‘Azaad’ Review: Aaman Devgan, Rasha Thadani Film Is Sincere but Lackluster
'Azaad', starring Rasha Thadani and Aaman Devgn, hit theatres on 17 January.
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There’s an undeniable demand for stories that explore the bond between a protagonist and their animal sidekick – ask Disney. This time around, it’s Aaman Devgan’s (Ajay Devgn’s nephew) turn in Abhishek Kapoor’s Azaad. A firebrand stable boy Govind (Devgan) harbours a deep affection for equines but he’s yet to find one that can become his companion.
Meanwhile, tyrannical zamindaars continue to terrorise the people in his village, all while catering to the whims of the Englishmen on their land (the film is set in 1920s India).
People are whipped and dragged behind horses for the simplest of mistakes and many of the residents live in fear of these consequences. As one would expect from the film – considering how predictable the plot is – Govind ends up on a zamindaar’s bad side. While he’s on the run, he runs into a group of rebels (or baaghis) led by none other than the fearsome Vikram Singh (Ajay Devgn). But Singh is not the one who catches Govind’s eye; the latter is transfixed by the magnificent steed the former rides – Azaad.
Azaad quickly becomes the highlight of the film; stealing the spotlight at every turn. And while you gradually warm up to the horse you can’t help but wonder why nothing else is capturing your attention.
The film, taking several cues from Lagaan, has quite the tender heart but it doesn’t do much with it. You spend most of the film waiting for something more to happen. When the script introduces two love stories – Vikram Singh having to give up the love of his life Kesar (Diana Penty) and the slow build-up between Govind and the zamindaar’s daughter Janki (introducing Rasha Thadani) – for a second you wonder if the film is going to explore deeper themes.
I would even forgive the done to death ‘love beats all odds’ metaphor just to have something to chew on. But alas. Both these narrative threads fade into the background, existing solely to give characters context. So when Janki is tortured by the sight of Govind in distress, you get the idea on paper (and because this is Bollywood and we’ve seen it before) but the gravity of the situation doesn’t translate to the screen.
We simply don’t spend enough time with these characters for their chemistry to make sense, especially since the last time we met Janki, Govind smeared her face with colour despite her repeated rebukes.
Soon they're riding horses into the sunset (the horses get a bit of a love story of their own) and almost everyone in the village is acutely aware of this budding romance but somehow nobody takes any active measures against it. If we are to believe that the powerful forego morality to keep the class divide in place, why not make them act in character?
Despite all of this, there is a tenderness in Azaad, carried primarily on the backs of Govind and Azaad’s relationship. There’s an obvious parallel to be drawn between them and Maharana Pratap and Chetak – it’s their story that Govind listens to, starry-eyed, as he hopes to find a ‘Chetak’ of his own.
That’s perhaps also why the script gives Azaad a mind of his own – this is a horse that knows its own strength and forms bonds with the people around him by choice rather than a misplaced sense of obligation. Sometimes he’s even shrewd, if that was possible. Once again, Azaad ends up being the most interesting part of an otherwise dull tale.
Both Devgan and Thadani (Raveena Tandon’s daughter) show promise though this film doesn’t challenge them enough to showcase the range of their skills. Some parts, especially ones that require a quick shift in emotions, seem to put Thadani on the back foot but she quickly covers ground. Devgan plays this role with unbridled enthusiasm which covers up the fact that Govind doesn’t get to do much else even though he has the most screen time.
Ajay Devgn is no stranger to playing the larger-than-life rebel who inspires legends and yet carries a burden he doesn’t often speak of. It’s a very Devgn role and he does it justice. Penty, as Kesar, constantly piques your curiosity – it’s a character that seems to have a storm raging under the facade we see. But she gets the shortest end of the stick in the film, relegated (quite literally) to the sidelines.
Mohit Malik as the zamindaar Rai Bahadur Shatru Singh’s (Piyush Mishra) ruthless, sneering son plays the part in a way that demands attention.
There are sparks of a better film in there – hope that it might take the road less travelled – especially in the way Govind and his father clash over how they deal with their lived realities. Govind idolises a rebel and servitude seems more appealing than the consequences of revolt to his father – there’s merit in both these arguments but the film isn’t interested in the intricacies of its own story.
Instead, all of it, in true Lagaan fashion (without its craft) culminates in a horse race. A horse race that pits power against passion, skewing the odds to favour the powerful and putting the fate of an entire village in the underdog’s hands. To its credit, the race is shot and executed well (as are most of the action scenes) and the last few minutes do up the ante enough to bring your attention back to the screen. But it isn’t nearly enough to save the film.