Thakur sets out into the night on his bike, blotto. His chapter ends on an ignominious note. But another chapter begins for Thakur’s Luna bike. It’s going to become a god.
Despite being impounded by the police, the bike mysteriously makes its way back to the accident site. Constables Manphool (Durga Lal Saini), Pyare Lal (Gaurav Soni) and Badri (Yogendra Singh Parmar) are the earliest goggle-eyed reporters of the bike’s supposed self-motoring abilities.
When this happens a few times, the locals are convinced of a miracle. Thakur (Altaf Khan) goes from neighbourhood drunk to divine messenger. The bike becomes the fount of a new religion that’s swirling in pink and blue, Thakur’s favourite colours.
Ritwik Pareek’s Dug Dug, which is mostly in the Marwari language, is finally being released in cinemas five years after its premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival. The satire about blind faith and the religion economy lampoons its subjects without being cynical, opting for resignation over rebellion. Beyond the trippy visuals lies an allegory about a populace willingly submitting itself to false gods with human origin stories.
Pareek’s inventive feature debut has a tactile texture and a serious feel for the eccentric. Dug Dug is initially perfectly calibrated, with just the right doses of deadpan humour and technical prowess.
The teamwork between Pareek, cinematographer Aditya A Kumar, music composer Salvage Audio Collective, sound designer Siddharth Dubey and editor Bijith Bala is impeccable in the establishing scenes. The lead-up to Thakur’s death is a seductive, undulating play of darkness, movement and music. Aditya A Kumar’s camerawork maintains an agile, mischievous and sardonic tone throughout.
The bike’s hilarious elevation to holy object has to do with an unorthodox interpretation of Thakur’s love for alcohol. In these scenes, Pareek is also winking at the proliferation of roadside deities in a deeply fatalistic country. The non-professional actors who plays secondary characters are utterly believable in their credulity.
The film eventually falls for its own narcotic appeal. Dug Dug is so taken with its premise that it doesn’t care to move ahead.
The hacking needed to get to the mystery behind the bike’s Ajantrik-like qualities is swapped for lush padding. A seemingly endless chunk of the 105-minute duration is devoted to the veritable ecosystem that comes up around the bike.
It appears that the film’s creators have used up every available shot, every musical passage, every instance of Ranjit Singh’s proudly kitschy production design. Having boldly put the bike on the path to sacred stardom, Dug Dug runs out of road.
Also read:
A motorcycle god and absurdist comedy in Rajasthani film ‘Dug Dug’
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