Ramnish Chaudhary in a still from Jaggi. (Photo: MUBI)
A bullied young man is held to the toxic standards of masculinity in Jaggi, an unrelenting, uncompromising, and utterly unpleasant film set in a Punjab that often resembles a post-apocalyptic wasteland. Directed by Anmol Sidhu and featuring a groundbreaking central performance by Ramnish Chaudhary, Jaggi is out on MUBI, where it functions as a distressing companion piece to Lukas Dhont’s Close, the bold Belgian drama that dealt with similar themes.
Stitched together with a series of searing sequences that Sidhu films with an unbroken gaze, as if he’s actively repairing the raggedy remains of his titular protagonist’s soul, the movie opens with a flashy shot that immediately sets the tone for what’s to follow. Jaggi is sitting by himself in an abandoned shed in the middle of a field; Chekhov’s gun is introduced. He’s masturbating furiously, but with his back turned to us, almost as if the movie wants to save him from further embarrassment. The climax that he is so vigorously chasing seems to be out of his reach. Sobbing uncontrollably, Jaggi pulls up his pants, revealing the elastic band of his Amul Macho Man underwear. It’s a symbol — more pointed than poetic.
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A still from Jaggi. (Photo: MUBI)
The movie unfolds largely in flashback after that opening sequence, cautiously inviting audiences into a world that most will be unprepared for. The depravity on display here can overwhelm even the most desensitised viewers, and on many occasions, it becomes unclear where examination ends and exploitation begins. Suffering from erectile dysfunction, a teenage Jaggi attempts to seek the advice of his friend. It’s a moment of vulnerability that will haunt him for the rest of his days. But he had no choice; his parents are absent — Jaggi’s cop father is a drunk, and his mother is having an affair with his uncle. Jaggi is aware of it, as is the rest of their ‘pind’.
Curiously, he is almost forgiving of his father, whom he ritualistically carries to bed every night, while his mother barks instructions at them from a corner. He sees both himself and his dad as victims, while becoming increasingly frustrated with his mom’s infidelities. It’s telling that the only two people he lashes out against in the entire movie are those that he considers, in a way, inferior to himself. These are the effects of his own conditioning.
Word of Jaggi’s impotence spreads like wildfire around school after his fellow classmates cruelly declare that he’s gay. It doesn’t take too long for the predators to start prowling; a teacher corners him in the washroom, and two seniors lure him under a bridge with the promise of giving him some local remedy for his medical condition. They proceed to rape him. Sidhu shoots this scene like the controversial subway sequence in Gaspar Noé’s Irréversible, a movie that could rightfully come knocking on Jaggi’s door to collect its ‘hafta’. The abuse intensifies to the point that Jaggi cannot set foot outside his house without being targetted. He drops out of school and devotes his days to farming — tending to and destroying the land that can give and take in equal measure.
Jaggi’s story is also the story of Punjab, of a land and a people trapped in a perpetual state of disrepair, abused by invader after invader across centuries, before deciding that self-destruction is the only escape. Every year, in order to keep its fertility intact, the landscape is razed by its own people. This sustained cultural horror has been manifesting in extreme ways recently. While the mainstream does what traumatised Punjabis have been doing for years — putting a big smile on their face and pretending that everything is ‘changa’ — independent-minded filmmakers have been rebelling against this narrative. Jaggi is about the masks that people wear in public, but often, it’s about the masks that they pull over their eyes.
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A still from Jaggi. (Photo: MUBI)
It offers a necessary alternative to the recent Amar Singh Chamkila, which, despite its many achievements, was arguably also in a state of denial about the consequences of patriarchy. Jaggi’s abusers are noticeably belting out a Chamkila song in one scene, as they sneak up on him. They’ve internalised the lyrics, which give crude behaviour a clean chit. Freedom of expression aside, here is a direct statement on the effects that problematic art can have on those susceptible to be swayed by it. Jaggi’s tormentors certainly didn’t attack him because they listen to music that celebrates hyper-masculinity, but they were certainly encouraged by it.
Jaggi is an act of cinematic assault. Not everybody will be able to tolerate it; fewer will be able to forgive it. Nor should they. It’s provocative, nihilistic, and ultimately uninterested in catharsis. But after over an hour and a half of bleak brutality, the movie ends on a rather baffling note, choosing to position an act of retribution as a noble self-sacrifice, and undermining the sheer ugliness of its earlier creative choices by tacking on a voiceover that wouldn’t feel out of place in a timid Ayushmann Khurrana film.
Jaggi
Director – Anmol Sidhu
Cast – Ramnish Chaudhary, Harmandeep Singh, Gaurav Kumar
Rating – 3.5/5
