Gondhal is an ancient, night-long ritual and folk art form dedicated to invoking Hindu deities. It's commonly performed as a binding custom after auspicious events like a child's birth or a wedding. Through the ritual, newlyweds are blessed, and negative energies are believed to be warded off. That's good news because negative energies abound in Santosh Davakhar's psychological thriller—and their primary source happens to be inflated male egos that demand respect, oppress others, and care too much about their "image" in society. There is Abasaheb (Suresh Vishwakarma) and his son Sarjerao Patil (Nishad Bhoir), who use violence to exert control over the villagers and keep them submissive. There is Suman's father (Sharad Jadhav), who forces Suman (Ishita Deshmukh) to marry Aandya (Yogesh Sohoni), a union she vehemently despises. And there are all the other men in the village who think too highly of themselves and throw tantrums when they feel that no one is giving them the respect they deserve during the religious ceremony.
What all these men have in common is that they talk about Suman like creeps. They discuss her physical beauty with a rape-y undercurrent, and you can almost hear their inner voices screaming, "God, I wish I could take Aandya's place on the wedding night." The men speak in double entendres, their lines loaded with sexual suggestion. But in Davakhar's world, women are no innocent bystanders. They understand the sexual innuendos and respond to the men in their own language with equal confidence. One of the women says something like, "All the men in the village are hungry beasts," which pretty much sums up the whole thing. Because the men aren't just starving for sex—they aren't just horny. They are also hungry for power, which is evident in the scene where Abasaheb forces a man to sign over his land to him and in the scene where Sarjerao grabs the power he so desperately desires. At least one woman is hungry too, although her hunger is very different: Suman craves independence from the clutches of her husband and family.
Suman already loves a boy, Sahebrao (Anuj Prabhu), whom her family strongly opposes. This is why she has to cook up a scheme and use her feminine wiles to achieve her objectives. She responds to Sarjerao's advances and manipulates him into getting his hands dirty. The fact that all these sexual games and acts of backstabbing happen during a religious ceremony is the big, central joke of the film. Davakhar not only knows it but points it out explicitly when, say, a character rebukes two men for drinking alcohol at the sacred gathering. Davakhar, on the other hand, rebukes everyone on this side of the screen for turning religious events into arenas for ego battles, pride, dirty talk, and gossip. He suggests that the rituals have largely been reduced to entertainment, with people assembling to enjoy the plays and stories without caring about or respecting the significance of the spiritual ceremony. At the same time, with the help of the devotional singing and storytelling that are part of the Gondhal ritual, Davakhar talks about freedom of speech and how selectively it is tolerated. When the performers roast an ordinary villager, everybody laughs and moves on happily. However, when it's Abasaheb's turn to be roasted, his men beat up a performer on the spot. A ruler who violently oppresses his people is both egotistical and deeply insecure, which is why he is so easily offended by jokes. Does this remind you of the current political scene?
Gondhal is a very simple movie that deals with complex issues quite...simply. I mean, it's one of those films where the bad guys twirl their moustaches while the good guy's naivety is reflected in his naive face and almost childlike expressions, mannerisms, and voice. The images, too, place darkness and light side by side, with the movie unfolding over the course of one night. The most discussed-to-death aspect of Gondhal is its opening sequence, which consists of 25 minutes of one continuous take. It's a good technical achievement meant to immerse you in this world, but even with cuts, the results wouldn't have been disastrous—and might even have been the same. Instead of the showboating, it would have been better if Davakhar had given more weight to his text and relied less heavily on his themes and subtexts. A young boy named Vishnu (Dhruv Thoke), for instance, asks a character for money, who then takes him to an older man. What happens between Vishnu and the older man, I think, is meant to indicate that the latter sexually assaults the boy. It's a shocking scene, though what's more shocking is Davakhar's casual omission of the physical and psychological effects of such an incident on the young boy. Davakhar also rushes through major moments like Sarjerao killing his father and taking his place, and the revelation that Suman actually loves not Sarjerao but another boy. This means that you accept these developments as parts of the script's scheme and extensions of the director's message, but you aren't really moved or affected by any of these things.
Gondhal ultimately comes across as one of those movies that are best admired for their "craft" and motives. Davakhar superbly blends the musical sequences with the talky sequences to the point where the lines between the two are almost blurred, making everything flow with a musical rhythm. Yet he isn't able to quite land the ending. Another literal meaning of "gondhal" is chaos or confusion, and this is precisely the gondhal Davakhar builds his story towards—the religious gondhal meets the literal gondhal. It's a neat setup-payoff structure, and this neatness is another reason why the movie feels so sanitized and safe despite tackling such a serious subject. Davakhar smartly lays his traps and waits to spring them later, and while the execution is enjoyable in the moment because of the smooth, fluid pacing and the performances—this is absolutely Deshmukh's film; she bewitches you as soon as she makes her entrance—you do come out feeling as if you've watched a slight, little thriller that won't really stick around in your brain for more than a few hours. Despite its heavy themes, Gondhal elicits nothing more than an agreeable thumbs-up from the viewer. It's fine, it's okay—it makes you want to pat Davakhar on the back for his competence.
Final Score - [6.5/10]
Reviewed by - Vikas Yadav
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Publisher at Midgard Times