“Leaving aside that particular girl, the rest are all yours,” says the 'gracious' Arjun Reddy/Kabir Singh in a movie where he beats up people, slaps his girlfriend, demands sex and chases housekeepers (To pick a few from a truly glorious list).
And as the aftermath, we watched all hell break loose. Friends were lost, relationships were sacrificed, peace was no more and howls of anger and frustration broke out in the dark... Alright, all that did not happen but the social media scene did come quite close to it. Stories and posts flooded our timelines and we saw “vile” and “revolutionary” attached to the same movie. We read angry rants both for and against that led us through some impressive mental gymnastics.
And as we lay exhausted and spent, Kabir Singh sauntered on to break records at the box office. But before we go back to our boring old lives we need to look into certain important questions that did arise from all the chaos.
Is art required to be morally right? Can ethics and entertainment be separated? Can a movie like Arjun Reddy/Kabir Singh be enjoyed in spite of all its problematic aspects? Let’s get certain facts out of the way—Arjun Reddy/Kabir Singh is a character that is undeniably messed up. He has a whole list of issues and is in no way a person anyone should aspire to be like. But should this deny him of having his story told?
This is not the first time that the Indian film industry has had a problematic character as a protagonist. Not by a long shot. Dhanush’s Kundan in Raanjhanaa follows his friend’s advice to a T; “subha se shaam peechha karo, ghar ke baahar, school ke baahar, bazaar mein, sadko pe, cycle pe, ricksha mein, tempo mein” [Follow (her) from dawn to dusk—outside the home, outside school, in the market, on the roads, on the cycle, on the rick]. Akshay Kumar’s Keshav in Toilet: Ek Prem Katha climbs a tree to get a better picture of the girl (romantic music plays in the background). Salman Khan’s Sultan and Ranbir Kapoor’s Babli stalk and wear down their love interests. Indian cinema is replete with such examples.
But in all these cases, redeeming factors have always been dutifully present that would make them the hero we all want to root for. They are all “nice” guys. Kundan’s selfless innocent demeanour makes him a crowd pleaser. Babli in Besharam is a responsible orphan who helps in maintaining his orphanage. They are 'charming' stalkers who are nice and sweet. The audience gets to cheer without guilt as the cheeky creep rides off into the sunset with the prize of his efforts.
There is no such disguised hero in Arjun Reddy/Kabir Singh. He is arrogant, toxic, violent and unapologetically so. His friends are at his beck and call. His brother continuously apologises for him, even leaves his own wedding party to bail his brother out of jail (I feel for the bride). Yet Arjun Reddy/ Kabir Singh himself is no golden son, brother, friend or anything that would have put him in our favour. And as our conditioned minds thrashed about for some way to like him, none was found. His romantic relationship is in no way ideal but it isn’t supposed to be. He treats his girlfriend like his property and she quivers with joy at the same “They are both nutcases and deserve each other,” critic Baradwaj Rangan pinpoints accurately. Now there is no point in stomping our feet if that is the story the filmmakers want to tell. Choosing the subjects is very much within their rights.
Given that, backing away from responsibility by claiming that it is upto the audience alone to discern right from wrong is a problematic and insensitive washing off hands. Preventing glorification that would divert the impact from the intent of the movie is surely the duty of the filmmakers. And that is where Arjun Reddy and Kabir Singh fail.
How is it glorified when the film shows him punishing himself and paying for his acts, you ask? Because he doesn’t. The “punishment” is nothing more than an awfully long self-indulgent tantrum. He suffers but with no repentance as he continues to blame external factors for his train wreck of a life. He whines sulks, poisons himself, endangers others and the filmmakers shamelessly attempt to pass off such behaviour as an atonement arc. No apology or closure of any kind is offered to the repeated victims of his abuse. And with incredible audacity he is rewarded at the end of this mockery of a redemption story with the very same characters.
Examples of toxic characters done right can be found in Indian cinema itself, that too at around the same time as Kabir Singh's release. Sample two recent Malayalam movies that touched upon the subject of toxixity, and triggered conversations. Asif Ali’s Govindan in the Malayalam movie Uyare draws zero pity from the audience. We feel nothing but disgust towards the gilted lover who resorts to a cruel acid attack for revenge. We have all already seen that stock movie with the doleful rejected lover, “betrayed” by the girl friend who had moved on and Uyare is a welcome change showing the other side of the tale; the scary, suffocating reality of toxic relationships.
While Govindan is meant as the antagonist in Uyare, the character of Sachi (brilliantly played by Shane Nigam) is the protagonist of the recent Malayalam movie Ishq. The first half has us biting our nails for Sachi and Vasudha who are caught in an exploitative situation of moral policing. But the latter half reveals Sachi as equally dangerous as he fights violence with violence. The chauvinistic undertones of his character that had raised our eyebrows in the first half are fully exposed as we realise that he will only accept an untouched, inviolate, “pure” Vasudha. At the end of the movie, finally convinced that she is still eligible for his love, he proposes to her. But the film leaves no chance for the character of Sachi to become an inspiration as the audience cheers and claps when he gets blatantly rejected. Not only does Vasudha dump him, she dumps him with flair and deservingly becomes the hero of the movie in the last five minutes.
Having anti heroic protagonists is understandable. What is not is the heroic ending that they somehow seem entitled to in most of mainstream cinema. Let us not be so very liberal with our happily ever afters.
