An echo from the theatres

A portrayal of omitted history

Towards the end of Swatantrya Veer Savarkar, the film – which is a breathless tapestry of one dimly-lit scene after another – cuts to a sequence which is prefaced with “Omitted History.” as a subtitle.

My interest in films is no more than an average person, and so the criticality of my review must also be held to that threshold. Yet, I find it not difficult to claim that Savarkar is one of the finest films, of its genre, ever produced in the Hindi film industry.

Amongst the multiple rarest of rare events that Savarkar has achieved in Indian film history, one of the finest is the balance it strikes in immersing the viewer in the circumstances of the subject’s life and educating them of the events that took place around it.

Its substantial use of text to provide context at multiple places in the film is an example: never preachy, always just enough to let the viewer truly appreciate what it is they’re seeing.

In an ideal world, the education would not be needed. In our less-than-ideal world, however, the supplied context is required: most of the events, facts and personalities being talked about in the film are, at best, faintly remembered as names of roads and public squares, that too by very few . They are, when taken together, “omitted history” indeed.

The most surprising aspect of the film for me – also what qualifies it for the most superlative praise – is its own craft. It is, truly, an astounding piece of cinema in the modern Hindi film context. I haven’t seen any contemporary biography be able to even begin to compete with the best in the world – and yet, this one at least attempts to scratch that surface.

While not totally fair, for the unfortunate sake of recency, my mind made comparisons with Oppenheimer (2023) and Sam Bahadur (2023). Given the respective pedigree of each of its directors, I hardly expected a first-time director to be able to come far closer to the Oscar winning nuclear scientist biopic than Meghna Gulzar. And yet, Savarkar does it.

If to you this sounds hardly believable, let the verification of this claim be the reason you watch the film.

Its also what Randeep Hooda talks about in this free-flowing Haryanvi interview I watched after I saw the film a second time. I hadn’t seen any of his interviews till that point since to me it seemed – based on headline-skimming – as if he was complaining about audiences not rewarding his effort. However, to his credit, he does of none of that. The only complaint is about all his effort into making Savarkar a good film being overlooked by the political controversy surrounding it – amplified due to the coincidental timing with national elections in India.

Poetic irony that much like its subject, the film will, perhaps, remain unappreciated while it is contemporary.

The lesson from Savarkar’s life, which offers hope for the film and partly motivates the publishing of most of my writing, is that one must continue to persist. If there is honesty of purpose in effort, generations post will discover it, and honour it. With interest.

The opportunity to go watch in the theatre – where cinema of this quality is best experienced – a film which will almost certainly be discussed for generations does not come often. Take it, or lament.

P.S.: If you’ve seen the film or don’t plan to: The “Omitted History” which the penultimate sequence of the film talks about is the Indian Naval “mutiny”. You’ve probably never heard of it.

P.P.S: To serious students of Indian history, the recommendation will be to head to Vikram Sampath’s books on Savarkar. However, for everyone else with even a passing interest in knowing: a viewing of this film is mandatory. It does not disappoint.