‘Sucha Soorma’ Review: A Sloppy Film Unworthy of the Punjabi Folk Legend

Director: Amitoj Maan
Cast: Babbu Maan, Jag Singh, Sarbjit Cheema, Mahabir Bhullar, Ravneet Kaur, Gurinder Makna, Samiksha Oswal, Sukhwinder Raj, Gagan Randhawa, Anita Shabdeesh
Writer: Amitoj Maan and Gurpreet Ratol
Language: Punjabi

Watching a Punjabi film, let alone reviewing it, even for a diehard Punjabi, comes with its own set of misgivings. Sadly enough, as we sit through Sucha Soorma — touted as famous singer-actor Babbu Maan’s comeback film after a gap of four years — doubts turn into a deep, gnawing realisation about said misgivings and a discomfiting feeling.

It’s near impossible to rationalise why we are making such films in this day and age, which do not reflect upon the changing matrix of our society; or if they do, god help us. Undoubtedly, this Amitoj Maan directorial is a period film set sometime during the British rule in India, in the early 20th century, even though the only date definitively stated in the film is the year in which the hero, Sucha Soorma (Babbu Maan), was hanged. The very first scene deludes you to believe that here, perhaps, was a warrior who stood up for the downtrodden.

From the opening rushes till the intermission, we don’t exactly know what makes Sucha — the titular character— a brave heart everyone swears by, except that he is a strongman who wins at local tournaments like tug of war and is adept at lifting heavy weights. The first half of the film is a show-reel of Punjab’s customs and marriage rituals. Sucha’s brother is getting married, and lest we, the urban folk, have forgotten what a traditional wedding looks like, the ceremonies are shown elaborately. To suppress our yawns, a love angle of Sucha with Puro (Ravneet Kaur), limited mostly to furtive glances and a bit of naunk-jhonk (playful squabble), is thrown in. For the sake of the semblance of a story, these proceedings play out like a romantic saga.

The film is peppered with some catchy and some not-so-hummable numbers. But the music and lyrics, both by Babbu himself, have the feels that hark back to the times it reflects. Some even have a wondrous ballad-like touch. The film, undoubtedly, does well in production and art design by Rashid Rangrez, being completely in sync with the period in which the narrative is set. The atmospherics — from the costumes to the make-up, to even the rural milieu — are captured aptly. The attention to detail is on point.

But production design doesn’t make a film. What does is a crackling script and astute direction. Sadly, Amitoj falters on both counts, and the dramatic conflict surfaces much too late in the film. Actors do their bit, though much can’t be said about Babbu — who looks endearing and has the on-screen charisma to pull off the lead part, but that’s about it. He goes around with one stock expression, for which we need another actor to prod us and show us that he is angry.

The supporting actors do fill in the gap, even though a gifted actor like Suvinder Vicky has been wasted in a bit part. Jag Singh, as Sucha’s friend-turned-foe Ghukkar, emotes well. Since his character is that of a man who transgresses societal limits and falls prey to his lustful desire for another man’s wife, he still has a layer or two, and he does get some of the inflections right. The subject of his lust, the seductress Balbiro (Samiksha Oswal), is made to ad-lib some sentiments around feminism; a few lines to give us a sense of what a woman wants and desires can only be lip service.

The film is too taken in by its hero’s bravado and misplaced machismo to really offer us any great insight into a woman’s wants. Coming from the state, which gave us renowned Punjabi poet Shiv Kumar Batalvi’s epic poem ‘Loona’, looking at a woman’s sexuality from her perspective with empathy and sensitivity, it’s both perplexing and frustrating to watch a film take such a linear stance on adultery. Indeed, adultery is a sin, but so is the self-vigilante style of justice that Sucha metes out to the “offenders”.

Sucha’s statue, we learn, adorns Samaon village in Punjab. Is this a celluloid version of his real story? Is this the only thing — hunting down lovers indulging in extramarital relations — that gave him a cult status in folklore? We, and the folk legend Sucha, certainly deserve more.

“Kujh galtiyan di maafi nahi hondi… (some mistakes can’t be forgiven),” thunders Sucha, while addressing the illicit relationship of his sister-in-law. And some mistakes made by the makers can’t be overlooked either. Instead of hammering us with a convoluted sense of honour and heroism, the creators of Sucha Soorma need to look within, reflect and ponder. Old values of honour and tradition need to be viewed with a new lens. Time to step out of the time warp; until then, give us a typical romcom any day, anytime.