‘Afwah’ movie review: Sudhir Mishra’s night out in the rumor mill

Nawazuddin Siddiqui and Bhumi Pednekar in ‘Afwah’

Director Sudhir Mishra It is of interest to fill our plate with seemingly disparate elements that come together to provide an intoxicating dinner as the darkness of a chaotic night grows. This week, Mishra faces another desperate night whose dawn seems far away as he analyzes anatomy Afwaah (Rumor) and how it spirals out of control when social media is employed as a tool to generate false narratives, and create social rifts for short term political gains.

A timely thought drawn from the seemingly outlandish stories of lynching and communal violence appearing on the news pages, Mishra puts together a piece on why and how the rumor mill operates in the hinterland in an age of cheap data. Tells a cautionary tale that equally pierces and wrenches the soul. Through a fascinating series of events, the veteran filmmaker not only explores the politics and psychology behind the rise of vigilantes in the name of cow and AleOwe JihadBut when the shoe is on the other foot, it also checks for pain.

Set in Siwalpur, a fictional town in Rajasthan reminiscent of Dibakar Banerjee’s Bharat Nagar shanghai, rumor No one spares. It exposes the designs of democracies, the hypocrisy of liberals and the prejudices of the common man who is constantly bombarded with communal messages.

As the elections approach, Vikram Singh (Sumit Vyas), a rising politician with a royal background, gives a fiery speech to please an alliance partner. When his henchman Chandan (Sharib Hashmi) goes out of bounds, things spiral out of control in Siwalpur and Vikram’s personal and professional lives. Vikram’s mentor and future father-in-law wants him to act against his assistant as they have joined an alliance on a ‘development’ agenda and his fiancee Nivi (Bhumi Pednekar), a privileged girl whose moral compass is in order, decides to Let’s go out on it.

In a twist of fate, Nivi is saved from Vikram’s goons by Rahab Ahmed (Nawazuddin Siddiqui), an entrepreneur returned from America who wants to set up shop in the country by selling the story of racial discrimination in the West, and a literary Is on the way to a celebration where his wife’s book is being released at a fort. As Rahab and Nivi head towards the Nehargarh fort, a social media stalker suggests to Vikram that this could be turned into a case of ‘love jihad’. The politician decides to play polarizing politics, setting in motion a chain of events that brings you on the edge of your seat. What seems to be a bastion of security turns out to be a weak-knee gathering.

The visuals and screenplay are filled with some low hanging metaphors that make one laugh and ponder on the strangeness of the situation at the same time. At the beginning of the film, shots of a camel cart alongside a Range Rover prepare us for a story that addresses socio-economic inequality. Similarly, the voice-guided navigation system of Rahab’s high-end car provides a few meta moments that make us aware of how disconnected we are from ground reality. Then, Mishra often used the traditional Marwari song “Padharo Mahre Desh” to welcome outsiders to Rajasthan to display the deep-seated patriarchy in the region. But the best comes when Nivi tells Rahab, a stranger, that they cannot survive without each other. It is not about two characters, but about two communities who work on the idea of ​​India on a daily basis. Or when towards the end, Rahab, a non-practicing Muslim who has faced caste prejudice in the past, looks in the mirror and pauses for a moment as she shaves her beard.

Cast unlike type, Nawaz peels off Rahab’s personality with remarkable dexterity. The actor has the ability to rise above principles in writing to slip in the message. But Bhumi, at times, fails to differentiate between acting in a film and a public service advertisement. Sharib is excellent in portraying the vulnerability and stupidity of the new-age vigilante who bends to the Master’s orders.

There are portions where the film takes a didactic mode and the screenplay gets a bit heavy with the characters. Eager to serve the interests of his political masters, Inspector Tomar has a strange relationship with a lady constable. After a point instead of taking the audience to the center of the story, Alas Sounds like a dramatized version of a Sunday story in a newspaper where there’s very little meat between he said and she said. But when Mishra arrives at poetic justice after contemplating whether the light at the end of the tunnel is real or that of an oncoming train, Alas Leaves restless and unsettled.

Regrets is currently playing in cinemas