Battle cry, Jai Bhim!

Illustration/Uday Mohite

There is no doubt that Jai Bhim, now streaming on Amazon Prime Video, is a powerful, important film, that discusses caste atrocities, especially those perpetrated by the police and lawyers. The film, directed by TJ Gnanavel, top-lining Tamil star Suriya, has been produced by Jyotika and Suriya's 2D Entertainment. Made in Tamil, it has been dubbed in Hindi, Telugu, Malayalam and Kannada. Caste atrocities are a horrific Indian reality, and the more films and awareness they generate, the better. Jai Bhim, though, is what the Tamilians call a "massy" film, with a saviour hero, simplistic good and evil characters, gruesome violence, and high decibel wailing and music, aimed to wring your guilt and sympathy.

Jai Bhim is a courtroom drama about Rajakannu (K Manikandan), an Irula tribal (traditional snake catcher), whom police arrest in a theft case, even though he was not in town that day. His pregnant wife Sengani (Lijomol Jose) is desperate to find him. Brutally tortured in police custody, he "disappears," whereas the police insist he escaped from custody. Thanks to a saviour-lawyer and Communist sympathiser Chandru (Suriya), Sengani files a case that exposes multiple police caste atrocities. Spoiler ahead: Refusing a police bribe to withdraw the case, she gets the police convicted and later, is even allotted a house. Spoiler ends. Lacking identity and caste cards, and proof of address, many marginalised communities are unable to benefit from welfare schemes. The film is inspired by the work of Justice K Chandru, former judge of the Madras High Court.

Tamil mainstream cinema, in general, is among the loudest of Indian cinemas, with Telugu cinema coming close; there are also quiet, yet powerful Tamil indie films like Koozhangal (Pebbles), and Nasir, both on marginalised communities, of course. Insecure as storytellers, mainstreamwallahs often explain a point in six different ways and are still not sure if the audience has got it. In Jai Bhim, Rajakannu is tortured in police custody: he is thrashed with a lathi till he bleeds; his hands and legs are strung by ropes; a cop stands on a lathi placed on his flattened knees; they smash his head on the wall; they kick him on the chest with boots; they apply green chilli paste to "cure" his wounds and, when he falls unconscious, they put red chilli powder in his eyes to see if he revives. Of course, all this may be factual, but the question is, how is it depicted, and whether you can move an audience even without an endless checklist of sins.

Jai Bhim is writer-director TJ Gnanavel's second film, after the rom-com Kootathil Oruthan (One in the Crowd). Suriya is effective as the lawyer, as are Jose and Manikandan, though all are asked to perform at a high pitch. Gnanavel's screenplay has drama (note that marvellous scene where Sengani refuses the police jeep ride home, which cravenly follows her to her hut); but it may have benefited from a lower pitch overall, and fleshing out characters beyond stereotypes (the Irulas are all good and kind, but victims; almost all the police are evil; the lawyer is a messiah).

SR Kathir's workman-like cinematography also worshipfully circles Chandru, while Philomin Raj's editing, at 2h 43min, could have been tighter. Jai Bhim is a welcome addition to the body of Tamil films addressing the rights of marginalised communities, encompassing Dalits, including Pa Ranjith's remarkable work - films he has directed (including Kaala and Sarpatta Parambarai), produced through his Neelam Productions (Pariyerum Perumal, Seththumaan), the Casteless Collective music band he has backed, and more; Vetri Maaran's Visaaranai and Asuran, Mari Selvaraj's Karnan and many others.

Indeed, there is a long history of Indian films on caste issues - massy, arthouse, and in between - all valuable in their own ways. These include Shyam Benegal's Samar (Hindi), John Abraham's Agraharathil Kazhuthai (Donkey in a Brahmin village, Tamil), BV Karanth's Chomana Dudi (Choma's Drum, Kannada), Nagraj Manjule's Sairat (Marathi), Bikas Mishra's Chauranga (Khortha), and Anand Patwardhan's documentary Jai Bhim Comrade. In fact, I had curated many of these films for The Die is Caste, a package of films and live music performances exploring caste issues, for the Kochi Muziris Biennale in 2017. Sairat, in defiant "masala" mode, is no less powerful than the b/w classic Chomana Dudi.

Moreover, Suriya's 2D Entertainment donated R1 crore to an Irula education trust on the eve of Jai Bhim's release, and apparently by coincidence, in the week of the film's release, Tamil Nadu chief minister MK Stalin also distributed electoral identity cards, ration cards, community certificates and house documents to members of the marginalised Irula and Narikurava communities.

Meenakshi Shedde is India and South Asia Delegate to the Berlin International Film Festival, National Award-winning critic, curator to festivals worldwide and journalist.
Reach her at meenakshi.shedde@mid-day.com