‘Yek Number’ Review: A Film in Which Love Story Meets Propaganda

Director: Rajesh Mapuskar
Writer: Tejaswini Pandit, Dhairya Gholap, Vinayak Purushottam, Mayuresh Joshi, Arvind Jagtap
Cast: Dhairya Gholap, Sayli Patil, Tejaswini Pandit
Language: Marathi

The last decade has seen an alarming rise in the number of propaganda films Indian cinema has ever witnessed. Right from the Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi to the incumbent Chief Minister of Maharashtra, Eknath Shinde, many significant political figures have appeared as characters in the films that brandish their special brand of politics. Most of these films make straightforward use of the biopic genre and tell the story of these political figures justifying — or in rare instances condemning — their actions, over a period of time in their lives. What makes Rajesh Mapuskar’s Yek Number (which simply translates to ‘Number One’) different, is the tangential approach it takes to highlight the politics of Maharashtra Navnirman Sena (MNS) party chief Raj Thackeray. Although “different” doesn’t necessarily mean “better”.

After a strange and abrupt prologue that hints at some sort of assassination attempt, Yek Number makes a proper beginning as a love story that has little to do with the MNS chief or the city of Mumbai, which is the base of his operations. The story takes place in a small village where Pratap (Dhairya Gholap), a wannabe politician who has remarkably little or no understanding of his chosen field, is trying to woo Pinky (Sayli Patil), who takes an absurd amount of interest in her favourite political leader, Raj Thackeray. When all attempts to win her over fail, Pratap promises to get her favourite leader to visit the village within the next 24 hours. Why, you may ask, probably because the screenplay demands it.

I find the idea of using a mixed-genre film to illustrate a political ideology interesting, but it certainly could have been done better. The first half of the film is all over the place, mainly because it’s juggling too many things for a compelling narrative to emerge. It’s dealing with a love story, a conspiracy, as well as pushing the MNS political principles, while moving too fast to let any of the episodes sink in. The love story of Pratap and Pinky suffers the most, as they have little time together, and the hero is tied up in too many other things the rest of the time. We do get token love songs, and occasional phone calls between the two, but their relationship never takes off. In his previous Marathi film, the National Award-winning ‘Ventilator (2016), Mapuskar had used a large cast and multiple crisscrossing storylines to a greater effect. But here, in a much more simplified structure, the film struggles to keep a consistent pace and impact.

Yek Number somewhat improves in the later half, as it gains more focus. This portion lacks the complexity of the first part and directly links to the assassination attempt we witnessed in the prologue. As this emerges to be the central event the film revolves around, things start falling into place. There’s an important character of investigating officer Inspector Thorat (Tejaswini Pandit, also credited as the co-writer), who joins the story in the final act of the film, and though the part she plays is largely in this section, we could have benefitted more by knowing this character in advance.

The character is portrayed as the one who gets results but is more of a loose cannon. We would have also benefitted if we knew her motivations to a better extent. I liked the portrayal of Raj Thackeray, who emerges as a backdrop for the film. We partially see him, hear his speeches, and also witness the live footage of his meetings, but the director has refrained from having him interact directly with the characters, except for a small phone call towards the end. There is a plot device that makes all this possible, and although I have concerns about the effect of this device, I’d rather avoid a spoiler and let the audience see it for themselves.

Yek Number feels like a wasted opportunity to some extent; an opportunity where one could do something radically different in what is essentially a political film, which has the support of a political party, and surely, some degree of a captive audience. One can be pleased that an attempt was made, and hope the next one is more successful.