Film review: Highway






Escaping the first half-second half quandary of most Hindi films, Imtiaz Ali marks his return to theatres with a solemn, clearly-demarcated-in-three-acts film. Highway gets off to a good start, finds itself grappling in the middle, before striking a punch in the gut with a moving finale. The last 40 minutes of the film, in many ways, is the film itself, where Ali steps out of the comfort zone of his earlier movies and makes his point about an issue most filmmakers would shy away from addressing in a film with a similar canvas. Yet, this isn't a film driven by a social message. Instead, Ali crafts a sensual film-watching experience to make a strong, informed statement.
The Stockholm syndrome - where the captive falls in love with her aggressive captor - is only a distraction, a sort of red herring that keeps you away from what the film wants to say till it does. The young Veera (age unspecified, but in her late teens/early 20s) is picked up by a bunch of Haryanvi goons led by the ruthless Mahabir, after she gets caught up in a gas station shootout. It turns out she's the daughter of an influential man, and the men decide to keep her abducted till a big, fat ransom arrives. The girl, initially petrified, starts warming up to the strangers, especially Mahabir, as they traverse across states - Rajasthan, Punjab, Himachal Pradesh and Jammu & Kashmir, the changing topography reflecting the characters' emotional graphs.
This is the set-up. The film follows a predictable trajectory to this point, but the treatment ensures the drama is anything but mundane. The opening title credits, made up of shots of all the places you will eventually watch the characters treading across, set the mood. This montage is followed by another of people preparing for a wedding, where Ali smartly washes off the glamour and sheen of the occasion with a grainy, video-footage look, keeping the sombre tone undisturbed. There's a certain consistency throughout - soft use of sound to establish surroundings, patient camerawork that looks to capture little moments and solid acting that helps the story be told far more effectively.
Yet, the screenplay is a stumbling block in places, especially in parts that involve Veera finding herself attracted to, and opening herself up to, Mahabir. Her composure around a bunch of ruffians is hard to digest, and a lot of her attempts to break the ice seem unreal. The romantic strand of the story is probably its weakest. Also, the transition from kidnap drama to love story to self-awakening is laboured.
Randeep Hooda plays Mahabir, a redemption-free, hard-as-nails thug who shows no mercy for his captive and an unwillingness to shirk off baggage from the past. The actor plays the role without aiming to endear himself to the audience, or even Veera. Hooda knows his capabilities and limitations, and brings that understanding to a role many mainstream actors would have messed up by not submitting to Mahabir's various complexities. Hooda has no such problems.
Alia Bhatt seems to struggle with Veera initially, but her stubborn commitment takes over. Her rawness works for the character initially, and when it comes to exhibiting real emotional depth in crucial moments, Bhatt surprises you with an unabashed display of acting chops. She's a revelation, and takes on a role that could be career-defining in many ways. 👏👏👏
The casting of the two leads is what makes Highway what it is. For Ali to have downsized the star quotient of his earlier films to accommodate dedicated actors shows unwillingness to compromise. In supporting roles, Durgesh Kumar, Pradeep Nagar and Saharsh Kumar Shukla bring a natural ease to the characters they portray. The veteran Anil Mehta gets behind the camera to give Highway its best feature - imagery that stays with you long after the film ends. Resul Pukooty's sound design and AR Rahman's soulful score ensure the trip remains pleasant.
Highway is a major triumph for commercial filmmaking in India. Produced by Sajid Nadiadwala, who is usually associated with masala blockbusters, and backed by the might of UTV, the film remains true to character, and unwavering in its approach. Long silences punctuate conversations, shots of staggeringly beautiful locations linger, the pace remains unhurried, and actors surrender to their characters - these are elements you yearn to experience in a mainstream movie, and the film takes you there.
Even though not free of shortcomings, Highway is Imtiaz Ali's most honest, personal film and, hopefully, the beginning of a chapter in his career that will be dictated more by craft and intention and less by commerce and entertainment.
By Aniruddha Guha
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