Ten best Hindi films of 2019     

It was a year of mixed blessings. 2019 was another year filled with ₹100 crore plus hits. But some of the best films of the year failed to impress the audience. Here are the 10 that stayed with me.

Article 15: Article 15 is spellbinding. It is everything that cinema was always meant to be. Thought provoking, questioning, disturbing and ultimately cathartic because the cop-hero (played with a simmering intensity by Ayushmann Khurrana) succeeds in getting justice for the wronged. And in giving the underdogs of the film a satisfying closure, director Anubhav Sinha remind us that happy endings are for the movies, and that we are getting one here because, hey, no matter how authentic, Article 15 is a film after all.

Bala: Think. When was the last time you saw a film which didn’t have any superfluous moments? Not one single irrelevant scene or shot? That’s Bala, a breezy yet wounding film that comes to us in a haze of stupid pre-release controversies. Bala is a film of international calibre in every sense. It is the story of a prematurely balding man who discovers how to love himself and how to embrace his supposed short-coming. It takes a dark-skinned girl to bring Bala (yup, that’s our hero) to his senses.

The Sky Is Pink: There are innumerable moments when the gravity of the situation is punctuated by bouts of dry humour. It’s as though director Shonali Bose (who has gone through the unimaginable grief of losing a child) wants us to not go away without hope, to not feel the burden of the couple’s grief as they battle death to save their child, and fail. This is no spoiler. We all know the film is a facsimile of a true life story. And yet this conscious effort to keep the going bouncy and bright in spite of the looming presence of death, could have gone horribly wrong. We never feel the burden of their grief as Aditi and Niren, played with an unostentatious vivacity by Priyanka Chopra and Farhan Akhtar, repel the family’s collective anguish with loads of joyous laughter. And yet, the dilemma of mortality is never trivialised, glamourised or underplayed. We feel the presence of death underlining every moment in this celebration of life.

Chhichhore: There is something ageless about college friendships. Quite often they last for a lifetime. Films about campus camaraderie quite often refer back to Raj Kumar Hirani’s overrated 3 Idiots. Sure enough, Chhichhore will remind you of Hirani’s over-age students (Aamir was well into his 40s) and their infantile pranks. The film leaves behind a feeling of tremendous nostalgia and bonhomie. Indeed, the narrative’s back and forth movement never allows itself to get invasive.

Super 30: This is one magnificent survivor of a film. It survives Hrithik Roshan’s atrocious ‘Bihari’ accent, probably picked from one of the many Lalu Yadav skits on the internet. It not only survives the verbal abomination, it also stakes it claim among the most inspiring and kindered films on the empowerment of the underprivileged through education. Mathematician par excellence Anand Kumar couldn’t have hoped for a better showcasing of his remarkable work in the field of education. Of course, the original endeavour to give the disempowered students a chance to make a place in the sun has been substantially amplified and dramatised. This film survives the onslaught of the outrageous, from the hero’s accent to the film’s climax, to create a very special and precious place in our heart. What comes across is the warmth and empathy of the selfless fearless educationist who would walk that extra mile — literally — to educate, empower and edify the life of poor students.

Mere Pyare Prime Minister: Rakeysh Om Prakash Mehra’s study of slumming salvation is steeped in sincerity and warmth. I felt I was watching a braver, more rounded, ripped and gentle version Mira Nair’s Salaam Bombay. Rakeysh Mehra’s script which he co-wrote with Manoj Mairta and Hussain Dalaal looks at little Kannu and his friends’ wretchedly deprived existence with almost no pity and tremendous empathy. The film is shot like a dream by cinematographer Pawel Dyllus. The contrasts between the slums and the skyscrapers which define Mumbai city here qualify a sense of aching nostalgia for a time when inequality was not so steep, and hence not so dangerous and threatening. Not that the film paints too rosy a picture of slum squalor. What Mehra’s narrative has done is to transcend the wretchedness in pursuit of that glimmer of hope which defines life at the bottom-most level of the social hierarchy where the super-rich are neither myth nor meme. The tender yet strong narrative is supported by some solid music and unsentimental peeps into the innermost recesses of the human heart.

Sonechiriya: This is much more than a brilliant dacoit drama. It is how the rites of accomplished filmmaking are applied to a solid narration that are on your mark and all set to go even before we are fully able to grasp the wide spectrum of characters on the run. Sonechiriya is the most anguished plea against injustice and oppression since Bimal Roy’s Sujata. The deep silences in Abhishek Chaubey’s clenched narrative reminded me of Roy’s film about a Harijan girl (Nutan) looking for an identity.

Gully Boy: In the magical hands of Zoya Akhtar, the familiar tale acquires a texture and tone all of its own. Tone bole toh…the music and the songs of this subtle and rich film abide absolutely and unconditionally with the hip-hop aspirations of its hero. Gully Boy moves in expected yet mysterious ways. Tracking down Murad’s dreams to fruition, Zoya Akhtar doesn’t miss a single heartbeat. Embodying this undefeated spirit of Mumbai is Murad, Zoya Akhtar’s hero in a film that has many heroes.

SONI: Netflix’s prized find of this year opens with a girl cycling down a deserted road in the dead of night. She is being followed by — for the want of stronger word — an eve-teaser who cycles lasciviously behind and beside her, pelting with his perverse chant. This unheard-of masterpiece with a cast of completely new actors, brings an experience from the lives of the women in Delhi’s police force without exaggerating, dramatising or sentimentalising their thankless work.

Uri: This film brings the blood of cross-border tension to a boil but avoids a spillover. There is a rush of patriotic pride in the product — and why should there not be — but it is reined-in, curbed and never allowed to spill over in a gush of irrepressible jingoism. To me, a film about national pride without a single shot of the Indian flag is the biggest miracle since the invention of motion picture camera. This is a glorious beginning to 2019. And if patriotism is the flavour of the year, bring it on, provided it’s not about Paki-bashing. Just getting even.