A sportsperson is rarely a person in Hindi films. They have to stand for something bigger. Something that viewers can see and scribble quotes for motivation walls at their gyms. “Don’t give up”, “No pain, no gain”, “Sweat till you are dead.” If that doesn’t work, there is always patriotism and feminism to fall back on. A sportsperson in Hindi cinema has to constantly be a beacon of hope for the underprivileged, a phoenix that rises from the ashes, a patriot who was wronged by his beloved motherland. Let me give you an image: A woman cricketer, who lost her right arm, running on the field, caressing a swaying tricolour with her left hand. Perfect much?
Cast: Saiyami Kher, Abhishek Bachchan, Shabana Azmi
Director: R Balki
It wasn’t always like this for her. We meet Anina (Saiyami Kher) as an upcoming batter who can swing perfect shots. She attends college diligently to learn physics and apply it in cricket. If there is another game theory, this is hers. At home, there is daadi (a serene Shabana Azmi), her biggest cheerleader and also a saree-clad encyclopedia of cricket history; her annoying brothers who look like IT employees with indefinite work from home and a religious father who believes sacred threads solve everything. There is also Jeet (Angad Bedi), who has been drooling over her cover drives since childhood. They all believe Anina is going to be the next big thing in Indian cricket. Except one.
Abhishek Bachchan plays Padam Singh Sodhi aka Paddy, a yesteryear’s spinner waiting to turn into a drunkard-cliché of a coach. He gets his moment when Anina loses her right arm in an accident. Paddy’s approach is tough love. When she says she wants to die, he gives her a bedsheet to tie around the fan (“But how will you do it with just your left hand?”). It can be triggering but waiting for a dudebro to dissect the scene in his podcast.
Still, Abhishek single-handedly (no pun intended) pulls up the film, at least initially. He exudes charm and gets almost all the funny lines. Paddy, as a character, even if latently toxic, is intriguing enough to watch. It’s just that Abhishek, sometimes, over does it. In a scene where Anina and Angad’s Jeet visit him to wish him a Happy Diwali, he refuses to be happy. He laments her for not focussing on the game, threatens to burn Jeet’s hand when he holds Anina’s to leave and then lies down on the pitch, muttering, “Wickets, wickets”. Shabana Azmi sums it up: “He is a psychopath.”
Sports films and montages are in a situationship. Is there any sports drama that can let go of the montage? While I believe a training montage is imperative, in Ghoomer the emotional bits are skimmed over in too many pacy montages. Saiyami’s progression from a doe-eyed batswoman, to a desolate differently-abled person, to a fiery left-arm bowler feels jerky. It doesn’t help that she always looks like she is holding herself back. Saiyami, at times, stares at the camera like a deer caught in the headlights. There are some bouts of energy, like when she, sickle in hand, cuts through the vegetation as she shapes her pitch in Paddy’s backyard. But that soon fizzles out.
Director R Balki makes films that can serve as great elevator pitches. A man and woman fall in love but he is older than the woman’s father (Cheeni Kum, 2007), Abhishek Bachchan plays the father of Amitabh Bachchan who has a condition, which makes him look older than his age (Paa, 2009), A mute actor is launched with Amitabh Bachchan’s voice (Shamitabh, 2015). In Ghoomer, Balki gets too consumed by his central idea. When Saiyami spins with one arm to deliver a spin ball, Amitabh, sitting in the commentary box, can’t contain himself. “A spinner who spins! She is a Ghoomer!” Then we see visuals of people spinning on wheelchairs, rejoicing. Although Abhishek warned us before, “Life isn’t a game of logic but of magic,” the spell runs thin towards the climax. What comes is predictable, somewhat insincere and improbable. I won’t say further though, since I am reminded of another Balki film. Chup.
#Spins #mundanity #Cinema #express
