This flick doesn’t drag
Soorma has all that a winning biopic needs and Diljit Dosanjh makes it only better, writes Dhruv Munjal
Over the years, Sandeep Singh has claimed many creditable victories. And his insistence on Diljit Dosanjh playing him, instead of — in his own words — “the Khans or Kumars”, is definitely one of them. Without Dosanjh, who is exceptionally real and wonderfully charming, chances are that Soorma would’ve probably failed to immerse and shock the way it eventually does.
Indian hockey has been strangely unfortunate when it comes to drag flickers. In 2003, Jugraj Singh, a worldclass talent, met with a car accident that ruined his career just as it was about to take off. Three years later, Sandeep was accidentally shot on a train while on his way to a training camp for the World Cup. Unlike Jugraj, however, Sandeep, despite being paralysed waist down for a while, miraculously recovered and not only played for India, but also became captain of the national team. That is pretty much the meat of Soorma, the latest addition to Bollywood’s rapidly expanding list of sports biopics.
Banished from the hockey field as a young boy by Kartar Singh (Danish Husain), an oppressive coach, Sandeep is a late bloomer who only returns to the pitch to woo Harpreet (Tapsee Pannu). On the other hand, Sandeep’s brother, Bikramjeet (Angad Bedi), is the one destined to play for India. That dream soon crumbles and Bikramjeet, after discovering that his little brother possesses the deadliest drag flick he’s ever seen, pushes Sandeep into taking hockey more seriously.
The film serves out a Rudyard Kipling-inspired“if you-can-meet-with-triumph andnarrative, which rides high on emotion and is made exciting by nuanced and believable performances. Dosanjh is the undoubted star, going from an aimless, puerile youth to a pain-stricken hockey superstar with immaculate ease. Bedi, as the primary support system for his brother in times of adversity, is efficient and surprisingly likeable. Pannu’s character, heavy on tough love, delightfully oscillates between longing and resolve.
Amid all the gloom, comic relief comes from the sublimely talented Vijay Raaz, who plays the fictitious Coach Harry. His Bihari sense of humour, backed by innovative one-liners, offers some genuine gags. Moreover, with Dosanjh, Pannu and Bedi, all Sikhs playing Sikh characters, director Shaad Ali manages to pack in an earthiness and authenticity to the dialogues that make Soorma incredibly appealing. Thanks to smart casting, we’re spared a Dangal- like mishmash where the lead characters have to put on an accent they’re not entirely comfortable with.
That is not to suggest that Soorma doesn’t come with its set of problems. Sports biopics invariably thrive on sentiment; the trick, though, is to not allow it to metamorphose into melodrama. In the first half, Ali keeps the sentimentalism in check with a unique, light touch; post the break, the tears take over.
And then there are technical issues. Dosanjh and Pannu have undoubtedly worked on their hockey skills and give a decent account of themselves as professional players. But the filming undoes their hard work in some parts. India-Pakistan games are shown as brutal slugfests (think India vs Argentina in Chak De! India) with clashing elbows and shoulders — hockey does not lend itself to such bruising levels of physicality. In one scene, Dosanjh’s character dispossesses an opposition player in a way that would have normally appalled the umpire and seen him flash cards on an actual field of play. And there are just too many last-minute winning goals, a trend that takes away from a story so inspiring that it did not require any fabrications in the first place.
Despite the faults, Soorma is among the more watchable Indian sports films we’ve seen in a while. With a strong script at the heart of it, it rouses and motivates in a way only sport can. The fact that it is real — well, most of it — makes it even better.