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protagonist and producer of this film, Anushka Sharma, put her foot
down, and the viewer ought to celebrate this creative decision.
There is no song or background music to lend theatricality or detract
from the situation that traps the characters. It is only at the end,
when the jo karna thha who karna thha strain of action ceases,
that a song pervades the narrative. The insertion works both
formally, to indicate the conclusion of the movie experience but also
coincides seamlessly with the POV of the protagonist, as waves of
relief wash over the senses. The direction involved in certain scenes
is laudable and deserves special mention: Meeras (Anushka
Sharma) taut encounter with a grievously injured Satbir (Darshan
Kumar), where, rather than adopting the usual route of a
melodramatic face off (and unusually long soliloquies) between the
two, Meera sits calmly, lights and enjoys a smoke, while he
struggles to stand up. No words are wasted in spoon-feeding
character motivations to the audience.
The narrative employs motifs that resonate at specific moments in
the film, weaving a cohesive framework and making evident the
planning that has gone into the screenplay. The play on the
multifaceted notion of revenge is launched by the gruesome one of
honor killing, an act that is justified as avenging the besmirching of
family honor. Following this is the egotistical revenge that Arjun (Neil
Bhoopalam) insists on initiating after being slapped by Satbir for
interfering in a family matter and the subsequent acts of violence
carry over the relay of revenge. An iron rod, the chosen weapon of
violence in these acts of vengeance, brings forth uncomfortable
memories of recent gender violence, and unwitting poetic justice is
served when the weapon is turned on those who wield it to establish
their mardaangi. A horrifying dialogue in the movie about killing
someone with an iron rod (yeh le aur karde chhed isme) as
bearing testimony to the wielders masculine prowess hovers
tauntingly over Meeras picking up of the rod. But Meera is no Rani
Jhansi or Rani Mukherji, who will assume a masculine demeanor to
become Mardaani (the only way a woman becomes laudable, Mr.
Pradeep Sarkar?), but she is courageous and quick-witted in her own
female self.
The film subtly establishes a feminist subtext throughout the movie,
beginning with the instance when a male coworker insinuates that
Meeras presentation being highly praised stems from the undue
privilege awarded to women in the workplace by male superiors,
and is immediately cut down to size by her snarky comeback.
Similarly, when stopping at a dhaba during the journey, Meera
notices the word randi scrawled on the door of the bathroom, and
wets a tissue to determinedly erase the offensive word from the
spot. This incident is powerfully replayed when, later in the movie,
she reaches the spot under the bridge to discover Arjuns body and
the words Raand Saali scrawled on the wall with his blood. This is
the moment of peripeteia, the point when she re-dons the yellow