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In one of his introductions to the film, Rajat Kapoor discussed his inspiration behind Mithya: his film was a take on the mythological story on how Vishnu lets Narad muni change his identity into a common householder and the latter starts believing in it. The experience was to teach him (and us) the difference between illusion and reality.

In Mithya, an out of work actor VK (Ranvir Shorey) is offered to play the role of a real life Mumbai gangster with a promise of one crore rupees as remuneration. The proposition coming from mobsters, VK can’t refuse the offer. Their plan is to bump off the dangerous don Raje Bhai (Ranvir Shorey) and VK to take his place. In the course of the film, VK ends up believing he actually is the don and head of Raje Bhai’s extended family, only to be hit hard by reality.

Kapoor’s story idea had great potential. In fusing the ol’ Indian philosophy as its theme with the most celebrated elements on Indian screen – Bollywood and Underworld – as its context, Kapoor surely had a winner in his hands. Although the film at its basic story is original and made with taste, there are notable problems with the screenplay and its execution.

If the idea was to explore the mithya (lie or illusion) of the glitter of bollywood and underworld, the screenplay fails to bring it out and create the narrative strength it needs. The half-comic first part, where the actor VK unwittingly gets dragged into the rivalry of two gangs, goes well with some credible work put in by the actors. However, there is a certain lack of movement in the narrative once VK gets into the Don’s den. But the real problem comes with the narrative twist when the actor loses his memory and starts believing he is actually the Don. This twist just fails to click.

The character of the Don, Raje Bhai is never analyzed. Except for one short video, one doesn’t see him much. So when VK prepares to play Raje Bhai, he is mostly working on his muscles or his moustache and perhaps a certain tone of voice. One is not surprised he loses confidence within days of entering Raje’s household. This lack of characterization also means that one doesn’t see the dramatic change in VK’s behaviour once he loses his original identity. For dramatic purposes and also for the irony of the situation to work, it was imperative that the audience see the contrast between the earlier VK and the new one. This failure of irony (of the actor now living the part he was supposed to play) also affects the unfolding tragedy of his being discovered.

And it certainly doesn’t help that the protagonist dies. After all, the whole idea of illusion versus reality was to be played through his conscience. It is then aesthetically and narratively jarring to see the protagonist die and the director take over to show what happened to other characters.

It is curious that Rajat Kapoor does not discuss his original idea in his more recent interviews and instead calls his film ‘an ode to the old Hollywood gangster films – like Little Caesar and Scarface.’ Now if one were to see Mithya as a gangster film it would do the film even less credit. Rajat could have been referring to the Hollywood classics in matters of story and setting (in fact, Mithya has a greater semblance, if only in passing, with the Indian film, ‘Don’, directed by Chandra Barot), but situating his film in the above category – threatens to completely take away its original & novel conception.

Ranvir Shorey does well as the half-comic struggling actor but falls short of creating the pathos necessary for the tragic end. Neha Dhupia has more screen time than spoken lines, which is just as well. As mentioned earlier the supporting cast does a great job (notably, Vinay Pathak and Naseeruddin Shah). The dialogues are not extraordinary but serve the purpose and are occasionally funny. More work was needed if they were to carry the black humour that Rajat seems to be attempting in many of the scenes. Some of the locations used in the film work well in creating the realistic framework.

Mithya is not a bad film, but knowing the director, it could have been better.
- Padmaja Thakore