Readers Write In #662: The Empty Noises Of SALAAR: PART 1 – CEASEFIRE

By Vikas Yadav

During the interviews, actors like Prithviraj Sukumaran and Shruti Haasan described the Salaar set as “real” and “humungous.” Sukumaran even said the structures were so enormous that they dwarfed the cast and crew members. Basically, what became clear is that director Prashant Neel spent a lot of energy on constructing an actual environment. But while watching Salaar: Part 1 – Ceasefire, you, for the most part, believe that green screens were extensively used during the shooting process. Those “humungous and real” sets appear computer generated. Haasan, on a roundtable, mentioned how people worked hard on a pillar to make it look weathered or whatever, but the world of Salaar resembles an HD screensaver. The buildings, the pillars, the chairs simply exist in the frame. The images don’t fill you with awe. They don’t ignite any sort of excitement. Neel shouldn’t have bothered constructing those “humungous” sets if he merely wanted to show them with such an impersonal touch.

The other point intensely discussed during the interviews was regarding the research Neel had done for this film. He apparently has a giant board filled with the history of Khansaar, its tribes, its culture, its currency, and so on. This meticulous research, however, doesn’t look very appealing on the screen (the expositions are exhausting). When we first notice the three tribes (Mannars, Shouryaangas, and Ghaniyaars), their costumes (helmets with horns), as well as those big god-like statues, spark our curiosity. I wanted to know about their rituals, their lifestyle. What food do they eat? How do they perform their marriage ceremonies? What’s the story behind those gigantic carvings? Salaar, though, is conceived narrowly. Everything only services the unimaginative drama at the center (I did enjoy watching the voting process, and that “kite procedure” seemed like a breath of fresh air in this generic material).

That drama gets its fuel from Prabhas and Sukumaran. These two hard-as-a-rock men shower each other with silky tenderness. I liked that scene where Vardha (Sukumaran) comes to Deva (Prabhas) after many years to ask for his help. You notice adorable cracks in Vardha’s tough demeanor when he hesitates in front of his best mate. Deva, on the other hand, scans his friend and understands what needs to be done. Vardha and Deva’s friendship is the beating heart of this film. When a young Deva becomes unconscious after touching an electric wire, it’s Vardha’s hands that bring him back to sentience. There is another amusing touch here involving the waking of Deva’s violent urges. We hear the sounds of an engine when he tries to close his fists. The man looks like a rusty vehicle.

What spoils this scene is Neel’s instinct to underline that Deva, indeed, looks like a rusty engine. Hence, we get a kid who makes this same observation. Then again, what’s Salaar, if not a 175-minute-long, incessant claim that Deva is a maniac, that he can single-handedly beat bad guys, that no one stands a chance against him? This tendency to overemphasize the same point makes Salaar look like an insecure man who constantly reminds himself of his brawny strength. If there is anything interesting in the film, it’s the use of red to signify something of importance. Aadhya (Haasan) wears a red suit when Deva’s mother (Easwari Rao) allows Deva to save her from goons. Later, Deva sends tremors across Khansaar by rescuing a girl in red. Then there are dog-like humans who attack when they see red.

In the end, the viewer comes out of Salaar disappointed. Its villains are cartoonish and bland. Sriya Reddy, as Radha Rama, looks intimidating but is reduced to empty stares. When Neel, in interviews, mentioned that he has given drama more weight, what he actually meant was that he has created an ostentatiously complicated drama that makes you go “meh” as soon as it reveals its secrets. Salaar is riddled with empty noises.