First Day First Show: Jawan at Gaiety

You could hear the drumming and cheers from the main road. At 5.30am, there was a crowd outside Gaiety Cinema, with drummers and flags and banners and a herd of media with a glut of recording devices. Burqas, Prada handbags, squeaking sneakers with disco lights, ancient Androids with cracked screens — everything and everyone bobbed to the beat while waiting for the cinema theatre’s doors to open for the first show of Jawan (2023). “Zinda banda!” yelled someone, quoting the hit song from Jawan, and everyone roared with incoherent glee. A train rushed past, making a sound that sounded vaguely like a conch signalling the beginning of an auspicious event. Someone wailed “Shah Rukh!” like a hallelujah. Whistles erupted from all quarters. A young reporter perked her ears up. “You think he’ll show up?” she asked the cameraman accompanying her. He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “It’s Gaiety. The fan is the star here.”

At 6am, a group of young men took formation and built the human pyramid that is traditional to Janmashtami celebrations in Mumbai. Their goal was to stand as tall as the gigantic cutout of Shah Rukh Khan. The crowd cheered with every layer that rose. As the last man on top took his stand, someone yelled, “I love Shah Rukh Khan!” The crowd cheered. Someone else said, “Bajrang Bali ki jai!” There was silence. The man at the top of the human pyramid stood on tottering legs, and held his arms open, mimicking Khan's classic pose. Then he pulled out a Jawan flag and waved it. The crowd cheered again. “Now just open the doors ya,” complained someone in the queue that had coiled outside Gaiety.

Not that the doors opening helped. The crush of people wanting to get in threatened to turn into a mini stampede, but Mumbai being Mumbai — the city of impossible rush hour traffic — quickly established an organised chaos. “Don’t push!” ordered one woman, adding, “Let the ladies have their own queue.” No one listened. People continued to push, but politely and gently. When she repeated her demand the third time, a woman next to her said, “Aunty, apna feminism ko aise mat ujaado (don’t squander your feminism like this). Gents and ladies both need to go in. Waise bhi feminist feels ke liye hai na apni Nayanthara or Deepika (In any case, we have Nayanthara and Deepika to give us the feminist feels).” 

Inside Gaiety’s Cinema Hall

Watching a much-anticipated blockbuster in Gaiety, particularly when it stars one of Bollywood’s beloved Khans, is a party in a way that a film can never be in a multiplex. To signal the screening would start in 10 minutes, Gaiety turned a spotlight on its distinctly dirty screen. The light changed colours, from neon purple to Hulk green to lurid blue. Everyone clapped. The trailer for Fukrey 3 started playing and the crowd cheered, drowning out the trailer, because they were another step closer to Jawan. “Zinda banda!” yelled some in the balcony section and five other people, from different parts of the two-level audience, responded with “Haazir hai (present)!” 

All of which was just prep for the tsunami of cheers that erupted when the first frames of Jawan appeared on screen. Rarely are the disclaimers for a film met with such enthusiasm. Slogans, like “Superhit ka baap hai Shah Rukh Khan!” shrieked through the audience. Everyone stood up. Everyone roared. Phones were held up to record the first frame, which takes us to a remote, picturesque village in Ladakh where a boy spots a body floating in the river. “Body nahi, Shah Rukh hai (It’s not a corpse, it’s Shah Rukh),” someone yelled, just in case anyone had any doubts. 

A few minutes later, when the village is attacked by a bunch of armed men in jeeps, wearing uniforms that look kinda-sorta-definitely Chinese, there is, of course, only one man who can save everyone. A man who has been wrapped in medicinal bandages, which he unpeels dramatically to reveal one eye (cheers), a forearm (whoops), lips (a roar). If there is a background score for Khan’s first fight scene in Jawan, no one in Gaiety knew or cared. The entire cinema was on its feet, clapping excitedly, all of our hearts feeling like pinatas about to explode with delirious delight, all because Shah Rukh Khan, with wind in his hair, was on the big screen before us. 

(We’re only about five minutes into a 169-minute film.) 

After the fight with the possibly-maybe Chinese in possibly-maybe Ladakh, Jawan shifts to the present which is 30 years later. Six mysterious women and a bald Khan take a Mumbai Metro train hostage, using this situation to a) have Khan dance to “Bekara Karke Humein” and b) remind those watching in the film as well as in the cinema about farmers’ suicides. The audience recited the lines they’ve heard in the trailer. For these brief moments, reciting crackling and defiant dialogues, we were all Shah Rukh Khan. A few scenes later, after having outwitted the eagle eye of special investigator Narmada (Nayanthara), Khan peels off the prosthetic pate he’d been wearing to reveal his hair and there’s a collective sigh of appreciation. A little girl sitting in the second row brought out a whistle and tooted out two quick peals. A middle-aged man put his two index fingers in his mouth and unleashed a long hooting whistle of appreciation. There were also loud cheers for Vijay Sethupathi, who is at his over-the-top best as the villain who seems to have taken styling tips from Vijay Mallya. The Tamil accented Hindi is an acquired taste, but his eyes are so expressive that he could probably speak gibberish and we’d still be convinced by him. 

