Gone
are
those
days
when
female
directors
made
films
about
female
protagonists.
Janaki
Vishwanathan's
protagonist
is
neither
man
nor
woman.
It's
a
goat!
Weaving
a
plot
in
and
around
the
anointment
of
a
goat
in
a
sleepy
bigoted
Muslim-dominated
hamlet,
Janaki's
film
creates
a
world
that
seems
frozen
in
a
state
of
incredulous
backwardness
and
poverty.
And
yet
Yeh
Hai
Bakrapur
is
not
a
sad
film.
The
upbeat
tongue-in-cheek
plot
about
a
goat
named,
ahem,
Shahrukh
who
acquires
a
divine
status
for
no
fault
of
its
own,
has
plenty
of
bite
and
brio.
Though
it
finally
comes
to
an
inglorious
ambiguous
end,
there
is
ample
meat
in
the
narrative
to
chew
on.
The
director
keeps
the
proceedings
on
a
slow-burn,
opting
for
an
understatement
and
subliminal
humour
where
she
could
have
pulled
out
all
stops
and
given
Shyam
Benegal's
Welcome
To
Sajjanpur
a
run
for
its
money.
By
the
time
the
proceedings
come
to
a
grinding
halt,
the
narration
hasn't
moved
forward
to
anywhere
close
to
a
nirvana,
nor
have
the
characters
evolved.
The
stagnancy
of
the
milieu
interrupted
by
a
silly
excitement
over
a
spiritually
blessed
goat,
is
staggering
in
its
nullity.
Celluloid
portraits
of
rural
poverty
are
generally
grim
and
tragic.
This
one
goes
the
other
way.
The
world
of
Yeh
Hai
Bakrapur
is
flush
with
fun,
not
necessarily
intentional.
The
characters
seem
to
exist
on
two
levels,
both
as
prototypes
and
individuals
typifying
the
peculiarities
of
a
community
grappling
with
inner
prejudices,
and
trying
to
balance
out
personal
equations
within
the
context
of
hugely
eccentric
circumstance
that
overtakes
the
soporific
village.
There
is
also
the
theme
of
the
urban
infiltration
in
rural
India
through
the
character
played
by
Anshuman
Jha
in
Yeh
Hai
Bakrapur.
A
village
barber's
son
and
a
self-styled
hair
stylist
with
an
air
of
deceptive
innocence,
Jha's
Jaffar
brings
into
the
story
a
dash
of
hurried
progressiveness
in
the
dying,
decaying
village.
And
presiding
over
the
fiscal
madness
that
takes
over
the
village
is
the
selflessness
of
a
little
boy
(Shameem
Khan)
and
the
goat.
A
portrait
of
innocence
in
a
world
governed
by
manipulation!
The
goat's
stardom
with
the
two
communities
claiming
its
attention
can
be
seen
as
a
metaphor
for
the
kind
of
heroes
we
seek
in
today's
times.
On
the
other
hand,
the
entire
brouhaha
over
a
suddenly
iconised
goat
can
be
enjoyed
as
just
a
comedy
on
glorious
goof-ups.
Given
either
option,
the
film
has
some
delectable
performances.
Every
actor
gets
a
hang
of
the
farce
and
blends
accordingly.
But
theatre
actress
Suruchi
Aulakh
is
way
ahead
of
the
other
in
finding
her
groove
in
this
madcap
comedy
about
a
village
riddled
with
humbug
and
bigotry.
For
a
film
that
authenticates
its
satire
by
focusing
relentlessly
on
the
quirks
of
its
characters,
there
is
quite
a
lot
of
polish
in
the
presentation.
The
music
is
an
interesting
mix
of
the
native
folk
sounds
and
generic
satire.
The
topography
is
tightly
articulated.
This
is
a
charming
scathing
irreverent
parable
on
blind
faith,
poverty
and
religious
hypocrisy
that
seems
satirical
sustenance
in
the
authentic
rural
Muslim
milieu
where
innocent
love
and
manipulative
materialism
co-exist.
You
may
not
be
overwhelmed
by
Vishwanathan's
satire.
But
you
won't
come
away
without
a
smile
and
smirk
in
this
sly
look-see
at
rural
India
where
every
second
citizen
is
a
certifiable
attention-seeker.