Sep 29, 2016 03:03 PM
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No surprise then that the film is forced to kick off with one of the longest disclaimers seen recently. A packet of heroin gets thrown like a discus from across the border and we are plunged into a pulsating, frenetic world of rock'n' roll and drugs, of snorting chitta(white) powder, injecting a cocktail of liquids into the veins. Rock star Tommy(Shahid Kapoor, all sound and fury and sheer madness) aka Gabru takes you straight on the trip and gets you high. But Chaubey also breaks the frenzy and hallucination of the title track with the sad, worn out and gloomy faces of the ordinary, nameless addicts. The film might feel a trifle too loud and feverish for comfort at the start but you settle into its wildness and delirium in a matter of time. And you are totally in tune by the time a newly rehabilitated Tommy addresses his fans: “I composed a song on drugs and you turned it into your philosophy. You are even bigger losers than I am.”
Not once does Chaubey glamorise the use of drugs. Nor does he turn exploitative with the grime, filth and muck. In fact the film is unpleasant, disturbing and raw in the way it lays the abuse bare. The lives lost to addiction cut an immensely sorry figure, more so the desperate families when things reach home, when it’s no longer about “Sadde munde theek, horan de kharab(our kids are fine, it’s the others who have turned wayward)”. It’s a Hotel California everyone is trapped in with no signs of escape. Simultaneously Chaubey also shows the long and tough road to recovery. His moral core is strong and firm. It’s a war against drugs, against political and systemic complicity(Badal anyone) and against one’s own self. In the madness all around there are two voices of sanity and transformation –ASI Sartaj(Diljit Dosanjh, easy going, charming and nuanced) who gets sensitised to the issue when his own brother Balli turns an addict and doctor Preet(Kareena Kapoor, a figure of hope in her calm, untainted self), waging a war against substance abuse all on her own.
Abhishek Chaubey's Udta Punjab is littered with standout scenes, but none matches the sledgehammer impact of the climax.
Sudden, quick on the draw and stunningly to the point, it brings the curtains down on a profane, dystopic vision of a state that was once India's bread basket but is today burdened with a whole slew of problems, not the least of which are the horrific repercussions of narco-terror.
Chaubey tells his powerful, sinewy story with great dramatic flair, but he never ventures too far away from the harsh reality of the nexus between the drug kingpins and the state's politicians.
With an intelligent combination of hardboiled cynicism and broad touches of trippy black humour, the film brings alive a benighted universe where life has lost its way in a drug-induced haze.
The film invokes Punjab's great romantic poet Shiv Kumar Batalvi to accentuate the poignancy of the situation.
The rockstar-protagonist sings of "a girl whose name is love and who is lost" to drive home the evaporation of charm and beauty from the lives of the youth.
Then there’s a Bihari migrant(Alia Bhatt) whose zeal for a better life captures you. But just as you begin to empathise with her, you realise the futility of her efforts. It’s not a world she can control.
Similarly Sartaj(Diljit Dosanjh), a junior officer in Punjab Police, has questionable morality. He doesn’t get a hang of the reality until Dr Preet(Kareena Kapoor) shows him the bigger picture. But again, he is not on top of the food chain, and decision making is not his prerogative.
The film is entirely Chaubey’s. Bringing in inspiration from Quentin Tarantino, the Coen Brothers and Vishal Bhardwaj, he showcases the paradox of Punjab in Bollywood films. The land of lassi and mustard fields isn’t about a romantic duet anymore, and if you don’t act fast… well, watch the movie to find out. There are no reasons not to.
