Shakeela, written and directed by Indrajit Lankesh, tells the story of an Indian actress and model who predominantly acted in South Indian cinema and went on to become a sex symbol in the late 1990s and early 2000s. The movie attempts to comment on the film industry that both celebrated and vilified her, the male gaze, and more. But due to Lankesh’s piss-poor execution, it kind of ends up re-establishing the problematic norms that it wants to take down. By the time the credits roll, you will only feel sorry for talented actors like Richa Chadha and Pankaj Tripathi for being associated with this excuse of a film and nothing else.
I have a theory that there’s no such thing as “good acting” or “bad acting” and that it all depends on the director who is pulling the strings behind the actors. Sometimes even if the actor doesn’t do anything and just stares off-screen, a simple cut to a shot of what they’re looking at can make it seem that they’ve done something brilliant (It’s known as the Kuleshov effect). But there are actors who are so goddamn talented that they elevate the written material and the director’s work with their acting prowess thereby making it seem that the director is more capable than they actually are. Two such examples are Richa Chadha and Pankaj Tripathi. Now, imagine bringing them together and wasting them by making everything around them atrocious. Oh, wait! You don’t have to imagine. You can just watch Shakeela.
Shakeela is written and directed by Indrajit Lankesh. The screenplay is by Sunil Agarwal with additional screenplay work by Janardhan Maharshi, Rohan Bajaj, and Naireeta Dasgupta, and dialogues by Rohit Banawlikar, Bajaj, and Akash Waghmare. The casting is by Shreyas Chinga, Mohena Singh, and Sujal Associates, costume design by Deepa Prashanth and Aryan Gaurav Naidu, art direction by Mohan B. Kere, editing by Ballu Saluja, music by Meet Bros and Veer Samarth, and cinematography by Santosh Rai. It features Richa Chadha, Pankaj Tripathi, Ester Noronha, Rajeev Pillai, Sheeva Rana, Vivek Madan, Suchendra Prasad, Sundeep Malani, Kajol Chugh, Kiran Deep, and Samarjit Lankesh. The story begins with Shakeela wanting to make a biopic on her after a call to ban her because of her provocative her and then follows her into a narco test where she narrates her story - I am not making this up, I swear!
What the hell is up with the plot? What the hell is up with the “commentary”? Doesn’t anyone know how to write dialogues?
As far as I know, this is the only film about Shakeela. The only other property that has chronicled Shakeela’s life is her autobiographical book, Shakeela Athmakatha, and since it’s an autobiography, it’s written by her (Duh!). I am sure that editors were involved but you get the gist. Now, I have neither read the book and nor have I read any interview between Shakeela and any of the writers of this biopic. But I can bet that Shakeela never went into a drug-induced hallucinatory state in order to talk about her life! Because that’s dumb! Whose bright idea was that? What does that imply that Shakeela was so ashamed of talking about herself that she had to get drugged out of her senses? Or that the in-story writer would trust Shakeela’s narrative only if she did so via a narco test? WTF!
You know, I can go on and on about that but let’s just move on. If the plot, themes, and everything that the script thinks it has in itself can be boiled down to its essentials, I will say that it’s about showing the humane side of Shakeela and how that was completely overlooked by the industry and the audience. So, how do you end up making Shakeela one of the most boring individuals on Planet Earth? Fine, her character arc is predictable so you didn’t do much with it. But you could have given her some personality, some engaging character interactions, or done anything to not make her feel like a plank of wood. The same goes for Salim. There were so many interesting facets that could’ve been explored in order to draw parallels between then and now, but nope! Instead, we have two boring people in a slugfest.
Indrajit Lankesh should seriously consider joining film school or watching thousands of YouTube tutorials on how to direct movies before touching a script again.
Okay, where should I begin? Let’s start with how sleazy Lankesh’s film feels. One of my major concerns going into Shakeela was regarding Lankesh’s ability to differentiate between portraying one’s sexuality and a person being sexually exploited without making it look pervy. It’s a complicated line to tow, I will say that but if you have picked up a topic such as Shakeela’s life, you have to do that or at least try. So, guess what Lankesh does? He doesn’t even try and it’s evident from the first frame itself, which is that of a song that has no connection to the plot. It’s just a bunch of girls dancing with the camera moving pretty suggestively. Where do you go from that? Apparently downwards because Lankesh makes no effort while trying to show the real and reel life within the boundaries of the movie.
Allow me to elaborate. When the cameras are on in the movie, that’s the reel life. When the cameras are off in the movie, that’s real life. Given the context, the reel life should feel exploitative and dirty because we’re seeing how gross the male gaze is. In comparison to that, everything happening in Shakeela’s or any other character’s real life should feel, well, realistic. But the problem here is that both of them are framed, lit, and colour-graded in the same way. There’s no difference between Lankesh’s perspective and that of the director in the movies. So, you don’t know where the sleazy stuff begins and where it ends and begins again. And it’s not necessarily what the characters are wearing or what they’re talking about. It’s more to do with the cheap quality of Shakeela’s look matching with that of the ones that the characters are doing.
When the plot isn’t moving forward and it’s just Richa Chadha and Pankaj Tripathi doing their thing, it’s bearable.
Richa Chadha and Pankaj Tripathi are two of the greatest actors working in the industry right now. You can put them anywhere, give them the stupidest lines, and make them do the most idiotic things in the world, and somehow they will find that strand of humanity in it and use it to try and connect us with the character. And they try to do it here as well. Every time Tripathi graces a set with his presence, he aces it with his dry sense of humour. Chadha has her moments with her peak being the scene when she breaks down in front of her body double after finding out how she has been betrayed. She really sells the pain, anguish, and pure desperation coursing through her veins. However, sadly, since everything else around them is so horrendous that I guess even they will want to disassociate with Shakeela, the movie.
All that said, what was the thinking process behind casting two of the biggest Bollywood stars in a story set entirely in Kerala? You’d think that it’s a Chernobyl-esque situation (I am sorry for making this comparison but it’s the best one I have for now) where English-speaking actors were cast because the show was made in an English-speaking country and the creators didn’t want to botch it up by making them do accents or by hiring only those who spoke Ukrainian or Russian. But that’s not the case here. Lankesh is from Bengaluru and has done Telugu and Kannada films. As far as I know, the production house is also headquartered in Bengaluru. So, why not cast actors from the South Indian film industry? Alright fine. You have cast Hindi actors and are making them play non-Hindi. At least keep that consistent. Why are you making them talk in broken Malayalam? Oh, this frustrates me.
Final verdict.
Don’t watch Shakeela. If you want to watch something that has Richa Chadha in it, go watch Unpaused, Panga, or Inside Edge. Don’t watch Shakeela. If you want to watch something that has Pankaj Tripathi in it, go watch Mirzapur, Sacred Games, or Criminal Justice. Don’t watch Shakeela. If you want to watch something that has both Richa Chadha and Pankaj Tripathi in it, watch Fukrey, Masaan, and Gangs of Wasseypur. Don’t watch Shakeela.
Cover artwork by Bhavya Poonia/Mashable India
