Sarkar 3: Third time unlucky

There is almost nothing that saves Sarkar 3 from being a poorly written, directed and executed film

The toughest part of writing about a film is keeping it spoiler-free. With Sarkar 3, I am almost tempted to give out the plot so that no one would go through the torture of over two hours of an unbelievably mindless film. The previous two Sarkar films had signature Ram Gopal Varma shoddiness written all over them, but they still qualified as one-time-watch movies. The third instalment takes the shoddy direction, screenplay and cinematography to an entirely different level.
 
Sarkar 3 entails a time leap of about 20 years, though neither Subhash Nagre (Amitabh Bachchan) or his wife (Supriya Pathak) seem to have aged a day since Sarkar Raj, the second film that released in 2008. This time, the latest Nagre member to join the  semi-political, semi-violent and all-bizarre Sarkar league is Shivaji, Subhash’s grandson. Essayed by Amit Sadh, this role could not have been written in a poorer manner. But then again, I do not want to challenge Varma to do a worse job.
 
This time, Sarkar’s nemesis is some real-estate magnate and a monumental project that could displace several thousand slum dwellers. The opening scenes have Sarkar’s trademark imitation of the royal wave, his wrist sporting a rudraksha bracelet. What could’ve been a serious scene is ruined by chants of “sarkar, sarkar” from the crowd, which sounds like an annoying ringtone from mobile phones of yore. The scene keeps cutting to Sadh, who seems to be stirring something in a glass with such intensity that it makes one wonder what it is that he is really drinking. The entire scene is a wasted monologue delivered to perfection by Bachchan.
 
As the narrative jumps, so do the scenes. The camera pans outside Nagre’s home, where extras — supposedly security and other staff — wander aimlessly in and out of screen like cattle. The single USP of the Sarkar franchise — the “govinda, govinda” soundtrack — gets an unbearable techno remix, which is randomly inserted into scenes to give them some sense of gravitas. Singers like Sukhwinder Singh, Mika Singh and Kailash Kher waste their talent on a completely pointless background score.
 

Worse than the script or mundane dialogues are the oddly “artistic” camera angles, capturing the faces of characters on reflective surfaces, through the handle of a coffee cup or behind some sort of grills and railings are bound to give some viewers a migraine. Yami Gautam as Anu, the girl who wants to avenge her father’s death, is a mere pretty face. She’s supposed to be so grief-stricken that she never smiles. Anu’s face is constantly juxtaposed with a laughing Buddha statue, perhaps to suggest some sort of irony. The effect, of course, is rather comical. Her placid face in pink reflective sunglasses in one particular scene makes her look like a drug-addict.
 
If the film begins to feel too “heavy” — that is highly unlikely — just look at the faces of the dancers and extras during the Ganpati visarjan scene. Their psychopathic smiles and simplistic moves — swaying from one side to the other with hands folded — are bound to have you in splits.
 
As if the rest of the film wasn’t confusing enough, Pathak, as Subhash’s wife, breaks into Marathi in the most intense of scenes. With no subtitles, one is left guessing what it could mean. Though going by the extensive disclaimer at the beginning of the film, which was not only written but also recited, Varma seems to want to ensure he doesn’t hurt any community, especially in Mumbai.
 
Bachchan and Pathak’s acting is the only thing that is watchable in the film. Manoj Bajpayee’s acting prowess, too, is squandered away in exaggerated speeches and dialogues. Bachchan speaks in a Batman-like baritone that becomes increasingly hilarious. Sarkar 3 would have worked as a parody of itself, but sadly, that is not the case.