Kaun Pravin Tambe?, with the visual aesthetic of a Britannia biscuit ad circa 1998 and the storytelling charisma of a Star Sports highlights package, is yet another reminder that, despite our love for cricket and movies, we seem to have a very difficult time making movies about cricket. It is a largely by-the-numbers biopic that spends over two hours doing ‘tuk-tuk,’ refusing to give Tambe’s flashy true story a chance at the crease.
It stars a very earnest Shreyas Talpade as the titular late bloomer. Almost every sports movie cliche—the snide boss, the adoring love interest, the supportive sibling—is checked with dutiful dispassion.
Kaun Pravin Tambe? is based on the truly inspirational story of Maharashtra-born Tambe, who had never played first-class cricket and had tried for years to get a Ranji selection before being picked at the age of 41 by the Rajasthan Royals in the IPL – the sport’s most high-profile platform today – and later making it to the Ranji stage as well. It’s an inspiring story about perseverance, passion for the game, and refusing to give up on dreams.
Tambe’s path to a cricketing career is not marred by anything dramatic – no great life tragedy, just life. His inability to focus is sometimes his greatest challenge, and other times it is his own self-defeating choice. It is primarily the need to financially support his family in a socioeconomic environment that places little value on extra-curricular activities unless they result in a job.
These elements, combined with director Jayprad Desai’s largely slice-of-tone direction, the light touch of writers Kiran Yadnyopavit (story and screenplay) and Kapil Sawant (dialogues), and editor Gorakshnath Khande’s deft editing, add up to an absorbing, engaging drama with a sense of humor in unexpected places.
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Tambe rose to prominence after becoming the oldest person to be chosen for the IPL, despite having no prior professional experience. While it’s admirable that someone decided to make a film about a cricketing story that would normally have been confined to the sports pages, Kaun Pravin Tambe? is too forgettable to be taken seriously. A top scroll spot on the Hotstar homepage will most likely be as difficult to come by as a page one anchor.
The worst biopics are those that, due to their shortcomings, portray their subjects as equally mediocre. Naomi Watts once portrayed Princess Diana in a forgotten film. Leonardo DiCaprio once played J Edgar Hoover in a film so bizarre that he probably, thanks to his stars, was unrecognizable for the majority of it. Neither film penetrated the protagonists’ minds in any meaningful way, which is a huge waste of everyone’s time.
More recently, Kabir Khan’s 83—to use a tired sports metaphor—dropped the ball so dramatically that we’ll have to wait 15 years for the outfield to regrow before we can try to dramatize that majestic true story again. For better or worse, the tone of Kaun Pravin Tambe? is nearly identical to that of 83—it feels untouched by human hands as if it were created by a bot fed a dozen editions of the Wisden almanac.
The journalist, played by the poor Parambrata Chatterjee, a fine actor who is consistently wasted in Hindi projects, also serves as the film’s narrator, interrupting the narrative at key points to make snide remarks about Pravin Tambe. Rajat appears to have a permanent grin and enjoys reciting trivia off the top of his head. Nothing, however, can compare to his primary obsession in life: obsessing over Pravin Tambe. He spends most of his waking hours slandering him or fantasizing about slandering him. I’d be willing to bet that he’d twirl it if Param da’s mustache was even slightly more flamboyant.
After a while, you’ll understandably wonder, “Why?” Pravin, did you insult his mother? No. Is he the one who stole his bike? No, I don’t believe so. But based on Rajat’s behavior, you’d think he did both things. Worse, the film doesn’t even make its bad decisions with conviction. Half of the lies in the world travel because they are told confidently. Perhaps if the film had doubled down on Rajat’s villainization, it would have succeeded in beating us into submission. However, near the end of the film, Rajat wonders why he’s been so cruel to Pravin Tambe his entire life. And you sit there, dumbfounded by the audacity of this move.
While the domestic stuff plays out like an episode of Taarak Mehta Ka Ooltah Chashmah—complete with over-the-top sound effects, plain lighting, and SAB TV sitcom-level humor—the cricket scenes aren’t much better. Most of them appear to be filmed by someone standing at the boundary line, creating such a large distance between the viewer and the players that you never get a sense of connection. An IPL sequence at the end follows in the footsteps of Neeraj Pandey’s MS Dhoni biopic by compositing the actors into original match footage.
Kaun Pravin Tambe? Isn’t it as bad as recent Hindi sports biopics like Saina and Rashmi Rocket—remember those? However, it isn’t much better.
