Movie review: Pad Man does well to question the taboo around menstruation

Pad Man comes with its shares of flaws, but does well to question the taboo around menstruation, writes Kakoli Chakraborty

In India, menstruation, as ironic as it may seem, has often been viewed as unnatural. We claim to have welcomed liberalism and feminism, yet women find themselves hiding sanitary napkins in their bags.
 
In a country where parents do not want to talk about “the birds and the bees” with their children, and  where the reproductive cycle is reduced to a chapter in biology textbooks, R Balki’s Pad Man comes like a breath of fresh air; especially since Bollywood has often ignored, or rather avoided, this subject.
 
The film is based on a short story in Twinkle Khanna’s book, The Legend of Lakshmi Prasad, which in turn, is based on the life of Arunachalam Muruganantham. A social activist from Coimbatore, Muruganantham is credited with spreading awareness about traditional but unhygienic menstruation practices in rural India, apart from inventing a low-cost sanitary pad machine. This feat secured him a place on Time magazine’s 100 Most Influential People in the World list in 2014. In 2016, he was awarded the Padma Shri.

 

The film has taken creative liberties but has stayed true to the skeletal story. It revolves around Lakshmikant Chauhan (played by Akshay Kumar), an inventor from a village in Madhya Pradesh, and his bewilderment over the archaic methods his wife, Gayatri (Radhika Apte), employs while managing her periods. Thus, much to the dismay of his traditional wife, family and his village, Chauhan sets out on a journey to find a solution for a costly but significant problem. Ostracised by his village, he makes his way to the big city, without giving up on his goal. But as it is with all start-ups, Chauhan lacks certain entrepreneurial skills.

 
Enter Pari (Sonam Kapoor), a tabla player with an MBA degree, who uses her expertise to help Chauhan realise his dream. She is also used as a contrast to Gayatri and her traditional beliefs. Everyone knows how the rest of the story goes and, if not, a quick Google search can help you in your quest. Kapoor’s character is a Balki addition; Muruganantham had an English tutor as help instead of an MBA graduate.
 
After the likes of Airlift, Special 26 and Rustom, it’s not a surprise that Kumar shines as Chauhan, infusing humour in the storyline, while at the same time, not compromising on his acting mettle. Testing the sanitary napkins himself, the character of Chauhan is probably Kumar’s finest performance yet. Apte, on the other hand, isn’t used competently. The scenes featuring Apte focus more on Kumar’s dialogues than hers. Kapoor’s character doesn’t stand out in any way — maybe it was done on purpose considering her acting chops. Pari is akin to Indiana Jones’s character in Raiders of the Lost Ark; the film would have ended the same way if the character hadn’t been a part of it.

 
The first half of the film feels stretched in places, and often exaggerated. Though the film is about female emancipation, the filmmaker couldn’t resist staying away from the age-old Bollywood formula that invariably involves a macho hero. When Gayatri tells her tearful husband that men don’t look good when they cry, you can’t help but cringe. The subtle romance between Lakshmi and Pari also feels out of place.
 
Though not without flaws, Pad Man holds its own. Yes, it does seem like watching a TV commercial for sanitary napkins in parts, but the film does force you to rethink the close-mindedness surrounding menstruation. However, this is not the first film to focus on the subject. Abhishek Saxena’s crash-and-burn film Phullu dealt with the same.

 
The release of the film was deferred to avoid a box office clash with Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s Padmaavat, and rightly so. Pad Man is unlikely to leave you mesmerised, but is still not worth missing.