Spoilers ahead…
Raman Raghav 2.o is divided into chapters whose titles appear in a lurid, pulp-fiction font – and the best chapter is titled The Sister. In a gut-churning subversion of the bhai-behen reunion scenes of Hindi cinema, we see Raman (or Ramanna, played by Nawazuddin Siddiqui) walk into his sister’s (a superb Amruta Subhash) flat and terrorise her family. As the scene begins, he says he just wants some food, a change of clothes. Soon, he’s in the bathroom, using her little boy’s toothbrush. The scene goes on and on, lingering on such minutiae, showing us how he’s desecrating the happy place she’s made for herself after what appears to be ages, with a man who makes her happy. She begs Raman to leave. And when he finally does, she falls into her husband’s arms and sobs, the long-suppressed tension leaking out of her like air from a balloon. At that moment, I realised I’d been holding my breath as well. An instant later, I thought: “Welcome back, Anurag Kashyap!”
In Ugly, Kashyap embarked on a stylistic departure. At first, the story seemed to circle around a girl’s kidnapping, but the narrative gradually shifted into a study of tangential characters – the film became less interested in “Who’s responsible and why?” than “Look how sordid grown-ups can get!” Raman Raghav 2.0 follows a similar format, each chapter a piece of a larger puzzle that can perhaps never be solved. (Which is why the screenplay’s tendency to “explain” things is a mistake, but more about that later.) The film opens with some text about the real-life serial killer named Raman Raghav, who, in the 1960s, confessed to 41 murders. Then, we get this punch line: “This film is not about him.” Kashyap isn’t as interested in entering a killer’s mind as painting a picture using its squalor as the palette. There’s no velvet here; only filth. Hence the repeated shots of Mumbai at its grimiest – even the beach is littered with refuse. The film could be called Ugly 2.0.
And we’re implicated in the ugliness. After a horrific murder – all the more horrific because of what we imagine rather than what we actually see – the soundtrack bursts into Ram Sampath’s Behooda, a track so insanely sensual that we imagine silhouettes of near-naked women slo-mo-ing around a gun barrel in the title song of a Bond film. We seem to be plugged into the pleasure centres of Raman’s brain, feeling the feelings coursing through him. You’d be right in saying that Kashyap, at this point, mythologises this monster – but then, Raman doesn’t need much help in this regard. He’s a compulsive self-mythologiser. Every utterance of his sounds like myth. “I walk only on black tiles.” “My father said my eyes glow in the night, like those of a fox.” (Eventually, we see this glow, as Raman peers through a hole in a ceiling and his eye catches the light from beneath.) Sometimes he says he speaks to God on the radio – the soundtrack erupts into static, as though trying to tune into His frequency. Elsewhere, the appliance changes – he says he is God’s CCTV. There are unreliable narrators, and then there’s Raman.
Or should we say Raavan, with a demonic scar snaking through his forehead? Entirely in character with his fondness for manufacturing mythology, Raman keeps referencing the Ramayana – as does the film, with its Ram Lila images and the Hanuman that hangs from a car’s rear-view mirror. And the Ram, here, is a cop named Raghav (Vicky Kaushal, whose wiry physicality makes up for emotions his young face cannot yet express). But like Mani Ratnam did in Raavan, Kashyap ugly-fies the ostensible moral centre of his story. Raghav is a drug addict in an abusive relationship with Smrutika (Sobhita Dhulipala) – he won’t use protection and she’s had three abortions. We’re now deposited in doppelganger territory. If Raman kills children, Raghav has been responsible for killing unborn children. If Raman cracks open skulls with a tyre wrench, Raghav violates Smrutika with his gun. When we get to this film’s equivalent of the kidnapping-Sita moment, in a grocery store, we wonder if Smrutika’s fate would be any different if she were to move in with Raman. As in Badlapur, we are invited to chew on this question: Who is worse? The man who cannot help being who he is, or the man who can? The man who’s left people dead, or the man who throws those around him into a living hell? It’s no accident that the film splits the name of the real-life serial killer and distributes between these two killers on screen.
These are the weakest portions of the film. For some reason, Kashyap doesn’t trust us to get this angle, and he keeps drumming it into our skulls with a tyre wrench. (There’s even a chapter called Soulmates, with this line: “Raman ko uska Raghav mil gaya.”) Every time there’s an attempt at an explanation – as in the scene that gives us a glimpse into Raghav’s relationship with his father (Vipin Sharma), which segues almost surreally into a scene with drug dealers – the film stops cold. Also, if you’re going to give us these little insights, these little glimmers of character, why not go all the way? Why not give us something more than, say, the phone conversation Smrutika has with her parents? It’s hard to see why such a stunning, seemingly self-possessed woman would continue to be in a relationship where she’s little more than a sex slave. (We could have used a chapter on her: The Lover.)
