Sherdil: The Pilibhit Saga movie review: Pankaj Tripathi satire is mostly toothless

It’s helpful that Neeraj Kabi is sporting dreadlocks in Srijit Mukherji ’s Sherdil: The Pilibhit Saga, because barring that detail, most might confuse his characters in this and Amit Masurkar ’s Sherni – which released almost exactly a year ago. Kabi’s roles in the two films might seem polar opposites on paper, but the closer one looks the more similar they seem. One is a forest officer hardened by bureaucracy, who has long moved on from his role as a ‘conservationist’. The other is a poacher, who philosophises like a poet on substances. One of the most exciting actors working today, Kabi has been lately caught up in a series of not-so-imaginative casting choices, and therefore not been as memorable in his last few films. In this film, he dons a clunky name: Jim Ahmed, effortlessly recounting legends of Jim Corbett (whose name he inherited) and drones on about the man vs wild conflict, and the human species’ “place” in the food chain. Srijit Mukherji’s film is based on real-life reported incidents from 2017 in the Pilibhit region, where desperate elders of the village would ‘volunteer’ to get mauled by tigers, so that their families can collect the compensation. A fertile premise on its own, Mukherji’s film might remind a few of Peepli Live . While Anusha Rizvi ’s 2010 film still qualifies as a biting satire on poverty in rural areas, Mukherji’s follow-up is mostly toothless with a spark here and there. [caption id=“attachment_10838891” align=“alignnone” width=“640”] Pankaj Tripathi and Neeraj Kabi in a still from Sherdil[/caption] Like most people in Hindi cinema today, even Sherdil over-relies on Pankaj Tripathi ’s ease in front of the camera. Sportingly playing a bumbling sarpanch of a village, where the crops are being destroyed by wild animals on the prowl, and thus many villagers are starving to death. When he tries to apply for relief funds, he’s scared away citing the paperwork required, and also intimidated with digital jargon about the long chain of paper-work required to release funds. Tripathi’s Gangaram, despite playing up the appearance of a less-than-bright man, picks up that it’s foolish to expect any kind of help from the government of India. So, he devises a “scheme” of his own. Noticing a flyer in the government office about the compensation for a farmer mauled by a tiger, Gangaram puts two and two together and decides he will be a martyr for his people. Mukherji takes this promising premise and suspends it mid-air like it is a wildlife documentary. This is unless he wants to wax eloquent in front of his audience, in which case either Gangaram or Jim (they meet around the halfway point into the film) suddenly start to sound more profound than usual. It’s especially jarring in the case of Tripathi’s Gangaram, who plays the fool for such a long time that we even forget what a perceptive actor he can be during the littlest of moments. Sayani Gupta is tasked with the thankless role of playing a generic ‘firebrand’ village belle role, who despite a surprising number of scenes (compared to her counterparts), isn’t given shades or layers as a person. She’s either the better half, who snaps at her husband’s fool-hardy political ambitions, or she’s the one teasing him about his inadvertent exploits. Tripathi is reliably solid even when Mukherji is running on fumes, and resorts to bleeding heart sentimentality towards the end. The making of a film within the film is the smugness that one has earlier seen in Mukherji’s other films (especially the Bengali ones) too, where the director seems to be winking at his audience while suggesting “Look, so meta…” The satire towards the end does seem forced and heavy-handed, as Tripathi goes through the motions in the final scenes. Without necessarily the charm of a Panchayat or the straight-forward sincerity of a Sherni, Sherdil begins to feel like neither here, nor there. Not nearly as provocative to be a memorable satire, nor as dramatic to be meditation on the man vs wild conflict. The film ends up being a version of a ‘state of the country’ conversation in a party taking place in Mukherji’s living room. The self-seriousness and the nobility cannot be doubted here, but it’s also just… talk. Sherdil is playing in cinemas.

Tatsam Mukherjee has been working as a film journalist since 2016. He is based out of Delhi NCR. Read all the  Latest News ,  Trending News ,  Cricket News ,  Bollywood News ,  India News  and  Entertainment News  here. Follow us on  Facebook ,  Twitter  and  Instagram .