Awarapan 2 Review:
The thing about nostalgia is that it only works in retrospect. Before getting on with Awarapan 2, I rewatched the 2007 original. The Mohit Suri moper might seem too emo for today but its gloom came from a genuine place of trauma. Criminal and atheist Shivam Pandit (Emraan Hashmi) once fell in love with Aaliyah (Shriya Saran). He was taken by her devotion towards her Allah. He had found somebody to live for, to believe in. But then she was taken away from him, by a bullet that had his name on it. He then walked, lost and listless, on the sidewalks of an unnamed South Asian town, in trenchcoats as life passed by him. Every young guy who had loved and lost felt Shivam’s angst. Every young guy who wanted to feel Shivam’s angst listened to the songs. Heartbreak was now cooler than falling in love. Sadness was aspirational. The angry young man had gone international and he had Mustafa Zahid as his wailing voice.
Directed by: Nitin Kakkar
Cast: Emraan Hashmi, Shabana Azmi, Puran Gabbi, Suvinder Vicky, Vijayant Kohli and Disha Patani
Rating: 3 stars
Although Awarapan came wrapped in the shiny leather of a crime-drama, it had a smoother emotional graph than a seamless thrill-serving plotline. The neon aesthetics were borrowed from Korean thrillers but the drama was desi. The film had a beginning, middle and a closure, and it was no wonder that the sequel’s announcement itself stirred up some feelings.
Awarapan 2 opens with Shivam, still carrying the amulet and memories of Aaliyah. On a visit to her grave, he chances upon an abandoned infant. He names her after his late beloved and puts her up in the orphanage he grew up in. The young Aaliyah is soon adopted but it is then revealed that her adoptive parents have been killed and she has been trafficked to Bangkok. An Interpol officer recruits Shivam to infiltrate one of the two big drug families in the South Asian town, which has been violently taken over by the deranged Zorawar (Puran Gabbi). He has a mentally challenged sibling Sikandar (Aniruddh Rawal), a melophile sister Zara (Disha Patani), and two astute henchmen Jaideep (Suvinder Vicky) and Mehmood (Vijayant Kohli). The other warring family is headed by the Mafia godmother Nafisa (Shabana Azmi).
Shivam soon embeds himself into Zorawar’s gang, Dhurandhar-style, trying to find Aaliyah. The appreciative thing about the sequel is that it doesn’t rely too much on the original. There are no forced callbacks, no nostalgia-baiting tropes. Awarapan 2 stands on its own, eventhough its stance is wobbly. For the millennials there is a lot to cheer for. Hashmi is back in his brood, sporting rexine jackets over black vests. The Bangkok nightlife is gritty, grimy and neon-nostalgic, but what is missing is the depth of Shivam’s angst. An adoptive daughter Aaliyah doesn’t really cut it, but we still go along for old time’s sake.
Awarapan 2 is a more expansive crime-thriller than its predecessor. Not just the central villain, but the other bad guys are also well-formed. Wamiqa Gabbi’s brother Puran is erratic and enjoyable as Zorawar and commendably holds his own in front of Hashmi’s assured glum act. Both Suvinder Vicky and Vijayant Kohli strengthen the ensemble and although Shabana Azmi comes and goes, she still swoops away with some tasteful lines. The sequel has better camerawork, better colours and better lighting but it can’t escape the franchising of Shivam. From a heartbroken hero who gained solace from freeing captured souls, he now seems to be turning into a career saviour who will offer liberation as a service. The angry young man of the 2020s also seems to have an unnecessary shadow on him. Born a Hindu and not assigned a covert mission to Pakistan, it seems odd to watch him don a Pathani while sipping chai. The Hamza Ali Mazarification is complete with him riding a bullet.
Hashmi, however, serves as a blessing for a film which often loses its way. Be it nostalgia, or prowess, the actor is and has been an effortless star. His screen presence only is enough for him to earn that often-quoted Ba***ds of Bollywood line. He carries the essence of Shivam, his pain and sadness but the angst seems to be fading a little. The merchandising of melancholy seems to be in the offing. The first Awarapan made vagrancy a curse, a wound that has left a mark, the sequel flexes it like a tattoo.