Raman Raghav 2.o is strongest when it doesn’t stop to explain. When asked what he wants, Raman snarls, “Izzat!” He keeps jotting notes about his exploits in a little red book, like a meticulous accountant. We think these are clues to his character, but no! He’s best defined by the scene where he gazes dully at a woman making rotis and, heeding an inner voice (maybe he’s tuned into God’s radio frequency), picks up a stone. We don’t see intent. We sense impulse. The scene ends brilliantly – it’s black comedy played at the lowest of pitches, a testament to a filmmaker and an actor at peak power. I felt some sadness watching Nawazuddin Siddiqui as Raman. He’s reached the stage where his technique has become transparent. The thing he does with his fingers, curling them around his eyes like a child pretending to peer through binoculars – it seems such a Nawazuddin Siddiqui thing to do. I don’t know if he can give a truly revelatory performance anymore. Even so, he’s astonishing. When we first see him, the camera focuses on his hand, holding a hammer – the disembodiment suggests a pure killing machine. But Siddiqui goes beyond and makes us see a man who’s as existential about his killings as the song on his lips: Aadmi musafir hai, aata hai jaata hai…
This is a classic Kashyap touch, as is the fourth-wall-breaking allusion to Vasanthabalan’s Angadi Theru, popping out of the mouth of a man least likely to have seen the film. But I laughed. The Kashyap humour is back too. Drugs mistaken for homeopathic medicine. Sheila ki jawani used as a lullaby. It feels weird to say this, but portions of Raman Raghav 2.o are almost sinfully entertaining. This is what we missed in Bombay Velvet, this ability to fuse an intense, twisted and very personal sensibility into tired genre material. By the end, the film got me. Even the doppelganger conceit that annoyed me earlier became logical, even inevitable – I saw things in a new light. Heck, walking home, I even saw the Bollywood romance in a new light. The narrative is book-ended by Raman’s confessions. The first time it feels like he’s toying with Raghav. The second time, it feels like love.
KEY:
- Bombay Velvet = see here
- bhai-behen = brother-sister
- Raavan = see here
- Badlapur = see here
- “Raman ko uska Raghav mil gaya.” = Raman has got his Raghav.
- “Izzat!” = honour/respect
- Aadmi musafir hai, aata hai jaata hai… = Man is a traveller. He comes. he goes…
- Angadi Theru = see here
Copyright ©2016 Baradwaj Rangan. This article may not be reproduced in its entirety without permission. A link to this URL, instead, would be appreciated.
chronophlogiston
June 25, 2016
I think I would blindly watch any film which has Nawazudding Siddiqui being directed by Anurag Kashyap, irrespective of the size of Siddiqui’s role in the movie. Looking forward to watching this one.
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Biswarup
June 25, 2016
@BR – Ramanna’s coming to his sister’s place reminded me of Velu Nayakan going to Charumati’s place in ‘Nayakan’. Velu was also asked to leave and he controlled his emotion and left the place. But Ramanna is different. It also assured me of the motive behind the “soulmate” chapter. A Ramanna only needs a Raghav. Not one else would do. It is just not about killing , it’s about how they kill and why they kill. I can not place a Velu Nayakan with a Ramanna [ if at all that was possible], as soulmates, though both of them are criminals. One has no feelings for his family and other one is a complete family man.
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Biswarup
June 25, 2016
@BR – One more thing is that, when that “Soulmates” chapter came up I immediately thought of Yash Chopra’s “Dil toh Pagal hai”. To me it was like Bollywood coming of age. Reminded me of the starting lines of “Dil toh Pagal hai” – for everyone in this world, there’s someone else waiting. Does not need to be under the garments of heterosexuality and how Chopra imagined and portrayed his lovers, a soulmate’s love is what Kashyap has to give us. And this is so anti-yash-chopra-genre of filmmaking, almost making a mockery of it. The soulmate angle fascinated me the most from RR2.0. I felt the movie lacked in writing. It does not give enough importance on Raghav as it does on Ramanna. It was as if it tries to hold back information about Raghav. It’s fairly clear why Ramanna would become a Sindhi Halwai. But we are not sure about Raghav. Why he is like that, the way he is? It’s not that his family does not take of care of him. His mother thinks about him. What’s this thing with Coke and losing control? From where it all began? We don’t know anything about it
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RSN
June 25, 2016
Biswarup:
Both of them are accidental criminals for sure
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Mohanlal
June 25, 2016
I haven’t seen the movie yet, but to reflect on your points about the parallelism between Raman and Raghav…well, Kashyap was never a subtle director. Hell, the title of the movie hammers the point down before you even watch the movie.
On another point, I’m afraid Siddiqui is being typecast as these dark, unhinged people. Every so often, we see a glimmer of hope such as Bajrangi Bhaijaan, but directors fail to use it. He’s already proved he’s exceptional in these roles. I just wish he takes up more sympathetic roles in the future.
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Pavan Srinivas
June 25, 2016
I think everybody at some point will meet or met the RamanRaghav (Raman) within us, either in the real world or in an imaginary world.
That’s what I decipher from the ending and it’s true.
