DRY DAY: A Tale of Political and Personal Prohibitions
Using alcohol as a vessel, Saurabh Shulka’s comic drama Dry Day zooms into the relationship between capital and elections, the role of women in decision making realm, and the overlap between the personal and political spheres of life.
Politics played a central role in several Bollywood films released in 2023. In Sandeep Reddy Vanga’s Animal, audiences were presented with a maximalist onslaught of the patriarchal psyche that has found space in popular media. Meanwhile, some directors pushed more progressive narratives into pop culture. In Rocky Aur Rani Ki Prem Kahaani, Karan Johar attempted to explore the concepts of masculinity and the traditional family set-up. In Jawan, the director Atlee focused on farmers’ debt, corporate debt, the degradation of the healthcare system, environmental negligence, and more.
One of the more intriguing releases in the past year was Dry Day, where director Saurabh Shukla attempted to give audiences an insight of his perspective of contemporary Indian politics. The comedy/drama zooms into the relationship between capital and elections, the role of women in decision making realm, and the overlap between the personal and political spheres of life.
Dry Day revolves around Gannu (Jitendra Kumar), a day drinker, local political worker, and small-time thug. When his wife, Nirmala (Shriya Pilgaonkar) threatens to abort their baby because of Gannu’s alcoholism and rowdyism, he sets out on a path to become a ‘Local Corporator’, and on a path to push for an alcohol ban. This puts him at odds with his political mentor Dauji (Annu Kapoor), all the while he attempts to cope with his own alcohol addiction.
Dry Day introduces the fictional town of Jagodhar; the film’s opening sequences showcases how Gannu and his lackeys—much like the other men of this town—are ready to invite personal trouble and de-prioritize their families just to get a taste of alcohol. Within this sequence, we are also introduced to the character of Janki (Kiran Khoje), as she berates her husband for drinking away all her earnings (one of Gannu’s lackeys comments on how she “spoils the mood of the theka”). This scene encapsulates a major theme of the film: the overlap between personal and political spheres, with the hint that nothing that represents this overlap more than alcohol.
Following his wife Nirmala’s threat, the new anti-alcohol movement is not only a way for Gannu to save his unborn child, but also his attempt at presenting himself as a respectable man—and not an alcoholic goon—for his future children.
For many of the men, Gannu’s movement is a pesky inconvenience. For Dauji and his allies, it is seen as a political threat. For the women, it seems to be an existential battle, a fight for their lives and that of their children.
The prohibitionist movement is personal for the women of Jagodhar. These women don’t support Gannu because of conservative morality or religious prohibitions, but instead, with the hope that their husbands would stop sacrificing them and their children at the altar of alcoholism. One example is Janki, who works as a beautician and tries her best to sustain her family; however, all goes to vain, since her husband spends her income on alcohol. For women like her, the fight against alcohol is not an abstract ideological struggle, but a very material battle to improve their lives. This is why they are ready to risk everything for the movement—including their lives.
There are contrasting reactions around town when Gannu first announces this movement. The women are filled with hope, even reverence; the men, meanwhile, seem flabbergasted, almost to the point of disgust. This gendered contradiction in one’s perception of alcohol is also a reality all over India, where men are ready to sink the ships of their families in the river of alcoholic pleasure. It also underscores the perception of politics by women in rural India.
(In spite of the central role that women play in the film’s main narrative and message, an unfortunate addition to Dry Day is the item song, “Dur Se Darshan”, the only track in the musical which is disruptive to the plot, and ironically, its purpose seems to be to engage viewers at the cost of objectifying women.)
As the film progresses, the pleasures of men, the profit of businessmen and politicians, and the tragedy of women move forward as simultaneous plot points. For many of the men, Gannu’s movement is a pesky inconvenience. For Dauji and his allies, it is seen as a political threat. For the women, it seems to be an existential battle, a fight for their lives and that of their children. Dry Day showcases that the women, having expended all their labour and energy on the workplace and the household, do not have the luxury of indulging even in political discourse, let alone activism. Hence their involvement is not a luxury, it is a necessity. This is what fuels their unmoving commitment to the cause, something that is excellently communicated by the performances of Shriya Pilgaonkar and Kiran Khoje. Pilgaonkar shines despite the script, which often fails her performance. Khoje—despite her limited screen presence—skilfully portrays the pain of her character’s estrangement.
Even with its noble intentions, however, Dry Day is a film unsure of itself, and misses the mark in its tone. Is it a dark comedic dig at Indian politics, using the vessel of alcohol? Or is it a tragedy, attempting to highlight the morbid realities of women and politics? I don’t have a clear answer, and neither does the film. Dry Day struggles with its own identity, trying to be both comedic and tragic, but excelling at none. After a comic first hour, the sudden turn towards sincere and emotion-heavy social commentary feels out of place, as if the filmmakers couldn’t make their minds up themselves. The emotional impact of the tragedy—especially in the third act—felt half baked. Instead of cracking unfunny jokes, the screentime could have been used to further set-up and develop the character of Janki, Nirmala, and other women whose lives were affected by the men’s alcohol abuse.
Dry Day also comments on the themes business, and power. The dynamics between the characters of Dauji and Balwant (Shrikant Verma) are used meticulously to portray the intertwined nature of money and political power. Balwant makes numerous efforts to manipulate Dauji and Gannu to ensure the safety and stability of his interests, and then, seeks shelter from Dauji in case of a crisis. Verma takes centre-stage here as a calculating and cunning antagonist who transforms into a profit-mongering businessman. Still, there is a hollowness beyond these intertwined complexities: for a film that revolves around small-town politics, caste and caste dynamics remain strangely absent.
Despite its misgivings, Dry Day is a film with immense potential, with a strong message that is supported by good performances, music, and cinematography. But the iceberg that this Titanic faces is its script and direction; it is a ship failed by its own captain.
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Marnina(Avirup) (they/them) is an independent queer writer and reviewer from Kolkata. They have written stories, poems and articles on subjects of Politics, Philosophy, and Contemporary Electoral Politics. A student of Political Science, they're interested politics, philosophy, political theory and social commentary through fiction. You can reach reach out to them through on Instagram @lacanpremi or on ishanavi2004@gmail.com.
