Some films are difficult to watch without feeling a pit in your chest that only gets deeper as the film progresses. Even something as simple as the protagonist walking on a street can instill a sense of lingering fear. Vedaa is one such film. Regrettably, it’s rare to see a film like Vedaa in mainstream Bollywood – an action massy film that places a Dalit woman’s fight for agency and safety at the forefront.
The film’s name comes from its female lead – Sharvari as Vedaa Bairwa. Vedaa decides to take up boxing for safety and the chance of getting a job that’ll help her leave her village. Through Vedaa’s stature and behaviour, Sharvari does a fantastic job of introducing the character to the audience. From having to drink water from a pot kept separately to stepping back in line as men from dominant castes walk into a room, Vedaa sets up its primary premise right out of the gate.
On the face of it, the film feels like an action entertainer resting on John Abraham’s able shoulders but the film slowly reveals more layers as time passes. Abraham is Major Abhimanyu who moves back to his wife’s village after he is court martialled. His brand of ‘justice’ is pretty black-and-white – for him, seeing something wrong and going in fists out and guns blazing are the answer but ground reality is much different. Yet, his ideology is also the same reason he notices Vedaa – the rage and fire in her eyes.
Vedaa’s fight comes from caste and class rage and even her identity as a woman – she and her family are constantly vulnerable. She is enraged by the way they’re humiliated for the simple act of existing in a ‘society’ that is following rules they had no part in writing. Vedaa is a film of good intentions – the makers are acutely aware of the fact that Abhumanyu shouldn’t come across as Bollywood’s omnipresent male savior. Article 15, for instance, had faced criticism along those lines.
Director Nikkhil Advani and writer Aseem Arora make an effort to portray caste-based violence and discrimination without painting the Dalit characters in the story as mere victims. One of the biggest problems with Article 15 was that the characters in the film never had anyone from the marginalised community to look up to; it was always a ‘saviour’ they had to turn to. Here, the film tries, on paper, to flip that script with Vedaa. The only issue then is that it takes too long to get there.
The film looks like it’s operating in two different genres – massy action and a drama woven around the caste system. The action set pieces are all beautifully crafted – and Abraham is the perfect fit for the role. His ever-brooding persona, matched with his physical presence on screen makes it tough to fault the action sequences. And yet, the dramatic bits are where the film’s heart lies. Sharvari is arguably the film’s star – this is a performance that we won’t soon forget. The most arresting part of her performance is the way rage becomes more visible in her physical presence on screen with every following scene.
The issue, however, is that the balance between the genres is off. If looked at individually, the action and the drama are both done well but the mismatch takes away from the film viewing experience. This mismatch is especially evident in the second half when the plot seems to get away from the makers – the balancing act becomes clear to see on screen which isn’t always a good thing.
The primary antagonist in Vedaa is Jitendra Pratap Singh (Abhishek Banerjee) who is the self-proclaimed ruler of the land. But he’s also a politician and cares about optics which elevates the character from just being a one-tone villain. Holding back and making the antagonists not as menacing as they are right now would’ve been a disservice to the film and the subject. Every single cast member performs so well that it’s difficult to find a weak link.
Filmmakers like Pa Ranjith and Neeraj Ghaywan have created a space in cinema where they make content featuring scathing critiques of the caste system and caste-based violence all while balancing the other themes in their films. Even Leena Manimekalai’s Maadathy is a brilliant example of a film that intertwines its themes into a potent, effective story.
If the way people turn a blind eye towards caste-based atrocities because of their own privilege is at the centre of Maadathy, the impunity with which people commit these atrocities is at Vedaa’s centre. Singh’s younger brother commits mindless acts of violence simply because his ‘position’ in society feels threatened by someone from an oppressed caste trying to regain agency and his friends record these acts on camera. It’s a chilling motif in the film – the perpetrator of violence recording proof of it. They act with impunity.
An impunity cemented by the way everyone around them contributes to the existent system – even the cops take their phones off the hook when they know that a crime is about to take place. The discovery of a dead body, for instance, is seen as an inconvenience because the victim comes from an oppressed caste. It’s in these bits that Vedaa truly shines – in reflecting society’s ills back at it without mincing their words.
Vedaa would’ve been a much better film but as things stand, it’s hurt by the execution. Watching Vedaa’s story on screen even as news stories of gender and caste-based violence keep flooding our phones – and as protests continue all across the country – is quite a haunting experience. And that is primarily why, despite whatever rating this movie gets, it’s a film that deserves your time.
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