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In one scene from Pathaan, Shah Rukh Khan explains the Japanese concept of Kintsugi to his boss, played by Dimple Kapadia—where you mend broken pieces of pottery with powdered gold. This concept somehow is apt for SRK—not only for his reliable, trustworthy character who is nearly invincible as he runs around saving India; it also applies to the film itself, as SRK fills its absurdity with his glorious stardom and presence. Moreover, it seems like a subtle tribute to SRK’s power in Bollywood itself. Pathaan, directed by Siddharth Anand, braved all the storms and controversies and struck gold even before its release date.SRK’s love trumped all the poisonous hate that had been spilling into Bollywood, and brought much relief to a vulnerable industry that was grappling in the dark, looking for some form of success by depending on tried and tested formats. Pathaan is a glowing tribute to Shah Rukh Khan—it also serves as a reminder to all those who use the term ‘comeback’ for him. He never left.
Bollywood action-thrillers had become wearisome, with wafer-thin plots that begin to crack halfway through the film. There’s the Rohit Shetty brand of action with Simmba and Sooryavanshi, that borders on offensive to the sense with crude humour chucked at the audience, hoping that they’ll lap it up. You have Salman’s Tiger, where Bhai plays Bhai in the action scenes and a throwaway dialogue here and there. There’s the Tiger Shroff kind of action—where the filmmakers get so lost in gravity-defying action their star can perform, that they focus only on punches and kicks and give up on the story. Siddharth Anand was more successful with Bang Bang and War, where he could wrap up a weak storyline into a glamorous gift for the fans. Enter Hrithik Roshan, playing an untrustworthy agent, twice. He smoulders so hard on screen, with Katrina Kaif and Vani Kapoor (she was there in War, you just don’t remember), that we were in for the ride. It’s fun, and you sigh at yourself while you enjoy the slick sequences.
The film owns its frivolous absurdity with such flair, it is hard to look away. John Abraham needs to do more villainous roles, he is just the perfect fit as the good-bad guy that this film needed. One cannot help but feel nostalgic about Dhoom as he races on ice on a bike. Deepika is every bit of Siddharth Anand’s idea of glam, but her character somewhat loses its chutzpah as the film progresses.
However, while all that is vastly entertaining to watch, it’s more soothing to see SRK bring in his own brand of humanity to the film. Yes he pulls the punches and flying kicks—but he also has a heart, and when he lets his tears flow after an emotional moment, you feel the heartburn too. He’s a vulnerable, trusting hero—sometimes you don’t see eye to eye with those he believes, but sure, we’ll buy it. He even sees the humanity in the demonic Jim played by John Abraham and calls out the system for not being there for him when chips were down. There isn’t just rugged machoism in Pathaan—-there’s that SRK softness, which adds to the flavour of film. Considering the nauseating jingoism that has infiltrated Bollywood in the past several years, this is almost comforting to watch. There is a lack of chest-thumping patriotism, despite the occasional Jai Hind. There is again the idea of a deeply flawed motherland, but still worth fighting for. That’s the SRK idea of patriotism.
Pathaan sees many self-referential moments, especially during Salman and SRK’s scenes, which also serves as a throwback to their many 90s films, including Karan Arjun. It was somehow refreshing to hear Salman saying, ‘Bhaag Pathaan bhaag’—-this level of references had begun to wear off in the past few years with other films, but somehow, seeing the two stars together brought back that masala, which Bollywood was severely lacking of late. SRK, known for his own trademark humour, gives a twist to one of his most trademark dialogues. SRK owns these meta and self-references as Pathaan is almost his own story in a way—-returning after being mocked, scrutinised and attacked at his most vulnerable—-yet, banking on the enormous tidal wave of love and support that crushes hate.
Pathaan has its stretched moments, but you somewhat stop caring. You watch it as he puts masala back in Bollywood, and fills the widening cracks with gold.
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