Cast: Rajkummar Rao, Patralekha, Manav Kaul
Director: Hansal Mehta
Rating: ****
Everyday hundreds of thousands migrate to the city with the dream of making it their home. Each of them has a story to tell, that is if somebody cares to hear them. But whether or not they are heard, these people are constantly filling up the pages of Mumbai’s diary. Hansal Mehta’s Citylights is one such page.
If summed up in a sentence, the premise is poignant but common. It tells the story of Deepak who dares to set foot in the city in search of a better life. When one sets out to make a mark with something that is so routine, he must have his ammunition in place. And Hansal Mehta knew what he was doing. True he is inspired by Sean Ellis’ Metro Manila, but one must give him credit for seamlessly adapting the British-Filipino crime drama into the Indian milieu. Soaked in emotion and armed with a solid script, tight screenplay and a God’s gift of a cast, which perhaps is the biggest strength of the film, Mehta manages to create not a story, but an experience so overwhelming that one is left sorting out their thoughts long after the end credits have rolled.
Deepak (Rajkummar Rao), who once used to work as a driver in the Army, is forced to leave his village in Rajasthan when he fails to pay his debtors for the small business he has set up. His world begins and ends with his family, his wife (Patralekha) and a five or six-year-old daughter. He makes a promise to them of a better life in Mumbai, the city of opportunities… ‘Aur Mumbai mein samandar bhi hai,’ he tells his wife. So far removed is this simpleton from anything urban, that he perhaps cannot imagine that along with the sea, Mumbai can also be a sea of frustration, broken dreams and lost battles. He soon finds out, on day one itself, when his friend, his only contact (read hope) in the city doesn’t show up. Deepak realises he is on his own now, with two mouths to feed. And his honesty and simplicity is exactly what makes him fall prey to the manipulative ways of the urban jungle.
Much like how the city treats its less-fortunate outsiders, the film too oscillates between hope and despair. Rajkummar outdoes himself in portraying every emotion his character goes through. The earnestness, the love, the helplessness, the doubts, the dilemmas, the desperation, and at times a mix of all these — he becomes Deepak. Giving him company is Patralekha, who excels as the wife, who goes from being a passive sufferer to someone who tries to fight back. There’s a vulnerability in her face that works in the character’s favour and hats off to the director for exploiting that.
Unlike struggler dramas of this kind, Citylights doesn’t fall into the abyss of pathos, thanks to clever use of irony time and again. Deepak gets robbed of all his savings and then finds a place to stay in a 3BHK in a high-rise, which is in the initial stages of construction. ‘Banne ke baad, 3 crores ka hoga’ the agent tells him. After being tossed around in search of a job, he finally finds something at a private security agency. What gets him the job is not his skills with the gun (which he doesn’t have) but a joke that he blurts out like an arithmetic table — a tip he had got from his much-experienced senior. It’s one of the most memorable scenes in the film that tells you how arbitrary life can get for those who are exploited.
The story is fast paced, and every member of the cast keeps you hooked with their performances and there are enough twists too. A special mention for Manav Kaul who plays Rajkummar’s senior partner in the security agency. The conviction he brings to the role of a man who seems to be on the top of things but is actually as much as a puppet as Deepak, is telling.
Raju Singh’s haunting background score and Jeet Ganguli’s music are almost like characters in the story. Citylights follows the graph of impoverishment, exploitation and the eventual rebellion. The film is as breathless as its protagonists, but there is a certain poetry in its treatment that leaves a mark. Given its premise, some might say it’s old wine in a new bottle. But this bottle’s certainly a keeper.
