The flight into freedom - Udaan

It's been a while since I wrote a movie review. In fact, it's been a while since I saw a good movie at the talkies. Multiplex, they call it these days. It was one of those rare weekends when there were several movies releasing in which I had a REAL interest in watching. On top of my list was Udaan. I had seen the promo once on TV (unlike those big banner promos which hit you at all times) and I casually observed that it had been screened at Cannes. Hindi movie at Cannes? Without Aamir Khan involved? With a commercial release in a multiplex? A must watch, I told myself.

A must watch it is. If this were a book, the blurb would have told us that it's the story of a teenager whose mind isn't in academics, who is forced into the hands of a father who hasn't bothered to keep in touch, who is forced by the father into things he doesn't care for, and whose adolescent spirit refuses to die. I can hear the groan in your head, as you think it's one of those pseudo-rebellious, Utopian stories that Bollywood is capable of producing. (Like Rang De Basanti - emotionally charged but really, who does that stuff in real life?). But wait - it received the applause from the stiff suits at Cannes - it's got to be something meaningful.

The plot begins slowly. It moves slowly. It caresses the characters, in a slow, sensual manner. It paints us Rohan, the adolescent and Bhairav, the tyrannical father, in the manner of Van Gogh at the height of his powers. Rohan's been expelled from his boarding school and returns to Bhairav, who hasn't bothered to meet his son in eight years. Immediately, we see that the boy is not welcome at home. Home is in Jamshedpur, India's first industrial township, which provides the ideal cold, machine-like backdrop to the plot. Dad owns a factory and immediately sets about employing his son into the hard labour. The school dropout is forced into attending evening college for engineering. When all he wants to do is to write poems and stories.

The strongest point of the movie is its characterization. Besides the two central characters, there's the loving uncle Jimmy and the wide-eyed stepbrother, the little kid Arjun. No one's character is overcooked. We see Rohan's angst through his eyes and facial expressions, but never through flashbacks, visions and dreams. We see Bhairav's painful past through vague references and an old photo album, but we never get that full story. We see Arjun's fears and vulnerability through his scars, and his maturity through his stoic taciturnity, but never through a tantrum or an outburst. It's subtlety that one would not normally associate with a Bollywood film.

Rohan's story is brilliantly told. He is treated like a big man by his father, when he's just a teenager discovering the world around him. He's not afraid to steal away in his father's car (after stealing some money too) and enjoy a smoke, but you are never invited to make a moral judgement of these actions. He's not afraid to drink and drive, but you are never instigated to imitate him because you empathise with the rebel inside and not the act itself. Instead, your heart is inspired to reach out to him and tell him, "I feel you".

The film rides over so many stereotypes, especially the moral judgements and mundane life choices we make. In the end, it's what makes the story believable. A school dropout who writes beautiful, haunting poetry is not laughing stock - his choices command the viewer's respect and even support. A strict, disciplinarian who wishes his son the best (although his actions never match his wishes) is not a desirable thing - in fact, it solicits our disgust and frustration. Ironically, the one time we really love Bhairav is when he's stone drunk. The other time we reach out to him is when he is confronted with the unpardonable sin of whipping the kid Arjun. The college bullies are not the despicable demons we tend to stereotype them into - their human side is revealed. They live for the moment, having realised that success will never call into their ports and life has passed them by.

The violence is always mental. Bhairav beats Rohan on several occasions but the real violence is in Rohan's steely glare. One punch is all Rohan throws in the entire film, when it wouldn't have been a surprise had he committed patricide. There are no clenched fists, no quivering lips. Bhairav's frustration and temper are closer to the surface, while Rohan's is immensely restrained.

A word about the actors. Ronit Roy has always shown plenty of mettle on the small screen and he fills up every inch of the big screen as Bhairav. Rajat Barmecha is surely Bollywood's young star in a powerhouse performance as Rohan. Unlike some better-known names, he can act. It's a shame the Khans and Akshay Kumar will bag the big bucks and the awards, but in my book, Udaan is the film of the year. Beyond any shadow of doubt.

After all, Cannes said that it had a certain look to it.