As the director, Randeep Hooda misaims a few of his creative liberties but his highly original presentation comes to his aid
There are two ways to look at Randeep Hooda’s Swatantrya Veer Savarkar. First, it’s an antidote to the biopic outbreak that this country has been reeling under for a while now. Hooda’s film is a biopic, no doubt, but it’s got the rare quality of being experimental, and uses cinematic language to make its case. Before getting into the pluses and minuses of this attempt, let’s give credit where it’s due: Swatantrya Veer Savarkar uses creative liberties to a good effect for most parts. For starters, it wishes to pore over its heavily iconized protagonist’s inward journey and even humanize him to an extent.
The same creative liberties that Randeep Hooda (who makes his directorial debut) and his writers take are also the reason for biographies in cinema growing superfluous with each passing endeavour. This is as much a film as it is an exclamation with Hooda’s impassioned voice claiming, “I’ve got a vision for this” and then going overboard on multiple counts. A three-hour account of Vinayak Damodar Savarkar’s life seems hardly sufficing, but the debutant director is unrelenting to let the story be told any other way.
In a good light
Several times, these liberties cease to remain tools for creative expression and soon morph into vitriolic jibes at Savarkar’s fellow ideologues. Mahatma Gandhi (played by Rajesh Khera), for instance, is reduced to being a sad comic relief in the film and has nothing of substance to mouth in the 178-minute-long narrative. Hooda and screenwriter Utkarsh Naithani reveal right off the bat that their film does not entertain the non-violence routine that Gandhi endorsed for the majority of his life.
Even though Swatantrya Veer Savarkar is a highly subjective take, it redundantly juxtaposes the titular character with other personalities of the era. B.R. Ambedkar, Mohammed Ali Jinnah, Jawaharlal Nehru, Subash Chandra Bose and many others show up in the film but only aggrandize Savarkar. For a film that brings up the concept of perspective or dristhikon several times, it steers clear of exploring other facets of Vinayak Savarkar’s life such as his dented relationship with wife Yamuna, played by Ankita Lokhande.
Alongside, the film suggestively draws parallels between him and Chhatrapati Shivaji, someone whom he idolised since as a child. Each scene of the film comes as a punchy reminder of the "proactiveness and patriotism" with which Savarkar sought total independence and also of the "lacklustre efforts" of the likes of Gandhi, Jawaharlal Nehru and the Indian National Congress, in general, in the same vein. For most of his life, Hooda tells us, Savarkar remained hopeful of an undivided or Akhand Bharat and his infamed two-nation theory was a retaliatory move that he wasn’t completely convinced of.
The plus factors: Hooda’s performance, visual aesthetic
Naithani’s screenplay crams a remarkable amount of information but it unfolds through an unconventional, impressive structure. The first of the film is the greatest-hits retelling of the pre-Kalapani phase in Savarkar’s life. Each scene is a vignette that points to an act of valour, from a teenage Savarkar setting up an underground training camp for other kids with Mitra Mela to him paraphrasing Italian activist Giuseppe Mazzini to the members of the Abhinav Bharat. Despite the luxury of a slightly bloated screenplay, Swatantrya Veer Savarkar stays largely focused on colonial tyranny and his complete abhorrence of slavery of any kind. Quite interestingly, it’s only the final small chunk of the film that attempts to address the real heart of the matter of his legend.
‘Legend’ because Hooda presents his tale with strong doses of whimsy and empathy. Editor Rajesh G. Pandey cuts abruptly from one event to another and creates a hurried, equally immersive, story arc that skitters through the subject’s lifetime. Vipin Patwa’s score is superb. Hooda then hands himself the tough task of permeating charm and charisma into the character and eventually, it is his central performance that elevates the material.
The London chapter in Savarkar’s life, the India House stint, meeting Vladimir Lenin in a library, and his overall star as a revolutionary on foreign shores rising, are presented with chicness and cinematographer Arvind Krishna’s frames carry the same allure of an aged photograph. The film is a heavily stylized effort that toggles between a tribute piece and a heavy-handed dialogue with history. What helps is its visual aesthetic which is both nuanced and effective, allowing the narrative to operate without much intervention.
A personal portrait
The best portion of the film remains the long post-interval stretch involving Savarkar’s ‘Kalapani’ Cellular Jail term. It is here that Hooda dares to dig deep into his protagonist and draw a compelling personal portrait. He retains the awe for the character and very carefully pronounces each moment of his strife — be it the joy behind running into his older brother and comrade Ganesh Damodar Savarkar (Amit Sial) in the same prison, the ferocity with which he schools fellow prisoners about the idea of a Hindu and its inherent secularism or the way he soaks up the brutal punishment. Fascinating and debatable as it may be, this particular portion is stirring for the gravitas that Hooda imbues his performance with.
But, as the director, he retreats and begins to sound woolly while discussing his ideation of Hinduness and his militant stance against Gandhi-Congress’ preferential treatment of Indian Muslims. Hooda showcases Savarkar as the model secularist for the majority of the film and lends him multiple monologues to voice his progressiveness. The untold story of his deep-seated vexation against elitist and coyish politics is awarded a highly wordy segment of the narrative. The result is that you have already heard and seen enough of this character and any more hammering-down of his ideology only overwhelms you.
The film then starts to feel self-conscious of how much it is tackling and ends up biting way more than it can chew. A biopic, almost always, is a puff piece that must find the right tone to drive the message home — Swatantrya Veer Savarkar, despite its merits, wishes to only put its protagonist on the pedestal and its chief instrument ultimately becomes patronizing other stalwarts of the ilk. The reason for its timely release ahead of the elections is obvious, but Hooda’s performance and distinct vision help the film be a valid presence.
