With OTT films and shows increasingly being designed as second-screen content, contemporary filmmakers clearly find themselves in a strange, new dilemma — they have to create something different, yet something palatable, familiar, cynically building a narrative around the passive-viewing notion. It was only a matter of time before the audience began tracing familiar patterns in this new form of content. In Gajab Raat, that tinge of cloying familiarity comes with the background music, which is undoubtedly the most generic score I’ve heard in recent times. While the twists and turns might be novel, you never escape a sense of staleness courtesy its background score that deflates the tension. Which is why it’s a miracle that Gajab Raat still emerges as an enjoyable experience overall, rising above these flaws.

Cast: Manoj Bajpayee, Akshay Oberoi, Divya Dutta, Saqib Saleem, Shraddha Das, Nushrratt Bharuccha, Kiku Sharda, Rajiv Gupta

Director: Ritesh Shah

Streamer: Netflix

It’s a story of one dark night, and one corrupt cop who, as we discover, is only a puny cog in the giant wheel of all the power tug-of-war battles that run a city like Delhi. Manoj Bajpayee plays SI Ajay Nirvit, a corrupt cop who speaks many languages and has too much penchant for flirting with women, power and danger. No wonder he is described as the bad boy of Delhi police at one point. Gajab Raat primarily remains gripping and enjoyable because we are constantly second-guessing ourselves about our protagonist Ajay. A man who is equal parts a smooth-talker, a middleman, a cynic and yet morally curious. We know he is corruptible, but the narrative keeps us on toes about the plunges he call fall to. Manoj Bajpayee delivers yet another brilliant performance, this time nabbing the vaguely comic atmospherics of his character and the universe he operates from. 

The narrative too is paced with an impressive speed, and never slows down despite the arrival of newer characters in this chaotic power chain with each scene. And yet, it is also unfortunately scared of its darkness and silence, a limitation that reflects in some of the execution choices. There are plenty of tracking shots which create an immersive atmosphere, but the impact of this visual play is undercut by the flat lighting and as mentioned earlier, the painfully generic background score. Ironically, such a craft puts us in a place of comfort instead of keeping us intrigued about its unpredictability. As a result, Gajab Raat comes borderline close to becoming pedestrian. If it doesn’t, it’s because of the racy narrative that has punchy dialogue, commendable performances and a sense of cruel humour underneath all the power games. 

The writers also lose a sense of priority in the final act, revealing the mystery a little too soon, and making space for a heavily expository flashback that takes up too much runtime without a satisfying payoff. Some other strokes don’t work, like the sentimental scene with the mystery girl’s parents who might as well be begging to the audience to shed some tears. Ajay’s vagary too doesn’t feel earned. The sentimentality goes overboard and appears out-of-place in a cold, cynical narrative like this. But then, as the film proves by the end, maybe it’s about the unpredictable nature of change-of-heart, after all. One never knows when it can arrive, and how it can alter the bloodlines of a system that’s corrupt from head to toe. 

Fortunately, it’s an interesting ensemble around Manoj Bajpayee. We get to see visuals like Saqib Saleem exercising dominance over Manoj Bajpayee’s Ajay Nirvit. Divya Dutta gets a few slo-mo shots before delivering a knock-out in the climactic confrontation scene. Nushratt Bharuccha makes an enjoyable appearance in a cameo, and Rajiv Gupta does great justice to the rustic dialogue-driven banter between him and Ajay. 

Above all, Gajab Raat also works because it captures the crude pulse of Delhi, the mecca of all power games, where everybody knows everybody, because the other reminds them so with consistent, fierce aggression. “Tu Jaanta Hai Main Kaun Hoon? (You know who I am?”) - the much-referenced slang phrase about Delhi - finally arrives in the third quarter of the film, but it was only a matter of time. And after all the endless chain of phone calls and connections, the battle finally boils down to a quiet face-off in a garage. Nothing else would suffice, to restore balance in this universe.