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A few years ago, Karan Johar debuted his Dharmatic Entertainment banner with a Netflix film called Guilty. It remains memorable for two reasons; first, Kiara Advani is terrific in it, and second, it’s perhaps the only time that Bollywood has addressed the #MeToo movement head-on. Guilty, which made solid use of the Rashomon effect, ended with a rather on-the-nose title card about Bollywood having turned a blind eye to the accusations made against some of its most prominent figures. Years later, their alleged crimes are essentially forgotten. Many of the accused continue to work freely, while several of those that raised their voices were quietly outcast. Entirely by accident, Johar’s recent co-production, Kesari Chapter 2, turns out to be an accurate indictment of why, as a system, the industry failed its most vulnerable members.
Directed by the debutant Karan Singh Tyagi, Kesari 2 is a particularly problematic example of post-truth cinema. It doesn’t embellish, it fabricates; it doesn’t deviate, it distorts. Marketed as a fact-based drama set in the aftermath of the Jallianwala Bagh massacre — the film’s subtitle is ‘The Untold Story of Jallianwala Bagh’ — Kesari 2 invents a court case between the historical figure Sankaran Nair and the British Crown. In the movie, the British sympathiser Nair sues the Crown for genocide after experiencing an awakening. Nothing of the sort happened. In fact, he was the one who got sued. Imagine if Aamir Khan had tried to convince us that a group of Indian villagers actually beat British soldiers in a game of cricket; imagine if SS Rajamouli pretended like two major historical figures really had a dance-off. This is what Kesari 2 does.
At a time when history textbooks in schools are literally being rewritten, a movie like Kesari 2 is deeply irresponsible. Everybody involved needs to introspect: is this really something that they’d show to their children? What makes this enterprise hard to understand is that they could’ve simply stuck to the facts and achieved the exact same results. Kesari 2 doesn’t reframe the British as heroes — although it wastes time in humanising the dastardly General Reginal Dyer — but it chooses to vilify them with lies even though it already had the truth on its side. How strange. It’s like the film Major inventing sequences that depict the late Sandeep Unnikrishnan as a bigger hero than he already was. As if his real-life sacrifice wasn’t dramatic enough for a movie.
For all its failings as a courtroom drama, however, Kesari 2 exposes the farcical manner in which our systems operate. This is entirely accidental, mind you. The movie doesn’t intend to do this. In fact, it’s oblivious about the irony of professing free speech while actively spreading misinformation. In the wake of the #MeToo movement, organisations set up internal committees to investigate accusations made against men in positions of power. Many of them were given a clean chit and rehired in prominent roles, presumably in exchange of lucrative salaries. Their actions weren’t forgotten, but conveniently brushed under the carpet. In Kesari 2, the Crown constitutes a ‘Viceroy’s Commission’ to investigate the allegations made against Dyer.
Sankaran Nair is inducted as a token Indian member into this committee. This is when he first witnesses the Crown’s inhumanity. It is as if the character had been living under a rock his entire life. He watches silently as Dyer is let off without even a slap on the wrist. It’s only when a renegade young lawyer played by Ananya Panday gives him a speech that Sankaran Nair has a change of heart. Coupled with the guilt he feels about letting down a young survivor of the massacre, he makes the decision to ‘sue the Crown for genocide’. What follows is a typically melodramatic portrayal of courtroom proceedings. You could be forgiven for suddenly craving a bit of Sunny Deol during these scenes.
Deep into the second act, the movie makes an entirely irrelevant detour into actual sexual misconduct territory, and chooses an objectively improper path. The scene begins progressively enough, when Panday’s character is asked to cross examine a young British woman accusing an Indian rebel of rape. “It’s called sensitivity,” she says, when the defence asks why she’s stepping up at this stage of the trial, having purely been a spectator thus far. And then, she proceeds to systematically disprove the witness’ accusations. So much for sensitivity. Kesari 2 projects its only instance of sexual misconduct as a ploy by women against men. This, in effect, becomes its sole statement on the matter.
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And because of how the scene is staged, it’s the woman who ends up being vilified, even though she was pressured into levelling the accusations by the male officers. This is just one of the many bizarre creative choices that the movie makes. Entire articles could be written on its other basic missteps — Akshay Kumar’s Punjabi accent barges into the room a few times, characters frequently use contemporary lingo, and the legal tactics on display are so contrived that even Jolly LLB would avoid them — but let’s leave these issues for later. There is gold in those hills, but Kesari 2 is digging in the wrong places.
Post Credits Scene is a column in which we dissect new releases every week, with particular focus on context, craft, and characters. Because there’s always something to fixate about once the dust has settled.
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