Review: I Watched Sanju Without Knowing Anything About Sanjay Dutt

I didn’t know much about Sanjay Dutt, the life that he led or his link to the 1993 Bombay blasts.

Going to watch Ranbir Kapoor-starrer Sanju with as little prior knowledge as I had about the actor's life is a different experience. The 19-year-old me had no pre-conceived ideas or interpretations of Dutt's actions, the life that he led or his reported link to the 1993 Bombay blasts.

So here are my takeaways, some biographical, some filmi, on Rajkumar Hirani’s (it was in the end credits, that’s how I know!) latest film. PS: SPOILERS AHEAD, in moderation

Ranbir Kapoor

Undoubtedly the star of the show, Ranbir Kapoor's performance in this one is inimitably special; he becomes Sanju through and through especially in the later years. Memorable, and raising the bar for any biopic portrayal, we can see the deconstruction and reconstruction of Sanjay Dutt better than probably the real one could have played it.

Rajkumar Hirani’s genius comes through in balancing Ranbir’s style and the character he portrays. Ranbir straddles the line very well and I’m convinced he must have worked hard to get the nuances of his role.

My one complaint was in the scenes with the younger Sanju, especially the sober, regular ones, I saw Ranbir completely – but that might be because I have no inkling of what Sanjay Dutt was like in his youth.

(Maybe Real?) Friends and Family

Jim Sarbh’s character is the one we meet first, and he is Sanju’s fastest friend in Bombay. Zubin introduces the young Dutt to cigarettes and drugs, which Sanju takes to escape his father’s heavy, moralist shadow that influences the rest of his life. It’s a slick part and is portrayed faithfully if not spectacularly.

Vicky Kaushal’s adorably loveable character Kamlesh is well written and well-acted, and unlike Sunil Dutt's character, Kamlesh escapes being holier than thou, with his own quirks and flaws, most often his stubbornness.

Dutt’s wife becomes a pillar of support, and Dia Mirza does her I-need-to-look-serious-now parts fairly well.

Manisha Koirala’s role as Dutt’s mother, Nargis, is brilliant – the vitality of the actress is in stark contrast with Paresh Rawal’s stoic, helpful but ultimately bland portrayal which reveals why the young man was attached to his mother.

Flying High

via GIPHY

The first biographical chapter begins with Sanju's acting career (with Rocky) and his phase as a drug addict; the explanation for one is his father’s indulgence, for the other, his father’s neglect. The scenes that chronicle Sanjay Dutt's nightmare with drugs are entertaining but look visually overproduced.

Some of them hit the spot though – the bathroom scene between a drugged Ranbir and a wedding-ready Sonam is amazing – and the first half of Sanju is definitely the better one.

The way that Sanju’s life spirals out of control is portrayed in a blunt and realistic manner, as is the grittiness and struggle of rehabilitation. The conclusion of this arc is an absolute delight in its tenderness, though again it treads a couple of steps off its own path and onto that of mainstream Bollywood.

A Tale of Two Halves

The second half of the film deals with the accusations of terrorism that plague Sanjay Dutt; the venom in some scenes surprised me. The time in between his escape from drugs to his new problems passes quick. Dutt suddenly becomes very (very) jacked and there’s little mention of any acting he does. The film becomes a little too melodramatic and it becomes obvious that the creative minds are comfortable about admitting to Sanju taking 30 kinds of drugs, but not even a whiff of 1993 must stain him.

In fact, the tone of the second half is apologist for Dutt’s actions. We are given evidence that tries to tell us it wasn’t his fault – his troubled relationship with his father, his struggles in jail, and his willingness to listen to his father’s advice to stay on the right path. It seems as if the hard-hitting first half is compensating for the second. A proactive Sunil Dutt reverses his previous delay in rescuing his son, and the media is responsible for all of the problems that “Baba” is dealt with – the exoneration is extreme.

Although I went in with absolutely no inkling of the actor’s guilt, it seems as if Hirani is purposely trying to wash away any notions of wrongdoing that the audience associate Sanjay Dutt with.

Father-Son Relationship

A bond that deepens as the story goes on, we begin to see how much of a presence Sunil Dutt became in the latter stages of his son’s life. The second half becomes a paean to his father. Sanju tells his children to emulate his father, and not him.

Taking an active interest in his life after Kamlesh’s earnest (and drunk) request to save his son, Rawal’s character gains strength and gravitas; I’m convinced that by the end, Sanju loved his father deeply.

What takes away from this is the media bashing that takes place in the last 15 minutes of the film, which dilutes the emotional aftertaste of Ranbir circling the body of his father at his cremation.

I would really recommend a watch to absorb a very good piece of cinema.

Sanju is genuinely a film that takes you in and suspends disbelief for the most part. The script uses Sanjay Dutt’s life remarkably well and is tightly wound, with masterful pathos and humour. If you’re expecting a biopic that informs you about who the man is, you will be disappointed: the director and writer only concern themselves with rearranging the juicy bits of Dutt’s life, his drugs and his guns, into a rosy, recognisable jigsaw from the reams of conjecture that have been printed.