In the run-up to its release, Maalik has been promoted as a gangster film with a difference. Gangster film? Yes. With a difference? Not really. The Hindi heartland setting — this time (like all other times) it is Uttar Pradesh — is familiar. So are the players — corrupt politicians, kingmakers, cops without scruples, dime-a-dozen goons....The trajectory of its protagonist-cum-antagonist is, unfortunately, as old (and cold) as the gangster genre itself. With so many seen-there-watched-that elements, Maalik only works in bits and spurts, grounded as it is by a strong, fiery against-type turn from Rajkummar Rao.
Rajkummar, with one of his earliest roles being a bit part in Anurag Kashyap’s landmark gangster outing Gangs of Wasseypur, plays a farmer’s son who lets go off the football at his feet and picks up a gun in his hand when his father (played by Rajendra Gupta) is assaulted by a local goon. Driven by the belief: “Maalik paida nahin huye toh kya, bann toh sakte hain”, Deepak soon becomes ‘Maalik’, with director Pulkit not willing to devote any time into tracing how a simple college boy becomes Allahabad’s most dreaded gangster. Despite its long runtime — 152 minutes feels extremely stretched — Maalik doesn’t spare much time or thought for any other details as well, and operates on a superficial level, with the action, though gory and visceral, quickly slipping into repetitive territory.
The film kicks off with a face-off between Maalik and top cop Prabhu Das (Prosenjit Chatterjee). Maalik, holed up in a hideout, is counting his last few breaths but is not willing to go out without a fight. As an armed posse of cops inches close, Maalik starts firing on all cylinders, giving us one of the film’s most cinematic moments, framed compellingly by Anuj Rakesh Dhawan’s lens.
We then rewind a few years. Maalik’s rise to infamy takes place in the 1980s, but barring the presence of a few Maruti Omni vans, a rundown Premier Padmini drive and the absence of cell phones, the production design of the film doesn’t do the potent era it is set in much justice. Maalik operates in eat-sleep-kill-repeat mode, hiding on the terrace of a different house every night to evade the cops. When he does come home, it is to be berated by his father for his unlawful ways and to coochie-coo with his wife Shalini (Manushi Chhillar, with an enviable collection of blouses). Shalini is described as ‘Maalik ki maalkin’, but the way he speaks to her — especially when she tells him to surrender and start afresh — feels like a father pretending to be sweetly patient with his kid, coaxing her to buy a less expensive toy rather than the pricey doll house she has set her eyes on.
It is a baby on the way (real meets reel in a meta way for Rajkummar, who has just announced he is about to become a first-time father) that makes Maalik want to change his mind. But an age-old trope — The Godfather, Sarkar, et al, we are looking at you! — comes in the way and sets him on the path of revenge instead. Trying to tame the Frankenstein’s monster that they have created themselves are some of the film’s better actors, including Saurabh Shukla, Saurabh Sachdeva and Swanand Kirkire. Their ability to make even ’80s masala dialogues like: “Bawaseer pe baithe ho, phat ke pyjama laal ho jayega”, not feel cringe-y is laudable.
Maalik follows a predictable path there on — punctuated with a few interestingly-mounted moments — but the twist at the tail isn’t something that will make you gasp. In fact, if you have watched enough of Bollywood, it is par for the course. Maalik ends on a note that hints at a sequel, but for that, the makers need to have a story to tell. This one doesn’t have one beyond a few lines.
In the last week or so, there has been outrage surrounding Prosenjit asking a journalist why she was posing a question in Bengali (as opposed to Hindi or English) at the trailer launch of Maalik in Mumbai. Social media wrath has taken the shape of posts, memes and Reels, demanding an apology from the actor for ‘insulting’ his mother tongue. Prosenjit plays Maalik’s most diabolical character, with shades of grey lending layers to a part that he essays with both honesty and heart. His Prabhu Das organically breaks into Bangla in quite a few scenes, forcing a character to even chide him once. The moment melted quickly. I smiled much longer.