When a crusader’s life is distilled to its bullet-point core – owing to the inevitable considerations of running time in cinema – we are often left with insufferable idealists. It’s almost always too much one-note saintliness to take over the course of a couple of hours. We want to hang a halo on these noble souls, but we don’t want to sit through movies about them, their every good deed underlined by stirring violins. Hansal Mehta’s Shahid – note how the name, by sheer coincidence, sounds like shaheed, martyr – gets around this problem with a terrific piece of casting. Raj Kumar Yadav has the bearing of an enthusiastic schoolboy, and when he smiles, his face contorts with unbounded glee, as if he just got a gold star from a teacher. And this boy-scout earnestness livens up the character of Shahid Azim, the lawyer and human rights activist who was assassinated in 2010. We’re not seeing, as we usually do, a film about a man who has dedicated his life to fighting injustice, but one about a kid who’s just begun to dedicate his life to fighting injustice. This clears the cobwebs from the saga-of-a-great-man clichés and makes all the difference.
And Shahid is really just a kid when the film begins. He’s studying hard for his second-year college exams, when he is arrested and thrown into jail because he spent some time – post the 1992-93 Mumbai riots – training to be a militant in Kashmir. (This part of his life isn’t explained very clearly.) And behind bars, Shahid undergoes a different kind of schooling. Most crucially, he learns that if you want to change the system, you have to be a part of it. And so he studies to become a lawyer, a part of the legal system, and after being released, he sets up a small practice devoted wholly to helping people like him, ordinary citizens who were plucked off the streets and locked up simply because – as he puts it – their names happened to be Zahir or Faheem and not Matthew or Donald or Suresh. He wants to help those who cannot help themselves, and those who cannot help belonging to a minority community that, as a fellow-prisoner observes, “no one gives a shit about in this country.” He begins to defend the accused in a series of terror attacks in Mumbai, courting the derisive nickname “jihaadiyon ka Gandhi.”
Are his clients really innocent? Mehta, daringly, puts this question into the mouth of a prisoner, who asks Shahid, “Do you think I’m a terrorist?” But the film doesn’t attempt an answer. And it doesn’t need to. We see things from Shahid’s point of view, and because he sees these men as innocents, we do too. A journalist asks him why he’s doing what he’s doing, and instead of having Shahid respond, the film cuts to a scene where Shahid is orchestrating the meeting of one of his clients with his little girl. At another point, Shahid goes to the house of another client and spends time with his aged father and newborn son. One may argue that, with the exception of characters like Ramanathan (Shahid’s friend and colleague), the Hindus here are mainly uncouth cops or unreliable witnesses or unfeeling prosecution lawyers or else part of a lynch mob setting Muslims on fire, while the Muslims – mostly – are loving family men. But Mehta doesn’t seem to be after political correctness so much as emotional affect. Shahid isn’t a polemic but – in the tradition of our cinema – a deeply humanistic drama. The film makes us think, but more often, it makes us feel.
We feel for Shahid’s brother Arif (Mohammed Zeeshan Ayyub), who’s sick of being the go-to guy for his family, when he wants to branch off and lead his own life. We feel for Shahid’s wife Mariam (Prabhleen Sandhu), who wants a husband who’ll be at home in time for dinner and who will notice that their son has been running a fever for a week. In one of the film’s best exchanges, after she asks him to give up a case, he reminds her that she advised him, once, to soldier on. She replies that he wasn’t her husband then. The simplicity of this admission strips away any hint of selfishness. And we feel for Shahid, who sets about the impossible task of doing right by everyone. He wants to free his clients, whom he appears to treat like family. And he wants to prove to his mother (Baljinder Kaur) that the woman he’s married is a burqa-wearing conservative. (Mariam isn’t – and another way the Muslims in this film differ from the stereotypes we usually see is that they don’t speak as if auditioning for bit parts in Pakeezah; they slip casually into a mix of Hindi, Urdu and English.)
The casting is excellent – a special nod to Kay Kay Menon, who does wonders with a cameo role – and the actors are aided by a screenplay that does something near-miraculous. Mehta loads his narrative with hoary staples from the Bollywood Screenwriter’s Manual – a shy romance, comic interludes, threats over the phone, courtroom theatrics, saas-bahu friction, motherly love, marital tensions – and, one by one, he makes these tropes seem newly minted. The scenes in court, in our films, are usually presented as high-powered games of tennis, the ball being whacked back and forth – in turn – between grunting opponents, but here, it’s like kabaddi. Everything seems to be happening at once. The judge asks the accused questions of his own and walks out while the prosecution and defense lawyers are still bickering, with overlapping dialogue that makes it impossible to follow any argument completely.
