Cast: Emraan Hashmi, Prachi Desai, Nargis Fakhri, Lara Dutta, Kunaal Roy Kapur
Director: Tony D’Souza
Emraan Hashmi starrer Azhar reminded Indians of match-fixing in the ’90s as the movie opened to half-empty halls and lukewarm response on a balmy Friday the 13th, the date inauspicious in Western superstitions. Irrfan Khan, Bollywood’s seasoned star, who is increasingly finding a toehold in Hollywood, made more news with his Madari trailer, even with his remarks that he would love to portray the role of late President A.P.J. Abdul Kalam in a forthcoming movie.
Sports cognoscenti still watched the films. I had some reporters for company. But the two hour, 11 minute long film was almost like taking audiences to the eras of Mamus (nickname for NRIs who helped bookies get close to cricketers) and Cassim Banjo (a dubious middleman who allegedly helped fix many matches with the late Hansie Cronje of South Africa but got scot-free from the Kings Commission because of lack of evidence). It would not work, ostensibly because fixing is an art, expensive MacBooks and iPads have replaced clumsily written notes which cops once gathered with glee, but failed to prove as evidence in courts of law.
Unless the first big scandal of Indian cricket is juxtaposed with the current crisis — former CJI Lodha is still into his hearings, much to the discomfort of the world’s richest cricket board — no movie would make sense, either on fixing, or on a star-turned-tainted cricketer. Worse, you are narrating the copy almost 16 years later. Fuzzy haired teenagers are more keen to copy Virat Kohli, then would not give a damn to a former cricketer whose wrist — like the legendary Gundappa Vishwanath — produced magical strokes. What was worse was the context of the film, it is now written in the scrolls of Bollywood that every time Mumbai has made attempts to blend sports on the silver screen, the result had been disastrous. This time, it was no different.
The movie has its sparks but very few. I liked one, the opening shot when Karanvir Sharma (who essayed the role of former Indian all-rounder Manoj Prabhakar) asks a journalist to conduct a sting on Azharuddin. The backroom crap continues till date, I witnessed how the gang of South and West happily dug all dirt about Jagmohan Dalmiya when he was out of favour, out of posts in the BCCI. And eventually, all cases against the veteran administrator was dropped as if there was no tomorrow.
Same dirt followed Virender Sehwag, many wrote about his fitness, only to be surprised by a magnificent catch that even shocked skipper M.S. Dhoni (who had reportedly pushed such reports). But to presume a sting in the ’90s is ridiculous. I am reminded of an incident when the legendary Satyajit Ray pointed out how the director in Dharam Veer, a Bollywood blockbuster, allowed the heroes — Dharmendra and Jeetendra — to use Gedore tools to repair wheels of their chariots.
Baby-faced Hashmi takes a break from his serial-kisser roles, shows how Azharuddin scored three centuries on the trot on his debut and eventually rose to be the skipper of the side — it even has a scene where the board president asks him the much-quoted lines Mian kapptaan banoge? (Sir, would you like to become the captain?) — and walked into a world of glamour and betrayal.
The movie skims over one of the most crucial factors of Indian cricket — how it has been a victim of fierce factionalism that existed between the West and South for long, the barrier broken when Kapil Dev became the skipper (he was from Haryana) and Sourav Ganguly was named captain (he was from Bengal). But hardcore BCCI politics, I guess, is not the director’s cup of tea.
I was impressed with the courtroom scenes where two seasoned actors, Lara Dutta and Kunaal Roy Kapur argued vociferously against each other in Azharuddin’s match-fixing case. Dutta wanted him jailed, Kapur appeared sanguine Azharuddin had no option but to take that slice of illegal cash. Let’s not forget there exists a widespread theory that the cricketer was honey-trapped because of his proximity to a number of Bollywood starlets. And that, eventually, pushed him to accept Sangeeta Bijlani (Nargis Fakhri) and drop Naureen, his first wife (Prachi Desai).
In the cricketer’s life copy, these two women play very little role, except Bijlani opened up the glamorous side of cricket to an otherwise earthy Azharuddin. His demands for Rolex watches, BMW cars and Tuxedo suits increased proportionately to the cash he demanded to fix matches.
Rest can be junked, including how Ravi Shastri — he still lives his life king size even after leaving the boundary ropes — and Navjot Singh Sidhu — whose life now is an interesting blend of cricket, politics and comedy — ganged up against him, and how Kapil Dev told Azharuddin that cricket captaincy is not for the side but for the nation. That’s routine, all young skippers take gyaan from seniors. It will definitely not move the fans.
Too late even for a late night show, this one should have hit the theatres a decade ago. It would have made sense then. Now, it will drown in the next trending troll on Twitter. Even on Facebook. Like cricket, fixing has now become an art. Planners book five-star hotels to cast their net, divide matches as if they are planning high-sea fishing (each must have his own zone of catch). You have to be bloody realistic — like Blood Diamond — to make something like this going.
