A defiant cry: “For the Revolution!” An undramatic cut sharpening a wooden facade, a blade lifted, an obvious prop blood squirter, and suddenly – a face rested decapitated. Kuttey is at least somewhat consistent in such bland motifs and imagery being used to create no motivational action.
Bhardwaj’s metaphorical tale on the animalistic tendencies of our most low-down gruesome criminals spills itself over three different perspectives, a concurrent narrative of outer-Mumbai seediness broken down into one gang’s interaction with another, and then another, each on the hunt for some dogged on-the-move cash flow.
Edited like a child was let loose with the footage, Kuttey plays a plethora of the book’s tricks: music preempts slowdowns of action for no reason besides to make shootouts seem cool; characters often don’t seem to know why they have to enter dialog scenes when intuition gathers – it would be easier to move onto the next opportunity to confront someone over drugs and guns.
India’s obsession with displaced timeline stories cannot survive an era of filmmakers unwilling to contend with how to keep the storytelling structure interesting, aside from names, gore, song queues and a really pompous intermission break. An action one isn’t interesting when you’re pacing your camera this slowly, when there is so little interaction between targets on-screen hidden by slow pans to other foes shooting from offscreen. Ended again, of course, by the overly dramatic slow-mo.
The film’s central young couple, portrayed by Radhika Madan and Shardul Bharadwaj, stop the film dead in its tracks. Madan brings an unbridled level of perceived mischievousness not only for the crime-adjacent world her family and loved ones place her in, but for her own curious mind, a soul willing to steer the film into a risk-fraught location (read: sex and intrigue) above something spoiled by bullet cases and fake blood splatters. It’s meant to thematically appeal to a traditionally masculine audience yet somehow plays more like a channel flip on an old television set, the brutalist Kuttey unfurled as a more sensitive homestead tale.
If the grand message at play is that crime is indefensible, then maybe so much of the film, namely its resolution, shouldn’t be played with this much animosity. Kuttey doesn’t value its own stock of human emotions well enough to make any considerate plays of its web of characters, choosing instead to let them fall into the pulpy pile of warnings and conflict foreboding.
Seen at Cinemark 18 & XD, Los Angeles
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