‘The Accidental Prime Minister’ review: It’s not all about loving the family

A still from ‘The Accidental Prime Minister’   | Photo Credit: Special Arrangement

There are some films which leave you at a loss for words. Not because they are overwhelmingly good but because they are unfailingly and irredeemably bad. Vijay Gutte’s The Accidental Prime Minister, based Dr Sanjaya Baru’s book, throws light on the dynastic control and power play at the PMO during the reign of Dr. Manmohan Singh. It left me with barely a few monosyllables here and there to describe the dull, tortuous experience.

Characters: Drawn from real life but rendered cardboard flat.

The Accidental Prime Minister
  • Director: Vijay Gutte
  • Cast: Anupam Kher, Akshaye Khanna, Divya Seth, Ahana Kumra, Arjun Mathur
  • Run Time: 110.49 minutes
  • Storyline: Based on Dr Sanjaya Baru’s book, the film tries to throw light on the power play and dynastic control at the PMO during Dr. Manmohan Singh’s tenure

Acting: It’s more about bad prosthetics, terrible hairpieces and awful mimicry passing off for performance. Only Divya Seth looks reasonably human as Mrs. Singh in a parade of puppets and caricatures led by her own on screen husband-PM. And I was always of the firm belief that Anupam Kher could never act badly however terrible be the role. No more.

Narrative: A race through the events and headlines of those years with Sanjaya Baru (an irritating Akshaye Khanna who sports checked suits while looking at camera with arrogance and needless attitude) providing expert comments every now and then. When no one quite wants to hear!

Ambition: To try and do a desi Yes Minister of sorts. In other words, hubris.

Bigger aim: To keep pressing the sympathy button for the nice but weak and ineffectual MMS but bring down the Gandhi family and make a Pappu of Rahul. And then posit the moral of the story at the end: that Narendra Modi is our one and only saviour against “maa bete ki Sarkar”. Tell me something new.

Dialogue: Profound lines like “Politics economics nahin hoti”, “Ek age ke baad daant khane ki capacity kam ho jaati hai” (After a certain age your capacity to take in reprimand decreases).

Production design: Succeeds in doing the impossible; turning the elegant Lutyens Delhi homes and offices into fluorescent kitschy sets.

Music: A strange “Har ghadi badal rahi hai roop zindagi” kind of tune playing on and on to underline the bro-code of MMS and Baru. Did I miss some deeper meaning here?

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Printable version | May 12, 2021 8:46:00 PM |

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