A pair of identical twins with clashing personalities, a perplexed mother, an absent father, a lover who’s a dancer, and a snake-like villain. No, this isn’t the setup for a ’70s masala potboiler. It is Anurag Kashyap’s latest directorial, Nishaanchi. And why not? If anyone outside of Farah Khan can claim to be a true disciple of the Salim–Javed brand of Bollywood masala, it’s Kashyap. The difference is that Kashyap didn’t grow up in town-side Bombay. His films, including this one, carry the flavors of the heartland while staying rooted in Bollywood idioms. Despite kitsch not being his forte, Nishaanchi is his most formulaic film since Mukkabaaz. The question is whether his 2-hour 56-minute gamble pays off.
Set in Kanpur, the story opens in 2006, the age of the Nokia 3310, Hero Honda Splendor, and friendly security guards. Babloo (Aaishvary Thackeray), a smooth-talking charmer, robs a bank with his girlfriend Rinku (Vedika Pinto) and his twin brother Dabloo (also Thackeray). Their plan collapses, Babloo lands in prison, and Kashyap widens the canvas to include a cop (Mohammed Zeeshan Ayyub), a villain (Kumud Mishra), and a mother (Monika Panwar). The film then yanks us back to 1996 for a lengthy flashback.
The second act is richer with a couple (both athletes) battling nepotism as their children soak in life’s inequities. The smart Babloo, who swaggers around in glares, becomes his mother’s pet. Dabloo, sensitive and sidelined, is somewhat invisible in the family mix. In a standout scene, Manjri (Panwar) drags the 10-year-old Babloo to the police station to report his mischief. She wonders if he could ever kill anyone, only to recall a skill she once taught him and wonder what he might have done with it. Nishaanchi, at this point, threatens to melt her into the helpless Nirupa Roy mould.
In 2006, Manjri toils away in dismay as her sons have reached nowhere in life, and Rinku complicates the equation further. Kashyap’s women always carry agency, and both Rinku and Manjri refuse to be sidelined. Yet, there’s this feeling that they could have had more to chew on. The problem lies not in their writing but in Kashyap’s staging. Scenes that should land like a ‘Kanpuriya Kantaap‘ drift without any sting.
The masala tradition also demands a towering villain. Mishra’s Ambika Prasad never rises to the menace of a Gabbar or Mogambo, nor even to Kashyap’s earlier earthy antagonists. Ambika’s manipulative ways are too soft for the film’s boiling energy. Rajesh Kumar, in a fleeting turn as a wrestling club chief, is far more intriguing with his grey shades. Vineet Kumar Singh, who gives the film some of the best moments, disappears too soon.
Aaishvary Thackeray, despite an unusual name, is quite a find. His twin act shows effort (in a good way), with his swagger, dialogue delivery, and dream-sequence dance alongside Pinto standing out. Pinto herself is feisty and holds her ground. Panwar shines in the flashback but feels unconvincing as the older mother. You wish Kashyap had given the role to Huma Qureshi instead.
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Stylistically, the film dazzles with the production designers (Parul Rai, Vikram Singh) and the DOP (Sylvester Fonseca) in top form. From a neon-lit eatery fight to the glam musical sequences, the camera is the one department that never lets Kashyap down. Yet the dialogues swing between being overwritten and stale.
With its setting comes the pop-cultural nods. We hear Mughal-e-Azam and Hum Aapke Hain Koun becoming part of punchlines. At one point, the lovers refer to Raja Hindustani, an unexpected kissing tutorial for rookie youth in the 90s. These are fun, for sure, but they expose more of Kashyap’s obsession with cinema than his characters’ psyches in Nishaanchi. Lastly, Manjri’s moral lectures sound way too recycled, yet the film insists on framing them as revelations.
Another bright point is the film’s original score, with Pigeon Kabootar being the standout banger among the songs. Nishaanchi’s broad soundscape, notably with the ‘Brillians Band’ at work, evokes the local culture it draws you into, and it doesn’t matter if you aren’t familiar with it.
At its heart, this is Babloo and Dabloo’s story — a diluted echo of Deewaar’s Vijay and Ravi. Babloo is a hormonal, Ranveer Singh-lite Vijay. Dabloo is Ravi without confidence or politics, perhaps. Their triangle with Rinku has potential, but the non-linear storytelling drains it of urgency. Nishaanchi is not boring — Kashyap’s films rarely are — but it is exhausting. Its length critically weakens a déjà vu-filled screenplay (Kashyap co-writes with Ranjan Chandel and Prasoon Mishra), which is smart only in parts.
By the end, it signals more chapters with Babloo, Dabloo, and Rinku dragging their saga further. That’s when you realize the mini-tragedy: these characters and their issues already feel too rusty to hold our interest, despite the engaging bits and good acting. Historically, Kashyap’s cinema has thrived when it defied form. Here, he chases masala nostalgia too hard, and in doing so, Nishaanchi forgets to find joy in its chaos.
Rating: ★★★