The Plot of the Film

For those interested in the plot, the six women we saw earlier are convicts of Belamvada Jail where Khan’s character is the jailer. Jailer Azad to be precise, and yes, you’re absolutely meant to read into that oxymoron. Khan as Azad is visibly de-aged, which is one reason to be happy about watching Jawan on Gaiety’s grubby screen because it acts like a filter, making the visual effects used on Khan’s face look less pronounced. When he’s not in disguise and taking Mumbai hostage, Jailer Azad runs Belamvada Jail. He receives an award from the United Nations for running a model prison whose inmates contribute to society by making uniforms and prosthetic legs. Little does the United Nations know just how committed Azad and his chosen convicts are to making the world a better place. They’re survivors of a system (and country) that has turned its back on them, but they’re determined to do their bit all the same; just through entirely illegal means. 

Jawan’s first song is “Zinda Banda” and it was greeted with cheers and confetti. People from back rows rushed down to the front of the cinema, to dance along with Khan. One man had come with his face bandaged like Azad’s was during the Metro heist. He was a crowd favourite with many taking selfies with him. A woman followed Khan’s on-screen moves beat for beat, despite having her back to the screen. Whistles streaked past at regular intervals. Everyone had their own choreography and the song barely registered. At this point, Jawan at Gaiety was more of a party than a movie. 

The rest of the soundtrack didn’t evoke as dramatic a reaction, though a couple did come out to dance to “Chaleya”, which was sweetly endearing. This is not to suggest the audience at Gaiety lost interest in Jawan after the adrenaline rush of its early scenes. “Yaar, kaafi story hai iss mein (there’s a lot of story in this),” said one gent while waiting for his turn in the queue for popcorn. “It’s not like Pathaan. As in the maar-dhaar (fighting) isn’t random,” he added. (We suspect he’s a film reviewer.) There are certainly some similarities between the phenomenally successful Pathaan (2023) and Jawan, but we’re inclined to agree with our popcorn compadre. Jawan has more of a plot and better storytelling than Pathaan.  

Atlee is one of those directors who knows that an audience’s attention is precious and has to be earned. Jawan moves fast, adding a complication to Azad’s double life of vigilante and jailer by introducing the romantic subplot. Enter a little girl who decides Azad is the man she wants as her dad. Who’s her mum? Nayanthara aka Narmada, who has been tasked with uncovering the identity of the mysterious vigilante whose spectacular stunts expose corrupt politicians. She has no idea that the man she’s marrying is the man she needs to arrest. Not even when she’s fighting nose-to-nose with him and all he has obscuring his identity is that Krrish-esque mask (it’s like Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi (2008), but with action instead of dance). 

The Women in Jawan

Even though Jawan is very much a Shah Rukh Khan film and set in a world where men do the heavy lifting (this is quite literal in many scenes), the film’s women characters do get multiple chances to shine. They’re also not shoehorned into the plot solely to service the hero’s self-discovery or ascent to greatness. Although they’re eventually sidelined or forgotten — during the climactic fight, all the women are pushed into jail cells, ostensibly for their safety but really, it’s done so that the men can do their thing without having to bother with sharing the spotlight with the other gender — the women of Jawan have their own stories and motivations. None of them need a man to either save them or help them understand how awesome they are. Also, one of the loudest and most raucous sets of whoops from the audience came when the women of Belamvada Jail took matters into their own hands and picked up some gigantic guns to take on the bad guys.   

Jawan delivers twists at a rapid pace along with action scenes that are keenly conscious that more than violence, audiences want to see actors being cool. To that end, Atlee makes sure all his A-listers deliver multiple moments of fan service. Padukone’s extended cameo once again makes a case for her potential to be Bollywood’s next action hero. Both her and Nayanthara’s scenes with Khan give both Jawan and Khan a tenderness, which helps to balance the film’s machismo. 

A Surprise and a Cheer 

There’s a brief appearance by Sanjay Dutt that took Gaiety by surprise and when Dutt crooned “Nayak nahin, khalnayak hoon main” from Khal Nayak (1993), at least one person threw popcorn at the screen in appreciation while the entire audience squealed in delight when he appeared on screen. “Baba best hai (Baba is best),” said one young man, referring to Dutt. “Means SRK bestest best hai, par Baba ka bhi kya style hai! (Means, SRK is bestest but Baba also has style). “Abhi bhi kya legs hai (He’s still got great legs),” said his companion dreamily, evidently replaying in his mind the moment when Dutt, who plays a mundu-wearing Malayali cop, flashes his thigh while attempting to start a scooter.

 Tamil director Atlee’s first Hindi film is an excellent fusion of the grandiose flair of mainstream Tamil cinema and the earnest storytelling of Bollywood. Jawan is jam-packed with ideas and issues. It’s a story that’s rooted in the anxieties and concerns of present-day India, channelling frustration at the political establishment into its plot. Without giving away any spoilers, let’s just say that Jawan reminds everyone who is watching that democracy in India is in danger of being held hostage. Khan has always stood for liberalism and especially in his off-screen appearances, he’s presented himself repeatedly with a defiant grace. He brings both these qualities to his performance in Jawan. Khan has played characters who aren’t shy of showing their feelings throughout his career and with Jawan, he plays someone who is furious at the world but determined to not give in to despair. Khan is the hero who dares to hope and as the audience roared in enthusiastic support to Azad’s final plea to the nation, Gaiety lived up to its name. Jawan had filled the room with optimism.