‘Chamkila’ dazzles, no dispute here

Nonika Singh

Can a two-hour-25-minute film decode the phenomenon that was Amar Singh Chamkila, the Punjabi singer who rose and died like a shining star? Can the maker Imtiaz Ali, whose understanding and depiction of Punjab has always been on point, achieve that goal? Can Chamkila ever be exonerated of the perceived ‘crime’ of singing vulgar songs? These are complex questions, the answers to which are as complicated as Chamkila’s life and death.

Imtiaz Ali, who along with his brother Sajid Ali has written the story, addresses the elephant in the room. The controversy surrounding Chamkila’s lewd lyrics is almost a leitmotif here. For isn’t it commonly believed that it was his choice of songs which led to his killing in 1988 in full public glare? Instead of building a start-to-finish graph, the very first scene deals with his tragic death. We see him, his wife Amarjot Kaur and two other members of his band being gunned down point-blank by unknown assailants. Hereafter, the narrative moves back and forth to tell the story of one of Punjab’s most successful singers. Pieces of his life from childhood, from wherein perhaps came the genesis of what he wrote and sang, are recreated. The director speaks to us through several voices. At the surface level, people talking about him while his body lies in the adjoining room may seem like an undesirable artifice. But this cinematic device is in a way a social post-mortem of the legendary singer, loved and censured in equal measure.

While Imtiaz tries to strike a balance between arguments on both sides, clearly his gaze is more than empathetic as he recounts his triumphs, trials and tribulations.

Those well versed with Chamkila’s journey do not get any more facts beyond what is already in public domain. Despite familiar referral points, Imtiaz manages to take us into the mind and heart of Chamkila. What emerges is a touching portrait.

Diljit Dosanjh as Chamkila is truly a revelation. Downplaying the superstar that he is, he gets the demeanour and soul of yet another singing superstar with remarkable felicity. He makes a greater impact in the initial part as this diffident young man, coming from nowhere, trying to make a mark in the field of music. As a successful Chamkila, at times it’s hard to forget who he is. Yet, he slips into his character with an earnestness that defines both his real and reel persona.

Gifted actors like Samuel John as Chamkila’s wayward father stand out even in limited screen time. Parineeti as Amarjot is apt and fits the role of an impish singer of rural heartland who follows her heart and her man, even after she learns that he has a wife tucked somewhere. Anjum Batra as Kesar Singh Tikki gets the contrasting inflections of his friend-foe part with conviction. Why the name of a prominent singer has been changed to Jatinder Jinda is inexplicable. But make no mistake, the biopic is about Chamkila and it’s he and hence Diljit who shine the brightest.

If music defined Chamkila, it is the heartbeat of the film too. Rather, the musical is a perfect melange of Chamkila’s songs (sung by Diljit and Parineeti) and freshly minted ones composed by AR Rahman and evocatively penned by Irshad Kamil. Particularly enchanting is ‘Ishq Mitaye’, and ‘Mainu Vida Karo’ makes your eyes brim with tears.

‘Chamkila’ is not a tearjerker but it moves you immeasurably, especially close to the climax. The storytelling, enhanced by cinematographer Sylvester Fonseca and crisp editing by Aarti Bajaj, has an authentic ring and artistic finesse. For one, Imtiaz does not go for the jugular. Besides, ‘Chamkila’ is not an outright fawning ode, even as it puts on record his many feats, including his best-selling Punjabi singer cult status. Perhaps the debate on whether the singer did a disservice to the cause of music or merely echoed what he saw in the sociocultural milieu around him will never cease.

In one of the key scenes, Chamkila tells his wife and singing partner Amarjot, ‘Right or wrong, we will see later; let us just make the most of what we have.’ And you understand that an artist’s life isn’t linear or easy. Apart from artistic impulses being the driving force, it’s also about survival. His assertion that ‘we are artistes, our job is to be on stage’, too, is a psychological peep into what must have kept him going despite threats.

Chamkila’s popularity transcends time and space and he lives again with verve and compassion. Music resonates and so does the Netflix film, an immersive and fulfilling experience. If Imtiaz makes the ribaldry and infectiousness of Chamkila’s music come alive in vibrant vignettes often juxtaposed with real images, he captures both the robustness and tragedy of the man and the state. Reliving the period where darkness reined in Punjab, yet the musical sky was emblazoned by this rare talent, Imtiaz makes us puritans question our stance. Can we, locked in ivory towers, with false notions of righteousness and wearing blinkers of moral superiority, truly judge Chamkila’s music? In the answer and the realisation penetrating deep in Arijit Singh’s voice, ‘Tum Sabhi Saaf Sahi, Hoon Matt Maila Main’, rest the beauty of Imtiaz’s ‘Chamkila’.