No LSD Required

Curious things can happen where angels, even large bearded ones, are concerned. The day Messenger of God (MSG) released, the ticket booking app on my phone showed some screens of multiplexes racing towards ‘housefull’. I booked a ticket in one of them and counted myself fortunate at having got one of the few seats left. I reached there anticipating a shared fulfilling experience with many spiritual brethren. I went inside the theatre and sat down on my seat. I turned left and I turned right. I looked ahead and I looked behind. There was not a single human being. For the first time in my life I had an entire theatre all to myself. My heart overflowed with gratitude for Gurmeet Ram Rahim Singh Insan (GRRSI), the movie’s director, producer, writer, composer, lyricist, costume designer and also the head of the Dera Sacha Sauda cult. The omniscient one had decided to give me a one-on-one experience and made all those ticket holders vanish into that thin air from which he plucked this movie out.

Like most of you, I am not remotely surprised by heroes catching bullets with their thumb and forefinger or jumping from an aeroplane and landing on a horse. But here was a movie unlike anything anyone could have imagined. For example, before the movie even begins there is a trailer of its sequel and we are talking of a show on the first day of a movie guaranteed to flop resoundingly everywhere except perhaps Haryana and Punjab.

MSG, however, turned out to be a complete film with action, emotion, suspense, comedy, tragedy and romance that is somewhat paternal in nature. GRRSI is often surrounded by three beautiful women on sultry nights beside a moonlit pool to the waft of a gentle breeze, and in that Eden they giggle soft nothings, addressing him as Father. You would not blame an FTII student seeing overtones of an Electra Complex, something like a reverse Hamlet without indecisions, self-doubt, sanity and insanity. One of those three beautiful women is also a suicide bomber. She is sent by a drug lord who might have had some difficulty convincing people to kill themselves for the greater cause of narcotic peddling.

It is in the fitness of things that the old Censor Board members who did not give a certification to this movie are out. Obscurantism is hardly an evil, but when it ends up as spoof without intending to be spoof, then it is terrific entertainment. MSG deserves an audience that does not hold it in contempt and goes with an open mind to watch it alone in an empty theatre. It is a completely inept movie but shamelessly honest and admirably ambitious in its attempt at deification. The converted, until they allegedly get castrated, already believe GRRSI to be God; so no harm done there. If you are not a believer, then this is the kind of movie that is so bad that it is hypnotic.

Should you be in a third category, the kind of person who is looking for faith and casting anchor in every guru’s harbour, then who better than someone who is egoless enough to try singing like Sukhwinder crossed with Mick Jagger, acting like Rajinikanth multiplied by two, and dressing like Lady Gaga?

About The Author

Madhavankutty Pillai

Madhavankutty Pillai has no specialisations whatsoever. He is among the last of the generalists. And also Open chief of bureau, Mumbai  

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