Jigra

The clock’s ticking for Satya (Alia Bhatt) in Vasan Bala’s Jigra. Her brother Ankur (Vedang Raina) is on death row in an island nation called Hanshi Dao (a fictitious version of Singapore), and she’s just gotten news that the date of his execution has been expedited for an attempted jailbreak. What was supposed to happen in a few weeks, will now happen in a few days. We see her face computing all possible ploys as fast as she can, and then deciding on a plan of action. It’s not going to be pretty, an accomplice warns, but she’s already made up her mind. The accomplice backs out, telling Satya that she’ll be on her own. “I never said I was a hero. I’ll understand if you don’t wish to join me,” she says, “but don’t get in my way.”

In Vasan Bala’s Jigra (Courage) Alia Bhatt is Amitabh Bachchan. The suggestion seems both foolish and foolhardy, not least because both actors have disparate, almost contrasting, physicalities. They act differently, they react differently. And more crucially, a punch lands on them differently. If Bachchan in his youth stumbled upon being hit, then Bhatt crumples like a paper bag. If the former’s daunting presence intimidates the frame then the latter’s diminutive silhouette makes space for others. Alia Bhatt is nothing like Amitabh Bachchan yet Bala insists that she is, for she has the jigra.

The trailer of Jigra promised a coup too delicious to resist: Alia Bhatt as the Angry Young (Wo)man. At one point, Manoj Pahwa tells her, “Arre, [Amitabh] Bachchan nahin banna hai. Bach ke nikalna hai.” A stone-faced Bhatt replies: “Ab toh Bachchan hi banna hai.” This exchange hides loaded meanings: reverence (Bhatt, the best Bollywood actor right now, paying tribute to the best Bollywood actor of the ’70s), inversion (a heroine playing an anti-hero), and nostalgia (a drug always in short supply). There’s a bit of serendipity, too: the movie’s release date, October 11, coincides with Bachchan’s birthday.

Satya has been running from window to window in the anteroom of a maximum security prison. She’s desperate to see her brother before closing time, but there are forms to fill, procedures to follow. Finally, she ends up at the door to the visiting area, wheezing, frantic. The guard does her a kindness, says she isn’t late and will be let in soon. Satya catches her breath, but can’t wipe the worry off. “Do I look sad?” she asks the guard as she’s about to enter. “Little sad,” he replies in Malay-accented English. She puts on a strained smile. “Now?” The guard shakes his head. “Very sad, lah.”