Like her wondrous 2016 short film, “Time Machine,” “Cargo” pairs mad, almost childlike imagination with weighty themes to create a distinctive product that stands as a testament to her prodigious talent. While “Time Machine” dealt with motherhood and first love, “Cargo” deals with loneliness and death, and the startling fact that, given enough time, someone can get used to them. It takes some effort to buy into the world Kadav, a former software engineer at Microsoft, creates here, a world replete with subpar visual effects and long stretches of blandness. But fling yourself into it like I did, and maybe it will leave you ruminating over what is has to say. There’s an innocence with which Kadav approaches filmmaking. How I miss it.

(Trailer here.)

04. KAAMYAAB (Dir.: Hardik Mehta)

If there is such a thing as an actor born to play a role, Hardik Mehta’s “Kaamyaab” makes a fine case for it. Sanjay Mishra, the terrific character actor who has spent twenty-five years in the movies, plays Sudheer, a washed-out and ageing character actor who learns in an interview that he has acted in 499 movies. A power cut criminally cuts this interview short but it gives him a mission: to seek a meaty role for his 500th film. At once wise about how the Hindi film industry thinks and functions (at one point, when a film director calls Sudheer by his name, just his name, his assistant hisses, “Sudheerji”—the honorific is an afterthought) and respectful of the many struggles of an actor, “Kaamyaab” probes the difference between an actor and a star by deftly avoiding moralisation. Its heartbreakingly beautiful (albeit over-the-top) ending made my heart sing. Would make yours, too.

(Trailer here.)

03. GULABO SITABO (Dir.: Shoojit Sircar)

Borrowing its title from a glove puppetry theatre show about two bickering women, Shootjit Sircar’s “Gulabo Sitabo” is a beast to tackle: playful, funny, gently melancholic, and when one thinks they have managed to get it, slippery and profoundly sad. Vultures circle an ancient tumbledown house in Lucknow, and what a lovely selection of vultures we have here: the grouchy old landlord, Mirza; his wife, Begum, sole owner of the property; Mirza’s tenants that include Baankey Rastogi, who runs a flour mill; and a potpourri of other characters that include an oily government chap, Gyanesh Shukla, working with the archeological department. Everyone lays claim to the property—even the government. While much of “Gulabo Sitabo” revolves around how these characters try to outwit each other, Juhi Chaturvedi’s typically intelligent script traverses weightier themes like poverty, selfishness, and our innate desire to hold on to something we call ‘home’. It’s a demanding film, and if we spare a little patience, an amply rewarding one.

(Trailer here.)

02. SIR (Dir.: Rohena Gera)

It seems only natural that the actress Tillotama Shome, nineteen years after debuting as the young house-help Alice in Mira Nair’s “Monsoon Wedding,” portrays the house-help Ratna in Rohena Gera’s small miracle of a movie. Maybe Alice is Ratna now, all grown up and worldly. And much like her performance in Nair’s film, Shome here is absolutely flawless as the maid who gradually, fearfully, falls in love with her employer. Screened at the Cannes Film Festival in 2018, “Sir” captures the stages of this romance that a classist society would mock harshly. Ratna’s employer, Ashwin (played by Vivek Gomber; equally marvellous), couldn’t care less. But Ratna does—the society she is familiar with is a far cry from the one her employer knows. It is Gera’s ability to capture this bit of detail, and other similar details, that makes the film so special. And it springs an ending that is arguably the best ending in any movie I saw this year, an ending that made my heart soar furiously, an ending that I simply cannot get enough of. A word is spoken, just a word, and spoken bravely. And its utterance takes a knife to classism in fine style. Incredible.

(Trailer here.)

01. EEB ALLAY OOO! (Dir.: Prateek Vats)

Monkeys have taken over government buildings—literally. A new migrant, Anjani, is tasked with keeping them away. He is not enterprising; the monkeys are cunning and stubborn. (The symbolism is on point.) Anjani hates his job with all his heart but it is the best his meagre qualifications can fetch. Prateek Vats’s absurdist satire “Eeb Allay Ooo!” begins here most unassumingly, but by the end of 97 bleak minutes, it has touched upon the exploitation of migrants, unemployment, and religious extremism. And like many great films, it features an insurmountable villain: a big city—here, New Delhi. As Anjani tries to gull the monkeys, finally let down by a pitiless city and its people, “Eeb Allay Ooo!” comes into its own as a strong political work that masterfully brings to light the plight of millions of migrants across the country. Furthermore, it stars the discovery of the year: the actor Shardul Bharadwaj who as Anjani delivers a performance that ought to have had him smothered him with plaudits. But, ah, Anjani would have laughed at our optimism. 

