VIRASAT (1997)
Directed By Priyadarshan
Music: Anu Malik
Lyrics: Javed AkhtarStarring: Anil Kapoor, Tabu, Pooja Batra, Amrish Puri, Milind Gunaji, Govind Namdeo, Satyan Kappu, Dilip Dhawan, Tiku Talsania, Neeraj Vora
Running Time: 170 Minutes
CineRating: 6.5 out of 10
The conflict between shouldering the responsibilities passed on by one's parents and homeland versus the need to break free from those often stifling bonds in order to establish one's own identity is at the forefront of Virasat, a film that ultimately crumbles under the weight of its own pretensions, but remains eminently watchable due to its glorious cinematography, a nifty second half twist, and an utterly beguiling performance from the winsome Tabu (aka Tabassum Naaz) (Astitva; Chandni Bar).
A remake of the Tamil boxoffice hit Thevar Magan, which was written by and starred the offbeat South Indian actor Kamal Hassan, Virasat casts Anil Kapoor as Shakti, a London-educated young man who returns to the rural village governed by both his benevolent father and less-than-savory Uncle. A bitter power struggle between the two men has led to a stifling environment of hatred and violence. Shakti's father, Raja Thakur (Amrish Puri), has long hoped that providing a western education for his son would allow him to gradually take over village leadership and help reform its old fashioned modes of thinking. Unfortunately, Shakti has other ideas. With his very westernized girlfriend (the lovely Pooja Batra) in temporary tow, Shakti reluctantly confides to his father that he plans to reside in the city and open up a chain of fastfood restaurants. The news shatters Raja's hopes for the village, but he grudgingly accepts his son's decision and convinces him to stay a few days longer. As tensions in the village begin to explode, Shakti finds himself torn between escaping the village's primitive code of behavior or aiding his father in bringing back a sense of peace and prosperity.
Despite a visually impressive full-scale flood scene that occurs late in the film's first half, Virasat's opening ninety minutes are rather clunky and predictable. The story's various conflicts are set up in a very straightforward and overly schematic manner while the movie juggles several genres (rural comedy, political thriller, Bollywood song-and-dance, Hong Kong martial arts) with a less than deft hand. The villains are an overly grotesque lot, and the diabolical son of Shakti's uncle is given little motivation for his nefarious behavior aside from his need to be as evil as possible. There's really little to no suspense as to which direction Shakti's life will take, because the deck has been so methodically stacked against him. Where the film succeeds resoundingly is in Ravi K. Chandran's vibrant cinematography, which captures the allure of the village's colorful settings in all of their resplendent beauty. The song and dance numbers are all quite pleasing be they small, intimate numbers like "Payle Chunmun" or large-scale outdoor dance-fests like "Sun Mausa Sun".
While Anil Kapoor seems to have a tear-filled moment of grief in just about every role he plays, he's also a skillfully understated performer who conveys a palpable sense of decency that works well for him in these type of "everyman" characters. Amrish Puri, on the other hand, is almost always bigger than life with his rugged features, steely gaze, and a gift for blustery indignation. The two actors would later play arch enemies in Shankar's Nayak (2001), which boasts a similar (if much more wacky) storyline regarding a common man who must give up the mundane life he desires in order to assume the responsibilities of government reform. It seems likely that Kapoor's award-winning performance in Virasat played a part in Shankar's decision to cast him over Shahrukh Khan as Nayak's protagonist.
If the first half of Virasat seems to be pure set-up, the second half delivers some highly satisfying payoffs. The most significant is a plot twist that's easy to predict, but no less pleasing for the way it points the story in an entirely new and intriguing direction. The twist allows Tabu's character "Gehna" to go from being an insignificant part of the decor to one who carries the film's stirring emotional overtones in the latter half as she finds herself caught in a hopelessly messy situation but comes to accept it in the only way she knows how -- with a disarmingly simple grace. There's a memorable sequence when the shy and obedient Gehna mistakenly believes that Shakti has touched her bare back, and the way she coyly smiles to herself is both amusing for her naivete but also poignant because we know that the brooding Shakti is coldly unaware of her feelings. When Gehna stoically breaks out into song in order to entertain the competitor for her man's attention's, she turns an awkward moment into one of surprising warmth as a gentle smile spreads across her lips -- the delight of artistic expression transcending the uncomfortable situation at hand. Even moreso than Anil Kapoor's morally enlightened protagonist, it's Tabu's delicately nuanced performance that gives Virasat its redemptive heart and soul.
Alas, some of the film's most emotionally powerful scenes are partially undermined by S.P. Venkatesh's insistent background music, which goes unnecessarily maudlin when the emotions on display already tell us everything we need to feel. Similarly, the movie itself is so determined to convince us of its significance, that it steamrolls to an overwrought and ludicrous finale in which both the characters and story suddenly toss logic out the window in service of heavy-handed message mongering. It's hardly enough to obliterate the affecting human drama that's come before, but one wishes the film would take a hint from its lead actress and realize that less is often so much more.
The Video Sound DVD is presented in an incorrect 1.85:1 ratio. The picture boasts vivid colors, but some scenes are marred by heavy print wear.
DVD Specs:
Video Sound DVD
All Regions
Removable English, Japanese, and Chinese Subs (none for the songs)
Anil Kapoor Filmography
Trailers for Hero No. 1; Judwaa