‘Shabaash Mithu’ Review: Mithali Raj Biopic Is Charming When It’s About The Cricketer, But Superficial When About Women And Cricket
There’s a scene you’ll see in Shabaash Mithu where a cricket association peon is asked if he knows the name of any female cricketers. He draws a blank. In the audience, you immediately start counting in your head the names you know. There’s a feeling of shame, of guilt, and the Taapsee Pannu starrer biopic inspires a lot of it. As it rightly should, in a nation that treats cricket as a religion, elevates male cricketers to Gods, but conveniently ignores the women until they win a cup and become temporary goddesses until the Instagram story in their honour expires. It’s a necessary emotion. But should it have defined the film completely, thereby relegating the life story of one of India’s most prolific women cricketers to montages and only a charming first half?
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Erm, yeah… no. Srijit Mukherji starts of the innings on the right note, telling us about how Mithu became Mithali Raj, captain of the Indian Women’s Cricket Team, a leading run-scorer, with more accolades to her name than perhaps any other from her field. But somewhere down the line, it decided to make the film a Chak De! India version for women’s cricket, albeit not with the same impact.
Shabaash Mithu has a charming first half, owing hugely to the child stars who play Mithali Raj and her best friend Noorie. The story begins with a beautiful misdirection when you meet these two girls—Noorie a foul-mouthed, bindaas girl who loves sports, and Mithali, a Bharatnatyam dancer who gets the ‘chaska’ of playing the game from her brother, and her best friend. I loved their friendship, which for women is often one of the biggest sources of discovering passions and reservoirs of strength to sustain these passions. Where would we be without our girls, who motivate you every day, beat up the bad guys for you, and like in Noorie’s case, live their dreams vicariously through you. There’s even a nice little parallel about how women can both encourage women and discourage their own kind, when we see Mithu’s grandmother express her passive-aggressive displeasure at Mithu’s selection and her brother’s rejection by the coach.
All the child actors, particularly little Noorie and Mithu, are the true entertainers of this film for me, tugging at my heart and making me look forward to more of Mithu’s journey, almost a little sad that she’d be growing up.
Then, Vijay Raaz enters, and does what his character promised to do in Welcome, with the trademark Vijay Raaz performance. Sadak se utha ke star bana doonga! And as Coach Sampat, he pretty much spots the naturally talented Mithali during a round of gully cricket, convinces her family to let her play, and trains the little Mithu all the way to the women’s national team. In true Bollywood style, a young Noorie and Mithu, like Jai and Veeru, grow up over one random scooter ride. Taapsee has walked into the pavilion.
Now here’s where the game slides out of the film’s hands. Suddenly the film is not interested in telling us anything about who this grown-up Mithali Raj is, what her strengths are as a player, her weaknesses, whether she has a trademark shot, and what went into making her career bests. It relegates most of these aspects of her game to cheesy montages like the ones you saw in Chak De India during the Hockey World Cup. Instead, this is now a film that has forgotten it is a biopic.
So Taapsee’s Mithali is ragged by her new team players while she is in debilitating period pain, and can’t find her Meftal. The women’s cricket team finds unity in a Chak De-esque scene when the team players are being bullied during a match and they unite to push the gundas out. The journey from Mithali being the rookie on the team to becoming a favourite and then the captain is portrayed in a couple of scenes that tell us nothing about her thought process or that of her team. As captain, she campaigns for better facilities, more matches, and brand new gear for her team that has repeatedly been shown down. She’s met with Twitter troll behaviour from a bunch of misogynist cricket association board members, led by Brijendra Kalra (always so on point, this man). Next minute, she’s rushing home, and you’re wondering whether she left of her own accord, or was sent home for her behaviour, or what exactly is happening here.
Also Read: Twitter Bids Adieu To Indian Skipper Mithali Raj As She Retires From International Cricket, Call It “End Of An Era”
This is followed by another song montage of her doing ‘feminine chores’ around the house, as if course-correcting for choosing a male-dominated sport. When she ‘finds herself again’ and does come back, we’re shooting straight for the historic 2017 World Cup, which really brought the Women In Blue in full focus. But even that is botched by montages. The most defining moment of the protagonist’s career, the thing that changed the course of women’s cricket in India, is reduced to a one speech and montages. Yes, we know how most sports films and biopics will end. But the journey can be made exhilarating, na? I came in for that. But Shabaash Mithu had none to offer.
It’s glaring just how much the film fails to tell the story of Mithali Raj, the person, because it lets the story of Mithali Raj, the symbol overpower it. There are some powerful moments that juxtapose the condition of the women’s cricket team and men’s cricket team. I was angry at the apathy. But I was angrier that some of these scenes weren’t written well to induce the necessary effect. They fall flat or are way too cliché. Taapsee is such a capable actor, but she gets barely any scenes that let her flex her skills and really bring out the struggle of the former captain of the Indian women’s cricket team.
Even the issues highlighted feel like a superficial understanding of the psyche of women who dream big but are held back by a world that won’t give them their turn at the crease. Mithali is constantly reminded of her privilege and told to picture how her fellow players don’t have that. And that’s an interesting nuance to explore for her character. But the exploration, once again, is relegated to stylised montages of the other players, set to music. With a film with a runtime of 2 hours and 36 minutes, it makes you wonder if it’s compressing the critical years and moments into montages, what is it saying outside of them?
The music is quintessential Amit Trivedi, yet average. I’m a little done with songs about sparrow allegories used for women, sung by men. So, can we please retire those, please?
Verdict
There were more shades to the protagonist’s randomly changing skin colour in the film than to her character. Shabaash Mithu is charming in its first half when it is more about Mithali Raj and not telling a universal story about the apathy towards women in sports. The latter story is glaringly obvious. We know women players don’t get equal pay. We know nobody watches women’s sports for the right reasons. What we, or what I, wanted to watch Shabaash Mithu for was to know more about the woman who beat the odds stacked against her, and motivated her team to do the same. I wanted to walk out of the theatre knowing what Mithali Raj’s favourite shot is, what the most difficult match in her career was, and the person behind the cricketing legend.
Telling that story consistently would’ve earned a Shabaash from me. Instead, this was like a career highlights video that you’d see on a sports channel that is paying tribute to Mithali Raj when she announced her retirement. Or maybe, her Wikipedia page. Alas, even women’s personal stories cannot be told without having to bear the weight of the world.
Shabaash Mithu is currently in theatres.
