Maharaj‘s
mediocre
social
drama
lacks
the
spine
and
spunk
to
recreate
the
relevance
of
revolutionary
decisions
in
the
face
of
religious
fanaticism,
observes
Sukanya
Verma.
It’s
rare
for
a
star
son
to
come
out
with
a
debut
in
a
manner
as
lowkey
as
Junaid
Khan’s
Maharaj.
Yet,
Aamir
Khan’s
son’s
first
film,
produced
by
one
of
the
premier
banners
of
Hindi
film
industry
Yash
Raj
Films,
is
bereft
of
the
pomp
and
fanfare
that
accompanies
launchpads
without
as
much
as
a
teaser,
forget
word-of-mouth,
to
announce
its
presence.
Perhaps
its
premise,
inspired
by
the
Maharaj
libel
case
of
1862
argued
at
the
court
in
(back
then)
Bombay
made
it
imperative
for
its
makers
and
platform
to
underplay
its
existence.
Seeing
the
objections
and
delay
in
its
release
after
a
legal
petition
was
filed
by
followers
of
the
Vaishnavite
Pustimargi
sect
resulting
in
a
stay
order
exactly
one
day
before
it
was
to
drop
on
Netflix
as
originally
planned
on
June
14,
their
caution
wasn’t
entirely
unfounded.
A
week
later,
Maharaj‘s
intentions
of
retelling
a
real-life
case
has
the
last
word
and
the
movie
is
available
for
all
to
stream
and
see.
Much
ado
about
nothing,
really.
Directed
by
Siddharth
P
Malhotra,
Maharaj‘s
mediocre
social
drama
lacks
the
spine
and
spunk
to
recreate
the
relevance
of
revolutionary
decisions
in
the
face
of
religious
fanaticism.
In
the
tradition
of
PK,
Ashram,
Sirf
Ek
Bandaa
Kaafi
Hai.
the
idea
is
to
lay
bare
the
blind
devotion
of
bhakts
as
well
as
the
unchallenged
exploitation
at
the
hands
of
Godmen
against
the
backdrop
of
19th
century
Hinduism.
What
unfolds
though
is
a
jaded,
wobbly
commentary
that
has
the
mind
of
a
monotonous
television
serial
and
the
face
of
a
mainstream
Bollywood
masala.
It
is
essentially
a
conflict
of
David
versus
Goliath
magnitude
between
righteous
rage
and
spiritual
narcissism.
Vipul
Mehta’s
adaptation
of
Saurabh
Shah’s
Gujarati
novel
starts
out
by
reformist
journalist
Karsan
Das
Mulji’s
‘krantikari
soch‘
(Junaid
Khan)
noting
the
wrongdoings
within
the
ashram,
addressed
as
haveli
by
its
devotees.
The
devotees
include
Karsan’s
family
and
fiancée
(Shalini
Pandey,
reinforcing
herself
in
a
regressive
stereotype),
willingly
offering
themselves
to
their
guru
Yadunath
or
JJ
(Jaideep
Ahlawat)
as
everyone
calls
the
man.
But
Maharaj‘s
aesthetic
depiction
of
inappropriate
practices
branded
as
‘charan
seva‘
neither
fully
shames
JJ’s
sexual
predator
nor
explains
his
grip
over
his
followers.
Jaideep
Ahlawat’s
charisma
looms
large
but
the
writing
fails
to
capitalise
on
his
menace
beyond
a
smug
cardboard
figure.
When
Karsan
learns
about
his
betrothed’s
betrayal,
the
scenario
takes
the
discomforting
shape
of
‘my
patriarchy
is
better
than
yours’
as
he
goes
about
blaming
his
girl
and
guru
in
the
vein
of
a
petulant
child.
By
the
time
he
comes
around
to
protesting
in
an
adult
fashion
by
collaborating
with
the
icons
of
the
time,
Maharaj
has
fizzled
out
on
all
fronts.
History’s
heroes
like
Dadabhai
Naoroji
and
Bhau
Daji
Lad
are
reduced
to
costume-y
nondescript
figures
to
accommodate
Sharvari’s
vintage
style
and
flirtatious
activist
lest
the
hero
feels
arm
candy-less
for
too
long.
Treating
a
serious
period
drama
as
fluff
by
stuffing
it
with
distractions
of
song,
dance
and
romance,
Maharaj
neither
looks
like
it
belongs
in
the
British
Raj
nor
wants
to.
When
the
token
English
faces
do
show
up
at
the
fag
end
of
is
flippant
courtroom
battle,
Karsan’s
moderately
expressed
criticism
of
representatives
of
religion
not
to
be
mistaken
for
religion
itself
loses
its
vigour
around
the
scandalous
revelations
of
JJ’s
sexual
ailments.
Maharaj‘s
shortcomings
would
be
less
noticeable
under
some
dazzling
leadership.
But
newcomer
Junaid
has
a
long
way
to
go.
He
has
a
statuesque
quality
and
his
dad’s
smile
but
cannot
convey
any
emotions
beyond
huff
and
puff.
Looks
like
that’s
the
only
reaction
Maharaj
is
capable
of
eliciting.
Maharaj
streams
on
Netflix.
Maharaj
Review
Rediff
Rating:
