Face of Nation : The protagonist of Super 30, a Patna math whiz who makes complex concepts fun and accessible for impoverished IIT aspirants under his tutelage, is himself a socially and economically disadvantaged man who fought off prejudice and privation to achieve enviable academic success and turn around the fortunes of many others like him. The story of the real-life Anand Kumar should have added up to a commensurate cinematic triumph. It does not. Super 30 is overly simplistic and excessively fanciful when it is not downright vapid.
The intricacies of life and the dynamics of reality are accorded only peripheral importance in what had the potential to be a genuinely elevating, illuminating saga of underdogs taking on a lopsided education system and coming up trumps. Barring a moving moment here or an inspired touch there, which are too few and far between anyway, Super 30 fails to draw the audience into the world of the characters that it champions because it merely skims the surface of a massive mound of tangled issues.
The wounded man’s brother pleads with the hospital staffer not to take matters in his hands. The latter retorts: he deserves this treatment for he is a “donation wala doctor”, implying that the man playing hooky has a medical degree acquired through money power. This is an accusation that is obviously made with the intent to counter those who blame caste-based reservation for the creaking healthcare system. Although the Dronacharya-Arjuna-Eklavya episode from Indian mythology is brought up on one occasion elsewhere in the film, Super 30 studiously plays down the caste discrimination angle.
Hrithik Roshan is nearly as horribly miscast as Anand Kumar as Priyanka Chopra was as Mary Kom. Not that the lead actor does not give the role his all. His enthusiasm never flags. However, his darkened skin tone and off-the-mark Bihari accent, which fluctuates wildly, get in the way of lending authenticity to the portrayal.
We can only watch perplexed as 30 underprivileged teenagers (played by actors who look far more the part than the superstar who top-lines the cast, which of course isn’t saying much) are led repeatedly into absolutely ludicrous situations. It is all designed to mythologize a real-life hero in a way that turns him into a comic-strip problem-solver.
The second half of the film, which begins with the first batch of 30 students shedding their misgivings and throwing their lot behind Anand Kumar, is reduced to outright farce. Ladaai (fighting) overshadows padhaai (studies). First off the blocks is a competition between Anand’s diffident proteges and the English-speaking students of a coaching academy for the rich which involves the former group performing scenes from Sholay in an a musical play with songs and dialogues in pidgin English, purportedly aimed at helping the children rid themselves of their linguistic inhibitions. And then, in the pre-climactic moments, Anand’s wards employ their classroom learnings to outwit, hold your breath, a gang of goons sent out to eliminate their beloved tutor.
The principal bad guys in this turgid tale are a loquacious education minister, Shreeram Singh (Pankaj Tripathi), and a profit-seeking teacher Lallan Singh (Aditya Shrivastava). Neither is allowed to be anything more than caricatures, as a result of which two quality actors are wasted for the purpose of creating laboured conflict points to carry the drama forward. All that does is rob the film of all semblance of believability.
