It’s only a little later that I read that this film is a Hindi-Tamil bi-lingual. It’s released as Irudhi Suttru in Tamil. And it somehow made sense why from the first scene onwards this movie seemed as if it had been a South Indian dub after all, although it’s not.
I say this not just because everybody speaks rather quickly paced Hindi with an unusual vocabulary (reminding you of Mani Ratnam’s ‘90s films)—but also the mannerisms and general body language that are very ‘Tamil’, cinema-wise, so to speak.
The film for the most part is set in Chennai. Madhavan is very much a Tamil star-actor. He plays a bearded women’s boxing coach, hungry to prove himself, since he was once unfairly disgraced in the national scene himself.
Opposite him is a young talent from a local fisherwoman’s colony (Ritika Singh) that the coach spots and hopes to nurture into a world-class boxer. She is hopelessly defiant, disobedient to a fault. The coach remains the focused hard taskmaster, unwilling to hear no for an answer.
They’ve both clearly trained extensively for the role. They totally look their parts. Ritika is already a mixed martial arts professional and kick-boxer. She must’ve learnt to act. Madhavan on the other hand must have worked hard to look buff, slightly grisly, and very much an ex-boxer.
Yeah, if you’re thinking Chak De India, you aren’t so far off the mark. Along with that, you can also think of a hundred other sports movies—why, even dance movies, or any other film that’s mainly about the victory of the underdog.
The issue with all such genre pictures is you can tell from a mile exactly where the story is headed. Saala Khadoos is not an exception. There is in fact much comfort in that knowledge. You feel exhilarated nonetheless. The script is mainly centred on the climax sequence. And this has a pretty well thought out one. If only the rest of the film was so straight and simple.
Outside the usual powwow between the coach and the recalcitrant pupil, there’s sibling rivalry between the young boxer and her sis; family problems between the parents and the kids; professional politics between the coach and his boss, and his underlings; sexual politics inside the sports federation…
A boxing lesson I learnt from here is that there are only four types of punches: jab, cross, hook, and upper-cut. This movie however punches in so many different ways, at so many angles in one go, that after all of it, you just want to get to the end, or head to the theatre’s exit.
Beyond everything else, there’s the obvious problem with the audience—they’ve already seen the story of Mary Kom on big screen. It’s the greatest Indian women’s boxing story ever told.
Rajkumar Hirani is this movie’s producer. I’m sure he would have faced the same issue with PK (2014), given that Oh My God (2012) on the same subject had released in theatres few years before. He managed to enliven the satire still, using smartly entertaining devices, chiefly Aamir Khan, and the alien.
You feel sorry for the guys punching above their weight here. I’m not sure if Mary Kom (2014) is the reason this wholly humourless film simultaneously moves in so many directions. The core inspiration is obvious. The story does lead up to the world boxing championship.
Review by: Mayank Shekhar
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