Spoiler-free Alert:
Under its hard, meta-filmic membrane, the film is a tragedy of masculinity. The 'other' male also bears the burden of this historical, proverbial defining criterion. Pain, then, is an external, visible factor fabricated and fixed by hetero-muscular discourses. It is a curse which can only be exorcised by overwhelming the body with emotions.
However, it's a complex film. The hero, Surya, never really 'grows up'. He is a 'painless' man caged within the mind of a fantasy-boy. The bars of his prison are framed by fictions- primarily revenge motifs and saviour complex in Hindi cinema (Aag hi Aag, Giraftar, Paap ko Jala kar raakh kar dunga), and the martial arts of Bruce Lee. To add to this tragicomedy, the nemesis of our superhero is dehydration. He pauses between fights, and drinks from his water-bag, from rain, from the sweat of his red costume.
How do we read his machismo then?
We need not, because he is saved in turn by the rational, liberal, karate-woman Supri.
From Chiranjeevi, to Harakiri, down to the steroid pumping Avengers, this film is an ode to cinematic action, post-action reaction and everything that falls in between.
Abhimanyu Dasani is every child's superhero (read Stuntman).
Radhika Madan is cracking with her martial moves and punches all the soft spots of patriarchy.
Gulshan Devaiya, as the clichéd psychotic villain and the suffering one-legged hundred men defeater, is the 'dangerous' comic relief of this dramedy.
Mahesh Manjrekar, as the progressive grandfather and Nick Fury-esque teacher, is a freaking delight.
The symptoms are right here.
May the men, feel the pain!
Vasan Bala, thank you for Mard ko Dard Nahin Hota.
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