Shah Rukh Khan is justly celebrated as one of Indian cinema’s most romantic heroes. Khan’s image as Boyfriend No. 1 was sealed with Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge (1995). Was Khan trying to make amends for the vengeance trilogy between 1993 and 1994 in which he played dangerous, nasty and irredeemable men?
Khan’s best villainous act is neither in Baazigar (1993), lifted from A Kiss Before Dying¸ nor Darr, which stole its climax from Cape Fear (1991). In 1994, Khan played a truly evil character whose obsession with a woman sends him, and her, over the edge.
Based on a story by Sutanu Gupta and Gautam Rajadhyaksha and written by Rumi Jaffrey, Anjaam (Consequence) is also a rare mainstream film that doesn’t glorify stalking. Khan plays Vijay, a wealthy businessman who is smitten by the air hostess Shivani (Madhuri Dixit). Vijay declares his love to the world – he throws his arms wide open in that familiar gesture – but Shivani isn’t interested.
That doesn’t deter Vijay one bit. In scenes that will be familiar from such films as Kabir Singh and this week’s release Tere Ishk Mein, Vijay imposes himself on Shivani, initially with force and later with malevolence. What he can’t have, he seeks to destroy. Anjaam takes Vijay’s one-sided desire to extremes. Shivani gives him a fitting response.
Anjaam can be rented from YouTube Movies and Apple TV+. The film is an engrossing thriller, powered by riveting performances by the leads.
Madhuri Dixit has rarely been better. Shah Rukh Khan is brilliant in his lack of remorse – a bold move for an actor who was on the ascent at the time. Rahul Rawail pushes Khan to better his performance in Baazigar, and Khan delivers in full.
Rawail’s direction is unerring in its focus and moral clarity. Anjaam refuses to provide a justification for an immature man-child who doesn’t understand consent and lashes out when he is refused his favourite toy.
There are terrific songs by Anand-Milind. Badi Mushkil Hai, beautifully sung by Abhijeet, is the sweet expression of somebody who has just fallen in love – until you realise that it’s Vijay’s point of view.
Pratighat Ki Jwala, sung by Sapna Awasthi, is a Kali-evoking tune that marks Shivani’s transformation into an avenging goddess. Shivani’s vendetta is out of a pulp fiction novel, the kind of fantasy unavailable to women in the real world. Yet, there’s nothing imaginary about Vijay’s campaign against Shivani.
Channe Ke Khet Mein, sung by Poornima Shreshta and choreographed by Saroj Khan, is the kind of seductive number featuring Madhuri Dixit that was popular in the 1990s. This is the moment when Vijay meets Shivani again. She’s singing to her husband (Deepak Tijori), but Vijay chooses to misunderstand, yet again. He is blind and deaf to Shivani’s refusal. At least he pays the price.
You’ve read Scroll.
Now help sustain it
Scroll is funded by readers, not corporate owners. If you believe our work matters, support our newsroom. Become a member today!
We’re not driven by clicks or corporate interests – just honest, independent reporting. Keep us going. Support Scroll today!