The opening stretch of Haiwaan is a good way to get into what the rest of the film is like, in terms of tone and treatment. Director and co-writer Priyadarshan (remaking his 2016 Malayalam movie Oppam) gives us an unsettling and intriguing first scene, in which we are transported from an empty jail cell to a large mountain lake where the as-yet-unnamed Akshay Kumar character deposits a dead body in the water.
Straight after this, we are in the family home of Shyam Rane (Saif Ali Khan), where a scene involving a rishta discussion becomes an opportunity for the family to spout reams of embarrassingly expository dialogue. They all but face the camera and say, ‘We are in debt; Shyam owes the village leader money; we have to save money…’
Manoj Joshi, playing the family elder, gesticulates unhelpfully, and Khan looks out of his depth.
Involving Yet Flawed
Pushing 70, Priyadarshan remains untiringly prolific: this is his second Hindi film this year after Bhooth Bangla. And he can still hit a comic note or drum up suspense with aplomb. His undoing, however, is his film’s inability to stick with a tone. Haiwaan, co-written with Rohan Shankar and Abhilash Nair, is never less than involving; yet, ultimately, its laughable flaws win over its strengths.
Still, the film hits its stride pretty soon and shepherds you efficiently past its leaps in logic.
This is thanks largely to businesslike performances from a competent cast, including Shriya Pilgaonkar, Boman Irani (who handles a long monologue fairly well), and the dear departed Asrani. Asrani’s mere dialogue delivery brings welcome mirth to the proceedings.
A Compelling Thriller
A compelling mystery is set up. Irani plays a retired judge who once sentenced to prison a man he knew was wrongly accused. This man, Parshuram, is played by Kumar, who remains a shadowy presence of evil for the most part. Following his imprisonment, Parshuram’s entire family dies in a group murder-suicide administered by his father. When Parshuram is released from jail, he vows revenge and sets out to hunt down the judge.
This story is narrated by the judge to Shyam, who works as some kind of cross between caretaker and manager of the high-rise where the judge lives, where Pilgaonkar’s maid works, and where Asrani’s watchman stands guard. Khan is miscast as a rough-and-tumble Marathi maanoos and son of the soil—he always seems to exude an urban royalty, especially when outfitted in well-cut kurtas, and he speaks not a word of Marathi—but nevertheless, he does well by the character. Shyam is a blind man with a sharp sense of smell and kushti training.
As Parshuram closes in, Shyam must protect the judge’s daughter, Nandini (in Dehradun), as well as the residents of the building (in Mumbai). The various characters all have roles to play that, by and large, meld well with the overarching narrative.
Clichéd, Unnecessary Comedy
The blind man at the centre of a crime scene brings to mind Andhadhun, but there is none of that film’s arch suspense, where director Sriram Raghavan expertly wove a strain of stressful humour into the scenes of murder and crime. For all his technical razzle-dazzle (DOP Divakar Mani has a high old time swirling his camera through water bodies, over mountaintops, and up the façades of skyscrapers), Priyadarshan resorts to forced and clichéd humour in the form of bumbling cops.
Luckily, some of this comedy is handed to Asrani and Rajpal Yadav in a characteristic cameo. These two stalwarts do what they can, but the jokes always go on too long, especially after the interval, where an endless stretch left me wondering when the promised suspense of the first half would return.
The Narrative Wears Thin
The narrative itself begins to show signs of wear. The loopholes that, in the early scenes, I found it easy to overlook soon become glaring. Characters scuttle between Mumbai and Dehradun like it’s Bandra and Juhu.
In fact, the entire city of Mumbai appears to function like a small hamlet where everyone is exactly at the same place at the same time. Parshuram tails Shyam at a hair’s length, showing up even inside the building, but nobody asks who he is. When Shyam is attacked at the busy CST traffic intersection, his friend, Inspector Varsha (Saiyami Kher), just happens to be there to help him.
And finally, we reach a climax where all sense is thrown to the winds. Any pretence at logic and reason that preceded this goes kaput.
Parshuram imprisons Shyam and Nandini inside a helpfully empty school building. Later, he stalks them wearing a nun’s habit. Still later, he hacks at a door as though he is Jack Torrance in The Shining. Eventually, Shyam and Nandini are hiding from him in plain sight on a terrace in driving rain—even though, moments before, Diwali firecrackers had been lighting up a totally dry sky.
It is interesting to see Kumar in a role that is so evil: he gets to growl and snarl and prowl. Meanwhile, Khan holds the fort with a typically assured performance, managing to get past much awkward dialogue. When Haiwaan pits them against one another, it is always nail-biting to watch. But soon you run out of nails to bite.
Haiwaan releases in theatres on 11 September.
(Sahir Avik D'souza is a writer in Bombay. His work has been published by Film Companion, TimeOut, the Indian Express and EPW. He is an editorial assistant at Marg magazine.)