Demand and supply are at the core of his narrative. While there is art in him, it leans more towards commerce because he performs for his audience.
As someone unfamiliar with the story and music of Amar Singh Chamkila and the life of Punjab, I found this film to be a much-needed introduction to his legendary story.
The base story revolves around Dhanni Ram, our protagonist, who later takes the stage name Amar Singh Chamkila. Like every boy, he had inappropriate encounters or fantasies in life, which he turned into songs. His artistic ability lay in making songs out of these experiences.
The commerce aspect came in because people loved these songs — they were cheap, funny, and matched the vibe they wanted from their music. This laid the foundation for his infamous music career. He often sang with a female co-singer, creating a naughty, playful environment that both attracted the audience and angered the community.
This film reveals a new yet old fact about the bloodshed in Punjab’s history, despite its cultural beauty. The narrative focuses on Chamkila’s uncertain nature as a person. The film opens with their assassination, setting an unnerving tone. For someone unaware of the artists’ fate, this opening sets the narrative straight. We then delve into Dhanni’s roots, working at a cloth mill as a cock maker and rising as an artist. His themes often touched on women objectification, alcoholism, sexual violence, and domestic violence.
The film takes an interesting turn when Chamkila receives his first death threat and briefly abandons his vulgar songs to sing devotional songs, which surprisingly become hits. However, he eventually returns to his cheap songs because that’s what the people demanded.
The dialogue and conversation throughout the film was engaging, complemented by the amazing approach and script by Imtiaz Ali and Sajid Ali. It delves deeper into the relationship between artists and society.
We can all relate to Chamkila, observing the world as it unfolds before us. Despite his desire to simply sing songs he loves for an audience that enjoys them, external forces often disrupt the rhythm of this artist-audience romance with politics.
The film also presents valid counterpoints. In one scene, a boy tells the Police, Dalbir Singh (Anuraag Arora) that people want to listen to cheap songs, and Chamkila gave them what they wanted, so what’s wrong with that? Dalbir replies that just because people want trash, giving it to them doesn’t make it fair.
These acts of rebellion may look good in movies, but they don’t always translate well to real life. I was in awe of this dialogue. While I was on Chamkila’s side, I had to agree that every point raised was worth considering. These dialogues were not just written to move the runtime ahead; they added depth to the narrative.
Another instance is Chamkila’s conversation with an interview reporter (Sahiba Bali), where he explains that he doesn’t concern himself with right or wrong; that’s above his paygrade. His job is to figure out how to survive. This film is filled with conversations that show how a real artist often focuses more on surviving than on thriving to create art.
Amidst all this, there’s a sequence of women discussing how everyone thinks about sex all the time and how these conversations often happen in hiding. This portrayal is beautiful because it reflects many rituals in Indian weddings where only women are allowed.
Historically, these rituals and conversations are believed to be a way of transferring thoughts about intimacy from one generation to the next. The entire sequence is beautifully portrayed in “Naram Kaalja”.
The film “Amar Singh Chamkila” is, for the most part, a musical, and I’ve never seen a film use music to drive a story better than this. A. R. Rahman’s excellent music is the heart of the film. From the classy introduction to the story of Chamkila by Mohit Chauhan in the song “Baaja” to the women’s perspective in “Naram Kalja” by Alka Yagnik, Richa Sharma, Pooja Tiwari, Yashika Sikka, to the farewell song by Arijit Singh, this film has by far the most perfect album of songs I’ve ever witnessed in a film.
Irshad Kamil does a phenomenal job with the lyrics, as every word hits the deepest roots of the heart. And that’s not all! The film showcases many songs of Chamkila that are sung by none other than the film’s main leads — Diljit Dosanjh and Parineeti Chopra — which were the most exciting parts of the film as they went back and forth from the actual Amar Singh Chamkila and Amarjot ji to our cast doing their thing.
This film is an experience that keeps getting better with every rewatch. I’ve seen the film multiple times, and I’m still not over how great the entire vibe of the film is. The choreography is so engaging that it forces us to rewatch it the moment it finishes!
The visuals, editing, and animation go hand in hand here as the film shifts from beautiful visuals to animations to graphic sequences. Sylvester Fonseca does a marvelous job of capturing scenes that feel nostalgic in every frame. From the childhood scenes of Danni running across fields to his akhara (stage) performances to his farewell, every shot is cinematic!
My favorite shots would definitely be the ones from the end where all of them are enjoying songs in the golden hour and Amarjot is laughing, all in slow motion. Everything seems perfect, and ‘Vidaa Karo’ by Arijit Singh plays with this montage, followed by the closing shot where Chamkila (Diljit) is looking at us with vast wheat fields in the background, and the camera pans out slowly.
It’s a breakdown of emotions as the perfect song and the perfect montage close, leaving me in tears. Tears for an artist I never knew but after spending 2 hours in his legend, feels as if he’s been there all along! Aarti Bajaj does a phenomenal job at editing these sequences and making it as memorable as it is.
If you’re watching a film that delves into the complexities of human emotions, portraying characters experiencing life’s full spectrum of ups and downs—happiness, sadness, confusion, anxiety, love, hate, and even depression—set against the backdrop of train journeys through the vast farms of Punjab, serene villages, and majestic Himalayan mountain ranges, accompanied by soul-stirring music with lyrics that resonate deeply, chances are, you’re watching an Imtiaz Ali film. A film by Imtiaz Ali is magical, and it becomes even more enchanting when you realize it is an Imtiaz Ali film. I always had a sense of this, but after watching Imtiaz Ali’s films for so long, you can’t help but notice these distinctive patterns.
“Chamkila” embodies everything you’d expect from an Imtiaz Ali film and more. However, there is a notable absence of moral conflict in the film. This isn’t a negative point; far from it. This absence doesn’t make the film dull or seem like any sort of propaganda. It’s an immersive experience, a portrayal of the legend of Chamkila as perceived by people, and it’s beautiful. Imtiaz Ali once again proves why he is the storyteller of our generation!
One amusing anecdote from the MAMI premiere of this film was that the usual protocol is to invite around 400 people, hoping that at least 250 would show up to a screening. However, on this particular night, something unexpected happened.
More than 400 people showed up to the screening, all because of the man who made the film. What made this even more memorable was a direct scene in the film that complemented this experience. In Canada, there was a show of Chamkila where the organizer mentioned that the show preceding his was Amitabh Bachchan’s (Chamkila was a big fan of Bachchan), and they had 137 extra seats, while Chamkila’s screening had 1,024 extra seats.
Diljit Dosanjh does a remarkable job of bringing Chamkila’s character to life, complemented by Parineeti Chopra’s portrayal of Amarjot. It’s phenomenal how they sang all those songs on set rather than recording them in a studio! The attention to detail in this film is absolutely praiseworthy!
What is art if not commerce persevering?
When you think about it, even more than a creative vision, art relies on the needs of its audience. Perhaps that’s why the truest artists often die broke. Because, in the end, if your audience doesn’t appreciate your work, you’re out of the game.
It’s a bittersweet pain. Chamkila’s story is a response to the unfair nature of society. His art was divisive. While the majority enjoyed his music, others despised him. Society often criticizes what it secretly enjoys, wanting to appear more upmarket. Amar Singh Chamkila, in many ways, is a commentary on such society and the struggles and conflicts of an artist.
I’d rate this film a perfect 5/5 for the absolute blast that it is!
