Prahaar review: Rajkummar Rao shines in an interesting courtroom drama that occasionally loses focus

Prahaar review: This Rajkummar Rao-led film occasionally gets caught between being a gripping courtroom drama and a family saga.

CAST: Rajkummar Rao, Wamiqa Gabbi, Sikandar Kher, Jaideep Ahlawat

DIRECTOR: Avinash Arun

RATING: 3 stars

A still from Prahaar.

Bollywood won’t let you forget 26/11. But neither would the memories.

Nearly 18 years later, the tragedy continues to find its way to the big screen, with filmmakers exploring it through different perspectives. Kangana Ranaut’s Bharat Bhagya Vidhaata, released earlier this year, was one such attempt. Now, the focus shifts to the courtroom and Ujjwal Nikam, the lawyer who prosecuted Ajmal Kasab, the lone terrorist captured alive during the Mumbai terror attacks. Starring Rajkummar Rao, Prahaar offers a different entry point into a story we know all too well. But does changing the vantage point change the story, too? Or is Bollywood once again banking on the gravity of history to do the heavy lifting? Let’s find out.

The story begins with Nikam’s appointment as public prosecutor in the aftermath of the 26/11 attacks. As he builds a case against Kasab, he faces off against Abbas Kazmi (Sikandar Kher), the only lawyer willing to represent the captured terrorist. The film also offers a glimpse into Nikam’s personal life, introducing his wife (Wamiqa Gabbi), son (Ritvik Sahore) and daughter, all of whom have had to contend with his prolonged absence as he throws himself into high-profile cases. How Nikam navigates the courtroom battle and ultimately seeks justice for the victims forms the rest of the story.

Director Avinash Arun, along with writer Sumit Roy, has zeroed in on an interesting subject. Prahaar is neither a conventional India vs Pakistan narrative nor one that relies on religious fault lines to make its point. The first half is crisp, establishing the tension effectively and moves towards a compelling interval point. There's also Jaideep Ahlawat as Pakistani prosecutor Zulfiqar Ali. That entire track (all of it true, by the way) is executed superbly. A special mention for the powerful dialogues by Sumit.

A film like this did not need to devote so much time to Nikam’s family life. Yes, we need to understand who they are and what his demanding profession costs him personally. But given the enormity of the 26/11 attacks, the narrative would have benefited from keeping its focus firmly on the tragedy and the legal battle that followed, rather than repeatedly diverting attention towards Nikam’s attempts to balance his personal and professional lives. Two subplots, concerning his strained relationship with his son and his wife's health problems, occupy more screen time than they warrant. In trying to flesh out Nikam as a family man while also dramatising the courtroom proceedings, Prahaar ends up spreading itself too thin. What begins as a gripping legal drama gradually becomes an exhausting watch.

There's also an unnecessary dramatic detour into Kasab's deteriorating mental health as he languishes in jail, adding little to the larger narrative.

What keeps you seated throughout is Rajkummar Rao. There are moments when you genuinely forget he is acting, and honestly, I am not sure there's a better way to describe how convincing he is. Wamiqa Gabbi gets the body language of an ageing woman spot on. Lalit Prabhakar, as Kasab, is effective in parts, while Sikandar Kher is simply too good. Ashish Vidyarthi, as the judge, makes his presence felt.

Overall, Prahaar has a story that should have been difficult to look away from, yet it occasionally tests your patience with its own digressions. The 26/11 attack remains one of the darkest scars on our nation's memory. A film about Ujjwal Nikam had the opportunity to capture the fight for justice with the emotional weight it deserved. Instead, it gets caught between a courtroom drama and a family saga, losing some of its grip on both in the process. And yet, there is enough here to keep the film from becoming a missed opportunity altogether. The wounds of 26/11 do not need another cinematic reminder of their existence; they deserve a retelling that does justice to the magnitude. Prahaar comes a little close.