Homebound, Review: A treasure found

Neeraj Ghaywan took ten years to make his second feature, after the universally acclaimed Masaan. Much was expected from this tremendously gifted writer-director. What will he come-up with, after making his debut with a minor classic? Will he be able to trump Masaan? The answer is yes. He’s done it.

Homebound is at least on par, if not better, than Masaan. It is not entirely an Indian effort, although Karan Johar’s Dharma Productions is the banner, because it also has, on board, Martin Scorsese, as executive producer. How often would you read that credit in an Indian film? Scorsese’s association with the film gives it an extra, international dimension. Don’t wait to read the review; head for the nearest cinema that is screening Homebound. You are bound come out enriched for the experience. It is not the kind of film one associates with Dharma but you never know when a producer will see merit in a screenplay as good as Homebound’s, and back it all the way, to the home of the choicest films of this era, and very likely to stand its ground as the best film of the year.  

Shoaib Mohammed Ali and Chandan Kumar Valmiki, both in their late teens, are best friends, living in the interiors of Madhya Pradesh. They come from very poor families, and are desperate to get jobs that will help them survive, and lift their families out of abject poverty. Inseparable, they decide to appear together for an examination conducted to recruit police constables. A constable, they feel, is admired, respected, and looked-up to, by society, and the police uniform is a symbol of dignity. There are only limited vacancies, and the number of applicants are in several thousands. But the odds do not deter them. It is just their bad luck that the results of the examination are unduly delayed, and they do not know what to do in the meantime.

While heading for their examination centre, Chandan meets Sudha Bharti, who is also appearing for the same exam. He is surprised that a girl is going to another town all by herself, to appear for the exam. But, to his surprise, Sudha exudes uncommon confidence for a small town girl. She strikes an immediate bonding with Chandan, but is not averse to pulling his leg too. Sudha is a student in the local college. While waiting for the results of his exam, and a possible, much-needed recruitment, Chandan joins the college, just to be close to Sudha. Sudha is in her second year, while he is one-year junior to her, and she lets him have her books and notes, to help him study.

In the meanwhile, Shoaib gets a job at a water-purifier marketing company, as a general help. On one occasion, he helps his sales team clinch a deal, and, on another, he manages to sell as many as eight units in a single day, which is almost a record. So, he is promoted. But destiny leads both Shoaib and Chandan to work in a cloth mill, in faraway Surat, where they manage to earn a decent income, and save money, by sharing their rooms with other co-workers. Not much later, COVID breaks out, and the mill is shut. Having no income, and unsure about how long it will take for the mill to reopen, Shoaib and Chandan decide to go back home, 1,600 kms from Surat. The only mode of travel they can find is a truck, over-loaded with workers, facing the same plight. Not finding place inside the truck, they are forced to travel sitting on the roof. When they are just 400 kms from home, Chandan develops symptoms of the coronavirus.

A story like Homebound needed a ‘peer’ to write it, and in Basharat Peer, it found just the right man, who had already penned it. A Kashmiri journalist, he was working for the New York Times as Contributing Opinion Writer, based in New Delhi, in 2020, when he wrote an essay, originally titled Taking Amrit Home, now re-titled A Friendship, a Pandemic and a Death Beside the Highway. It was recommended by producer Somen Mishra, at Dharma Productions, to Neeraj Ghaywan, during the pandemic. Subsequently, Dharma Productions bought the rights from The New York Times. The back-stories of both protagonists were fictionalised. French producer Mélita Toscan du Plantier brought in Martin Scorsese on board, as executive producer. Kudos to Sumit Roy and Neeraj for adapting the story so well, to Neeraj for the perfectly flowing screenplay and to Varun Grover and Shreedhar Dubey for the slice-of-life dialogue, which does not sound contrived even once. Since most of the characters are illiterate or semi-literate, they mis-pronounce many words. Even Shoaib is called Soaib, keeping with their limited language abilities. It is hard to tell that the entire story, including the fictionalised back-story, was not written as an integral whole. Varun had contributed in no small measure to Masaan, and he rises to the occasion here too.

It requires guts and gumption to say it on the big screen that Muslims are discriminated against in our country, as are low caste Hindus (Scheduled Castes). It takes great courage of conviction to include scenes about high caste parents refusing to let their school-going children eat food cooked by a low caste woman, who is in dire need of some income. Why do men of ‘low castes’ not write their surnames after their names, and add just a ‘Kumar’ after their first names, to avoid being found out? Why do employers demand the Aadhaar cards of the parents of Muslim employees, and a No Objection Certificate (NOC) from the police as well, before confirming their employment? Has the situation changed at all, in the last five years, after COVID? The scenario also forces viewers to re-think about the justification of the lockdown during COVID, and the numerous deaths it caused among workers returning home, some walking 2,000 kms to reach home, since bus and train services were completely suspended.  

