Film Review: ‘I Am Kalam’ Is A Lesson In Restraint

Director: Nila Madhab Panda
Cast: Harsh Mayar, Gulshan Grover, Pitobash Tripathy, Husaan Saad, Beatrice Ordeix
Rating: ★★★ 1/2

I Am Kalam is a charming, heartwarming story that captures the conflicted emotions of a poverty-stricken kid with sensitivity. The film is inspiring, moving, and funny. It’s the kind of hopeful, kid’s eye-view Indian dramedy that hasn’t been made since Taare Zameen Par.

What makes I Am Kalam such an unexpected treat is that debutant director Nila Madhab Panda crisply explores the film’s emotional core without resorting to mawkish depictions of classism. There is no sloganeering or preaching about the country’s education system here—Panda finds a very subtle way to illustrate the film’s “schooling for everyone” message. He does away with the melodrama and delicately weaves the theme of education growth against incredible odds. Writer Sanjay Chauhan doles up a very realistic depiction of the state of education in rural India, and the struggle to learn in a community where studying is the last priority. It makes for an excellent film, mainly because its lead character Chotu (Harsh Mayar) is down-to-earth and believable, and never becomes a caricature or plot gimmick.

Chotu is an uneducated, though quick-witted 10-year-old who works with Bhati (Gulshan Grover) at a tiny highway dhaba in Rajasthan. He dreams of attending school, and even calls himself Kalam after learning that like him, the former President too used to be a child labourer forced to support his family. While working at the dhaba, Chotu becomes friends with two people who could change his life: young prince Ranvijay (Husaan Saad) who shares his school books with Chotu, and French musician Lucy (Beatrice Ordeix) who promises Chotu that she will take him to Delhi so he can study.

Writer Chauhan gives us reason to root for Chotu through characters like his unsupportive mother, and nasty dhaba assistant Laptan (Pitobash Tripathy). Wisely, the stock characters—the discouraging mother, the upper-class snobs, the inspirational friend—are given a bright re-envisioning. There are a few moments where I Am Kalam dive bombs into hammy subplots, the worst offender being the prolonged exposition of Bhati’s crush on Lucy. The climax is a tad schmaltzy too, but it becomes easy to overlook the contrivances, seeing that the film’s heart is so wonderfully in the right place. The lion’s share of the credit for this goes to Mayar, who holds his own against veterans like Gulshan Grover. I Am Kalam is one of the bright spots in a dim period for half-witted commercial films. Don’t miss it.