When you name a film Madaari, you’re bound to put up a show. Since the name itself means puppeteer, an element of self-doubt seeps into the viewer’s head rather subconsciously. Unlike the subjects of Plato’s Allegory of the Cave, you keep looking at what you’re looking while expecting a sense of forthcoming deception. Whenever a new reality is about to be formed, you doubt it, thinking that maybe you’re being deceived by the puppeteer, by the film.
In the Irrfan Khan film, that unfortunately isn’t the case; there’s no looking back here because there isn’t much beyond the illusion being projected on the screen. No sense of surprise, no element of deception. For deception has only been used as a narrative gimmick, that too in a fashion that doesn’t leave you in any supernormal state. You keep chasing for the wow factor the way Jimmy Shergill runs after the kid, expecting a return for his efforts like you do for your money. It just ends like another Bollywood film on your DVD shelf.