There’s a scene in the new Dangal where one of our protagonists is on the phone with her father, in tears. You see, it was daddy dearest who had introduced Geeta (Fatima Sana Sheikh) and her sister, Babita (Sanya Malhotra), to the sport of wrestling at a young age, and trained them to play professionally; Mahavir Phogat (Aamir Khan), from the village of Balali in Haryana, had been a national-level wrestler himself in his day, but had dropped out prematurely, unable to afford to compete internationally owing to a paucity of government funding, and forced to take up a dull office job to pay the bills. Since then, though, it had always been his heart’s desire to beget a son who could take up wrestling, do what he couldn’t and win a gold medal. Unfortunately for him, he and wife Daya (Sakshi Tanwar) have been conceiving daughter after daughter—despite following the numerous sure-fire boy-making “tips” offered by people around him—and following the birth of his fourth girl, a dejected Mahavir sets to packing up his awards and his dreams. However, one day, he discovers that his two eldest girls (Zaira Wasim and Suhani Bhatnagar) have roughed up some neighbourhood boys, and that gets him wondering: Could he make wrestling champions of them instead?

Turns out, yes, but at considerable cost. Mahavir begins whipping the two into shape—early morning runs, constant practice, no TV, no junk food and no finicky long hair. The poor girls, with their shorn heads, are taunted by their peers and the community at large, but, with their father’s backing, they persevere against both societal and institutional barriers, and in time, Mahavir gets his wish: both girls progress rapidly through the ranks, with the older Geeta now a national-level player. But this means having to enroll at the National Sports Academy in Patiala, where, in the company of new friends, she starts to deviate from the rigorous routine that her

father had drilled into her: she’s now going out, indulging in the odd snack, exchanging flirty glances with male athletes, and even starting to question ol’ dad’s techniques. Of course, that kind of independent thinking can’t be good: Geeta’s game is slipping, and she soon realises that her father was right. And so she must apologise. And so she cries on the phone, Mahavir relents, and equilibrium is restored.

Touching though the moment might be, and certainly well-acted, it’s hard to get away from the rather icky feeling that the girl is essentially being punished for trying, once in her life, to choose something for herself, even if it’s just to grow out her hair. And that’s pretty much how I felt all through Dangal: even as I was engaged by the performances and the spot-on production design, I was conflicted over exactly how to feel about the story itself and its broader message. I realise that as a film based on a real-life story, there were limitations to the liberties that director Nitesh Tiwari could take with the material, and of course, I’d much rather be given the reality of what took place in the lives of the Phogats rather than a sanitised, politically-correct version.But the film cultivates a clear reverence towards Mahavir through its overall tone and approach, and marketing strategies have, in no uncertain terms, classed it as a “feminist”movie—which is a touch problematic because whatever its other merits, Dangal’s stance on the whole empowerment thing is more than a little wobbly.

Indeed, there’s a sense of hollowness about the victories we see onscreen; even when it is Geeta or Babita beating down opponents in the pit and winning medals, they are still sidelined by the sheer force of Mahavir’s ambitions—more than about the girls, this is about his redemption. It’s there in the way he decides, on a selfish whim, to cut their childhoods short to commence training, allowing them no say in the matter, mere slaves to his aspirations. Throughout, he is relentlessly one-track, even to the point of cruelty.

Even if we were to put all this aside, Geeta and Babita’s gaining in mastery is still bereft of the kind of joy that comes of watching an underdog overcome odds in your typical sports film. Sure, they might have escaped the bleak fates of their contemporaries—as shown in a rather heavy-handed scene where a friend of the girls’, on her wedding day, lectures them on how “lucky” they are to have a father who actually cares about their future instead of being eager to just marry them off—but they still don’t have much by way of agency. Even the climactic matches, where Geeta’s abilities should have shone, have been framed rather as a clash of male egos—our girl as good as a rag doll, while the men make all the decisions for her.

I accept, of course, that Mahavir is a product of his circumstances, born and raised in one of India’s most regressive societies, where the status of women is notoriously low. And Khan has acquired something of a reputation as the “thinking man’s actor” whose projects, whether on TV or the big screen, always seek to lay bare some social problem or the other, and this is no different: Dangal does touch, among other things, on the cultural preference for boys in India, the gender bias in sports and the inadequate support given to athletes, especially female athletes, from the state.

The approach, however, is surprisingly superficial—for instance, the girls face ridicule when they initially start wrestling, but the nuances of that experience are resolved all too quickly. And characters are

given the same perfunctory treatment; with no digging into their deeper motivations and feelings, it’s hard to really understand why they do what they do (stay tuned for the cartoonish villain the film drums up at a latter point). With the result that Dangal seems all too keen on lionizing Mahavir for being a force of change in his daughters’ lives—the end justifying the means—without proper examination of the contradictions and complexities implicated in his actions.

Worse still is the reversion to cheap nationalism to patch over the holes in the narrative and gloss over Mahavir’s flaws—as if to say, look, the man was a patriot, if he was so keen on winning gold for his country, he couldn’t possibly be a bad guy, could he? To be honest, the whole angle feels phoned in to placate the jingoists who have, on occasion, accused Khan of “defaming India”—it doesn’t feel at all organic.

It isn’t that Dangal is fully devoid of enjoyment: the tongue-in-cheek voice-over is a highlight, as is the cast, particularly the actresses who play both younger and older versions of the Phogat sisters. What it all boils down to, then, is an issue with focus. Far too much emphasis

is laid on Mahavir’s perspective—without the requisite digging into his heart and mind—when the story could’ve been far more interesting told from the girls’ point-of-view. And far too much attention has also been given to the actor playing him, such as the physical transformation he underwent for the role. I applaud Khan’s commitment, but I don’t think the effort was entirely necessary. Wouldn’t it have made more narrative sense to show the transformation in the girls’ bodies through the years? Dangal, then, is entertaining enough but its commentary is a little off key. I’d recommend tossing out all expectations raised by the promos and going in blank—maybe you won’t be as disappointed as I was.