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Manikandan V
June 25, 2016
Rk Ragavan must have been smirking that a movie is made in his name
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Vivek
June 26, 2016
It seemed a bit uneven, the film. As an idea the “romance” part is very interesting but it came across as half-cooked. Kashyap at times keeps chewing at scenes to extract every little bit of nuance he can, but when it doesn’t work, it gets bloody tedious. He is like Tarantino in that respect, always trying to make great individual scenes. The sister chapter, for instance, was rivetting, but during most others, you just want him to cut to the chase.
I felt NS was too good in that role, a bit too good given the other roles appear lightweight opposite him. The one time there is balance is in that sister portion because of Amruta Subhash. Otherwise, it is just an onslaught of crime and darkness.
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Mohit
June 26, 2016
“What’s this thing with Coke and losing control? From where it all began? We don’t know anything about it”
[b]Biswarup[/b], I think it’s pretty clear from the movie that Raghav has had a disturbed past with his family (right down to the fact that he got his job thanks to his father, became an ACP at such a young age…)
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Biswarup
June 26, 2016
@Mohit – But is that information enough to convince us that he would become a drug addict ? His dad also tells us that he once caught Raghav smoking weed in his childhood ( and perhaps when he was not doing his job). Dad helping the son to get an easy job could well be NOT SUCH a disturbing thing for a son ? We can not pin point on that fact. Or he would always need Viagra for sex – was that the real truth hurting his feelings while growing up and he became a drug addict ? We are not sure as a viewer.
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Manikandan V
June 26, 2016
@BR Sir any thoughts on “Detailed intricate background – Working Class locations” amidst which all the action happens
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sai16vicky
June 27, 2016
@Rangan: On a slightly unrelated note, did you review Ugly?
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Snehal
June 27, 2016
Can you pease explain these lines about Nawazzudin Siddiqui in a little bit more detail please:
“He’s reached the stage where his technique has become transparent. The thing he does with his fingers, curling them around his eyes like a child pretending to peer through binoculars – it seems such a Nawazuddin Siddiqui thing to do. I don’t know if he can give a truly revelatory performance anymore. Even so, he’s astonishing.”
What is a truly revelatory performance? I am not questioning, just trying to understand your thoughts. Thanks!
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Apu
June 28, 2016
@Biswarup: “But is that information enough to convince us that he would become a drug addict ?”
Frankly, there is usually never a great, dark secret or one big compelling reason why someone becomes a drug addict or for that matter, an alcoholic. It might start from curiosity, and move to higher frequency for a kick and then you are hooked. Some are physically more susceptible than others. A lot of people try getting out of it, some succeed, some don’t. That is the reality. Non-addicts usually keep looking for a reason or think they can talk the addict out of it.
Hindi movies (not sure about other languages or Hollywood) have had us believe that these things can be explained and if a person has a great loving family or a “good” girlfriend or a child, it will all work out, but it is usually not that simple.
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Nishat Eqbal
June 30, 2016
What a review!!
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rahulandrd
July 1, 2016
Where is review of UGLY?
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Garvit V Sharma
July 2, 2016
For me,the movie simply didnt work and despite all the parallelisms of Raghav descending into the imaginary world of Raman,I simply didnt care.
I felt as if I was being cheated into coming up with something profound by the provocativeness of Sita-haran,incestuous murder and all the goriness suggested in the background hinting a touch of phony subtlety.
It would have been better to leave the movie open-ended leaving the fate of Ankita to the imagination of the audience not because of any weakness of a story which is already non-existent but because this ending;not a climax;is the worst situation that Anurag Kashyap has ever concocted. The bludgeoning of Ankita exposed the extent of vacuum the world of RamanRaghav exists in. The ending puts the movie in the genre of slasher films where those who are murdered deserve to be so not because they are evil but because they are foolish.I hope there is someone out there that can explain Anurag Kashyap,one of our finest filmmakers,that maybe he has reached the limit of exploring violence.
The structure of this movie was in no need of any chapter because the scale of the movie was so small without any phases or transition to them.Rather than a stylized visual book,Raman Raghav comes across as poor gothic Power-Point presentation.
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Gouraja
August 2, 2016
There is a scene deleted from the final cut of the movie. The scene explains a bit about what has made Raghav the way he is. Brilliant acting by Vicky kaushal in this scene. I wonder why was such a powerful scene deleted. Watch the scene here
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rahulandrd
August 8, 2016
Does anyone know why he wears his Sisters’ earrings and wrist watch? Does Raman himself knows?
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Aadhy
August 8, 2016
rahulandrd: That is a question even I had. Amruta Subash’s dialogues hint that there might have been an abusive incest angle to her childhood relationship with Raman. Even when her husband tells Raman that he knew Raman used to beat her sister up, Raman asks “Bus itna hi bataya? Phir toh kuch bhi nahi bataya” or something.
But there is also this whole homosexual angle, repeatedly being invoked in the form of questions that random people ask Raman. Moreover, in ‘The soulmates’ chapter, Raman taunts Raghav for searching for his soulmate in a woman. And also in the same sister’s scene I mentioned, he is repulsed by her aggressive advances. Siddiqui’s reactions borders on part-guilt and part-sexual repulsion, completely playing with our minds on what we want to perceive it as.
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