With the sheer amount of biopics Indian cinema – or even cinema in general -- has to offer, it is natural for a sort of viewers’ fatigue to set in. The way out, then, is to create a character impressive enough to keep the audience hooked, even as a film plays out within the confines of a well-known formula.
Kabir Khan’s Chandu Champion has such a character as its subject – a man who braved insurmountable odds, his survival almost a miracle, to create history. Khan’s film, starring Kartik Aaryan in the lead, follows the life of Padma Shri Murlikant Petkar (admittedly with some dramatisation).
Petkar’s story, spanning across states and countries, is one that definitely deserves the big screen treatment and Khan’s attempt at it is commendable. The film opens with a young boy watching an Olympic winner be welcomed home with pomp and grandeur, igniting within him a flame to ‘become someone’. And so begins his dream to ‘win an Olympic gold medal’.
But for a young kid who doesn’t immediately strike someone as an athlete, that is already a near-impossible journey. Petkar (or Murli) doesn’t let that stop him though because he truly believes that he is a ‘champion’ (others don’t which leads to the name ‘chandu champion’).
The Bollywood trope of a kid suddenly becoming an adult mid-action introduces Kartik Aaryan. Aaryan doesn’t really look anything like Murlikant Petkar which stands out first because you don’t usually expect that from biopics but maybe that’s not really a ‘rule’ – maybe we’re just used to it happening.
But the difference becomes more obvious because the accent just feels inconsistent – as a child raised in Sangli, Maharashtra who spent his formative years in cities like Secunderabad, some of the linguistic choices make sense but the execution isn’t nearly defined enough to justify those choices.
That being said, this is one of Aaryan’s best performances – his attempt to perfect a determined but stubborn sportsperson’s gait and physicality is beautifully complimented by the stunning cinematography. But in every scene, you are acutely aware of the fact that it is ‘Kartik Aaryan’ on screen when it should have been ‘Murlikant Petkar’.
For instance, when the character smiles, it’s the actor smiling. When he has an angry outburst, it sounds like Pyaar Ka Punchnama. That is perhaps also why it’s tough to get invested in every emotional sequence. There are some emotional moments that do land perfectly – it is after all, a heart wrenching story of triumph over almost constant challenges.
When Murli finally gets a shot at success, the gleam in the actor’s eyes is obvious. When Murli feels his life slipping out of his grasp, so is the actor’s dejection. Chandu Champion is definitely a Kartik Aaryan vehicle.
Segments of the film act as reminders that a majority of the film is taking place as a narration from the man himself. These scenes also serve as a reminder of the fact that Aaryan just doesn’t look convincing in close-ups as an older Petkar – the prosthetics are (pun not intended) in your face.
Several familiar faces crop up as the film progresses and most of them feel like caricatures of characters they could have been. It’s as if comedy actors are asked to ‘do the comedy’ with barely any more shades to them. Rajpal Yadav and Shreyas Talpade both feel woefully underutlised.
The ones that do stand out are Bhuvan Arora as Garnail Singh and Vijay Raaz as Ali sir (aka Tiger Ali). Arora’s boy-next-door charm and Raaz’ gravitas (and the timbre of his voice) work perfectly for their characters. Raaz and Aaryan perform well together though the chinks in Aaryan’s armour become more obvious when placed against a seasoned actor.
Director Kabir Khan, however, does do justice to Petkar’s story – it consistently remains a story about ‘the man’ and his dream. The makers make an effort to touch upon different aspects of Murli’s personality which helps the character become more ‘solid’. Ali tracing Murli’s eye line to a woman journalist he is trying to impress or the subtle shift between Murli’s persona when he acts out of anger instead of technique are little details that make Chandu Champion a better film.
There are some sequences that needed less screen time and others that feel rushed – the past is more enriching viewing experience than the present. The film’s pace makes it easier to digest the comparatively longer runtime. Thankfully, the present barely ever punctures the narrative. A war sequence is shot well but while you ‘hear’ the exhaustion, it’s absent from the actor’s physical presence.
The whole song and dance routine feels unnecessary (while other songs don’t leave a mark) – I struggled to understand why a song about a ‘padosi’ made its way into the film when it did. I understand the ‘intent’ of the song in a group of bachelors on their journey to their futures but it just doesn’t ‘fit’. How much Bollywood does Chandu Champion really need?
I found myself thinking about how brilliantly placed 'Dhaakad' is in Dangal.
But this film is about ‘sports’, at its heart, and Aaryan’s form in the boxing rink makes for easy viewing even as the fights are (often rightfully) rushed. It’s no Iron Claw – there is no deep examination of a character’s psyche hidden behind every bone-crunching punch – but it is enough to keep you at the edge of your seat. It’s also a good detail that Ali’s voice continues to echo through the scenes, as if his contribution to Murli’s success is almost omnipresent like a voice in his head.
It is also interesting that Murli doesn’t always listen.
Where it wins some in its details, the film also loses some. Chandu Champion is, by no measure, a bad film and by the end, it does what a biopic frequently does – it leaves a feeling of pride and inspiration behind.
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