A still from Jai Bhim
Film: Jai Bhim
Director: Tha Se Gnanavel
Cast: Suriya Sivakumar, Lijomol Jose, Manikandan, Rajisha Vijayan and Prakash Raj
Nonika Singh
In one of the opening and telling scenes, jail inmates are segregated on the basis of their caste and members of one particular caste are sent back into another jail. If that particular moment tells you about the blatant discrimination of tribals in India, in this case, Tamil Nadu in particular, the rest of the film further reinforces it with forceful impact.
Police brutality is not new to us or Indian cinema. But the extent to which men in uniform can go to oppress the already oppressed is as shocking as revelatory. But before you think this Tamil film, starring one of their superstars Suriya, is one boring message-driven sermon or a pitiful account of a pregnant tribal woman seeking justice, you couldn’t be more wrong.
Jai Bhim, while building up a scathing indictment of police force and character study of real life hero Chandru (former Madras HC Judge and senior advocate Justice K Chandru), not even once flags in capturing your attention. Much of the credit can go to the star value of Suriya, whose screen presence is charismatic. His chutzpah is unmistakable as he makes a dramatic entry in sync with his star status. But once his presence as an upright lawyer fighting for the cause of the under-privileged is established, it’s his acting prowess and the script’s potency that keeps you invested. In fact, if the wails of Sengenni (Lijomol Jose is terrific) pierce your heart, the torture of tribals, especially of Sengenni’s husband Rajakannu (Manikandan looks every inch his part), numbs your senses and Chandru’s (an excellent Suriya) righteous stance stirs your conscience.
Sure at moments the extent to which the policemen can go to heap atrocities on the marginalised might seem a tad overstretched. But this is year 1995 when much could be brushed under the carpet. Or perhaps still is.
Custodial torture and caste-based discrimination are harsh realities even today and when these involve those who have no voice, let alone recourse to justice, perhaps the reality is far more shocking than reel reality. But for a few artistic liberties, in cinematic terms, the movie progresses at an even pace. Courtroom drama is evenly juxtaposed with rest of the narration that involves lawyer Chandru going beyond the call of duty to collect evidence.
The timeline moves back and forth, but only to keep the curiosity factor alive and not to confound the viewers. In fact, just when things become too heavy (read tragic) for comfort, the director intercuts the scene with lively and precise courtroom proceedings. Mandatory songs (music by Sean Roldan) instead of stalling the tone and tenor of the film, actually take the storyline forward. Cinema, we know has no language and for those like us not well-versed with Tamil (we preferred to see the original) learn that nor do emotions. Sure subtitles help but even more than that it’s the emotions writ on the faces of its key protagonists and their dialogue delivery that keep you clued in.
Jai Bhim, read the lines by a Marathi poet in the end credits, is a tear drop of millions... And there isn’t an iota of chance that you will be able to prevent that lump in your throat. Or stop your eyes from turning moist as much at the plight of the dispossessed, as at the gumption of a woman and activist lawyer to fight back. Don’t let the Tamil film tag deter you from soaking into a real life story told exceptionally well. One of the scenes, where Prakash Raj (impressive as always) is seen slapping a man for speaking in Hindi might have triggered a debate among netizens. But for Hindi-lovers, the movie, streaming on Amazon Prime Video, is available in Hindi too. Don’t miss it.
