Neeyat review: Vidya Balan anchors a largely enjoyable Knives Out-like mystery

Vidya Balan and Rahul Bose in Anu Menon's Neeyat, which released in theatres on July 7, 2023. (Screen grab/Amazon Prime Video)

In a lovely, disarming moment in Neeyat, Jimmy, a gay uncle played by Rahul Bose, animatedly confesses his love for a man. He builds up to the big reveal by disclaiming to the friends and family gathered: “Ek cheez hai jo tum log nahi jaante.” That setup, the heightened emotion of it, falls comically flat and in doing so offers the kind of goofy, comic release that this film could have used more of. Starring Vidya Balan, as a nerdy CBI officer investigating a murder, Neeyat is obviously inspired by Agatha Christie’s famed stories, and borrows from the stylish yet anarchic template of Rian Johnson’s puzzle-like Knives Out films. And though it fumbles plotlines, is underserved by the talent on offer, it is an enjoyable, mainstream foray – perhaps the first of its kind – into Hindi cinema’s very own Christie territory.

Set in an isolated castle somewhere in Scotland, friends and family gather for the birthday bash of Ashish Kapoor, played ecstatically well by Ram Kapoor. Ashish is somewhat modelled on fugitive and former business tycoon Vijay Mallya, as a man posturing for one last hurrah as his empire collapses around him. To this eclectic birthday bash, Ashish has invited a fairly eccentric bunch. This includes his best friend, his psychic healer, his stoner son – along with his girlfriend – and a clingy brother-in-law. A storm, is literally and metaphorically brewing over this ocean-flanking castle, as clouds of jealousy, greed and resentment hover over a seemingly straightforward event. Also part of the bunch is Mira Rao, a CBI officer rather bizarrely invited to oversee the wilful extradition of the defamed billionaire. That is until he is, unexpectedly, murdered.

Also read: Shahana Goswami on Neeyat: We knew it was going to be mad... the tonality of the film is such

What follows is a by-the-numbers murder mystery that though it commits to ridiculous conceits at points is enjoyable for its unpredictability and well-executed final reveal. It’s hard to do Christie-like mysteries in a cinema culture where characters are generally weighed through screen time, but Neeyat tries to at least paint a canvas, that enthrals through its many distinct shades if not selective depth. Characters echo contrasting attitudes and concerns, ranging from far-off derision to intimate slander. Kapoor’s son, for example, played by an in-form Shashank Arora, zones in and out of the seriousness of the occasion. Bose is commendable as the comically twisted uncle but could have been given more to do. Neeraj Kabi, as the grudging friend is dependable as always. The rest of the cast makes up the numbers at best. It tasks Balan with doing most of the heavy lifting.

Balan’s investigative act is sneaky and suspicious enough to add to the main mystery itself. She embodies rare intelligence but also echoes the kind of fragility that makes her eyes wander without intent or meaning. It’s fascinating and frustrating at the same time. And it’s the one creative choice that director Anju Menon pulls off with aplomb. Rather than drive a mystery through someone storied and with a lofty opinion of himself, Mira becomes that unprejudiced but unsure anchor that, though wilful, could also end up being wasteful. In one scene, the tarot reader quite literally instructs her to ‘go do her job and catch the guy’. It’s also a scene that illustrates how a decent film and a promising setup can contrive to undermine its own thunder.

A handful of characters are far too thin and poorly conceived, preposterous even, to be able to hold that slippery ground of a typical Christie ‘anyone could be the murderer’ shtick. It doesn’t help that some of the smaller performances stand out for their banality. For a crowded country, isolation is a fairly eerie concept. It explains why our murder mysteries feel like geographic pursuits, punctuated by crowded streets and indistinguishable alleys compared to western preoccupation with ideas of individuality and seclusion. The topical, Mallya-like context feels just the right hook to reel audiences in - if only the creators had conceived of supporting characters capable of personifying complex inner lives as opposed to types, and prickly whims, the film could have gone places that few mysteries in our cinema have endeavoured to.

That said, this roughly two-hour film is a largely enjoyable, if overzealous mess. It at least exhibits the ability to create a Christie-like mystery, propelled not by the masculinity of acclaim and reputation, but instead by the nervousness of a woman who can barely keep herself together. In Balan it has a dexterous, understated performance that also de-sexualizes the enthralling genius at the heart of these stories. As a consequence, Neeyat also feels far more open-ended and capable of self-deprecation than its more illustrious ancestors. It could have obviously used better writing and performances in parts, but it does, despite the far-fetched nature of it all, go for the jugular at the death. A twist that is worthy of the effort in a film that is worthy of at least a light viewing.