The Hunt for Veerappan review: Engaging Netflix documentary paints complex portrait of notorious brigand

A simple editing choice, a momentary musical cue, or even the decision to give one talking head more screen time than another can alter a viewer’s perception of the story. But after a moderately engaging three-and-a-half hours during which you can almost sense director Selvamani Selvaraj bursting at the seams to appreciate Veerappan’s pluck, he makes the unambiguously bold choice of conveying his true feelings by including a decisive verbal comment made by the man interviewing Veerappan’s widow — it’s unclear if the interviewer is Selvaraj himself — and declaring that the manner in which the gangster was killed wasn’t ‘brave’.

What makes this moment more complex is the fact that the show is essentially calling out the suspicious methods that the police used to bring Veerappan down. Although this doesn’t necessarily condone Veerappan’s actions, it certainly indicts the authorities. But the show flirts with a rather edgy tone throughout. On one occasion, it has a person compare the dreaded criminal to revolutionaries such as Che Guevara and Fidel Castro; in another moment, he’s projected as a Robin Hood type figure. It’s also pretty clear that in his head, Veerappan thought of himself as a forest-dwelling demigod, like the hero of Kantara. Again, the decision to include scenes like this means that your opinion of Veerappan will always be coloured by what is said in them.

And then, there are the lengthy sequences in which Veerappan’s widow, who perhaps has more screen time than anybody else, details her account of the events leading up to his killing. In a particularly horrific scene, she claims to have been tortured by the Karnataka Police after being arrested. Tensions between Karnataka and Tamil Nadu — both cultural and political — are a key theme in the show. Veerappan slid surreptitiously between the two states at the peak of his infamy in the ‘80s and ‘90s, during which he is said to have killed over a thousand elephants and more than a hundred men.

After initially underestimating his wiliness, the authorities experimented with several new strategies to nab him, but were left with nothing to show for it but a trail of dead colleagues. And when all else failed, the show suggests, Veerappan was executed. This wasn’t merely an encounter killing, which in itself is a (correctly) controversial law enforcement tactic. Veerappan, the show implies, could have been shot at point blank range; his death was made to look like a shootout. It’s a sobering sequence, and a stark rebuke to the more popular portrayal of policing in Indian entertainment.

Another highlight of the show is the episode dedicated to what was arguably Veerappan’s most infamous act — the kidnapping of Kannada superstar Dr Rajkumar. Funnily enough, Rajkumar’s son, Shiva Rajkumar, played the cop in charge of staging Veerappan’s encounter in a film directed by Ram Gopal Varma some years ago. But no one from the Rajkumar family makes an appearance in the documentary, which feels like a missed opportunity. We do, however, hear from a host of other people, mainly the police, about the entire kidnapping. Veerappan’s politically-tinged demands are also highlighted, further legitimising his outlaw ways.

The Hunt for Veerappan might not be as slickly packaged as the sort of true crime programming we have become accustomed to, and it stumbles into morally dubious territory on more than one occasion, but it also provokes some admittedly important discussions about law enforcement, abuse of power, and arrogance. And that, for its audience, should be enough.

The Hunt for Veerappan
Director – Selvamani Selvaraj
Rating – 3.5/5