Silence 2: This Jaded Whodunnit Can’t Be Saved by Manoj Bajpayee

Lesbians everywhere, come together. Everything you stand to lose is your Zee5 subscriptions. This awkward whodunit depiction of a lesbian woman is so offensive that it parallels the political incorrectness of Mohanlal’s evil Malayalam film Monster.

It is even worse here. You feel terrible for the writers Sunny Sharma and Aban Bharucha Deohans because of the ruthless insensitivity with which the lesbian character has been presented as enraged, unmoored, and insane. Are they even aware of what they are about to embark on?

A sex prostitute called Asma (spelled “Azma” in her murder profile—yes, she is killed) thanks a guy for aiding her by giving him sex in an unintentionally humorous scene. The caliber of brains that went into creating this whodunit is evident from just one thick-skinned portrayal of a heartbreaking human situation.

How could they have been thinking? While watching this shaky whodunit in which Manoj Bajpayee, in a sharp qualitative downturn, becomes entangled in a web of dishonesty, what are we meant to be thinking?
I do not mean the ridiculous storyline.

 

This is a far deeper case of dishonesty. An actor who has just become a quality-conscious person is forced to bow down by a screenplay that exudes inexperience.

Returning as ACP Avinash Varma is Bajpayee. He is a stern, unenthusiastic, praise-vardi officer who only talks when called upon. “Maine appko kabhi khate huey dekha nahin,” remarks Avinash’s coworker, Sahil Vaid, amiably as he tucks into a sub. Avinash from Bajpayee gives the inquisitive man a chilly look.

Any competent actor might get into a bad mood reading a screenplay like this. Not that it matters to anybody whether Avinash eats or drinks. He just talks on the phone with his daughter, who we infer from the exchange is heading overseas to pursue her studies. It just doesn’t work to try to instill a life outside of the uniform. Manoj portrays the stern officer like Zanjeer on freeze, no Family Man this time.

Nobody has much space to feel human, not even a performer of Bajpayee’s caliber. Appearing like a guy, he strolls about trying to figure out why he is where he is. No, our hero doesn’t require us to feel sorry for him. His hands are occupied with a case that is disorganized. Manoj Bajpayee, who plays the stoic Avinash, is the actor that worries me, not Avinash Varma.

How on earth did he be convinced to participate in this vehement bluster about, hold your breath, rape, paedophilia, human trafficking, prostitution, mental illness, business scams, and lesbianism?
Regretfully, the creators of this obscene combination of murder and nemesis don’t know how to give the events even the slightest degree of consistency.

The plot shifts from episode to episode with the deliberate unpredictability of a jukebox, until there are more dead corpses than possible murder suspects.

Seeing Prachi Desai as Manoj’s subdued assistant is also really depressing. It’s not like she doesn’t have any video. She doesn’t really contribute anything; she simply lingers about.

After seeing the whole movie I still don’t understand the purpose of this movie. Whodunnit is not the question. Whydunnit is the question.