Gangster-e-Azam of sorts

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It’s vaultingly ambitious. Striving to be a Gangster-e-Azam, it’s set against the backdrop of the Dhanbad coalmines from the British Raj era and India’s Independence to the reign of the saas-bahu soapy serials.

In an extensive prologue — using strong black-and-white images as well as documented archival footage — co-writer and director Anurag Kashyap’s Gangs of Wasseypur, instantly challenges the viewer’s expectations. Evidently, Kashyap is determined to narrate his sprawling epic of the Bihar-Jharkand badlands, without making compromises or catering to the conventional formulae which skim over the historical backstory.

Now, this turns out to be a strength as well as excessive self-indulgence. Result: you respond to this crime epic with mixed feelings. There are several lacerating sections and insightful moments, marred fatally alas by a tortoise slow place, repetitive points, an overload of information. And above all, constant meanderings from the kernel of the plot — which is one man’s thirst for vendetta against a portly patrician, who exterminated his father. Bachchanesque boombat? Yes, of course but to stress that he cares a damn about plot echoes, Kashyap even foists in a sequence from Trishul. Cool?

The fact that he’s been weaned on Bollywood — who hasn’t? — is constantly blared by Kashyap, what with overt references also to Mithun Chakraborty’s Kasam Paida Karnewalle Ki and Sanjay Dutt’s Khal-nayak. And for some new-age eclecticism, there’s the influence of Martin Scorsese (note a silent instead of the jabberwocky gun-salesman from Taxi Driver), Francis Ford Coppola (The Godfather, unavoidably) and Quentin Tarantino (the camera dwells on blood splashes, a chopped finger). The director has never shied away from a massive body count, particularly in Gulaal and Black Friday, which like it or not were far more accomplished works from the rule-bender. Dev D rocked big time too.

For sure Gangs of Wasseypur is far more lavishly funded, and indeed, turned out to be five-hours-long once the shoot was completed. The second-part promises that there will be bloodshed again — a marketing device initiated by Ram Gopal Varma’s Raktacharitra, which alas didn’t pay off, commercially or creatively. Be that as it may, you’re not sure if your appetite is whetted for some more sauce on the black rocks.

The dramaturgy of the revenge saga moves so lurchingly that you aren’t left with a coherent story but with random images. Once the black-and-white history lesson has ended, and the son of the slain bandit Shahid Khan (Jaideep Ahlawat) has sprouted into Sardar Khan (Manoj Bajpayee), a taqla rahoonga kasam paida karnewalle ki, there’s much shootin’, swearin’, cussin’ (“bho…” and “chu….” words are favoured over the usual mc-bc). The opponent gang is headed by a poker-faced but fearsome Ramadhir Singh (Tigmanshu Dhulia), who for some reason is always berating his burly-but-blundering son. Quite a baap rap this.

Come to think of it, baldish Sardar Khan could wipe out the all-over-the-place Ramadhir Singh quite easily, but no, there are manic miles to go yet. A Muslim faction adds to the convoluted proceedings. And woohoo, there’s a Mandakini-like sexy interlude featuring bare-chested Sardar Khan bathing under tap-water.

Bathing Khan is quite a womaniser, leading to a permanent consortium with a woman (Reemma Sen) impressed by his physique. Meanwhile, the Khan’s feisty wife (Richa Chadda), who already has three kids — though you see only two — is mad as hell and won’t take it anymore. His brothel visits were okay, but that bare-chest-crazy souten? No way.

The unrequited vendetta does take long — striking a record of sorts in Indian cinema history. Dear Sardar Khan’s sons grow up and also get inducted into criminal deeds. That’s it… this is what you can truly figure at the end of some two hours and 40 minutes — which intermittently lull you into a snooze or electrify you with audacious technical and story-telling flourishes. The dialogue is crude though funny occasionally — like that line about finding light in darkness by fixing a bulb into one’s bum. Ha ha or should that be…oof?

Sneha Khanwalkar’s music score is unusual, rooted in the soil, and constantly creative.

Of the cast, Jaideep Ahlawat strikes a super-strong screen presence. Piyush Mishra is believable. Nawazuddin Siddiqui smoulders expertly. Richa Chadda is first-rate, using her eyes and voice as sharp lethal weapons. Manoj Bajpayee is bankably life-like and controlled. No one could have done as much justice to a role of complexities.

Okay, so despite an outstanding ensemble cast and quite a few other merits, why does Gangs of Wasseypur leave you dissatisfied? Three main reasons: it’s too lengthy, too distracted and much too full of violence and fury signifying nothing.