(Trailer here.)

[Not For Reproduction]

Review: Vikramditya Motwane’s “Trapped” is an impressive minimalist drama.

[Might contain spoilers, many of them.]

The film’s title appears on screen when a shy guy on his first date with the woman he loves is about to react to the news that she is getting married in two days. He is shocked, but she doesn’t discourage him; her eyes twinkle mischievously. The timing couldn’t be more appropriate. He is literally trapped; he has to win her over if he wants to be with her. It means finding an apartment in Mumbai in two days, because evidently space matters to her.

I have lived in Mumbai all my life and I know what a nightmare that could be. Finding an apartment takes weeks, months even. He has two days. He tries to work out a deal with several real-estate agents but none of them like the sound of his budget. Finally, and now slightly desperate, he agrees to deal with one shady guy. It’s an apartment on the 35th floor of a high-rise, overlooking the vast, sprawling, intimidating city. On his first visit, he notices that the house has problems. The shady guy reveals that the apartment doesn’t belong to him; it belongs to someone else, some Javed bhai. But it doesn’t matter to him. He has managed to find an apartment. The first hurdle has been crossed, so to speak.

It’s easy to place ourselves in the shoes of the protagonist, Shaurya, whom we see in Trapped. He’s the everyday nobody, an unremarkable, scrawny chap who enjoys pav-bhaji slathered in butter and trusts blindly when anxious. He stutters while speaking to the girl. He forgets to reason with her when she demands that they move into a bigger apartment. He doesn’t leave his house without bowing in front of a framed picture of a god, and this habit finally costs him. He gets locked inside his new house without food, water and electricity.

On paper the idea must sound quite ridiculous. How can someone living in a populous metropolis be stranded? Wrestling for personal space is something everyone does everyday here. But Vikramaditya Motwane is no ordinary filmmaker. He’s thoughtful, observant, and knows how to work with details. He constructs the scene where Shaurya gets locked in carefully. The lock always remains jammed. The electricity circuit trips without warning. We see this when Shaurya visits the apartment for the first time, an omen of sorts. The watchman is half deaf, the building crummy, thus eliminating the possibilities of other residents, and the apartment is on the 35th floor. When Shaurya tries to hammer, kick, punch, yell his way out, we get an idea of how helpless he really is. There is really nobody coming.

This has been seen before, most memorably in Robert Zemeckis’ Castaway, but never in a Hindi film. Motwane doesn’t focus on the heroics of Shaurya but instead on how this predicament takes a toll on his physical and mental health. Shaurya, shy and timid, tries and fails, picks himself up, fights his fear of rats, and finds himself at his most resourceful when he’s thirsty and the city, surprising as it usually is, blesses him with a welcome shower. He thinks of ways to get people to notice him. He lights a fire, makes a slingshot, tries to find a means to escape. His coming-of-age, from a timid guy who was comfortable in a crowd to someone willing to steer his destiny, is the defining moment of the film, and it is rousing.

Like in the two films Motwane has made previously, the detailing is careful. If Mumbai is the villain of Trapped, then it’s certainly the most complex one in recent memory. It consumes Shaurya whole, breaks him, but also helps him up when he’s down. It’s omnipresent. When Shaurya looks out of his balcony at the twinkling lights of the city, it seems as if the city is staring back at him, in the eye. When he sits silently, the sounds of traffic and construction work can be heard in the distance. Freedom is within his reach, but the city is unwilling to give it to him without a fight, without making him work for it first.

And then there is a recurrent detail involving a cockroach. When Shaurya wakes up to fight to survive for another day, he sees the cockroach first. It is like him, fighting to survive another day, not knowing which mountain needs to be scaled next. It’s in details like these that we realize we are in the hands of a terrific filmmaker who knows his job all too well.

