Jaat

‘यह ढाई किलो का हाथ जब उठता है ना तो आदमी उठता नहीं, उठ जाता है।’, 32 साल पहले फिल्म ‘दामिनी’ में सनी देओल ने अपने ढाई किलो के हाथ की ताकत दिखाकर नॉर्थ के दर्शकों के दिल लूटा था। अब बॉलीवुड के OG एक्शन स्टार 67 साल की उम्र में ‘जाट’ बनकर वही दमखम दिखाने साउथ के मैदान में उतरे हैं। खास बात यह है कि चेहरे और त्वचा पर इस बढ़ती हुई उम्र का असर दिखने के बावजूद, वह अपने स्वैग, स्टाइल और एक्शन से, अब भी इस बात पर भरोसा दिलाते हैं कि उनका यह ढाई किलो का हाथ दर्जनों गुंडों को अकेले पीट-पीटकर भूसा भर सकता है। चलती जीप रोक सकता है और भारी-भरकम पंखे को उठाकर हवा में उड़ा सकता है। फिल्म ‘जाट’ असल में साउथ इंडियन स्टाइल में 80 के दशक वाले ‘एंग्री यंग मैन’ सनी देओल की वापसी है, जो विशेष रूप से उस किस्म की मसाला फिल्मों के शौकीनों को ध्यान में रखकर बनाई गई है, जिनमें दिमाग लगाना या लॉजिक ढूढ़ना बेवकूफी होगी।

दक्षिण भारत की यात्रा पर निकला अपना उत्तर भारतीय हीरो वहां के एक ढाबे वाली से पूछता है-अम्मा, दाल-रोटी मिलेगी। जवाब मिलता है-नहीं बेटा, यहां तो इडली है, डोसा है। तो चलो, वही खिला दो। यह फिल्म भी वैसी ही है। हिन्दी में बनी हुई एक साउथ इंडियन फिल्म। यहां तक कि जब पर्दे पर कुछ किरदार किसी दक्षिण भारतीय भाषा में संवाद बोलते हैं तो निर्देशक ने उनके सब-टाइटिल तक नहीं दिए है। भई इडली-डोसा खाइए, रेसिपी मत पूछिए। वैसे भी पिछले कुछ समय से फिल्म वालों ने पंजाबी, राजस्थानी, गुजराती, मराठी, हर किस्म की थाली में साउथ इंडियन डिशेज़ परोस-परोस कर हमारी ज़बान का ज़ायका बदल डाला है। सो, जब तक इस ज़ायके की डिमांड है, इडली-डोसा ही परोसा जाएगा। भले ही इडली के संग छोले हों या डोसे के साथ दाल मक्खनी।

Better than Sikandar. Not quite the ultimate compliment of this season but comparisons are inevitable. It’s almost as if someone studied the screenplay of Sikandar and sat down to correct everything that was wrong with it. We know it didn’t happen that way but storyteller and director Gopichand Malineni does score over southern colleague AR Murugadoss in at least four major departments. Topmost is that Gopichand delivers on his promise with punchy action, a department that could’ve somewhat salvaged the feeble Sikandar. When the unnamed Jaat hero (Sunny Deol whose name is revealed towards the end) starts off with a mild, “I was eating an idli, he pushed my plate, it fell to the ground. Sorry nahi bola,” and ends each such complaint with wild flying fists, the dhai kilo ka haath in full spate, there’s ceetee-podu energy. There are at least four such introductory scenes as the hero’s “Sorry bolo” moves up the chain from the lowest goon right up to the fierce Ranatunga (Randeep Hooda).

When you are a Film Critic, the principal aspect of the job is to show up. It does not matter if one had a fight with their partner the previous night, or that maybe, there are ill parents in the scenario. If a film releases, one turns up. While this urgency is true for most jobs, the difference in this case is the surrender it demands. Unlike being at an office where plugging in headphones is an acceptable sulking option, theaters allow none of the indulgence. One is required to be objective and acknowledge fictional characters with severity as if they were real people. This isn’t a complaint and, truth be told, there are upsides to it. For instance, my parents have been unwell for a while, and between calling them and meeting deadlines, my brow has been perpetually furrowed with concern. I have been thinking about the brutality of time and the many big and little ways in which it affects the people we love. Then I sat for Gopichand Malineni’s Jaat, and my worries were suspended for a while. Time, at least in some cases, appears to stand still.

Nearly 25 years after uprooting a handpump in a fit of rage in Gadar and over three decades since upselling the power of his dhai kilo ka haath, Sunny Deol, now 67 years old, revels in ripping out (or apart) ceiling fans, banisters, columns, statues and other voluminous objects from their perches and sockets and wielding them as handy and deadly weapons. While the veteran actor still looks the part and struts around with the requisite panache in Jaat, the rough-and-ready tropes that once worked famously for him and his films no longer possess the sheen that can help deflect our attention from a patchy script riddled with holes the size of giant craters. Jaat is much ado about a couple of uneaten idlis and an upset man in quest of an apology until bigger issues - the discovery of thorium in coastal Andhra Pradesh, the displacement of villagers who have lived there for centuries, and the corruption of politicians and policemen all too willing to play into the hands of international conspirators.

The question really is: Is the ‘dhai kilo ka haath’ still potent enough? And the answer to that, in this ultra-long, ultra-violent rant against India’s enemies, is a resounding yes. Sunny still has it. That is the end towards which the star lends his considerable heft, scything through endless rows of ‘gaddars’ and goons, who come at him pretty much though the entire nearly 160-minute duration of Jaat, so that he can smack ‘em down. Brigadier Baldev Pratap Singh aka Bulldozer uses all manner of weapons, from sophisticated bazookas with bullets long enough as his arms, to swords, sickles, and, when push comes to mighty shove, his bare hands, to keep them at bay, working his way to the chief antagonist Rana Thunga (Randeep Hooda) and the latter’s equally blood-thirsty brother (Vineet Kumar Singh). The only thing missing is the handpump.

During his second of many uncomplicated rampages in Jaat, Sunny Deol delivers a line that’s his version of Shah Rukh Khan saying, “Before touching the son, deal with the father” in Jawan (2023) or Salman Khan saying, “Politics is not my field, but don’t force me to enter it” in Sikandar (too recent). Deol’s self-referential roar goes: “The North knows this ‘dhaai kilo ka haath,’ now let the South experience it”. It’s a fun idea, if you think about it (but not too much). Deol’s the definitive North Indian hero, a man’s man’s man’s man steeped in Sehwagian clarity: see enemy, hit enemy. Following in the steps of his contemporaries, Jaat is his pan-Indian intro-shot: a hit Telugu director, a coastal Andhra setting, villains from Sri Lanka (not Pakistan), a Jai Shri Ram-song entry on an Ayodhya-bound train, a hulk-smash setup, a mixed cast and crew.

Directed and co-written by Gopichand Malineni, the film is a mass entertainer that caters to certain audiences. It isn’t for the everyday cinema fans, but it is enjoyable to the masses. Sunny Deol is pretty much himself in a film that is entirely set in the south, with major tones and vibes from the regional cinema. The writing and direction aren’t anything new or different from other Tamil or Telugu superstar-based films in recent years. The only difference is Sunny Deol and his war cry. The film begins with a bloodied letter reaching the president of India asking for help after their village has been raided by a terrorist who runs an organised crime syndicate in and around 30 villages. The letter by a young girl as the president in tears, as it arrives with 10 thumbs of her brothers from the village. The letter promises that if they can’t find help, the next time a box of severed heads will reach the Rashtrapati Bhavan.