The wildly erratic output of auteur Vishal Bhardwaj shows no sign of abating with his ambitious but maddeningly flawed new satire, Matru ki Biljee ka Mandola.
Bhardwaj simply does not know which story strand to emphasise
A Shakespearean-lite riff on greedy business practices and the exploitation of the common folk, the latest work from the writer/director/composer exhibits none of the self-disciplined storytelling skills that made past efforts Ishqiya (2010), Omkara (2006) and Maqbool (2003) festival favourites and commercially viable releases. Instead, he offers up a technically proficient widescreen opus that shifts, jarringly, between a generic love-triangle rom-com, a farcical political black comedy and a preachy message-movie. Some fragmented images and well-played moments leave an impact; most don’t.
Bhardwaj’s protagonist is Mandola, a wealthy industrialist who ruthlessly exploits the geographic potential of a small Haryana village by day but who descends into a mischievous and increasingly self-destructive alcoholic by night. Mandola is vividly brought to life by one of the director’s favoured players, theatrical veteran Pankaj Kapur (his warm screen presence does much to keep audience favour onside for most of the film’s over-stretched running time).
Key to his troubles is his confusingly two-faced offsider, Matru (a subdued Imran Khan, hiding his matinee idol looks behind a thick beard). Charged with the task of ensuring that Mandola does not cause the sort of damage that could derail the drunk’s own empire, Matru instead enables his boss’ bad habits, thinking that just being by his side (and getting equally smashed) will be enough to keep the old man out of trouble. The film opens on them parked in a vast field, trying to convince a lone liquor-store proprietor to sell them hooch on what is a designated sober day; when refused service, they drive their limo into his shanty then dance off into the night with their pilfered plonk.
The last element of the trio is Mandola’s firebrand daughter, Biljee (a typically beaming Anushka Sharma), a favourite with the local lads because she likes to emerge from bodies of water in slow-motion). Biljee is struggling with the realities of her impending marriage to cartoonish buffoon Badal (Arya Babbar, playing his part with pantomimic glee), the son of ruthless local politician and Mandola’s ex-flame, Chaudhari Devi (Shabana Azmi); Devi wants to see the town’s wheat fields plowed and replaced with malls and car parks.
Matru ki Biljee ka Mandola’s worst flaw is that Bhardwaj simply does not know which story strand to emphasise. Long passages unfold that play up the comic potential of the 'lovable drunk’ archetype (most notably, a long, ridiculous sequence in which Mandola and Matru steal and crash a two-seater plane), but these are soon abandoned for long periods to refocus on either Biljee’s concern with her dad’s boozing (which she, somewhat oddly, eventually partakes herself to prove the point) or the inevitable romantic entanglements of Matru and Biljee. Livening up the proceedings, but hard to fathom as either a narrative or thematic device, is the introduction of a big pink cow, whose presence torments Mandola for some reason.
The always pertinent issue of abuse and exploitation of the land was handled with far greater resonance in Ashutosh Gowariker’s iconic film Lagaan (2001). Given that the exploration of similar themes in Matru ki Biljee ka Mandola are handled in such a slipshod, unfocussed manner, Bhardwaj himself runs the risk of being labelled as irresponsibly exploitative of the hot-button topic. But his film is so without bite and ultimately minor in every regard, the effort needed to question his motives hardly seems worth it.
