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  • Anhata Rooprai

The Archies — A Melody of Mediocrity

In March 2021, it was announced that Zoya Akhtar's next would be an adaptation of a comic book series. Not just any series — the Archie Comics. She was joined by Ayesha Devitre Dhillon and Reema Kagti for the project, with Farhan Akhtar in charge of the dialogue. The Archies — which has been sufficiently modified to suit the Indian cultural context — has no shortage of dated conversations, including those about the length of women's clothes and co-ed schools.


The story is set in northern India, in a town called Riverdale. The location is reminiscent of places like Mussoorie and Dalhousie. Riverdale is portrayed as a refuge of sorts, for the Anglo-Indians — who were stuck in a metaphorical no-man's-land after independence. This well-planned town is incredibly beautiful. The town is a character in the film. The best one, at that.


For mid-60s India, there are not many Hindi signboards in sight. Yes, it is the Anglo-Indian community, but it is not exactly the United Kingdom. The film would not feel like it was set in India if it was not for the periodic Hindi dialogue which sounds like something you might hear if you walked into a Gymkhana.


Apart from being a much-awaited adaptation, there is just one more element that gives the film what some would consider unwarranted glamour, in retrospect — star kids. Children of celebrities (who reportedly underwent at least a year of extensive training in acting and other skills for the screen) bring the characters of this world to life.


It is the story of Archie Andrews (Agastya Nanda), Betty Cooper (Khushi Kapoor), Veronica Lodge (Suhana Khan), Reggie Mantle (Vedang Raina), Jughead Jones (Mihir Ahuja), Ethel Muggs (Aditi Saigal), and Dilton Doiley (Yuvraj Menda). The titular gang must come together to save the town's beloved park from being turned into a modern, resplendent hotel. These are the stakes. It is a frail attempt to comment on the universal question: what should be prioritised — tradition or modernisation? In some small way, that question has some bearing on the film itself.


It is important to acknowledge that the entire film is operating within the limitations of the comic books. These are two media as much at odds with each other as any two forms of art can be. Should the film be entirely authentic to the comics? If the film does choose the route of authenticity, it would make good to have multiple stakes across two hours, instead of one big obstacle. Should it pave a new path and show the Archies in a more modern light, where characters are not just defined by one adjective? If this route is chosen, the already critically censured film would open itself up to more pillorying — this time, it would be accused of destroying the comics entirely.


Suhana Khan, Mihir Ahuja, Vedang Raina, Khushi Kapoor, Yuvraj Menda, Agastya Nanda, and Aditi Saigal in a promotional image for The Archies. Photo Courtesy: Netflix

It is while toeing these lines that the film falls apart. At the end of the day, the film's dreariness is directly proportional to the brightness of the comic books. Why are the comics much brighter? Because these characters, these settings were designed to be consumed in small bites. That has somehow escaped the plot of this film. It is the challenge of expanding plots that lasted a couple pages, to at least two hours of matter that make it difficult to work.


With the wonderful exception of Reggie (Raina), the dialogues delivered by all the other debut actors sound painful. It is as if they are speaking Hindi for the first time in their lives. Veronica (Khan) and Betty (Kapoor) even manage to deliver their dialogue in a sultry manner, all while talking about (and batting) their eyelashes, and their clothes. It begins to feel like it would be better if they all just kept singing instead. When any interaction goes on long enough, it begins to feel cringe-worthy (Betty saying, “No one can butter me up like you,” is a fine example of this).


If there is anything that saves this film, it is the music. While its purpose in the plot is questionable, it makes for a good break from what sounds like incredibly forced conversation. There are two kinds of awkwardness as a viewer when you are listening to a conversation on the screen – when you feel like an intruder because what is being said is far too intimate (think Brokeback Mountain or Her), or, when you cannot comprehend who would talk like this. This film repeatedly exemplifies the latter, even when something meaningful is being said.


The songs are all it takes for the 17-year-olds to develop life-changing perspectives. There is very little music on part of The Archies in the capacity of a band, even though they are referred to as one. Anything requiring the already famous first-time actors to act is conveniently removed. They can sing, skate, and dance instead. The largest part of our population is very young, but whether this film can communicate honestly with even a fraction of them is a question to ask.


Zoya Akhtar has steered far away from her usual breed of coming-of-age films. Originality is not a word one would associate with Akhtar. While that is not a concern that comes with an adaptation, her unique ability to keep the viewer engaged is notably missing from her latest work. In the end, The Archies reads like a film written by somebody who critiques capitalism to no end, but when asked what they would replace it with, they are wordless.


It cannot be just because the stakes are not high enough, or that the world is entirely fictional. Maybe the comics were not meant to be translated to the big screen. India is yet to have done films like these well — and while this is a feeble attempt at best, it is a step in the right direction, especially in the context of the world that has been built to house these characters.

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