Cast: Varun Dhawan, Keerthy Suresh, Zara Zyana, Wamiqa Gabbi, Jackie Shroff
Direction: Kalees
No one is safe, Run. Run. Run. So blares a background song, betraying a clear message to the die-hard fan, the indiscreet, the incurable optimist or the plain unfortunate who by force of circumstance lands up watching ‘Baby John’.
A repeat of Atlee’s tribute to celebrate violence. The only visible commitment the filmmaker has is purposeless violence. The complete paradigm shift in our cinema from celebrating romance, love, music and the family to a brutal, banal depiction of violence. It is getting gorier by the week.
The fact that the larger-than-life hero gave way to the anti-hero and now he has given way to the loud heartless, cruel villain as the mainstay could be a cultural issue to discern, diagnose, deal and assuage. In the meanwhile, our “culture merchants” package ugly measures of hyperbolised brutality.
In the picturesque Alappuzha, we have the muscled baker Baby John (Varun Dhawan) and a bold (read brat) daughter Khushi (Zara Zyana). For some inexplicable reason, filmmaker Kalees invents a lack of punctuality as the only justification for an interaction with teacher Tara (Wamiqa Gabbi).
While BJ is willing to strike, but afraid to wound, the peppy kiddo is aggressive and congenitally inclined to sort out an issue with a blow or two. Just as things are getting boringly cozy, there is flesh trade in the backdrop.
Peep into the past and you have Babbar Sher Nanaji (Jackie Shroff), more like Timur the Lame, Ivan the Terrible and Attila the Hun, all rolled in one without a purpose or a backdrop. His personification of evil is in the fulcrum of the endless narrative where his actions garner major footage. It is evil that generally rules this ecosystem and its anatomy is so enlarged that it borders on being puke-worthy.
Papa Babbar and his spoilt brat son Ashwin Baba (Armaan Khera) are hooligans who would make any internationalised terrorist organisation suffer an inferiority complex. DSP Satya Varma (Varun Dhawan) is the stereotypical daring police officer and the twain are doomed to meet.
Ashwin Baba brutally rapes and kills a schoolgirl Amba (Snigddha Suman) and in turn is brutally killed by DSP Sathya. Everything about the film is brutal. The battle lines are drawn with Nanaji making faces (everlasting!!). He wreaks havoc and goes on a shooting spree. The death of the DSP’s wife Meera (Keerthi Suresh), a medical student, sends Satya into hiding. However, peace is neither in his fate nor our bargain. The meaningless violence stretches beyond redemption. It could make a Ravi Teja’s film look like a children’s cartoon film.
The one redeeming feature of this exhausting insensitive no-brainer is that no one musters credibility as an artiste. While Keerthi Suresh is only required to look good, Wamiqa Gabbi is not even called upon to have a defined character. The audience is as clueless about her as she is about Baby John. Jackie Shroff tries hard to be a villain. Loads of mascara and minimal clothing do not make him menacing. The role could have left a Gabbar-like impact. In contrast, it falls flat. As does the movie.
As the year is coming to a close, Bollywood must examine its body of work individually and collectively, systematically and systematically. The prognosis is disturbing.
