A chill goes down the spine, a lump gets stuck in the throat when Nawazuddin Siddiqui, as Saadat Hasan Manto in Nandita Das’s sophomore film Manto , talks about how we keep laying the blame for everything on the past — 1857, the Mughal sultanate (the Mughal empire) — even as newer chapters of violence keep getting written in the present, newer tales of oppression get added every day to our shared histories, when newer killers keep marching on.
Then there is Manto talking of how it becomes imperative for people to wear mazhab ki topi (religious hat) when religion begins to rule your mind than your heart. He takes a brave, upright stand on the deaths in Partition riots — either everyone’s life should matter or nobody’s should.
Manto’s is a liberal voice that makes immense sense in these turbulent, polarised times. No wonder Ms. Das, introducing the film at its premiere in Cannes, spoke of it as being a response to what has been happening around her. From humanism to freedom of expression, from displacement to Hindu-Muslim unity — her Manto ticks all the right boxes without getting righteous, moralistic or pedantic. An amplification of the voice of a subcontinental icon and a fitting film to represent India at Cannes.
Despite Manto at its centre, the film is not a eulogy. But it is a compelling portrait of the artiste with all his warts — anger, ego, sensitivity, cynicism and inability to take criticism. And also the pain and suffering — for not being understood, for not getting his due, for having to leave a beloved city where his parents and son lie buried, for never being a good husband and father that he could have been. Mr. Siddiqui brings the little details of Manto’s persona alive with a restlessness that seems so well programmed into his personality. Even when he sits across the table for an interview in a fancy hotel in glamorous Cannes you can see the pain swimming in his eyes. Rasika Dugal, as Safiya Manto, is as much to her character born, what with her natural warmth, empathy and strength.
From his love for Bombay and his bonding with actor Shyam, from the habit of writing with pencils to reflecting truths, however bitter, in his works — there is a lot of Manto here. However, at times it does feel that Ms. Das has decided to put too much on her plate — giving a panoramic picture of the literary scene of the times, from Ismat Chugtai to Krishan Chander; giving a glimpse of the ways of the film industry with Ashok Kumar, Jaddan Bai, Naushad et al in frame. It’s these portions which feel too consciously worked at and a trifle weak. Ms. Das also weaves in Manto’s stories while taking us on a walk through his life, in the process complicating the narrative.
At the end you have a long list of characters and some strong actors in cameos, even walk on roles — Rishi Kapoor, Javed Akhtar, Paresh Rawal, Divya Dutta, Tillotama Shome, Gurdas Mann, Swanand Kirkire, Atul Kumar, Neeraj Kabi, Ranvir Shorey. No wonder the festival’s artistic director, Thierry Fremaux, thrown aback by having to read out a long list of names of the Indian contingent on stage, had to rationalise it as India afterall, the most populous nation of the world.
