Maidaan Review

In the 1952 Olympics, India's barefooted football team gets crushed - quite literally - by the Yugoslavians. Next day, the front page of The Indian Reginald reads "Shame!". The suits at the Football Federation of India debate over who to blame for the debacle, but coach Syed Abdul Rahim is unfazed. He knows how to create a winning team - decent shoes, longer training games, and better players - and all he needs is the freedom to do so.

Amit Sharma's sports drama Maidaan is a love letter to Coach S A Rahim, the humble hero of the heyday of Indian football. From the airy board rooms of the Football Federation in Calcutta, to his cozy home in the Old City of Hyderabad, Maidaan follows Rahim through his 10-year run as India's revered coach. By the time he is through, the game that was once territorialized by Bengalis is modernized and opened up to the rest of the nation.

Naturally, the Bengali-dominated babus of the Federation are not happy. Chief amongst the disgruntled is Mr. Roy (Gajraj Rao), a leading sports journalist and owner of The Indian Reginald - a man with a lot of political heft who starts a one-sided rivalry with Rahim.

In Roy, Maidaan finds its villain. He personifies the favoritism and crony politics that (even today) ail Indian sports. But Roy is a rather caricatural bad guy. He bristles when the team clinches a remarkable victory against Australia at the 1956 Olympics, and cheers their unlucky loss at the semi-finals. He carries himself with a peacockish pride, looking down his nose at Rahim and the players. It doesn't take long for us to vilify his cartoonishly evil persona. Although it must be said that actor Gajraj Rao manages to squeeze out a surprising amount of subtlety in his performance. As Roy drinks to India's loss and plots against Rahim with obvious malice, our sympathies naturally lie with the mensch-like Rahim whose only flaw appears to be his chain-smoking habit. When Rahim's wife Saira (Priyamani) asks him to give up his cigarettes, he says that he doesn't have the courage for it, because all his courage is reserved for his coaching. Even his sins, then, are in service to his country.

To an extent, crisp dialogues make up for the shallow characters. Rahim's brevity and wit draws us in. When he sees a player showing off for the ladies in the stand, he asks him "not to try to score two goals at the same time". When he is openly taunted by Roy he quotes Evil Presley. In every squabble, he takes the high road and still emerges the winner.

Rahim's one-note character on the field as a cultish figure adored and respected by all his players is hard to believe. But at least at home, he is portrayed in a more human light. The all-too-brief scenes of his domestic life give us glimpses of his vulnerabilities, thanks to the film's most multi-faceted character, Saira (played to near perfection by Priyamani). She is as disarmingly innocent as she is commanding towards Rahim. And it is ultimately their unassuming relationship that grounds the film and gives it some emotionality.

Another undoubted asset is A R Rahman's evocative score. Reminiscent of the soundscape of the 20th century, the Ghazal-like songs gives the film some much-needed depth.

Like any good sports drama, Maidaan ultimately shines where it counts: the game scenes. These are full-blown displays of the film's technical strengths and production value. The cameras capture the electrifying atmosphere of the game, while seamless graphics depict cheering crowds and waving banners, intensifying the energy on screen to a point where they feel like live matches and not recreations of 70-year-old ones.

Rahim's stoic character plays to Ajay Devgn strengths as an actor. Rahim's grandstanding is hemmed in by Devgn's minimalistic performance. Although on the flip side, Devgn is less convincing in scenes showing Rahim's vulnerabilities.

Maidaan could have been so much more - a front-row seat to the scourge of politics in sports or a more nuanced picture of the Coach Rahim - but it chooses to be an accessible story rather than a clever one. Yet, despite its narrative simplicity, Maidaan succeeds in engaging us with compelling performances and evocative visuals. When the nail-biting finale match comes on, and as the camera zooms around the field like a football and closes up to the animated faces of the players, as Rahman's score ratchets up the exhilarating atmosphere of the stadium, it is hard to not be carried away and madly cheer it all.