Films and shows that focus on nationalism and religious majoritarianism have always been a part of the Indian entertainment industry. But after the success of Uri: The Surgical Strike, there was a notable uptick in the number of movies and series with jingoistic and extremist undertones being greenlit. Which political party benefited from that, and which community bore the brunt of that insidious trend? I won’t comment on that. That said, in the last 2 years there’s been a notable decline in the hype around narratives that feature the armed forces or intelligence agencies and a surge in (distorted) historical and mythological epics. They all serve the same purpose, just in different fonts. However, I guess a lot of producers didn’t get the memo about this shifting of the tide, and they kept putting their eggs in these baskets, even though they were being rendered irrelevant due to the changing state of geopolitics. With all that in mind, allow me to talk about Salakaar.
Faruk Kabir’s Salakaar takes place in two time periods: 1978 and 2025. In the 1978 section of the story, Adhir Dayal is sent to the Indian Embassy in Pakistan to look into the nuclear weapons program that Zia Ulla is working on. He orchestrates an attack on his grandson, Ashfaq Ulla, in order to make his way into his inner circle and get all the info he needs to put a stop to the aforementioned operation and save India from nuclear annihilation. In the 2025 section of the plot, Adhir, now the National Security Advisor, has learned that an adult Ashfaq has restarted his grandfather’s nuclear project in Kahuta, this time with some major help from China’s PLA. But getting this intel has jeopardized the life of a RAW agent, Sristhi Chaturvedi, because she has developed romantic ties with Ashfaq. In order to maintain her ruse that she is just an innocent Pakistani tuition teacher, Srishti has even accepted Ashfaq’s marriage proposal. However, as the wedding date draws closer, Ashfaq’s need to meet her parents increases, thereby jeopardizing Srishti’s secret identity. So, Adhir sanctions an extraction mission to bring Srishti back to India before her secret is discovered by Ashfaq and she is killed for her betrayal.
Salakaar is stupid on so many levels that if I start listing them down one by one, I’ll be here all day. So, I’ll keep things limited to the major points. Firstly, there’s the China angle. If you checked the news in the past 24 hours, you know what’s going on between India, China, and Pakistan. If this show was released in July or any time before August 6, it’d have retained its relevancy. This just goes to show that you should take on projects like this one only if you have a certain level of foresight about the future of geopolitics. Secondly, there’s the lack of logic. Kabir goes absolutely haywire in the name of creative liberty and crafts this fictional narrative to glaze the real-life counterpart of Adhir. In this process though, the way he disregards basic common sense when it comes to topics like diplomacy and international terrorism is laughable. And thirdly, there’s the dialogue. It’s both insane and sad that Kabir has to go to these lengths to show how much he detests Pakistanis and how thankful he is that Indians are so very smart. But, if doing so helps him “get that bag,” more power to him, I guess.
Credit where credit is due, Salakaar has a handful of moments where Faruk Kabir’s direction and action design, Sandeep Francis’ editing, and Jitan Harmeet Singh’s cinematography come together to create something magical. I am talking about match cuts that tickle your fancy, wide shots that make your jaw drop, and dynamic camera movements that get your heart racing. However, all of that awesome sauce is diluted with the most juvenile jingoism my eyes have seen. I mean, to be honest, my eyes have seen worse, but this show is up there with the greats. I genuinely don’t know what the tone Kabir was going for was. There are scenes where he is allowing Adhir to “aura farm” like there’s no tomorrow, and a few seconds later, he is treating Adhir like Austin Powers. Pick a lane, goddammit; do you want me to take your show seriously, or do you want me to laugh at it? I know that I am not the target audience for it because I think that stories featuring pale or hyper-realistic imitations of real-life people and incidents shouldn’t be made at all, as they are disrespectful and exploitative from every perceivable angle. But what is up with the actual target audience? Are they alright? Are they in need of an intervention? Just because a lot of people are consuming this toxic hypernationalism doesn’t mean that it’s normal.
I don’t want to sugarcoat this; I am just going to say it straight: watching Naveen Kasturia in Salakaar broke me. I have watched him in stuff like Sulemani Keeda, Chai Sutta Chronicles, and Pitchers. And to see him in a show that’d give Avrodh, Special Ops, and Tanaav a run for their money makes me sad. I hope that that paycheck was worth it. As for the rest of the cast, the performances delivered by Mukesh Rishi, Mouni Roy, Surya Sharma, Purnendu Bhattacharya, Ashwath Bhatt, Asif Ali Beg, Sidharth Bhardwaj, and Salim Husen Mulla range from offensive to cringe-worthy. But since I don’t really care about any of them, seeing them do over-the-top nonsense didn’t really impact me too much. Janhavi Hardas seemed like a breath of fresh air, but the manner in which her character was snuffed out really irritated me. It’s kind of worrying that female characters are still being “fridged,” and that too so brutally, during a time when society and the art form are supposed to become more progressive. Anyway, if all that sounds like a recommendation, then let me make it clear that I don’t recommend giving Salakaar a watch. Just read the news instead.