This, we feel, is what it must really be like, and this impression is furthered by the film’s unobtrusive technique (save a few fussy fade-outs at the end) – the hand-held camera, the natural lighting, and the reliance on ambient sound instead of a background score (which is mostly minimal). Shahid feels real, and Mehta, to his credit, doesn’t force-fit Azmi’s story into the arc of an all-encompassing biopic, which might have made the film look dramatic and too obviously shaped. It settles for being an impressionistic portrait of a man trying to find himself and his place in the world. And we see that he never quite did. When Shahid works for someone else, he wears a tie (no one else in the firm seems to be wearing one), but when he establishes his own law practice, he loses the tie. We think he finally knows who he is. We think he’s learnt to be his own person. And then we get the scene where the prosecution lawyer all but accuses him of being a terrorist. Shahid loses his composure and exposes himself to the extent that he seems as shocked as we are at discovering how much it still hurts, how much easier it would be if he were Matthew or Donald or Suresh.
An edited version of this piece can be found here.
Copyright ©2013 The Hindu. This article may not be reproduced in its entirety without permission. A link to this URL, instead, would be appreciated.
chalatmusafir
October 19, 2013
Even bias has a mirror image. And if I have to choose between two biases, I would rather go with one I feel closer to.
In simple language, I am better off without watching this film.
LikeLike
Rax
October 20, 2013
@chalatmusafir in even simpler language, go watch Boss. That’s probably more upto your speed anyway.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Bunny
October 21, 2013
@Chalatmusafir: At a time when opprotunists would jump the bandwagon of pseudo-connoisseurship to earn brownie points; at a time when “Shahid” is being compared to “Paan Singh Tomar”, I hail your honesty and confidence. Indian cinema can certainly do with such integrity.
LikeLike
Upnworld EarnesTaster
October 21, 2013
Wah! superb delineation of this film’s strengths..i again noted how you brought out the film so organically and in a non-formulaic manner – starting with how the film-makers cleverly chose their protagonist, the second paragraph especially when reading it for the first time does not seem at all like a regulation plot exposition, and then gliding onto the pic’s sensibilities and emotional moorings. True to your insightful pick-ups, there’s that point about Shahid’s tie. Unlike many other critics you don’t specifically mention the excellence of Raj Kumar Yadav’s performance as an isolated point, but as an entry-way to illustrate how the film bucks the Satyaharishchandra trap. Did the finisher come spontaneously to you this time, or did you have to think a while for it? 😉
LikeLiked by 1 person
Vidya
October 21, 2013
Loved the movie.was one of the best I’ve seen this year. Was expecting a slow boring drama but it was gripping and I did not expect it at all. I’m better off watching this movie than most of the movies that Bollywood churns out.
LikeLike
Vidya
October 21, 2013
And zeeshan is so good! That scene when he calls his mother after meeting shahid …that look in his eyes says more than so many words..he will do well if some one gives him a larger meatier role.
LikeLiked by 1 person
brangan
October 22, 2013
Rax: Why does the refusal to see a supposedly “cerebral” film automatically imply that the viewer belongs to the lowest common denominator? He/She could have ideological issues with the film/subject, right?
Upnworld EarnesTaster: Thank you very much for that comment, which is one of the few about the actual architecture of the piece. Don’t get too many of those.
Yes, the effort is to list the things I liked/disliked in as “invisible” a manner as possible, so that it feels like reading an essay without you sitting up and seeing a line like “Raj Kumar Yadav has done a great job.” The idea is to describe why I think he’s done a great job (wherever possible)… Similarly, for plot exposition, the idea is to talk about plot points without them feeling like plot points.
And I really struggled with how to end it. Now it looks obvious, but I had about six other (bad) endings, which will hopefully never be seen by anyone 🙂
LikeLike
Rax
October 22, 2013
@brangan: I think I may have jumped to do what I dislike most internet commenters for. I believe the bias is not one against “cerebral” cinema, but rather against cinema that might have the audacity to show you an alien point of view. Boss is not necessarily a lowest common denominator, but rather cinema that doesn’t challenge you at all into examining your biases (which is not necessarily a bad thing.) Having come off of the high of watching Shahid I responded in a holier-than-thou manner, having piled on assumption after assumption.
It is true what they say. The interwebz make you ugly.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Rahul
October 22, 2013
“Why does the refusal to see a supposedly “cerebral” film automatically imply that the viewer belongs to the lowest common denominator?”
I am assuming ChalatMusafir does not want to see the film because of “ideological differences”, as you have put it in the next line. I dont think it has anything to do with it being “cerebral” – so the dichotomy of a lowest common denominator does not apply , in my opinion. Probably what he would like to see is a propaganda piece that enforces his bias – but then those kind of movies are hard to come by. If there is any subtlety in the “bias” portrayed in the movie, that chalatmusafir might get offended. So, I think Boss is a great recommendation – a movie that probably does not take any ideological stand. After all why risk your emotional well being for the sake of a movie ?
