Bheed

BHEED. CROWDS. There's a poignant statement made right in the beginning of the movie on what differentiates a society from crowds of people. It is the threads that bind. Social norms. Expectations. Shared experiences. Common struggles and common celebrations. Take all that away, and all you're left with are swirling masses.

But as the movie progresses, a new question begins to emerge. These threads that bind, are they also ropes that tie our hands, hold us back, and sometimes turn into nooses? Is a hierarchical social structure all it's cracked up to be? Is classism in society inevitable? Is religious orthodoxy worth the danger of religious bias? Do social norms thwart love? Can these masses, tied together now by social media, be trusted to sort truth from false? Will the power structures put in place by civil society protect all of civil society in a crisis, or just the privileged few?

These are some of the burning questions that emerge in this very contained story called Bheed. It's a microcosm of Indian society, where these various threads of casteism, classism, power, media, religion, law enforcement, love and destiny weave themselves into a complicated yet rich tapestry that demands viewing.

The backdrop of the movie is set in rural Covid India, where tens of thousands of poor city workers are migrating back to their villages to seek safety and succor, only to find that the entire country and it's infrastructure has been locked down and the key thrown away. Left to fend for themselves, in the midst of a strange national affliction, their fear and helpless is only exacerbated by law enforcement that is trying to follow orders that feel counter to humanitarian impulses. It's a time of utter confusion, as many will remember from that time, and is well captured. The black and white palette lends itself nicely to the stark tone of the movie, and is well supported by looming cinematography and a background score that increases the sense of dread and panic as the situation for all concerned parties continues to deteriorate.

The narration comes at you from many different perspectives. There's the internal dialogue in journalism, captured well between three voices. Then there's the various faces of law enforcement, harsh and unyielding, sometimes corrupt but also reflective and questioning, sometimes unsure of itself. The confusion and inherent distrust of the migrant workers is captured beautifully as well, with veteran actors like Pankaj Kapoor and Veerendra Saxena making you wonder why we haven't seen these thespians more often. They're sorely missed. 

The only minor quibble i have with the movie is that the lead actor, Rajkumar Rao, sometimes struggles to handle the requirements of the role. Every actor in this movie carries two responsibilities. To stay true to the character they inhabit, and also serve as a narrative device for larger themes. Watch Pankaj Kapoor effortlessly move from helplessness and anger over his family's hunger, to the larger thematic failure of his life's journey, and back to current helplessness within a single scene. It's a masterclass in acting. Rao's transitions however, from an ambitious cop dealing with an unusual crisis and opportunity, to his internalized hopelessness due to his social station, can sometimes be jarring. It's a pity, given how he's usually on top of his game.

There's nothing new in Bheed. After the credits start rolling, you will feel you've been looking at an old black and white photograph from a long time ago. It feels familiar, yet distant. Disconcerting, but not surprising. In an age where we have convinced ourselves that the story of India is a brightly colored kaleidoscope centered around bustling metropolitan cities, this photograph is a grim reminder of the past that still lives on for the vast majority as a present to contend with. It bears taking another look.