In his hero-entry scene in Deva, Shahid Kapoor, in a buzz cut and a stubble, thrusts his pelvis to ‘Are Diwano Mujhe Pehchano’ from Don (1978). In a mural, Amitabh Bachchan’s Vijay, another Salim-Javed anti-hero, lounges in the background. In the desperation to attain mass appeal, the angry young Bachchan has become the new cardboard cutout of every deviant and volatile protagonist in Hindi cinema.
In Jigra (2024), Alia Bhatt stuffs her mouth, prepping herself for an odyssey as Agneepath (1990) plays on TV. Ranbir Kapoor’s Animal reveals his name to be Rann ‘Vijay’. Every creator seems to be showcasing their characters as the angry young men or women of the modern age. But nobody is imbibing its essence.
In an interview, Javed Akhtar eloquently described his creation: “The angry young man wasn’t just angry. He was deeply hurt.” I don’t know what ails today’s on-screen rebel. What hurts him? Who is he angry with? What is he angry about?
Helmed by Rosshan Andrrews, Deva is a plain and convoluted restructuring of the director’s 2013 neo-noir psychological thriller Mumbai Police. Given the source material and leaving the PR aside (which projected Deva as a massy film), the movie was expected to be a nail-biting thriller. With an incessantly smoking Shahid, sporting shades and rugged jeans, Deva clings to the style as it jettisons the substance.
It beats the barrel drum of its gritty sensibilities but quite soon the thrills at its centre start ringing hollow. The case is solved when the film opens (but there is a catch). Dev Ambre (Shahid Kapoor) has found the killer of his friend and colleague Rohan D’Silva (Pavail Gulati), a gentle cop who was shot by an unknown sniper at a police felicitation event.
Dev meets with an accident before he can reveal the culprit’s name to his senior Farhan Khan (Parvessh Rana). Dev wakes up with amnesia, having no memory of either his or the murderer’s identity. As he starts piecing up the puzzle, the audience is introduced to Dev’s pre-accident, mercurial personality.