Although they took Mary Kom out of Bollywood, they forgot to take Bollywood out of it.
When
Sanjay Leela Bhansali announced he would have
Priyanka Chopra play Manipuri boxer
Mary Kom, everyone wondered how the Punjabi actress could ever fit into the frame of a lightweight boxer who was as far removed from your average ‘desi’ as possible. Bhansali persisted with Chopra, and the film they’ve eventually made is a curious mix of blood, sweat, and Bollywood cheese.
Born as Mangte Chungneijang to poor farmers, young Mary quits school and takes up boxing behind her parents’ back. Against considerable odds, she becomes Women’s World Amateur Boxing Champion five times before bagging bronze for India in the 2012 Olympics. In the backdrop of all this is Manipur’s cultural and political isolation from ‘mainland’ India and Mary’s own struggles with boxing after motherhood. One would think this was material enough, when in the right hands, for a fascinating story.
But sports biopics, like any other genre, are problematic for filmmakers. The best ones, which are more than a cinematic summary of an athlete’s life, have a deftness of touch that makes them understated masterpieces (it’s lonely at the top, remember); while the clumsiest are nothing but a rehash of overdone formulas: childhood obsession, disapproving parent, early setback, discipline, inspiring speech by coach... medal! Despite its potential, Mary Kom, falls into the second category.
First, for a movie about punching one’s way out of poverty, the physical process of transforming a raw talent into an Olympic boxer and the consequent ringside sequences are rather limp. Second, in spite of adopting an accent and building up those boxer arms, Priyanka Chopra looks as out of place as Gulliver. And third: in the most critical moments of Mary’s life, the film launches into melodrama and fantasy to save the day. Which begs the question, what did they spend Rs 150 million on?
The positives are nominal: it is refreshing to see a film not centred around malls and fast food outlets. Chopra’s acting, directed terribly and scripted worse, is still above accepted industry par. Sunil Thapa, as her coach, succeeds in looking hard as nails, while the actors who play Mary’s husband and father are not bad, even though their characters are banal.
More bizarre are the blatant product placements, token mention of identity-crisis in northeast India, and the pathetic and contrived ending. The husband, an anomaly who sacrifices himself for his wife’s career, was worthy of more development but is left with no more depth than bubblegum.
It is not often that Bollywood stops circling around its own navel to risk better approaches to filmmaking. That mainstream players like Sanjay Leela Bhansali and Priyanka Chopra were even interested in making this movie is an encouraging sign. But although they took Mary Kom out of Bollywood, they forgot to take Bollywood out of it.
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