Accused
Introduction
Within the first few reels of the new Hindi Netflix film Accused, you get a glimpse into the personality of Dr Geetika (Konkona Sen Sharma). She is confident and a life saviour, taking on a fragile medical case while seeing it to safety. She is also smart and dominating, almost eager to snitch the same case from a doctor overseeing it – on the pretext on how she only wished to help with continuity. This attitude of hers is enough to tell you on why she is on the cusp of being promoted as the new dean of the hospital in Chester. Geetika never misses an opportunity to direct and dominate – a shade that you would later get to experience in her equation with fellow dictor Meera (Pratibha Ranta). In fact, the narrative goes a step ahead to tell us that both Geetika and Meera are a queer couple (perhaps the only reason why the drama is set in London), with the former being a dominating partner out of the two. In many ways, Geetika possesses the characteristics of a male character only to be gender-swapped in a way to supposedly add a layer of complexity in the narrative. Unfortunately, the core issue lies exactly here – with the identity, almost being too algorithm-coded to be gazed as female character with a psyche of a male.
Story & Screenplay
Written by Simi Agarwal and Yash Keswani, Accused suffers from an identity crisis from a characterization standpoint. In an early scene, you witness a shadowy character don a hoodie stuck to a computer, almost to signal the onset of mystery. This single shot is algorithm-coded in a way to make you believe that the drama here is a mystery. On the other hand, it also wishes to balance the personality of its protagonist by laying out a foundation for her stature and commitment, wherein the proceedings are designed to ponder on her allegations. So when Geetika is accused of a s*xual misconduct through a series of anonymous emails, the drama sits on the fence between a character-driven plot on how things would affect her and a mystery wherein everyone is a suspect. Therein lies the issue which only gets skewed with every passing minute.
The idea of a #MeToo movement implied here is almost a nod to Sudhir Mishra’s Inkaar (2013), a drama with a different setting but a similar ‘yours-versus-mine’ premise, but the difference remains on how Inkaar wasn’t a whodunnit in the first place. The fact that this unfolds like a mystery – a tonally-off subversive subplot to a larger character-driven outline, much of the suspects feel sanitized too. For instance when the can of worms is opened, you almost get a sneak peek into the problematic life of Geetika featuring an ex-partner, a much younger lover, a disgruntled male colleague and a jealous friend of her partner to name a few. But the writing never really chooses to shift POVs, a vital cog that would have added emotional layers to the drama. Oddly, even from Geetika’s perspective – I was seldom emotionally invested in her character that offered no real layers to her (perhaps, that was the idea to play with perceptions but it didn’t fully land). As a result, the narrative is pretty binary and bland, almost going through the motions like most of us watching the film.
The real deal remains on the character-front, particularly with respect to Meera who wants to help her partner out but instead keeps stumbling on Geetika’s past that makes her question her motives. In a scene, you see how Meera has been the giver in the relationship – quitting her job just so she could shift to a new city with Geetika, even while planning on adopting a baby. Meera is timid, so much so that she has concealed her relationship with Geetika even with her brother who only accidently stumbles on the truth (despite Meera previously arranging a meeting with the absentee Geetika to convey the truth). She remained that one character who demanded a little more empathy than what she got as a final result. This is more so realised given how every other character is flattened including Geetika’s friend (Monica Mahendru), Geetika’s Ex partner Sophie (Kallirroi Tziafeta), Meera’s friend (Aditya Nanda), or even the polished chief investigator Bhargava (Mashhoor Amrohi).
The proceedings are designed to induce a sense of artificial excitement – be it through a sequence involving an unknown person breaking into the apartment, or during an interrogation of a victim that has a completely different version to that of Geetika. These are minor detours including a random chase sequence at the end that doesn’t fully belong to this world. In fact, the premise of a college professor undergoing a #MeToo media trial in Aligarh (2015) was a far more realistic take on a similar subject matter. Yes by the end of things and outside a very generic reveal, there was a hint of consciousness added to the character traits of Geetika, but it felt too late and too pronounced to analyze it deeper. Perhaps the algorithm was designed to please all demographics, only to further eat into the intended demographic instead.
Dialogues, Music & Direction
The dialogues are laced with a dialect that is drastically different from a regular British accent. What I basically mean is you can’t have inconsistencies with the pronunciation of words wherein I spotted atleast four different dialects in play here (by Brirish actors whose voices seemed to be dubbed by Indians). Even otherwise, the lines are flat and dull while offering no real emotional renaissance to the narrative. The BGM is hollow while never fully allowing you to invest in the emotional arcs of any characters. The cinematography works around the natural grey hues engulfing the city of London, but the atmospherics don’t really add layers to the drama – even as the frames distance you from the characters.
The editing pattern is a little too crisp here, so much so that the drama never really takes off at any point. Every instance featuring bouts of drama and tension and cut short by a jump cut that doesn’t account for emotions to transition from one scene to another. Director Anubhuti Kashyap shockingly has a lacklustre outing. Be it having to cater to the algorithm, or fumbling with the subject matter herself, she shows little flair with the world building and characterization. In fact, the characterization is so sketchy that it is impossible to play along with the mystery, or even emotionally invest in the characters. The identity-crisis of the drama is clearly visible in the execution too, and that results in a missed
Performances
The performances are pretty good by the members of the cast despite the writing letting most of them down. The likes of Sukant Goel and Sanjeeta Bhattacharya definitely show flair despite having to essay one-tone characters. Aditya Nanda as Meera’s friend featured in an interesting subplob that threatened to explode until it didn’t, but Aditya was first rate while managing to impress. Monica Mahendru and Mashhoor Amrohi are understated and do a fair job, despite the writing drastically diluting the impact of their characters. Kallirroi Tziafeta as Sophia has a superb screen presence, and she is sincere and earnest with her act.
Pratibha Ranta is a fine actor, and she provides a timely reminder here. As Meera, she remains grounded with her character despite the writing not really posing a chance to feel empathetic towards her. She uses her subtle variations in expressions to great use, while putting forth a commendable act. Konkona Sen Sharma as Dr Geetika delivers a quietly restrained performance even though you don’t fully get a glimpse of her psyche. She uses her body-language to create a bout of urgency that elevates her act while allowing you room to question the accusations directed towards her. She is wonderful to witness here, and only if the writing and execution was a little better!
Conclusion
Accused boasts of good performances that are drowned in a middling algorithm-coded narrative that results in a dull watch. And unfortunately, this flattens the drama with respect to the conflicts and characters in play that never rise above the ordinary. Available on Netflix.