Bheed Review

Bheed comes with a caption of "the divided crowd" in its title. What struck me as a titling quirk soon came back to haunt me, as the film gives the viewer an uncomfortable taste of just how divisive things can get as we get closer to a societal breakdown.

Bheed is the story of migrant workers in India who realised that they could not survive in the city after the first pandemic lockdown orders were issued in March 2020.

It could be about the young and upcoming cop Surya Kumar Singh Tikas (Rajkummar Rao) who finds that what little power he has means nothing when all people care about is his name, even when his intervention could mean the difference between life and death.

It could be about the overburdened healthcare professionals, who risk their own lives to help people in remote, unforgiving locations, like Renu Sharma (Bhumi Pednekar) did.

It could even be the story of local government officials who are realising just how much they're in over their heads as the powers that be set down orders from their ivory towers, as police Inspector Yadav (Ashutosh Rana) finds out.

Or it could be the upper caste watchman Balram Trivedi (Pankaj Kapur) who is collectively responsible for the safety of his community on their journey home even as he struggles to pretend to be working in a security agency in the city to keep up appearances back home.

It could also be the story of the uncaring and educated well-off urban class and their own personal struggles represented by single mom Geetanjali (Dia Mirza) who realises that the insulation offered by wealth can fail as she races to reach her daughter's boarding school before her husband can in the midst of an ugly custody battle.

Or it could be the story of the nameless woman who cooked and cleaned to feed her alcoholic father and take him back home come hell or high water. Or of the well-meaning group of Muslim people who are vilified by a country that is altogether too happy to blame them for the slightest issue. Or of a driver who ventures out into the unknown solely for an ungrateful else.

It could be any of these, and all of these - and the ones that remain untold. Millions of people, millions of stories - of grief, of pain, of anguish.

Anubhav Sinha has never shied away from making films on tough topics, be it communalism, sexism and misogyny, or race and the conflict in the North East. Even with that in mind, Bheed is a harrowing watch, with its themes of wealth disparity, caste, and the callousness of people in power, set against the backdrop of the first Covid lockdown. That being said, it is also a story of hope, of love, and of human perseverance.

Just like Article 15 before it, Bheed is one of the rare films that are not afraid to mention caste unapologetically and upfront. The lead pair's caste is always on the mind of the male protagonist, who mentions that he thinks twice before touching his partner even today. The protagonist gives out his full name to people only after careful deliberation because of a constant fear that whatever little power (in a social sense) that he worked hard to gain could be undone by the wrong person finding out that his name is not Surya Kumar Singh, but Surya Kumar Singh Tikas.

Unlike Article 15, though, Bheed is not a film about the caste system, which makes its emphasis on caste hit harder. The only problem here is that we felt that it gets too much at a point, especially in the personal relationship between the lead pair - it is one thing to understand that caste can be pervasive and entrenched, but another to view both Surya and Renu solely as representatives of their caste. They are real and living people, not statistics.

The movie's high point is a minor conflict between Geetanjali and her driver Kanhaiyya at the end of the film, a simple exchange about an entitled, self-important person and her employee that maturely depicts neither the woman as a villain nor the man as a virtuous hero - it is merely a moment where a privileged, tone-deaf person is made aware of their behaviour through a simple act of kindness. Conversely, there is a rant about "Incredible India" by a couple of journalists that is extremely preachy - the complete opposite of everything the movie tries to do otherwise.

With fantastic performances by everyone involved, a soundtrack that makes you take notice (despite an extremely dubious choice of background music during an intimate scene), and a thematic choice to film in black and white, Bheed is an easy recommendation. Some of its tight pacing starts unravelling by the climactic scene, and a couple of loose ends should have been tied up - but those are minor complaints for such a well-crafted film. Just be aware that although this is a story that needs to be told, this is not easy viewing.

Finally, despite an increasingly trigger-happy regime when it comes to censorship (the film had to edit out plenty of stuff - even its initial trailer was changed), Bheed takes a defiant stand, which in itself is commendable.