There are problems with one-character films like Trapped and they are not limited to the narrative only. On one hand, they can get repetitive and dull fairly quickly, and might even seem overlong even when they are actually brief. If the actor portraying the role slips up only once, the whole film might come crashing down. On the other hand, we need to be convinced of the protagonist’s predicament. At least I need to know that there is no way out for him. Unless I am convinced, I cannot fully invest my attention in his fight for freedom. Trapped has a few errors in its logic, and certain developments in its story seems a little too contrived. There is also a brief period during which it gets repetitive. These are characteristics of most one-man films out there, and it’s unfortunate that Trapped, too, is a victim of them.

Of course, I am in a privileged position to pinpoint where it goes wrong. To imagine it all and to tell it the way it has been told is not an easy job. I realize that. Motwane does a fine, fine job of letting the plot unfold organically. Trapped overcomes its narrative challenges and Rajkummar Rao, who plays Shaurya, is absolutely terrific in it. It’s that rare film that belongs as much to its director as it does to its actor. It’s unfair that we get to see a film from him once in about four years. There’s a silent ten-minute epilogue at the end that is a masterly touch. If that doesn’t make one believe in Motwane’s talent, I don’t know what does.

(Not For Reproduction)

Essay: Should "Lootera" be the film India pins its Oscar hopes on?

After my initial viewing of Vikramaditya Motwane's Lootera, an Indian adaptation of the O. Henry short The Last Leaf, I was sure that any person in their right mind would definitely think of recommending it to the Oscars. Because not only was it loyal to its inspiration, the short story it is adapted from, but also it was also a movie we are seldom treated to in an industry obsessed with ringing cash registers.

True, it didn't get to me straight away. Blame the lethargic pacing or the long silences if you must but yeah, it doesn't work that way. It wasn't meant to be instantly likable, I thought. Those of you who remember Motwane's debut Udaan would know. Motwane uses time to magnificent effect, as is discernible in his two movies, he lets his characters grow, evolve and then he sneaks in some plot when you begin to care for them. That's how he makes 'em how he makes 'em.

Having read The Last Leaf before watching this film, I was surprised to see how it all made sense at the end when Motwane followed a different story altogether for most of its runtime. And till the interlude, I was raving about it. The first-half of the movie is breezy, stunningly crafted, masterfully shot, something that I missed seeing in a Hindi film. Motwane then dunks it into an emotionally-charged second, where cinematographer Mahendra J. Shetty employs a dexterous use of lighting to epitomize the change of mood. The emotions run haywire between the contrasting characters when they get the wind of what circumstances have made them do. That's precisely when the plot of O. Henry's marvelous short begins to take shape. I'll have to also talk about the incredible score, a score which compliments the deep, disguised emotions between the characters and one which pays homage to the old Hindi classics, thus creating a nostalgic aura that a period piece like this needs. Terrific.

So, when I heard that the process for the Oscar submissions had started, Lootera was the movie I kept thinking of. Now, I'll be honest with you, I'm a cynic when it comes to India and Oscars. Because I don't believe that the recent Indian submissions for the Best Foreign-Language Film Oscar were the best cinema we had. I mean, who ranks Paheli above Black, really? And why, why do we send movies with plagiarized content to vie for the big one? But I concurred when the Film Federation Of India (FFI) sent Anusha Rizvi's fabulous Peepli Live four years back. Barfi! was last year's submission, a decent movie but much of it had been lifted straight off Chaplin's films, something that should've been looked into and acted on accordingly, but apart from the splendid performances, the film had very little to offer to the West. At least Lootera credited its inspiration.

Still, when I weigh Lootera's chances at the Oscars, I'm not too sure. Yes, that would be my choice for this year's submission - and I seldom watch regional films so I'm not confident about my choice - but Lootera was a wonderful film and something that would fascinate the West, I think. It was careful with its adaptation, virtuoso in its execution and above all, fearless in its ambitions. That's why I think it'd make a decent choice.

By the way, Ritesh Batra's Dabba generated a lot of buzz in this year's edition of the Cannes Film Festival. When an Indian film is talked about at Cannes, it should be something special. And Dabba is gearing up for a release next month. I won't be surprised if it wows the audiences, for the trailer is mighty impressive.

Let's see, shall we?