In his directorial debut Telugu director Ram Jagadeesh shows tremendous empathy for the downtrodden. It is a risky thing to do, for what he defends here is a watchman’s son’s right to love an empowered girl, although he stands accused of raping a minor.
No self-respecting lawyer would touch a POCSO case, especially one as watertight as this. This is where cinema parts ways with reality. And what sweet sorrow this parting is! Jagadeesh’s writing is astute and uncompromising. He is not afraid to plough into forbidden territory. The screenplay digs its claws into the defective defunct clauses in our judicial system, which the powerful and privileged use to their advantage or to teach their weak enemies a lesson.
The film moves on familiar but firm ground, weaving into the rugged structure with an enticing concentration. Within no time, we are cheering for the underdog.., actually two underdogs: the teenaged underdog Chandu (Harsh Roshan), who is locked away with the keys thrown away for no fault of his, and his novice lawyer Surya (Priyadarshi Pulikonda) who is grappling with the grammar of legalese, learning on the job,even as the young accused’s life and future hang in balance.
Quite like the inexperienced lawyer in Gargi. But there is a difference. In Gargi , the lawyer acquits a guilty man. In Court—State Vs. a Nobody, Surya fights for a man, an innocent boy with no means to buy himself justice.
But the message is not hammered into the plot. There is a feeling of unconditional empathy that courses through the vein of this eminently watchable courtroom drama. The actors are sincere, and the film is technically sound, if not exactly jaw-dropping.
Travesty of justice is not new to Indian cinema. Unlike Saeed Mirza’s Mohan Joshi Haazir Ho! or the overrated Marathi courtroom drama Court, directed by Chaitanya Tamhane, this film doesn’t plonk itself into the widening gulf between the haves and have-nots. Instead, Rama Jagadeesh ferrets out the drama-driven places in the story and then works his way through the crisis point into arresting areas of narrative dominance.
Sometimes the courtroom suspense seems somewhat forced and manipulative, also the narrative ploy stack-all-odds-against-the-underdog-and-then-turn-them-around is as old as the hills. Nonetheless, the mood of earnest pursuit for justice wins the day. I found myself cheering for Chandu as much as I found myself loathing the patriarchal bully Mangapathi (Sivaji).
I can’t say I didn’t see the slap he gets coming at the end. It is all done in prominent brush strokes. But the after-effect is cathartic.
