Vasan Bala's Jigra starts on a very interesting note. We watch a sister consoling her brother and asking the names of his bullies to teach them a lesson. As a viewer, you expect the next scene to take place inside the school so that the film can display the sister's physical strength and establish how far she can go and how brutal she can become to protect her brother. But as soon as the two of them enter their apartment, they are greeted with the horrible sight of their dad committing suicide. Observe what the sister does here: She takes her brother into her arms to cover his eyes. She shields him from distress, trauma, and pain. Jigra then suddenly cuts to the future, showing the brother and sister as adults. Her steely eyes convey what kind of tough life she must have experienced, and his casual attitude suggests she did an excellent job of protecting him from distress, trauma, and pain. Alia Bhatt plays the sister character (her name is Satya), and Vedang Raina steps into the shoes of her brother (his name is Ankur). To say that Jigra derives its energy from Bhatt's performance would be an understatement. The actor provides such a feverish charge to the drama that the scenes leap out of the frame. Bhatt prevents Satya from falling into a monotonous shade. Notice how Satya first holds herself back from acting as cutely as another mother who bids her son farewell, and then when Ankur gives her a hug, she responds with impassioned enthusiasm.
Bhatt dominates Jigra with a forceful assurance. She establishes a direct link with the audience. When Satya, during a face-to-face meeting with Ankur, looks directly at the camera, all our emotional barriers instantly crumble to pieces. Her gaze breaks our walls, leaving us vulnerable. There is one scene where Bhatt's intensity ends up undermining the film's emotion. When Satya, all panicky, tries to understand what the guards are saying to her in prison and moves from one area to another, we react to Bhatt's acting, not to the character's nervousness. The Amitabh Bachchan references are too obvious - they turn Bhatt's performance into a shameless promotion. It feels as if some advertisers are marketing a product in a specific manner. Bala is good when he offers slight hints that reveal vast information. Satya's face, when Bade Papa praises both Ankur and his own son when it's the former who puts in all the work, tells us everything about her feelings for her adopted parents. And Bala really enjoys playing with us, his story, and his characters, which is evident in the tweaks, the twists he gives to the events. Shekhar (Manoj Pahwa), at first, looks like a meek old gentleman but is later revealed to be a...retired gangster. The prison break plan undergoes complications because two groups of people come up with their own strategies without being able to communicate with each other. The scene where the prisoners are caught escaping through a tunnel doesn't proceed as per your expectations. Also, the local Hanshi Dao guards are shown as kind and dutiful, while the Indian character, OIC Hansraj Landa (Vivek Gomber), is displayed as a cruel, unidimensional villain.
The last point can be used to generate subtexts. Given that it's the Indian characters who get together to help each other and their main foe also turns out to be an Indian, Jigra tells you that our country is currently under siege from within. The people in power talk about maintaining and respecting our culture but spew venom and inflict harm on the citizens. Hence the "Long Live the Revolution" slogan. Don't expect the government to be the harbinger of positive change. Sometimes, you need to take matters into your own hands. An ex-cop (Rahul Ravindran), after seeing many rejections of his application, joins Satya and Shekhar's prison break plan. The message is that the rigid rules won't yield success, which is why the carefully constructed schemes related to escape are ultimately ruined. It's the spontaneous decisions, like hitting a bike and crashing a vehicle into generators instead of waiting for 30 seconds, that bring the characters closer to their destination. Bala should have done something similar with his filmmaking style. He isn't spontaneous - the images are pre-planned, and the emotions are pre-packaged. For all the amusing twists in the events, Jigra treads on a path that's sorely conventional.
Consider the moment when the ex-cop says yes to Satya's plan. He gets that text message when he's busy defending the law as well as himself (from Satya's physical attacks). Satya is framed in front of a balcony when she is informed that the house she is staying in is cheap because it has a history related to death, which prompts her to say that she is used to living in such places. This is Jigra's way of unnecessarily and heavily underlining that opening suicide incident. Bala hits us with cheap melodrama to spice up the material. He inserts the image of the dead father amidst the chaos in the climax. He shows us a little girl just before the end credits. Shekhar's final fate is marked by clichés. That boat scene near the end simply fulfills the mainstream traditions - the attempts at raising suspense give rise to results that are unexciting, and unoriginal. Add to all this the Phoolon Ka Taaro Ka song, which is placed to extract tears from the eyes of the audience. Such vulgar tricks are the tools of a filmmaker who either doesn't trust his story or looks for a shortcut to our hearts. There is another problem with Jigra, which hides in plain sight and makes you uncomfortable because it covers itself with a lot of flash.
Jigra celebrates Satya and her efforts, craziness, and determination. All her skills, though, go into caring for her brother. She is like that mother who gives up her dreams to care for her family members. By cheering for Satya, Bala also cheers for women who sacrifice their personal ambitions to support their children. Bala never bothers talking about Satya's dreams, hobbies, and political ideologies - he seems to be showing affection for a time when women used to move mountains for the welfare of men. They had no other obligations. Jigra's regressive attitude, though, is skillfully concealed behind Bhatt's fiery aura (based on this filmmaker's previous works, it feels as if this backward stance is unintentional).
What's more, Bala renders his characters nearly blank. Ankur and other inmates are treated like pieces who simply move the plot's action. There is no tension or urgency in this story. The director has some fun undermining our expectations, but after a while, it becomes apparent that he doesn't know what he wants to do with this material. Does he want to drown us in cheap melodrama or excite us through well-executed thriller sequences? Jigra has been marketed as something cool, something solid for movie-going audiences. The poster looks good; the trailer is awesome. The movie, however, is not very memorable. The actual product differs from the promotional material and the photos on the covers and pamphlets. What this means is that Jigra is a well-made advertisement. It is, among other things, primarily a commercial for Bhatt's acting talent, which bears the subtitle: "Please start seeing her as the next - or equivalent to - Amitabh Bachchan."
Final Score- [5.5/10]
Reviewed by - Vikas Yadav
Follow @vikasonorous on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times