By Rachit Raj

As the news of Sushant Singh Rajput’s death dawned upon me, I was not only forced to think about the frail condition of mental health in the current times of lockdown and isolation but also the position I hold as a film critic, valuing the art of critique but walking on a thin line of not sharpening my words into a tool that can become more dangerous than it was originally meant to be. I sat in front of my television screen, recalling my harsh criticism of Rajput’s performance in Chhichhore, especially in the “present” of the film’s timeline. Despite the realization that my words were barely powerful enough to reach Rajput’s vicinity, as I read reports about his struggle with depression, I confronted the need to be careful with my words.

The job of a film critic is to view and review a work of art on its ability to impact us as an audience. Like any other form of critical writing, film criticism is both important and essential to be mindful of. The concern, though, goes beyond the critiquing ink of a film critic but how films and actors are viewed in a society like ours.

We often forget that there is a line between an actor’s performance and life. The idea of a public figure is grossly misunderstood, and this was visible more in Rajput’s death than his life. We assume public figures to be our property – our slaves, almost – and in that, we show a complete disregard of their personal space and health.

In my review of Sushant Singh Rajput-starrer Drive, a film widely criticized for its subpar filmmaking and laughable VFX, I bashed the film for its shameless mediocrity, much like other critics who not only criticized the film but decimated it. As viewers, we try to find comfort in the moving image, hailing the face on screen as a godly reincarnation and the weavers of the tale as God, themselves. We love them for their great works and banish them for the little inconsistencies of their stories.

The argument can be made that the job of a critic is to critique, be harsh and honest. But we need to understand the wall that stands between critiquing and criticizing. We live in a world where people are struggling to survive more than ever. A piece of news like this might be a way for us to introspect how our critical gaze at artists can be damning for them. For us, it is a few words on a paper. Multiply it into thousands and it becomes a wall of conformity that stares back at the person, forcing them to accept it as their only reality.

We forget the good in a blink, and harp on the bad like narcissistic hawks, unconcerned how harsh we get sometimes. Things I write as a critic come from a social acceptance of harsh criticism. Tough love is not always the best form of love. We ridicule people for one hiccup, one poor performance, one honest mistake, and that mistake becomes the only truth that matters of that person.

The social media floods itself post someone’s death with images of the persons’ greatest achievements. In the case of Rajput, it is his portrayal of Indian Men’s Cricket World Cup-winning captain Mahendra Singh Dhoni. It was a performance widely loved, but also a performance that soon shut itself behind the glaring failure of Raabta.

In recognizing Rajput’s role as Dhoni, we think we have done justice to his talent. But did we recognize when Rajput gave his career-best performance in Sonchiriya last year? It would be ignorant to believe a better reception of that performance would have mattered in the larger picture, but maybe as we grieve this loss, we might learn to shower praise as casually as we throw criticism around. Somehow, it is normal to be critical, but weak, vulnerable to be appreciative, not just as a film critic but as a person. That needs to change, as we come closer to understanding the depth and complexities of mental health.

There is a lot to take away from this, the most important being a gradual habit of being a little less harsh on public figures. We hound social media when an actor does not speak up on an issue. They should, as someone with a wide reach, but there is inhuman hate in people who urge this voice. It is almost like we do not consider that maybe they are dealing with some issues of their own. They can speak up. They should speak up. But maybe there is a reason why they do not. Eight of them could be silent out of pure cowardice, but two could be dealing with something we as the commoners have no idea about.

It is worth revisiting the social message of hope and love that rests in films like ChhichhoreKai Po Che, and Kedarnath, that saw Rajput give commendable performances. But there is no point of a sermon on mental health if we do not realize the larger culture of criticism that we have been brewing in the name of growth and love.

In that regard, as I write my next piece as a film critic, maybe I will be a little more mindful of my words. Maybe, I will think about the person behind the act a little more. I will do that, without giving away my honesty. But hopefully, the next time I see a terribly unremarkable film or a disappointing performance, I am able to build my critique around a thread of positivity. After all, as long as there is life, there is a scope for a more fulfilling second coming. In death, all that remains are performances, works, that suddenly shine brighter in the knowledge that there will not be anything more. Not from this artist.