Talwar. A sword is never meant to be a pleasant thing. It is supposed to hurt. You just hope that it hurts the right people, that it is used to serve justice. But how often does that happen, really? And who wields the sword?
Talwar is about tragedy. The tragedy of a double murder. A middle class family starts a day with murder. But did they just suffer it, or did they commit it? A young daughter and an older servant are dead. From the moment the police arrive at the scene, it is clear that nothing is going to go right in this investigation. Theories, rumours, insinuations, and a lot of bumbling follow, and arrest made. happy ending, right? But a few things don’t add up and a “higher” agency is called. They reach another conclusion, and its a fight between the two conclusions.
But no matter who did it, the tragedy is immense. Either it was a murder by a parent, or a child was not safe in her own house, surrounded by people she loved. Both have chilling implications. And because this is not some slum, it is all the more chilling for the audience, sitting in the multiplex, imagining what brutalities lurk around their own home. There is nothing feel-good about this film. The humour is dark. You laugh at the ineptitude of a cop, but you realise that he might be the cop you need one day, and the chuckle feels like a punch in the gut.
Talwar has several moments that punch you in the gut. That make you feel that the justice system can go so horribly wrong. Prejudice, nasty rumours, and unfounded allegations are all made and accepted by the police. And worse, they are amplified by the media. Reporters running rough shod over crime scene is criminal by itself, but the depiction of TV media running a parallel investigation is chilling. The level of intrusion in an ordinary life is breathtaking.
It works. The hoopla of public gaze works to create an even shoddier investigation, even faster jumping to conclusions, and the need to deliver a result. A result, a conclusion, not justice. The pressure works. And so does the film.
Vishal Bhardwaj is probably one of the most underrated dialogue writers of today. Every word uttered by the cast is useful and appropriate. And the cast itself is just superlative. Irfan Khan gives a rockstar performance, as usual. But the others are just as capable. Acting is about eliciting emotion, not just depicting them. From the local policemen and their tragic buffoonery to the reaction of parents, everything is tuned to make us feel just what the director wants us to.
And the director wants us to get angry. Meghna Gulzar has a last name that carries a heavy burden, but she quits herself with grace, restrain, and a lot of maturity. The film shows a system rotten to the core, where prejudices and pettiness combine to compound a tragedy into a tragic farce.
And it hurts. The film is not just about some Talwars, it is a talwar. It is a sword pointing at you, nudging you, coaxing you to rise from the comfortable slouch in your multiplex seat. It is meant to hurt, and it does. Because ultimately Talwar is not just about a small tragedy that befalls a family, it is about the larger tragedy of routine injustice.