The new decade has just kicked off, and it has set me thinking. How did the regular Hindi film heroine behave or appear at the beginning of the millennium? Their eyelashes fluttered, their flowing hair swayed in the direction of the wind, their makeup was compact, and they danced like fairies. The most beautiful of them had large betel-leaf-shaped eyes which widened impishly whenever their alpha male screen partners did something lightly amusing.
In Chhapaak, Deepika Padukone’s Malti has no eyelashes to flutter. She compensates with wavy hair that flows constantly, and while her skin defies conventional beauty standards, the incandescence of Padukone’s smile remains. This Meghna Gulzar-directed film represents a brave moment for Bollywood as it dismantles the requirement for a “pretty” heroine. It tells a story of how men, empowered by patriarchal rot, nip women’s dreams in the bud using acid, which remains a tragically accessible over-the-counter commodity.
Meghna’s film, interestingly, is not linear. Peppered with uneven flashbacks, the narrative structure does add a layer of freshness to Chhapaak, although not entirely (more on that later). The film educates you on how emotionally aggravating the vile act of acid throwing is on a woman and her family. It delves comfortably into bumpy territories, briefly examining social and societal standpoints with responsibility. Helping the proceedings considerably is a fine-tuned central act by Deepika Padukone, who effectively embodies the gravity of the tragedy. However, that alone does not stop Chhapaak from falling short of the heights it should ideally have reached.
A core conflict exists in the screenplay, which is only partially exciting. Remember, the idea here is about being involved in the incidents that the film presents, not about being convinced by them. Meghna Gulzar’s ability to convey the message is spot-on because Chhapaak leaves you deeply disturbed and angered. That said, the screenplay pattern is such that our interest levels dip now and then. We want to accompany Malti in every move of hers, but the film is not as involving as it wants to be. Adding to the woes are Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy’s loud, lacklustre songs, which are such mood-killers in scenes that could have been stellar otherwise.
Chhapaak also fails to sufficiently flesh out its supporting cast. The attacker, Basheer Shaikh (played by Vishal Dahiya), is denied a single line of dialogue. While his speech wouldn’t excuse his dastardly act, the film’s choice to distance the antagonist and his family feels bizarre. There is an eerie, brief scene where Basheer’s mother approaches Malti’s brother with an invite to her son’s wedding; one wonders why such a beat even exists in the final cut.
Furthermore, the screenplay design is such that by the interval, it feels as though Malti has already won her battle. This saps the intrigue from her journey in the later acts. Though the narrative picks up, the path to the finale is occasionally marred by “syrupy” flashbacks to Malti’s past. These sequences feel disappointingly conventional. The slow-motion walks, the enhanced beauty, and the simplistic school romance all feel like a calculated attempt to push the audience from a crescendo of happiness into a trench of sorrow. While the writers’ (Atika Chohan, Meghna Gulzar) intent is clear, I did not expect a Meghna Gulzar film to play it this safe.
Despite these anomalies, I admired how the film highlighted the need to raise awareness about the cause. Vikrant Massey is marvellous as Amol, the journalist-turned-activist. Just observe how he gleams during a pivotal moment when Malti tells him, “You think the attack happened to you. It happened to me, and I want to party.” It is also heartening to see the inclusion of the lawyer’s husband (Anand Tiwari), a tiny role that serves as a blueprint for the modern, supportive man.
DOP Malay Prakash’s work is solid, though he occasionally over-relies on slow-motion. Editor Nitin Baid’s frame selection skills are appreciable considering the subject, even though the screenplay structure baffles his ability to maintain interest levels throughout. Makeup and prosthetics are fantastic and are an improvement over last year’s Malayalam hit Uyare, which also dealt with an acid attack. On that note, comparisons are inevitable with the Parvathy-starrer, even though both films examine different aspects of the catastrophe. While Uyare focused on the personal and professional sphere of the victim, Chhapaak possesses a stronger activist vein. Uyare may have provided more detail regarding the attacker, but Chhapaak is cause-driven, optimistic, and thankfully devoid of melodramatic plot devices.
As the film ends, Meghna Gulzar makes sure that you exit the cinema appalled. As a viewer, I did not know how to react to the final blow that was. Will it change the scenario as far as acid sales are concerned? I am not sure. Will it allow fast-tracking of the existing cases and PILs? I wish it did. Aggravating and emotion-charged, Chhapaak contains the kind of subject that needs to be attempted. The writing has its share of pitfalls, but if we count the makers’ accountability to the subject, we shall happily overlook a hiccup or two.
Rating: ★★★
Chhapaak is now streaming on Disney+ Hotstar.
