Hisaab Barabar
Rating – **1/2 (2.5/5)
Cast: R Madhavan, Neil Nitin Mukesh, Kirti Kulhari, Rashami Desai
Director: Ashwni Dhir
Right away, in Ashwni Dhir’s Hisaab Barabar, R. Madhavan anchors the narrative with his trademark charisma, but even his nuanced performance can’t salvage this film from its lackluster execution. Tackling the pressing issue of financial fraud, the film had all the ingredients for an incisive commentary on systemic corruption, yet it falters, relying too heavily on surface-level storytelling and undercooked character arcs.
Madhavan stars as Radhe Mohan, a ticket checker and single father with an extraordinary knack for numbers. His mundane life takes a dramatic turn when a minor Rs 27.50 discrepancy in his bank account unravels a web of financial corruption masterminded by the cunning and profit-driven banker Mickey Mehta, played by Neil Nitin Mukesh. As Radhe takes on the corrupt system, the film aspires to be a tale of resilience and justice but struggles to maintain its grip on the audience due to its inconsistent tone and underwhelming screenplay.
Madhavan’s portrayal of Radhe is the film’s highlight and the hook you hold on to. He effortlessly conveys vulnerability and determination, carrying the emotional weight of the story with finesse. Whether he’s tackling his personal struggles as a single father or standing up against a powerful institution, Madhavan keeps the audience invested in his journey. His ability to blend quiet strength with moments of despair is commendable, making Radhe a relatable, everyman hero. However, beyond Madhavan’s compelling performance, the film’s foundation starts to crack.
The premise of Hisaab Barabar is undeniably intriguing, especially in its exploration of how small, overlooked discrepancies can snowball into larger systemic scams. For India’s middle class, constantly navigating the labyrinth of banking, taxes, and financial institutions, the story hits a familiar chord. However, the execution falls disappointingly short. The first half meanders through repetitive scenes that fail to build momentum, while the second half rushes to resolve conflicts without offering a realistic portrayal of the challenges one might face in confronting systemic fraud.
Neil Nitin Mukesh delivers a decent performance as Mickey Mehta, the suave yet morally bankrupt antagonist. Unfortunately, his character feels more like a caricature than a nuanced villain, with predictable motivations and a lack of depth. His interactions with Madhavan lack the tension needed to elevate the narrative. Kirti Kulhari, as Radhe’s love interest, is introduced with promise, but her character is ultimately underutilized. While she brings moments of vulnerability and strength, her arc lacks cohesion, leaving her role feeling disconnected from the central storyline.
The film also fails to capitalize on Rashami Desai’s potential. As Radhe’s neighbor Mona Lisa, her character is reduced to fleeting comedic moments that add little to the plot. This underutilization of a talented cast underscores the film’s inability to strike a balance between its ensemble characters and the central narrative.
One of Hisaab Barabar’s biggest weaknesses is its tonal inconsistency. The film oscillates awkwardly between humor and drama, often undermining its own message. Moments that should feel intense and thought-provoking are diluted by misplaced attempts at comedy. The loud, cartoonish background score further detracts from the seriousness of the subject, making the tonal shifts jarring and distracting.
The screenplay, while attempting to shed light on the middle-class struggles against financial exploitation, lacks the depth and nuance required to make a lasting impact. Conflict resolutions are overly simplistic, and the narrative glosses over the harsh realities of taking on a corrupt system. Radhe’s triumphs feel unearned, as applause and rewards replace the realistic resistance and obstacles one would expect in such a fight.
Despite its flaws, the film does succeed in delivering an inspiring message about the power of determination and the ability of ordinary individuals to take on extraordinary challenges. Madhavan’s portrayal of Radhe ensures the audience feels the emotional resonance of his journey, even when the story falters. However, this alone cannot compensate for the film’s lack of narrative depth, inconsistent pacing, and reliance on predictable tropes.
Technically, the film is forgettable. The music adds no value to the emotional or narrative beats, and the direction lacks sharpness. Ashwni Dhir’s attempt to blend humor with a socially relevant subject ends up undermining the seriousness of the issue, leaving the audience with a story that feels shallow and uninspired.
In conclusion, Hisaab Barabar had the potential to be a gripping exploration of financial fraud and systemic corruption but falls short due to its uneven execution and clichéd storytelling. While Madhavan’s stellar performance is reason enough to give it a watch, the film ultimately feels like a missed opportunity to deliver a compelling and socially relevant drama. At its core, Hisaab Barabar carries an important message, but its delivery leaves much to be desired.