At a time when Winston Churchill’s speeches echoed through radio sets and key members of the Indian National Congress were behind bars, an audacious narrative unfolds in Kannan Iyer’s ‘Ae Watan Mere Watan’. The spotlight shines on a forgotten episode of India’s struggle for independence, where a dauntless young woman named Usha Mehta, played by Sara Ali Khan, sparks a clandestine radio revolution to fuel the Quit India Movement. Despite its potential to integrate resonant themes of media power with current times, the film unfortunately succumbs to melodramatic portrayal rather than a compelling retelling of historical valor.
Envision a nation gripped by the yearning for freedom, where every whisper of revolt can stir the masses. ‘Ae Watan Mere Watan’ attempts to capture this spirit but gets lost in translation, turning profound moments into a theatrical display reminiscent of a costume party. The characters fail to leap off the screen, coming across almost as if they were reciting lines from a script rather than living their roles.
From the onset, the film struggles to find its rhythm, portraying the dynamically charged Usha Mehta in a light that does not do justice to the formidable historical figure she was. Sara Ali Khan’s initial interpretation of Usha teeters towards an overplayed caricature, lacking the subtle layers needed to explore Mehta’s depth. The film falters in its portrayal of Usha’s personal sacrifices, such as her decision for celibacy, which comes across as simplistic rather than a glimpse into the mind of a dedicated freedom fighter.
Yet, as the storyline develops, alongside Sparsh Srivastav, who adroitly plays Fahad, a polio-afflicted but spirited freedom fighter, Sara gradually aligns more harmoniously with the epoch and essence of her character. Noteworthy is a poignant scene the pair shares, dovetailing the societal incompleteness ascribed to women with the collective struggles of the disabled.
The writers, Darab Farooqui and Kannan Iyer, plant seeds of relevance as they draw parallels between the past and present, especially in critiquing media manipulation and emphasizing the indispensable role of funds in spearheading a revolution. The narrative occasionally strikes a chord when it touches on historical truths, such as the corrosive power of propaganda, or when underscoring the necessity of unwavering truth in the face of deceit.
Amidst these small victories in writing lies the depiction of Dr. Ram Manohar Lohia, portrayed by Emraan Hashmi. The film endeavors to honor the socialist leader’s legacy, which has been notably absent in pop culture thus far. Hashmi’s committed guest appearance captures the tenacious spirit of the advocate for social justice, leaving an indelible impression about the importance of resisting tyranny, regardless of the immediate outcomes.
Nonetheless, ‘Ae Watan Mere Watan’ stumbles when it comes to engaging the audience through a lack of dramatic tension and a presentation of historical events that feels more like a checklist than a narrative. Period dramas demand a contemplative touch, yet this work leans towards a pedantic and methodic recounting, betraying the textured complexity of India’s past.
In this Karan Johar production, the search for aesthetic perfection overshadows historical authenticity. The British characters are portrayed in an oversimplified manner by actors chosen more for their looks than their skills, and the styling of the era leans towards a modern retail aesthetic rather than a faithful reconstruction.
The film, streaming on Amazon Prime, misses the mark in delivering an immersive period experience, leaving audiences with the sense of a lost opportunity to portray an integral but largely untold chapter of the Indian freedom struggle in a relatable and inspiring way. Despite the best of intentions, ‘Ae Watan Mere Watan’ serves more as a cautionary example of how not to recount history, rather than the rousing tribute to those who laid the foundations for India’s independence that it sets out to be.
