About three weeks ago, my friends were with me at the cinemas to watch Finding Fanny when a poster of Shahid Kapoor greeted us. ‘Haider,’ it read, and all I knew was I had to watch this movie at any cost. I won all the arguments with my friends who wanted to watch other movies and compelled them to drop their plans and join me for Haider instead. I had earlier decided to start a category on my blog for the films I like, starting with Happy New Year, but I just could not overwhelm the urge to praise Haider.
I have always had immense respect and love for Shakespeare but had never even imagined that his story could be adapted so beautifully. This is not a review. This is just gratitude for people who have made this lovely craft. I don’t understand films technically; I look out for the emotional quotient. And Haider is a roller-coaster ride of emotions. The actors enact more emotions in about two and a half hours than what a few others have put up in their entire acting careers. It’s a film that not just touches your heart but pulls it out of your chest and wrenches and twists it with its pain. I did expect a lot from Haider, and it surprised me pleasantly as it made my lofty expectations look petite.
I’ve always had a liking for Shahid Kapoor; not just for his goodness, but also because he wasn’t ‘launched’ like others. He fought his battle and found his way. And maybe that’s precisely why, it was heart-breaking to see him go through a rough phase. And though R Rajkumar succeeded commercially, watching Shahid Kapoor as and in Haider giving the performance of his life is satisfying. He is phenomenal. He has crushed and surpassed his own limitations as an actor, portraying tons of emotions. He does not try to go over the top, thanks to which he plucks the right chords at the right time. I’ve developed a new liking for Shraddha Kapoor post Haider. Kay Kay Menon and Tabu are the picks of the cast. They keep the ambiguity about the intentions of their respective characters intact that the director wanted to create. In fact, Tabu outdoes every other actor in my opinion. If Haider isn’t her peak, I wonder what amazing powerhouse of talent she is.
Irrfan’s entry was one of the best shot scenes of the movie. The theatre roared as the guitars reverberated in the background. I had never even dreamt of such an extraordinary entry and an equally humongous reaction to Irrfan’s entry. Times are surely changing and for the good.
Haider’s music is underrated. It is tailor-made for the movie. It goes hand-in-hand with the script. Watching Bismil on the television set and in the theatre is way too different. Haider, the character, unfolds the story through Bismil and you sit there watching quietly as goosebumps rule over your skin. Rekha Bharadwaj’s voice is divine. It extracts tears from your eyes for no particular reason. I have no adjectives to describe such a relic. The most commendable element for me was its humour. Black, dark humour. Your lips put on a smile but your heart is weeping inside. The humour is saddening instead of causing hilarity.
Haider is a masterpiece in true sense. I have always been a fan of Vishal Bharadwaj’s work, and he justifies my liking for him with Haider. I cannot imagine an adaptation of Hamlet as laudable as this one. They say a good film justifies its perspective. But Haider not just justifies its philosophy, but makes you lose your prejudices. I don’t know about others, but I have always looked at the Kashmir issue through the same old lens. Haider offered me a completely new vision, and I’m glad it did. I’m not sorry that this movie did not entertain me; for it educated me. And that’s a rarity. The film is so full of violence that both the girls sitting adjacent to me had their eyes covered for a lot many scenes. Scenes like Haider searching for his father in a truck full of dead bodies, or where he crushes the ‘Salmans’ with those rocks are sure not for the weak-hearted. But it is ironic and beautiful at the same time, how a film so chock-full of violence actually advocates peace, and an ending where dead bodies are spread across the iced land like the cherry blossom covering the forest land actually stands for forgiveness. There could not be a better movie to be released on Gandhi Jayanti. Haider shows you the mirror. It makes you think. It makes you introspect. Haider is pain. Haider is the truth. Haider is forgiveness. Haider is life. To conclude, to call Haider just a film is stupidity. Haider is poetry— hard-hitting, intense and enlightening. And remember, until you don’t avenge your vengeance, no ‘freedom’ can free you.
“Jab tak hum apne inteqam se inteqam nahi kar lete, koi azaadi hume azaad nahi kar sakti…”
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