Bahadur bid to measure up to Sam

Nonika Singh

‘Poochega itihas kabhi kya banda hai yeh/Rab ka banda hai yeh.’

Though the Shankar Mahadevan song plays out close to the end, the prime purpose of ‘Sam Bahadur’ is exactly to remind us: here lived a man who deserves our attention and respect. Sam Hormusji Framji Jamshedji Manekshaw, India’s first Field Marshal, needs no introduction. Or perhaps he does. For isn’t our knowledge of him limited to a few one-liners and his remarkable role in the 1971 India-Pakistan war, which led to the birth of Bangladesh? Whether Meghna Gulzar’s directorial fills all the missing gaps to create a whole or, for that matter, can any film achieve that feat, is always a ticklish point.

But Sam Manekshaw certainly comes alive in Vicky Kaushal’s portrayal of the Army officer who was a heady mix of bravado, chutzpah, self-confidence, discipline, bravery and more. ‘Sweetheart’ and ‘Sweetie’, he calls one and all, and he himself emerges as a darling. Loved by his seniors, here was an officer who had a personal equation with the Prime Ministers of the country, especially Indira Gandhi, whose influence in policymaking began before she assumed India’s highest political office.

One finds Meghna’s canvas rather ambitious. Dovetailing 40 years of Manekshaw’s life and career in a span of 2 hours and 30 minutes can’t be easy. And often this uneasiness shows on screen as things gallop from one timeline to another. Compressing several political events that coincided with his illustrious life calls for ingenuity and had Meghna focused on the most significant chapter of the Army Chief’s life, the 1971 war, perhaps the film would have been more pointed and impactful. Instead, following a linear approach, she does a complete arc and takes us from one event to another — right from the British-ruled India when both Manekshaw and Yahya Khan were soldiers in the British army.

His friendship with Yahya (Mohammed Zeeshan Ayyub) seems interesting to begin with, but as the country is divided and both choose different nations, we neither see the complexity nor the conflict in their bonding. Indeed, the depth that the ‘Talvar’ director is capable of is only fleeting in this biopic, which is more invested in chronicling a life, ‘larger than life’ for sure, rather than making us muse and meditate. Besides, she who gave us this very human Pakistani army family in ‘Raazi’ chooses to paint them in despotic shades this time. Perhaps, the idea is to lend moral superiority to the film’s and India’s hero — reason enough to watch the film.

Needless to say that while the tone of her film towards her subject is respectful, she does not unnecessarily glorify him. The interesting anecdotes, which defined the integrity of Manekshaw, are now recorded for posterity visually. With Vicky playing the titular part, you see Manekshaw in his gait, his posture, his manner of speaking and more. Though it takes a while to adapt to Vicky playing Manekshaw, you soon forget the anomaly that arises from their differing personalities. Vicky captures Manekshaw’s energy and is so adeptly comfortable in this acquired persona that he soon becomes one with him and plays the gentleman officer with conviction and ease. Sanya Malhotra as his wife Silloo Manekshaw looks fetching and is both the supporting wife and a woman with a mind of her own.

Fatima Sana Shaikh’s part is more challenging though. Fitting into the shoes of India’s most charismatic Prime Minister can only be fraught with risks. Who can match Mrs Gandhi’s charm? Nevertheless, Fatima comes across as a self-assured leader with some moments of vulnerabilities. The supporting cast, including Neeraj Kabi as Jawaharlal Nehru, Edward Sonnenblick as Lord Mountbatten and Govind Namdev as Sardar Patel, doesn’t get to do much. Mohd Zeeshan Ayub as Yahya impresses, especially in the heartfelt speech he delivers in the initial hour, but is bogged down by prosthetics in the later part of the film.

The film, however, is buoyed up and up by its lead actor who, despite the exaggerated mannerisms, lends an unqualified air of dignity to his exalted character. The writing could have been sharper, but is well-researched and nearly factual. Production design, war scenes and much else appear authentic.

Meghna uses archival footage judiciously to drive home her measure of the man, the likes of whom she believes they make no more. Films like these are rare, too, if not an outright gem. And Meghna makes you walk out with a smile on your lips as you mentally salute the man whom her dad Gulzar’s lyrics sum up aptly: ‘Vardi mein watan see gaya.’