What makes Mulk an important film?

The Taapsee Pannu-starrer investigates a socio-political issue prevailing in India currently, and makes a bold attempt to avoid glossification in favour of reality

Even as Mulk - the much-needed take on the state of Muslims in India today- opened a fortnight ago to glowing reviews, its stalwart actor Rishi Kapoor stated, "Now, let's just hope the public patronises the movie."
Released alongside two other films, Fanney Khan and Karwaan, both dealing with lighter themes, those with a taste for socially-relevant cinema hoped Mulk would recover its financial investment and some more. It's rarely that Bollywood ventures into tough-talking, cause-oriented subjects.
Director-writer Anubhav Sinha, known essentially for movies such as like Tum Bin and its sequel, Dus, Cash and Ra.One, has shifted gears into the reality-bites highway; this was reason enough to sit up and take notice. Indeed, the changeover reminds you of director Hansal Mehta who, after a series of mediocre films, found his niche and identity as a filmmaker of substance by delivering Shahid (2012), the hard-hitting account of the real-life activist-lawyer.
As it happened, the opening collections of all the three films released on August 3 were underwhelming. Not only did they eat into one another's potential markets, but the audience also thronged to the Hollywood blockbuster Mission: Impossible - Fallout, which has raced past most of the recent Bollywood products at the cash counters, except, of course, the record-smashing hit Sanju.
No surprise there, though. Ostentatiously-mounted entertainers continue to be big fat tickets. Yet, the off-the-beaten-track Mulk will be remembered as an endeavour in articulating issues that assail the nation currently, the primary one being the rampant prejudice against certain communities.
Although the screenplay - said to be inspired by newspaper reports - is intermittently riddled with simplistic and facile plot situations, nothing can take away the empathy aroused for the joint family of retired advocate Murad Ali Mohammed (Rishi Kapoor), which has lived forever in Varanasi, in harmony with neighbours.
Their peace is shattered when Mohammed's nephew (Prateik Babbar) is involved in a bus bombing and is shot dead by the police force. The logic for the encounter killing? It would mean spending too much money in jail to interrogate him.
That the rest of the Mohammed family is innocent of any form of complicity is next brought into question. Ensues an absorbing drama, in which the surviving family is vehemently defended in court by the advocate's Hindu daughter-in-law Aarti (Taapsee Pannu).
The arguments against the family by the prosecution (portrayed by Ashutosh Rana) range from the bigoted to the absurd. Yet, the faith in the judiciary remains unwavering. Suffice it to say that at key points of the prosecutor's arguments, anyone who has ever evidenced the ghettoisation of Muslims is moved to tears - but inwardly believes that there's hope for justice yet.
Enhanced by a remarkably controlled performance by Rishi Kapoor and a cathartic one by Taapsee Pannu, Mulk is also noteworthy for the lifelike performances by Manoj Pahwa as the ailing father of a son gone astray, and by Kumud Mishra as the judge who excels, especially while delivering the final verdict.
On the downside, the cinematography is somewhat uninspired, and the tempo flags in the second half. Moreover, the part that shows the family's incredibly detached attitude to the body of the dead boy being brought home in an ambulance for the funeral rites, only to be sent back without so much of a last dekko, lacks emotional tumult, and is absolutely at variance with, say, the significant book Home Fire by British-Pakistani writer Kamila Shamsie, which, coincidentally, touches upon a similar predicament.
Anubhav Sinha perhaps shies away from plunging into the deep end of troubled waters. Indeed, never mind the comparison with Shamsie's book, there is still plenty of substance and strength in the film to underscore the ingrained concept of 'hum aur woh' ('us and them'), which is more often than not masterminded by vested political interests.
Without mincing words, the dialogue brings out the insecurities of political parties of any stripe on the eve of the five-yearly general elections, the street jibes made during cricket matches between India and Pakistan, the gratuitous re-dredging of the Mughal rule, and mean-spirited graffiti splattered on walls.
Here's a right film at the right time then - just when the Bollywood trade is becoming increasingly apprehensive of backing projects in which Muslim characters occupy the main berth. Traditionally, the community has been placed on the fringes rather than centrestage, be it the kindly caricatures of the benevolent Rahim Chacha or Dai Ma, the nanny of yore, who welled over with the milk of human kindness. Regrettably, even these stereotypes have vanished, to be replaced by mafia dons and their lackeys.
Entertainment, it is presumed, just doesn't gel with purposeful stories. But as the radical filmmaker Constantin Costa-Gavras (of such iconic works as Z and State of Siege) once told me in the course of an interview: "We need as many films as possible, throughout the world, with politics at the core or as their subtext."
The theme of Muslim ghetto-isation certainly needs ongoing inspection. The bottomline is that a film's characters must emerge from the plot - caste, creed and religion no bar. It doesn't matter if you're black or white, Hindu, Muslim or Christian.
As long as you're convinced that the story must be told, you're on the right track. The Mulk team certainly has been.
wknd@khaleejtimes.com