Title: Ek Chatur Naar
Director: Umesh Shukla
Cast: Divya Khossla, Neil Nitin Mukesh, Chhaya Kadam,
Where: In theatre near you
Rating: ***
Ek Chatur Naar rides in on the coattails of a legendary song from Padosan, and while the remix of that iconic number adds a nostalgic touch, the film itself meanders between psychological drama, dark comedy, and half-hearted social messaging.
Set against the atmospheric backdrop of Lucknow, Ek Chatur Naar revolves around Mamta Mishra (Divya Khossla), a widowed mother struggling to keep her fragile world from collapsing. Burdened with the care of her young son and an alcoholic mother-in-law (Chayya Kadam), Mamta’s life is far from easy. Plagued by an unpaid debt to the menacing Thakur (Yashpal Sharma) and trapped in squalid living conditions, she resorts to an unusual survival tactic by pretending not to reside in her own home. This ruse is designed to dupe Thakur and his gang of goons while she juggles a meagre job at the Lucknow Metro Rail Corporation and a side gig with a catering service.
Her carefully balanced existence takes a turn when her path crosses with Abhishek Verma (Neel Nitin Mukesh), an ambitious agency man with political aspirations, who “loses” his smartphone during a metro ride. What begins as an opportunistic chance encounter quickly spirals into a calculated power play. Driven by ambition, Mamta exploits the incident, setting off a chain of events. The smartphone serves as a clever MacGuffin, fueling the plot.
The final act attempts to pivot from survival to revenge, but the transition feels clumsy, as if the screenplay itself got cold feet about which genre it wanted to be.
Actors' performance
Divya Khossla’s portrayal of the titular ‘chatur’ woman is respectable but underwhelming. There is promise in the role, a sharp, sly survivor who should be as much craft as wit but somewhere between the writing and execution, her character flattens out. Neel Nitin Mukesh as Abhishek Verma, remains admirably earnest but lacks the gravitas to convincingly embody a man torn between ambition, affection, and moral ambiguity. The supporting cast provides some much-needed spice: Chayya Kadam’s comedic flatulence-laden mother-in-law injects unintended levity, Sushant Singh as the senior inspector plays it by-the-book, and Zakir Hussain’s politician is flat stereotypical. Overall, the performances are serviceable rather than stellar, neither elevating nor sinking the film entirely.
Music
The film’s production values are modest but competent. The visual palette leans towards a muted, realistic tone, eschewing gloss in favour of the grit of everyday Lucknow. The background score does its job without making too much noise. No pun intended. While the Kailash Kher-sung title track stands out as an early highlight, energetic enough to make the viewer momentarily forget the script’s shortcomings. The use of iconic numbers in the background is a clever nod to Bollywood nostalgia, though at times it feels more like a crutch than an enhancement.
FPJ Verdict
The film misses the chance to fully embrace Mamta’s cunning nature, presenting her as earnest rather than sly. An abrupt genre shift and reliance on convenient plot twists in the denouement undermine its impact. Overall, the film remains a mildly entertaining, slightly over-average effort but not worth raving about.