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ramit
October 23, 2013
@Rahul- Even if chalatmusafir doesn’t want to risk his emotional well being, Boss is not at all a good recommendation. The clarilty of his preference suggets that he is a quality-seeker. And going by the reviews, Boss is a trash. Maybe you could recommend Dabangg or Special 26 (which atleast doesn’t force its ideology in an emotional envelope and leave us free to simply reject its stand unlike others which weave a complex moral-emotioal-ideological-societal web which one may find tough to clear for few days)
LikeLike
Ajay
October 23, 2013
Just wondering -Why is it that ‘Shahid’ should be a challenge to examine our bias and a refusal to see it due to ideological differences automatically means that person wants to see a propaganda piece reinforcing his bias.
Why can’t it be that ‘Shahid’ reinforces a commonly held view and is a propaganda piece while chalatmusafir wants to see something which makes us re-examine a commonly held view.
LikeLike
Ajay
October 23, 2013
BTW,My comment was a think aloud on a couple of previous postings.
Have not seen Shahid and hence personally am not making any comments on either the film or the ideological/political position it takes.
LikeLike
vijay
October 24, 2013
“The scenes in court, in our films, are usually presented as high-powered games of tennis, the ball being whacked back and forth – in turn – between grunting opponents, but here, it’s like kabaddi.”
I thought Virumandi, several years back, did a fine job with with the rural court scenes. But then that was a different film altogether
LikeLike
Vamshi
October 24, 2013
Hi BR, When are you writing the review of the 2013’s mother of all movies “Gravity”…or did I miss it.
LikeLike
Sanjeev
October 24, 2013
I am deeply touched by the concern shown by the worthy commentators about my mental well-being. I am happy to state that I survived BOSS quite well. I saw the film five days back and, so far, have not attempted to murder any passerby with an axe.
LikeLike
Rahul
October 25, 2013
“Why can’t it be that ‘Shahid’ reinforces a commonly held view and is a propaganda piece ”
You seem to be talking about Shahid as if it is a classified document. It is not. Many people have seen and reviewed it before it was commercially released. How one perceives it is their own prerogative and if one sees it as a propaganda piece without seeing it let them make the case. This is not certainly the generally held view.
LikeLike
sridhar270
October 25, 2013
I wouldn’t say all the prosecution lawyers were unfeeling. In fact, I thought, there was a nice scene in the first case after the judge leaves, when Vipin Sharma’s character seems to josh around with Shahid. It seemed to indicate a sense of fellowship even if they were on opposite sides.
I totally loved the movie. There were a lot of good things going for it, but one that stood out more than usual, was the number of dialogues whispered in the background. When the family questions Shahid on his marriage, I couldn’t take my eyes off Zeeshan Ayub’s character – the little things he kept doing – restraining his mother, a small sigh of annoyance – it was brilliant. Similarly Shahid whispering, “Joke hai” to Mariam when she comes to his office.
Rarely have I seen a movie where the acting was so natural.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Kutty
October 27, 2013
What a movie! And the Bollywood Bar (pun, maybe?) only rises higher. The casting was perfect with no one overstaying their welcome. To Sridhar’s point, the dialogues and the situations (though it is a biopic) seem perfectly natural. Like the scene where he asks Mariam if she wants water or tea, she says no and he ends up getting it for her anyway.
The timing of the phrase “jihadiyon ka Gandhi” was also perfect. It comes right in the middle of a sequence where Shahid is ignoring Mariam and his son. Mehta seems to be making the broader point about how people who choose to work for a larger society have to sacrifice the happiness of their families and how even Gandhi was no exception.
Mehta’s choice of other historical characters being mentioned is also interesting – Bhagat Singh, Chatrapati Shivaji and Sher Shah Suri. In the case of Bhagat Singh, Mehta tries to bring in a point on how today’s extremist could be tomorrow’s national hero and that it is important to attach a historical context to things, or even better, let history be the judge. As for Chatrapati Shivaji and Sher Shah Suri, both of them were small (relatively) kings who took on the might of the Mughals. Again, it is a case of how historically, the minority (or the smaller community) has always lived ill at ease when there is an overwhelming power looking down at them. Besides, in both the cases, the victories and the joys were relatively short lived and were just brief sparks of resistance against the bigger power. Similarly, while Shahid may have fought and won 17 acquittals, these are just minor, if important, victories.
Coming back to the movie, to the credit of the director, he paints the characters with a realistic brush much needed in a biopic, more than anything else. At one point, I began to think of Arif as an exception. He seemed to be ready to help and forgive Shahid too easily and then comes the scene by the canal where he explodes about having to shoulder the responsibilities for so long. Brilliant!
LikeLiked by 1 person
brangan
April 16, 2014
Really happy for the film’s showing at the National Awards: Best Actor, Best Director.
LikeLike
M M
April 16, 2014
Best Adtor worthy?
LikeLike
sridhar270
April 16, 2014
Absolutely! Very happy.
LikeLike
Rahul
April 17, 2014
Read this on twitter – Chill, the award is to Rajkumar for Shahid , not the other way around.
: )
LikeLike
ramitbajaj01
April 18, 2014
haha. what a hilarious tweet, Rahul!
LikeLike