‘Ae Watan Mere Watan’ Review: Intent Doesn’t Always Translate to Impact

'Ae Watan Mere Watan' is streaming on Prime Video.

Sara Ali Khan in a still from Ae Watan Mere Watan.

(Photo Courtesy: YouTube)

From behind a microphone, a woman’s voice would crackle through the radio, “This is Congress Radio calling on 42.34 meters from somewhere in India.” The voice belonged to Usha Mehta, a 22-year-old who started an underground radio station after the Congress party was banned by the British during the Quit India Movement. 

A still from Ae Watan Mere Watan.

(Photo Courtesy: YouTube)

Mehta, inspired by Mahatma Gandhi’s slogan of ‘Do or die’, set out to do her part in India’s freedom struggle even as the British Raj attempted to tighten its control on the country. Her covert radio station broadcasted speeches from imprisoned freedom fighters (including Mahatma Gandhi and Maulana Azad) and was used to disseminate calls for revolution. To encourage people to stand united against the tyranny of the British Raj. Some of the film’s best scenes are the ones where we see the way information is exchanged while there is a crackdown on freedom of expression. 

Mehta’s story is one of resilience, grit, and valour and Ae Watan Mere Watan doesn’t manage to capture the sheer intensity of a story like that. Under Kannan Iyer’s direction, Ae Watan Mere Watan ends up feeling like a great history lesson but not a great film – the production design by Amrita Mahal Nakai and Sabrina Singh and the camerawork by Amalendu Chaudhary are what keep you hooked for the most part.

There isn’t much to fault in the film’s look or feel or even its intent – the flaws lie in the execution. It shifts from one scene to another without giving the audience time to let it seep in. 

A still from Ae Watan Mere Watan.

(Photo Courtesy: YouTube)

The dialogues often feel corny – they simply do not carry the weight of the sentiments they’re meant to portray. Usha Mehta’s fight isn’t one that starts outside her house — her own father (Sachin Khedekar) is a pro-establishment man. A Winston Churchill fan, his ideals often clash with his daughter’s. It’s an interesting premise for any story – the idea of a revolutionary fighting for her country having to justify that fight to her own family. But the dialogue writing doesn’t support this.

Mehta becomes a splitting mirror image of Bunty from Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani; woh udna chahti hai. This ‘radio gives you wings’ metaphor is tiresome. And without effective dialogue-writing, a lot of nuance that is usually present in debates like this is absent. 

The lead performance doesn’t do many favours either. Sara Ali Khan makes a sincere attempt but it doesn’t leave the necessary impact. In the scenes where she is meant to emote alone, it works but her dialogue delivery feels too rote – it’s delivery without subtext. The ferocity is absent. It becomes even more apparent when she is on screen with Sparsh Shrivastava who plays her ally Fahad. He proves, yet again, that he wears his characters like a second skin. His performance is flawless and makes him one of the most interesting characters. 

Sara Ali Khan in a still from Ae Watan Mere Watan.

(Photo Courtesy: YouTube)

But Ae Watan Mere Watan does win with intent; a lot of its messaging is timely. At a time when films dealing with history and politics tend to become (often harmful) propaganda, Ae Watan Mere Watan stays true to its subject. It doesn’t give into the easy path of trying to manipulate the audience or use intellectual posturing to make its point. This is a rare instance of a filmmaker trusting their subject. The film understands the difference between patriotism, nationalism, and jingoism – distinctions that have recently been blurred in cinema. 

Mehta and her companions – Kaushik (Abhay Verma) and Fahad (Sparsh Shrivastava) – are driven by a very simple understanding. They know that whoever controls the medium, controls the message and whoever controls the message, controls public opinion. The film does well to capture why a radio station was such a revolution. It touches upon the way an oppressive regime will always try to control the ‘medium’. The trio laments that news channels are lying to people and the public is buying it, which only makes it more important to get the truth out there. 

A still from Ae Watan Mere Watan.

(Photo Courtesy: YouTube)

Usha also calls out her friend Fahad’s reverence for Ram Manohar Lohia, a founder of the Congress Socialist Party as being ‘andh bhakti’ citing Lohia’s own example. “He idolises Nehru but wouldn't hesitate to criticise him if the need arises,” she remarks. This is a message that the film constantly puts out – the need to question everyone. 

It’s not a spoiler to say that Usha Mehta’s fight with the covert radio was a short-lived one. The movie does well to not portray this as a defeat. Perhaps my favourite messaging of all from the film comes towards the very end – one does not fight a tyrant to win, one fights them because they’re a tyrant. 

With its intent and messaging so firmly in place, it becomes almost disappointing that the film ends up feeling lacklustre. Maybe the film could’ve skated through on its potential for thrill and action – there are enough cat-and-mouse sequences to justify the tag. But even there, the screenplay doesn’t manage to create a sense of tension. It doesn’t help that the film’s primary antagonist, Mumbai Police inspector John Lyre (Alexx O’Nell) looks like a cartoon villain’s attempt at playing an evil scientist – complete with a leather jacket and gloves. 

Sara Ali Khan in a still from Ae Watan Mere Watan.

(Photo Courtesy: YouTube)

Or the fact that some characters end up becoming caricatures – the first two times we meet the radio engineer, he is dancing and having a jolly time inside his house. 

Ae Watan Mere Watan has its heart in the right place and makes its point with conviction but by simply not being impactful enough, it squanders a lot of its own potential. That being said, it’s still not a film I regret watching. It’s refreshing, at this point, to watch a film like this – one that reminds us that dissent isn’t a ‘dirty word’.