Thappad, which means Slap, is about how a husband slaps his wife, and it causes a huge ripple effect throughout their community. I am curious if the filmmaker was inspired by The Slap, a novel that was later adapted into a miniseries in Australia and the US, which I had zero interest in reading or watching, about an adult relative slapping a child. This film grabbed my attention because I love Indian movies with women protagonists and a message. Indian films are entertaining, reasonable adult afterwork specials with a heart. They resist the overly melodramatic, exaggerated impulses of American dramas while being incredibly educational in teaching audiences about decent conduct and destroying harmful societal assumptions about gender expectations. In many ways, contemporary Indian movies remind me of classic Hollywood
If you are like me, you may wonder if a movie about a single slap really needs to be two hours twenty-two minutes long. Isn’t this situation a no brainer? Yes, but Thappad is fire.
If I had known that Thappad would be the last movie that I saw before a global pandemic shut down every movie theater, I may have made other choices because it is not last movie that I ever saw levels of greatness (that would have been Portrait of a Lady on Fire), but it was definitely a strong selection.
Thappad’s narrative is really strong. Even though there is a protagonist, the movie never loses momentum because it relies on the ensemble cast and how each person’s story fits into the others in a deft way. It takes a Chantal Akerman approach of showing, not telling, to get its viewers adjusted to the routine so when the incident occurs, the viewer can see where the cracks are beginning to emerge. There is a clear delineation of before and after, but if you are seeing the film, presumably you are expecting the incident so the signs are obvious to the viewer, but the characters are oblivious, which is also a subtle way of instructing the audience regarding understanding danger signs in real life that may not be indicators of abuse, but should set off alarm bells. Hopefully more introspective viewers will take it as instruction and not get defensive if he or she recognizes those actions in themselves. Eagle eyed viewers such as myself who are paying close visual attention to the composition of each scene will also be able to guess later plot twists that further complicate the story.
Thappad’s central question is dignity. I was pleasantly surprised that a man, Anubhav Sinha, directed this film. Sinha is woke, y’all, and he understands the unspoken gender work tax—that women are expected to take on a number of burdens that men are not, and people regardless of gender rarely question or challenge it, but get fairly angry and notice it when it stops. There is one scene when a character is sick, and the doctor reassures the husband that the person is fine, but earlier gave the wife, who does not live there, a complicated list of instructions on what she needs to do to make sure that this person does not die. Sinha never belabors these points, but he consistently depicts them. In one scene, he explicitly has one character make the point to enlighten the most understanding man in the film how he also benefits from privilege while he is outraged by it. I feel as if he had such a moment, clutched his metaphorical pearls and has never been the same since his epiphany. “I could be the villain! No! Not on my watch!” Though it is not graphic, there is a scene that strongly implies marital rape involving an unlikely pair of supporting characters. He gets how these societal expectations create divisions and resentment between two people who otherwise should be united by love. The implicit admonishment to the characters and the audience is to ask themselves if it is really worth constantly forcing one person to assume certain burdens if it eventually destroys one person, which will eventually crush the unit.
I also loved how Thappad’s women characters would occasionally be the outrageously regressive ones, and the men would be the progressive ones. In the US, despite all evidence to the contrary, there is a kneejerk assumption that women are progressive and forward thinking because they have the most to benefit, and vice versa for men. I am grateful that Sinha understands that women often enforce expectations that burden them the most. Also he gets that men who could become abusive will only listen to and change if progressive men confront them on their bad behavior.
Thappad is not just some grim domestic violence drama. Sinha is a minimalist. He generally takes the lowest level indignities then examines them closely instead of brushing it under the rug so you are not signing up for some oppression marathon. I am not saying that it is not occasionally disturbing, but it never feels clinical or pornographic in detail, but organic and thoughtful in its approach to the subject matter. There are depictions of physical violence against a supporting character, which could be triggering to some viewers. I was really engrossed and invested in how these events would change all the characters, especially the woman lawyer with the awesome hair! I considered getting that hair cut before I had to remind myself that her hair starts straight so it would not look the same. The abusive guy is not entirely depicted as a villain though he is definitely not a good guy. While his road to redemption is unlikely (it is a movie), I did appreciate that the film never underplayed his stressors. He had valid issues, and it was still not an excuse for his behavior. I am not sure if American and European audiences are ready to hear what his valid stressors are, but it did not bother me.
Some of Thappad’s storylines were lost in translation. Only the Indian and Indian American viewers in my audience howled when it was revealed that a character read revolutionary poetry. I am not sure why that is so funny, but if you get it, drop me a line. I did not understand why the mother in law was living with her son when she was still happily married, and her husband was stull alive. Is it a common practice? Was it explained in the film, and I missed it?
Definitely stay for Thappad’s closing credits which reveals what happens to the characters after the denouement. After Captain Marvel, best closing credits ever! I did not completely understand the housekeeper’s ending though I can hazard a guess.
Thappad seems to challenge audiences and its characters to challenge privilege if it leads to too many compromises of one’s self worth. It is one of the few Indian films that consistently valued the individual more than the collective and did not feel the need to reassure more conservative members of the audience of the patriotic benefits of being against gender inequality and domestic violence. It was just a quietly confident movie with an engrossing story and sympathetic characters. It does have subtitles, and there are no bombastic dance sequences.