Language: Hindi
There are too many flashbacks in Debojit Das Purkayastha and Agrim Joshi’s Candy. It does not matter if you have already taken note of some slippery behaviour in a scene, but creators of this show do not leave anything to chance. Rest assured, during a reveal, they will dutifully cut to a black-and-white flashback reiterating the 'twist.'
There are no ‘loose ends’ that cannot be tied up with the help of an extended flashback. In Candy, the flashbacks also become a way to lazily dump ‘context’ on the viewer because there is a backstory for each of the characters, so that their actions can be rationalised. One of the clunkiest of them all is that of Ratna Sankhawar’s (Richa Chadha) abusive marriage, and how the realisation triggers an abrupt change-of-heart that can only be found in a shoddily written web series.
The show starring Richa Chadha and Ronit Roy is the second murder mystery set in the hills this year after Amit Kumar’s The Last Hour. Just like the Amazon Prime Video India Original, even this one starts off with a supernatural connection to the crimes taking place in a fictitious town, called Rudrakund.
Like these shows usually do, it all starts off with a murder. A boy, from the premier boarding school in town, is found dead inside the forest. There are many suspects for this, his bullies in school, indications of a high-profile rave party organised by the scion of the town’s local politician where drug-addled ‘candies’ are served to unsuspecting kids, and also an urban legend of monster in the forest called Masaan. According to the locals, the Masaan preys on kids in the forest, especially teenage girls.
When Chadha’s DSP Ratna Sankhawar starts investigating the murder, she is suitably detached and ‘unheroic’ about solving the crimes, which is a welcome change from the eager cops, all symbols of integrity and good intention. Chadha plays her part in a matter-of-fact way, as she admonishes her subordinates by saying "kuch toh maryada rakhiye" (keep some dignity intact) around the crime scene, tells the obviously hyper-emotional acquaintances of the deceased to calm down, and goes about her job with a notepad and a pen. It is a role we have seen played over and over again, recently in Kate Winslet-starrer Mare of Easttown, and scores of shows over the years.
But there is some initial promise in the way Chadha begins, her performance has equal parts of the small-town laid backness, humour and level-headedness. As an audience member, one is even excited because it has been a while since Chadha moved us. But it all goes downhill pretty soon, especially given how quickly the procedural begins to look like a joke. Suspects evade the cops with the same ease that Jarvo 69 has been breaching the on-field security at the ongoing India-England test series.
Ronit Roy (surprise, surprise!) is not holding a glass in this one. But he is carrying the existential dread that we have come to associate with him over the years. A father grieving his daughter’s suicide, Roy’s Jayant Parekh is a faculty member at the school in Rudrakund, who sees himself as a parental figure for some of the school kids. So it is understandable when he goes a little overboard after discovering that his ward was found murdered in the forest. There is absolutely no doubt about how good Roy is as an actor. However, the filmmakers eventually (probably lazily) turn to character shades that are reminiscent of Bhairav Singh, Roy’s breakout role in Udaan (2010). It is only a testament to how good and authentic he was in Vikramaditya Motwane’s film that most of Roy’s performances have felt like lesser versions since.
It is quite strange that we do not know what subject Roy teaches even after the season ends. We never even see a student in class, opening a book, or even pretending to read anything over the course of presumably a few months at least, as the events in the show unfold. Despite Roy’s best efforts, Jayant Parekh never becomes a whole character, thanks to the harebrained writing that turns him into a mock detective and a well-intentioned but (often) hysterical ally.
Another thing that the show majorly falters around is the depiction of teenagers experimenting with drugs. We get absolutely no details about what kind of drug it is that is being infused in the candies (called Lick Me, I kid you not). Is it a tranquilizer, a stimulant or a hallucinogen? How does a sitting MP’s son run a whole factory of drug-infused candies, and there is absolutely no murmur about it? Is there no rival politician in sight? Is the story actually based in 2021 India?
For all its psychedelic aesthetic replete with neon lights and rabbit masks (probably) inspired from Donnie Darko, Candy feels terribly dated in its depiction of recreational drugs. The show hard-codes the simplistic ‘drugs are bad and they could get you killed’ message in its narrative. It does not bother differentiating between those addicted and the ones who might even be trying it once in their life. The underlying message is if you go anywhere near drugs, you die. There is a scene where a student talks about the popularity of the drugged candies on campus, especially among sexually abused female students on campus. “It numbs the pain,” she says, and nothing feels more trite in a show with barely an original idea of its own.
Nakul Sahdev (of Gully Boy-fame) plays the volatile and perpetually-high son of a politician, Vayu Ranaut, who wears his heart on his sleeve, carries a gun in his hip, and blinks furiously. As his corrupt father, Money Ranaut, Manu Rishi is never quite as intimidating as we would like him to be. Once again, I do not think it is the actor’s fault as much as it is a case of a badly directed performance.
Bringing us to the leading lady of the show, Richa Chadha, who once again delivers a surprisingly unaware performance. Maybe it is the filmmakers she has been working with that has resulted in Chadha looking as silly as she has, especially in the last five years. Maybe a part of it is her own doing. Maybe it is fitting that the main antagonist of the show is called Masaan, because the only ghost that haunts Candy is the constant reminder of Chadha in Neeraj Ghaywan’s 2015 film of the same name... and the free-flowing actor she used to be, once upon a time.
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