Like Masaan, there is a lot of heart-tugging in Homebound. Destitution, discrimination, unfulfilled ambition, doomed love, and more. But in the midst of all these tragedies, friendship between the two protagonists reigns supreme. It gladdens one’s heart to see such a pure, unselfish, caring, sacrificing relationship bloom, between a Muslim boy and his Dalit bosom pal. Although it develops some cracks under extreme stress, the rapprochement is just one hug way. Ghaywan, who comes from a Dalit family, moistens your eyes with pity, sympathy and empathy, but elevates your hearts, with subtle touches and deft strokes, defining human values, like familial duties, awareness of responsibilities, and pure, sublime love. As the plot unfolds, you will be hard pressed to find a single shot that is either out of place or is not a direct progression of the preceding shot.

A few things seem to have been over-looked, or left unexplained. How does a truck manage to travel 1,200 kms under a complete lockdown, without being stopped or turned away by the police or army? Likewise, how did a truck manage to travel a distance of 1,200 kms and more, withpout refuelling, when all petrol pumps (gas stations), like all shops and establishments, were shut, for weeks? How is it that Shoaib’s mobile phone is working fine after a journey that must have taken them at least 2-3 days? Wouldn’t the battery get drained-out? Who does he talk to, when he makes the call about Chandan’s condition, and their being stranded beside the highway? Wouldn’t the authorities, if informed about the life threatening conditions, show a modicum of sensitivity, and send an ambulance to rescue the two? We do see an ambulance arrive, ultimately, but it appears as a jump cut from the time when Shoaib is carrying Chandan on his back.

First seen in Iranian master Majid Majidi’s Hindustani film, Beyond the Clouds (2017), Ishan Khatter has come a long way indeed. Both his parents, Rajesh Khattar and Neelima Azim, are actors, and so he could have been helped by his genomes. A soft, vulnerable face, and that half smile, add to his countenance. As Shoaib, and this is no cliché or exaggeration, he lives the role. There is no scope for romance in his life, at least in the time line of the film, and he does not need to have any love interest which would delve into another facet of his character. Ghaywan, cleverly, reserves that for Vishal Jethwa, the parallel second lead, who is billed above him on Wikipedia. The antagonist in Mardani 2 and Hassan Ali in Tiger 3, Vishal is 31, but looks every bit 19-20 year-old in the film. Incidentally, in one scene, when asked his name, Vishal (Chandan) replies, “Hassan Ali”. Ishan is a full two years younger, but has the advantage of a ‘baby face’ to pass off as a much younger man. Ghaywan gives both his heroes almost the same footage and meat, and they don’t disappoint one bit. Vishal is as competent as Ishan, and uses his eyes rather well.

Janhvi Kapoor, who has an almost concurrent release in the shape of Dharma’s Sunny Sanskari ki Tulsi kumari, has a minor role. She appeared a bit tentative when introduced in Dhadak (2018), but has since tapped on her acting chops, which were honed at the Lee Strasberg Theatre and Film Institute in California. With radiant eyes and a longish face, as opposed a rounded one, she stands out among the crowd. Her eyes to much of the talking. At 28, she is the youngest of the three lead players. Amazingly, all three are essaying characters 9-12 years younger than their respective real ages, and all three are totally convincing. Plaudits to the hand-picked supporting cast too: Pankaj Dubey as Shoaib's father, Shalini Vatsa as Chandan's mother, Harshika Parmar as Chandan's sister, and the rest--Reem Shaikh, Chandan K Anand, Vijay Vikram Singh, Yogendra Vikram Singh, Shreedhar Dubey (the dialogue writer?) and Tushar Phulke.

A story that needs only limited music to create or enhance its realm, Homebound has an appreciable score by Naren Chandavarkar and Benedict Taylor, and songs by Amit Trivedi. Cinematographer Pratik Shah must be complimented for some excellently lit top shots. Editor Nitin Baid does a fine job too, except on a couple of occasions, when the cuts and splices seem arbitrary. At two hours, the film is just the right length, with no time at all for dragging or letting ennui to set in. I do wonder why the producers chose to give the film and English title. Homebound will resonate much more in the small towns than in the cities, and they may not know the meaning of homebound. A Hindustani title would have helped the film reach a larger audience. Ghaywan’s Masaan had an alternate title in English, Fly Away Solo, but Masaan itself is not even proper Hindi, being a colloquial corruption of the proper word, ‘smashaan’, or Hindu crematorium.

After seeing the film, when you are homebound, you will stay with the film, and the film will stay with you, for quite some time. If Masaan was a minor classic, Homebound is a mini marvel, a film to treasure. I am allotting the film 4 stars, but I must add that it missed out on an extra half-star by just half a whisker.

Rating: ****

Trailer: https://youtu.be/WojNkusud84