23 movie review: A hard-hitting film that raises tough questions

It is tough to look at 23 (Iravai Moodu) solely as a film. The  indie-spirited Telugu venture based on real incidents, written and directed by Raj R, is part social commentary, presented in a docu-drama style. Armed with a cast that includes 25 newcomers and a few established names, Raj questions if the justice system is equal to everyone. George Orwell’s statement from Animal Farm, ‘All are equal, but some are more equal than others’, sets the tone of the film that wants its audience to look at crime and its perpetrators through different perspectives.

The film’s premise is shaped by three incidents that shook undivided Andhra Pradesh in the 1990s. In 1991, the Tsunduru massacre witnessed brutal caste violence against Dalits. In 1993, 23 passengers lost their lives after two Dalit men set a bus on fire in Chilakaluripet. In 1997, a car bomb explosion in Film Nagar, Hyderabad, reportedly killed 26 and injured several others. 

The film wastes no time getting to the crux of the narrative that explores the underbelly of violence, the scars on its victims and its perpetrators. The film begins with the Dalit massacre in Tsunduru and how caste, money and power decide the fate of the perpetrators.

Raj takes the creative liberty to bring the narrative to life through a love story. Sagar (Teja) and Susheela (Tanmai) are a young couple nurturing a dream — to avail a loan of ₹10,000 to start an idli centre, earn a steady income and plan a life together. She earns a meagre sum as a daily wager, fending off a lecherous supervisor. He desperately seeks a loan, only to be shown the door by a corrupt officer. His friend Das (Pavan Ramesh) makes no bones about being used by the cops as false witness for cases and pockets small sums. Desperation drives Sagar and Das to make one wrong move, which spirals into a life-changing incident.

It is easy to gauge what is in store for Sagar and Das. The sequences featuring Sagar and Susheela on either side of the prison are faintly reminiscent of the separation and longing in Sapta Sagaradaache Ello, but the similarities stop there.

Several characters pop up as the story progresses — a benevolent lawyer who believes in Article 22 and that every accused has the right to defend his case, a psychologist (Jhansi) and a jailer who bats for reforms.

The first hour is devoted to unravelling the story and its principal characters, and the second hour explores multiple perspectives. In a telling scene, a prisoner who is about to be released pleads with the jailer that he is not ready for the outside world. A day later, the jailer, who learns that the free man has committed yet another gruesome crime, feels equally guilty. 23 is about such smaller moments as much as it is about the larger picture involving the three prime incidents of crime.

A sub-plot highlights how the caste system used to dictate the chores assigned to inmates in prison — those from the lower caste relegated to cleaning the toilets. The film touches upon how libraries in prison can be leveraged to bring in a change.

Raj, who directed Mallesham (Telugu), 8am Metro (Hindi) and produced Paka: The River of Blood (Malayalam). takes an indie approach in this film as well. He goes a step further and occasionally shifts between fiction and non-fiction, stepping back from mainstream constraints, attempting to spark discussions on the psychology of prisoners and the scope for reforms.

While the three incidents that shape the narrative are not directly interlinked, the echoes are felt deep within. In one case, though the perpetrators are sentenced to life imprisonment, they find a way out through an appeal to the High Court. In another, a mastermind of a crime with political backing walks out of prison, his ‘good conduct’ cited as a reason. What happens to those who have no choice but to fight a long battle?

While the film is empathetic towards the accused from a lower caste, it does not hesitate to make its characters introspect. Even if a brutal incident was a mistake, it does not absolve one of the devastating consequences since it justifies an act of violence. Beyond the immediate guilt of shattering lives, a character is made to think of the long-term ramifications — festering anger and resentment among the younger generation of the families of victims. There are no easy answers.

A few weeks ago, director Ram Jagadeesh’s Court presented an engaging story of a boy from a lower caste wrongly accused of a crime. That film took a mainstream approach with an underdog lawyer stepping in to do the needful. 23 is a more complex film. The accused as well as their lawyer face a long, lonely battle.

The writing is the film’s backbone and lending support is a large cast. In her debut film, Tanmai delivers a moving performance as a teen who weathers turbulent times. Teja delivers a sincere and measured performance, though occasionally he crumbles under the weight of a complex character. Pavan Ramesh is at ease playing the part-cynical friend Das, drawing from his experience of having worked in independent films. The actors cast as the lawyer and his wife are effective in their parts. Yet again, Jhansi delivers a striking performance, particularly in the portions where she is conversing with the jailer and the inmates. She has the mature, worldly-wise aura required for the part of a psychologist. Mark Robin’s unobtrusive score that complements the narrative deserves a mention.

23 is not an easy film to watch; it is a brave film that does not flinch from addressing tough issues. It is aware that some of its perspectives will be highly debated and yet, it commendably does not hold back.

23 is currently in theatres