In one of my most favourite scenes from Faiza Ahmad Khan’s Supermen of Malegaon (2008), the protagonist Nasir is having a verbal duel with brother Nadeem, who wants to follow his foot-steps and make a career out of making amateur films in Malegaon. After making Malegaon Ke Sholay – a parody of the iconic 1975 film – Nasir became a local celebrity. Nadeem is showing his parody of Tere Naam (2003) to the camera, when Nasir rebukes him for wanting to pursue it as a career.
It’s a fascinating divide Khan captures in her documentary, where one brother is seduced by the magic of cinema, while the other seems blinded by its glamour and fame. For someone so close to the dream machine, it’s incredible how Nasir is able to suss out the lies in the oft-romanticised maxims: ‘Follow your passion,’ or ‘Conquer your dreams’. He tells Khan how filmmaking has to be a hobby. There are no returns here, and one can’t run a household on it. “Main khud phaste jaara ismein (I, myself, am getting trapped in this).”
I remember wondering if Nasir was always this wise. Reema Kagti’s Superboys of Malegaon provides an answer to this. Based in the North Maharashtrian town, Kagti’s film becomes a prequel of sorts and chronicles the events that led to Khan’s documentary. It’s sincere, funny, and often warm in the way it tells the story of five boys: Nasir (Adarsh Gourav), Shafique (Shashank Arora), Farogh (Vineet Kumar Singh), Akram (Anuj Singh Duhan) and Irfan (Saqib Ayub), who would inadvertently end up making a dent in film history with sheer perseverance.
Adarsh Gourav as Nasir in ‘Superboys of Malegaon’. Photo: Youtube/Prime Video India
Taking off in 1997, we meet Nasir running a down-on-his-luck theatre screening a Buster Keaton film – while their competitors are screening the latest, most affordable Bollywood film. A chance visit to a nearby town teaches him the gift of film editing and continuity. It’s a delightful sequence where Nasir spots a sign selling haram and halal cassettes.
When he inquires about how they do it, the owner shows them how to copy a cassette – pausing the recorder right around the much talked-about kiss in Raja Hindustani (1997), and thereby making it ‘family friendly’. Nasir, thanks to his savvy nature, soon uses trick to make action/comedy montages – ranging from Chaplin, Keaton, Bruce Lee etc. His theatre is full again, but one day the cops ambush the theatre, breaking everything in sight. Charged with violating piracy laws, Nasir has another light bulb moment — he decides to embark on his first film project.
Vineet Arora, Anuj Singh Duhan and Saqib Ayub in a scene from ‘Superboys of Malegaon’. Photo: Youtube/Prime Video
Superboys of Malegaon flaunts its pitch as a feel-good fairy tale from the beginning. The score (by Sahil Vishwakarma) seems designed to sound like a foreign travel show stopping by for an episode in India – at least that’s what I was reminded of by some of the overstated tablas. Sally White’s production design appears almost too neat while recreating the middle-class and lower middle-class Muslim households of Malegaon. It took me a while to ignore these and fully enter the film. I remember the exact moment when it finally happened: when Nasir looks back at Mallika (Riddhi Kumar) with resignation, moments after her father has turned his proposal down to marry her, after which a mournful alaap fills the theatre. A sublime bit of visual storytelling.
Kagti’s film is essentially lifted by its acting and writing. A lot of our experience with the film depends on our investment in these primary characters, and how their body language shifts ever so slightly in crucial scenes. The way Gourav’s face lights up when he knows he’s found the right person, or the way Arora’s face changes from smitten to concerned for Trupti (Manjiri Pupala), when he sees her walking with a limp, implying she was beaten by her husband before coming to the film shoot, or even the way Singh suffers indignities with a smile as writer Farogh, until he explodes. I was also quite taken by Nasir and Shabina’s (Muskkaan Jaaferi) love story that begins with an earnest conversation on their first night: “Pehle dosti kaat-te hai? (Should we be friends first?)” In an industry that seems increasingly apathetic to gender politics in its bid to fill seats in theatres, I’m glad Varun Grover and Shoaib Zulfi Nazeer wrote this line, especially in a time when even basic decency feels revolutionary.
Shashank Arora as Shafique in ‘Superboys of Malegaon’. Photo: Youtube/Prime Video
It’s no surprise that Excel Entertainment ended up making a film on these folks from Malegaon; I was reminded of so many of their films while watching Superboys. A spiteful confrontation between friends reminded me of Dil Chahta Hai (2001), and Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara (2012). The sanitised Muslim household in Malegaon comprising women with a surprisingly urban sensibility reminded me of Zoya Akhtar’s vision of Dharavi in Gully Boy (2019). A key character’s diagnosis with cancer reminded me of Rock On!! (2008). Scenes inside a producer’s office and around the confectionery corner in a theatre are reminiscent of Luck By Chance (2009).
If one really has to nitpick, Kagti’s film overlooks the plight of the town’s handloom workers. And, there’s no mention of the communal tension that resulted in the cleanly-divided Hindu and Muslim ghettos of Malegaon. The film is so fully focused on its five boys and their cinephilic dreams, it leaves no room to examine the town’s culture at large, and how films probably played a part in mending its fractures. However, these are tiny, overbearing quibbles with respect to what Kagti’s film does end up achieving.
‘Superboys of Malegaon’ is fully focused on its five boys and their cinephilic dreams. Photo: Youtube/Prime Video
Superboys of Malegaon brings back wide-eyed wonder to Hindi films, which seems to be fast depleting. In a scene, Mallika and Nasir are watching a Bruce Lee film, as she bemoans the fact that he died early. “Maraa kidhar hai? (Who said he died?)” – Nasir says, pointing to the screen. I found myself fighting my tears when the final few frames tell us about the deaths of those among the principal five characters. In the film’s own words, these few people might have managed to inhabit muqammal (complete) lives – chasing the things they loved and doing them. While lesser people like us, talk about it.
