Intriguing, pulsating, convincing, important, Chamkila leaves you thirsty for more.

In the process, exposing the hypocrisy of society at large, and underscoring a love-hate relationship onlookers tend to form with celebrities.

14th April 2024: Two unidentified men open fire outside Salman Khan’s Mumbai residence (News Headlines)

I am not a die-hard Salman Khan fan albeit I adore some of his earlier work. I am mostly numb to his news stories rife with controversies and lawsuits. But this incident gave me the chills.

Popular artists bask in public attention but are also prone to intense scrutiny by the same public that idolizes them. They are empowered and vulnerable in equal measures. In the shadow of the immense public affection, lurk unyielding hostilities. Imtiaz Ali’s Chamkila, a period drama set majorly in the 1980s, is a topical and timely commentary on such susceptibility of artists.

Sidhu Moose Wala (Punjabi Rapper, 1993-2022) was shot dead a couple of years back, and actors like Deepika Padukone continue to face the brunt of prejudice since Padmavaat (2018). These are just recent cases. There could be a long list of threatened artists whose examples have not made it to prime-time news.

Chamkila is thus an important biographical film chronicling a popular artist-duo’s life and career slashed by those they could have irked along the way. Their cold-blooded murder in broad daylight remains unsolved since 1988. The film gently explores several possible malevolent angles in this story about their meteoric rise eventually leading to their killing. In the process, exposing the hypocrisy of society at large, and underscoring a love-hate relationship onlookers tend to form with celebrities.

What you experience on the screen is both thought-provoking and entertaining. A. R Rehman’s score creates a pulsating seamless canvas for an episodic narrative, rendering the screenplay palpable in some parts and evocative in others. Imtiaz Ali paints this canvas with fluid painterly strokes. Focusing on the spirit of the narrative rather than its form. Mild formal experimentation renders the screen with youthful verve.

What you experience on the screen is both thought-provoking and entertaining.

The treatment of the subject is done with utmost care, detail, softness, and respect. Diljit Dosanjh emerges as the epitome of innocence and vivacity. The trio is incredible together. Not to forget Irshad Kamil’s contribution whose lyrics bare the subtext unintrusively. Together, the dream team creates a throbbing narrative. However, the quietest star to shine through this resplendent galaxy of talent is Parineeti Chopra. Her Amarjot lends a truly complementary pitch, texture, and coyness to Diljit’s Chamkila. Parineeti’s performance in parts reminds of her poignant rendition of Meeta Solanki in the magnum opus Hasee to Phasee (2014). After a long hiatus, we get to witness her acumen again. What a comeback, if one can call it that!

So, is it all perfect then? The question demands some contemplation.

Let’s travel back to the Bollywood of the early 90s. “Cholee ke peeche….” the rhythmic utterance of these words in the movie Khal Nayak (1993) stirred a major controversy. Despite turning out to be an iconic song, the song and its creators faced severe backlash for the song’s lyrics. The tune was catchy but the words were suggestive and sensational. Enjoyable definitely. Perhaps also questionable. But should the creators be therefore silenced? On the other hand, should popularity be the only benchmark of their creative choices? The debate around freedom of expression and blasphemy is a perennial one. The best way to treat it is as a debate. But when a director-writer team begins to defend the creative side too much with lines like, “That’s what people want,” the take is rendered feeble, repetitive, and lopsided.

Chamkila’s treatment undoubtedly offers an appealing and detailed period study of the milieu but it does not allow us to dive deep into the artist’s psyche. Yes, Amar Singh is an underdog who grabs chance upon chance until it becomes a habit; his burning desire for dignity is rightful; his fight for survival is real; but is there more to his creative choices–other than growing up listening to lewd language and finding an audience hungry for innuendos? Could there be more to his lyrics? The film celebrates the popularity of his performances but doesn’t entirely uncover the stories that inspire their writing.

Similarly, how were women singers in his league viewed and treated by society? Why were they encouraged to partner with sleazy song-writers in the first place? Their stories though intricately intertwined with their male counterparts, seem sketchy.

Perhaps, this first biographical narrative of the duo’s life will incite more research on the subject and underpinning themes, and who knows there may be at least one more thorough documentary-series already underway. I guess, there’s no harm in hoping for one.

Imtiaz Ali’s Chamkila is thus a charming and impactful conversation starter. It has succeeded in intriguing us and leaving us craving for more on the subject.

This review is by guest reviewer Jeet. Jeet is a workaholic turned film addict, and vice-versa. Basically, when he is not working, he is watching films. And when he isn’t watching films, he is working. The funny thing is films are also a part of his work. Go figure!