Ritwik Pareek's Dug Dug is inspired by the legend of the Bullet Baba Temple, which is located in the Pali district near Jodhpur. The temple is dedicated to Om Singh Rathore, who, after his death in a motorcycle accident in 1988, became a local deity when his 350cc Royal Enfield Bullet mysteriously kept returning to the crash site. Today, many locals and tourists visit the site out of curiosity and to seek blessings for a safe journey. At first glance, it's a bizarre story, but remember that in India, people light their aarti thaalis and apply tikas to their newly purchased vehicles so that they keep functioning smoothly for a long time. This country is fertile ground for all kinds of superstition, and to an Indian, both the story of Dug Dug and the real story that inspired it shouldn't really come as much of a surprise.
Perhaps this is why I didn't think so highly of Dug Dug. Intellectually, it's merely serviceable and isn't as biting as it wants to appear. When the villagers in the film chant "Thakur Sa ki Jai" and Pareek cuts to a group of goats bleating together, he surely looks clever, but the cleverness is applied to something mild and merely pleasant. In Dug Dug, Pareek charts how blind faith takes the shape of popular religion, which further evolves into a profitable business. Once the bike, which is a Luna here, is placed on a literal pedestal alongside its owner (Altaf Khan), people flock to the spot to offer alcohol in the hope that their desires will be fulfilled by this new god. A man says that he doesn't want his new business to fail like his previous ventures, and...his new business does achieve success. After his story is aired on a news channel, Thakur Sa's temple gains more traction. People begin giving their shops and businesses Thakur Sa's colors (pink and blue) and name, thus giving rise to a Thakur Sa school, a Thakur Sa hospital, and even a Thakur Sa toothpaste.
Did the man's business flourish because he had Thakur Sa's blessing, or was it just pure luck? Did Thakur Sa's devotees become his first customers before word spread to a wider clientele, or did all kinds of individuals visit his shop from the outset? A cop, Pyare Lal (Gaurav Soni), takes his wife to several hospitals in the hope of helping her conceive, but she conceives only after donating a coin in Thakur Sa's name. Did medical science ultimately triumph, or was it a miracle? Pareek doesn't get into extensive explanations. He deliberately keeps things a little vague because Dug Dug is really about the power of belief—Pareek doesn't laugh at his characters. Pareek wants to attack superstition, but he also wants to love the superstitious. This "cuddly criticism" makes for an amusing drama, but it also dilutes the prickly edges. The belief that Dug Dug explores is rooted in superstition, which means it deserves to be deeply examined, not gently indulged. The filmmakers, alas, treat their themes as quirky backdrops, and the criticism that emerges feels generic at best. Moreover, Pareek never fleshes out any of his characters. They are adorable cartoons in service of a wacky, colorful vision. So when one of them starts talking about how his life got wasted, you don't really feel his pain. Pyare's domestic life is also reduced to his and his wife's struggle to conceive. Pareek uses these two dramatic threads as catalysts for his satire. He fills his screenplay with just enough information to convey his specific intentions. Dug Dug, as a result, looks more like a short film than a densely packed feature.
Pareek, however, has a strong aesthetic sense, and he films Dug Dug with great exhilaration. One obvious influence is Wes Anderson, though Edgar Wright's presence can also be felt. Before an inebriated Thakur recklessly drives his Luna on the road, Pareek sets up the world of his film through precise choreography and the synchronization of the surrounding lights with Thakur's movements. It's a dreamy, hypnotic opening, and its spell only deepens when Thakur rides his bike down a road lit by street lamps and the headlights of passing vehicles. At first, Pareek places a halo behind Thakur's head when he starts his Luna. A few minutes later, when his bike crashes and a truck cuts his body in half, the camera lingers on an eerily lit board depicting a magician performing a trick on a body that's split into two halves. The visual foreshadowing is deftly handled. On top of that, Pareek allows his scenes to breathe and play out at such length that the rhythms he generates are bumpy, leisurely, offbeat—all at once. When a cop notices the missing bike at the police station, he takes off his slippers, runs a few steps, retreats to put them back on because the ground is too hot, and then runs in circles to inspect every corner. Along with physical comedy, a feeling of slight tedium also emerges, which makes the scene both funny and rough. Nonetheless, Pareek never comes across as an uncertain amateur. Rather, he emerges as a filmmaker with a dynamic voice forcefully asserting itself. If the intensity of the style had matched the substance, Dug Dug could have been a terrific directorial debut. In its current form, it lies somewhere between a missed opportunity and a promising satire. For all its vigor and intentions, it's ultimately a compelling showreel for its director. Dug Dug isn't made to linger in your mind; it's made to leave you eager to see what Pareek does next. Count me interested.
Written by - Vikas Yadav
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Publisher at Midgard Times