‘Liger’ is not a film. It’s an atrocity 

Liger 

Hindi, Telugu 

Cast: Vijay Deverakonda, Ramya Krishnan, Ananya Panday, Ronit Roy, Mike Tyson 

Direction: Puri Jagannadh 

Rating: 1/2 

Showing in theaters

Imagine a loud, chaotic bin-bulaai baraat that’s made up of the most thakela characters from Bollywood’s terrible 1980s. It’s led by, obviously, a shouting, haranguing widowed mummyji who is after her son to fight and take badla for the death of her pati.  

Her son, the hero, is an imbecile who introduces himself thus: “I am a fighter.” He can’t string a sentence, but he can do high jumps, quick kicks, maa ki bhakti and make villain ki chutney. 

Then there’s the bimbette. She arrives surrounded by her sahelis, all of whom disappear the instant she finds a boy to ride pillion with. 

There’s also ladki ke very rich papa who lives in a place called Laaas Vegaaas, and her bad-boy bhai who moves around with a gang of goons in the day and in the evenings is found in the Gents Toilet of nightclubs bashing up random dudes. 

There’s also one seedy, drunk uncle who turns up like a farishta to help the hero when he is in distress and then keeps hanging around for no apparent reason. Sometimes he does the nagin dance.  

All around these worthies are big, burly extras who keep coming to beat the hero up but keep getting thrashed. 

Now take a cup of tea, sit back and think what would happen if all these actors-stuck-in-one-character are told to do exactly what they have always done for two long hours.   

Writer-director Puri Jagannadh did exactly that. And this thing, Liger, that Dharma Productions sponsored and mounted, can’t be called a film. It’s an atrocity that we didn’t deserve. 

The film thinks it’s telling us a story that goes like this: One day a lion and a tiger met and mated. They gave birth to Liger. 

Liger was special. He could stand like a human, walk like a human. But he could not think or talk like one. Frustrated by his inability to form any thought in his head, he shouted and minced words.  

And sometimes he gave people a look. He thought it was intimidating. I thought he needed to do potty. 

So, his Mummyji (Ramya) did the talking for him. One day, Liger’s mommy took him to Master (Ronit Roy) for some coaching in mixed martial arts. While introducing him, she proudly explained, “Yeh crossbreed hai.” 

Liger had a mane that could not be tamed for most part of the film. He also had upper body strength and some pretty toned thighs. 

Master and Mummy both told him to focus on fists and fighting and stay away from girls. But Liger liked it so much when Tanya (Ananya) bit his biceps that they became a thing till his shouting mommy shouted at Tanya.  

Then Tanya got kidnapped, Liger got beaten up by some girls, Mike Tyson arrived but everyone kept calling him Mark Anderson.  

And though we had not put in any such request, we are made to watch grown men in tiny, tight, stretchy panties get frisky with each other.  

This miserable, meager plot of Liger is bandaged together by forgettable item numbers starring Ananya Panday, fight scenes involving Vijay Deverakonda and chatter about “MMA, UFC… desh ka jhanda.” I kid you not, the operative line of one song is, “Jawani teri Panipat.” Why not Sonipat? 

Ramya Krishnan has, since Baahubali, patented playing the kind of movie mummy that no one should mess with. She gets very angry, and has the ability to turn her beautiful, big-big, round-round eyes into scary fireballs. She does exactly that in Liger, often, and sometimes hands her screen son beer bottles to bash up the baddies with. 

Ananya Panday is sweet and it’s clear from two brief scenes that she can act. But she doesn’t amount to anything because she is given imbecile lines – “I want a million likes… Let’s party hard tonight,” and other such. 

Ms Panday’s real-life daddy, Chunky Panday, makes a brief appearance as her Las Vegas-based billionaire screen-daddy. He delivers a significant speech. While felicitating Liger, India’s first fighter in UFC, he states that India has wasted too many years by sending doctors, engineers and techies to the U.S., and he is delighted that the country finally has had the sense to dispatch a “mard.” 

That mard is Vijay Deverakonda. I watched him first in that 2017 film, Arjun Toxic Reddy, where he did a lot of yucky mardangi. And though I was physically repulsed by it, his gorgeous baby-face framed by soft curls stayed with me. He also gave the impression that he could act. 

But in Liger, Deverakonda is mostly just required to growl, pounce, slap, kick or stare. On the few occasions when he has to stammer and act, he is shockingly bad. His hair does a far better job at emoting.      

Puri Jagannadh, who earlier made Bbuddha… Hoga Tera Baap, has apparently “written” and “directed” Liger. Given what plays out on screen, writing the screenplay of this nonsense should not have taken more than one A4 sheet. The only few seconds of fun in his film are courtesy Mike Tyson being Mike Tyson (or rather, ‘Mark Anderson’). 

After suffering Liger, I am worried about Karan Johar. Was he kidnapped, made to sniff chloroform? Was he forced to part with money at gunpoint? There can be no other reason for this thing to exist. 

And if there is, I really want to put in a request to watch the story-reading session when this completely harebrained story was pitched to KJo. I want to see for myself what he heard, the questions he asked, and how he imagined it would play out.  

Because if he heard and yet green-lit what we are being made to watch on the screen, it’s time for him to take a break, live a little, and before returning to making films, tell us why he thinks we deserve Liger.