Reema Kagti’s Superboys of Malegaon, which follows a group of small-town Indian filmmakers, is a poignant, crowd-pleasing film that constantly underscores its relevance through its central theme. Although the film, based on true events, often tries to cover too much ground, it constantly returns to the idea that people should see themselves reflected in art, not just out of necessity, but out of a deep desire born of necessity, in order to live with dignity.
Set in 1997 through the early 2000s, the film primarily follows photographer and wedding photographer Nasir Sheikh (Adarsh Gourav), a man in love living in the small town of Malegaon, a few hundred miles away from Mumbai, India’s financial and film capital, which can be measured in light years. Nasir runs a failing cinema with his older brother Nihal (Gyanendra Tripathi), where he insists on showing Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin classics rather than the latest Bollywood blockbusters, even if it means losing customers. What Nasir really wants to do is become a filmmaker, a journey that begins by splicing together action films from different eras and countries to create his own entertaining montages for audiences, though these screenings are eventually shut down for piracy reasons.
With the help of his enthusiastic friends and colleagues, Nasir soon begins making a low-budget film that parodies the Bollywood classic Sholay, albeit with a local twist in order to reflect the humor of Malegaon, its people and its sensibilities. This action-oriented part of the film occupies the first half of the film, paving the way for Nasir’s local success, as well as his subsequent arrogance, which leads to rifts with several of his teammates, including the tentative screenwriter Farooj (Vineet Singh). Meanwhile, Nasir’s loyal friend Shafiq (Shashank Arora), an aspiring actor and factory worker, remains by his side. This is consistent with the second half of the film, where Shafiq suddenly becomes the main focus, marginalizing Nasir and Farooj in the process, when he should have been a co-star all along.
This structural flaw stems from the film’s attempt to depict every major event in the characters’ lives, even though the 2012 documentary on which it is based, Faiza Ahmed Khan’s Superman Maligaon , only covers the production of one specific parody of Superman: The Movie set in the late 2000s, after the estranged friends are forced to reconcile. While the biopic doesn’t delve into the local communal tensions that the documentary touches on (a reason the real-life Nasir cites for his creative efforts), the fact that the film’s characters are predominantly Muslim, at a time when rampant cinematic propaganda dehumanizes Indian Muslims, is telling enough.
By adding years of context to every decision that leads to this superhero satire, Varun Grover’s screenplay also adds indelible (and tragic) context to the documentary, as well as the satire it depicts, while turning the film’s tale of scattered creativity into a spiritually moving look at the meaning of cinematic images, and the eternity they offer. Its stunning climax serves as a wonderful complement to Spanish maestro Victor Erice’s recent comeback, Close Your Eyes, no mean feat.
Although the broken bonds are quickly mended, the film’s feel-good drama is instantly gripping, thanks to a skilled cast who, while familiar to Indian audiences (and, in Gaurav’s case, to Western audiences via Netflix’s The White Tiger ), are not big stars. This helps maintain the film’s sense of realism. The performances walk a fine line between Bollywood melodrama and the naturalism of India’s “parallel” cinema, which ensures that the characters’ personal struggles are constantly simmering but remain deeply human and relatable. While much of the humor is based on Sholay references—understandable, given how central that parody is to its story—even viewers unfamiliar with the Indian blockbuster are likely to be drawn to the characters’ astonishing artistic ambitions, despite their humble beginnings.
There’s also a sly scripted element to this Sholay-centricity. Superboys of Malegaon is produced by The Arches’ Zoya Akhtar and Dil Chahta Hai’s Farhan Akhtar, the sons of Sholay’s co-screenwriter Javed, who also wrote the background lyrics heard in Kagti’s film. The Akhtars have long been an industrial family, but Superboys feels like a mutual homage to a group of outsiders who once used Javed’s work to launch their own creative journeys.
The result is a poignant ode to filmmaking that overcomes its uneven structure and rushed reconciliations through the sheer power of Kagti’s intimate moments. These moments feel absolutely massive by the time the film ends. And when you watch Superboys of Malegaon with the right audience—like the enthusiastic, mostly Indian crowd at the film’s Toronto premiere—another meta-layer emerges, too. There’s a lot of cheering and whistling depicted on screen, as the townsfolk immerse themselves in the film in a cinema that caters to their needs. After a point, these raucous reactions blend with those of the audience in the theatre, creating a rare form of emotional immersion that comes from a community. Few films have been as adept at capturing why people go to the movies.
