Bandwaale review: A familiar tale of ambition that lacks narrative symphony!

Created by Ankur Tewari and Swanand Kirkire, Bandwaale is a serviceable music dramedy that lacks deep resonance!

Small-town ambitions require great courage, especially when the dreamer is a girl choosing an unconventional path. While these stories have been beautifully captured in films and shows before, Prime Video’s latest venture Bandwaale, gives this struggle a contemporary touch by weaving digital ambitions, struggles for a dignified life and unlikely ‘collabs’ into this serviceable music dramedy. Set in the sleepy town of Ratlam, Bandwaale follows Mariam, (Shalini Pandey) a young poetess who harbours a dream of independence from her orthodox household as she finds a not-so-fine-tuned creative partnership in the mysterious DJ Psycho (Zahan Kapoor) and brass band singer Robo Kumar (Swanand Kirkire). 

The series opens with Mariam’s father, Principal David (Ashish Vidyarthi), threatening to rusticate students after a kissing incident and a romantic poetry recital on the campus shocks the management. Following this, Mariam pulls strings to avert dire consequences for her friends, setting the tone for the quiet rebellion and creative sparks that define her journey in the show ahead.

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Besides the zillion anxieties that come with being a girl with big dreams, the biggest is defying the norms of a conservative household and environmental setting that reeks of casual misogyny and the everyday reminders that her dreams are secondary to marriage, motherhood, and 'adjusting'! The show does a decent job of providing context to Mariam’s desperation to make it big in life, and holds a mirror to the reality that a career isn’t just a means to livelihood for a woman but an escape from the predetermined script of marriage and conformity that threatens her agency. We see Mariam and her sister Cynthia’s phones getting confiscated, their home’s internet cables being severed, and the former's poems being reduced to ashes over a small incident that ‘embarrasses’ their conservative father. Not only that, he also decides to get the 20-year-old Mariam married within the next few months to avert her from going ‘astray’. 

Desperate to thwart their father’s plan and mint some quick money, the sisters decide to upload her poems anonymously using an unsecured Wi-Fi and a run-down smartphone. As the sisters eye rapid growth on their YouTube channels, they decide to collaborate with Robo, who is struggling to keep up his job as the brass band’s lead singer, given his traditional music style and DJ Psycho or Psy- a reclusive youngster doing all sorts of odd jobs in Ratlam, including that of a techno music creation. Their creative association, conflicts and bids for freedom and identity form the rest of the story. 

While we have to give it to the makers for keeping the tone of the show light-hearted with quirky-desi dialogues, scattered laughter and tender moments between the key characters and their circles (Watch out especially for banters between members of the brass band), the show lacks the emotional connect that would have elevated the overall experience. You rarely feel Mariam’s pain in the scenes when her poems are being burnt or when she decides to stand up for her mother at a crucial moment. Even the scenes when she is grappling with anxiety during her debut stage performance fail to tense you. Besides, the part where Psy reveals his past, which teased an interesting twist but fell prey to basic writing, that deprived the character of any layers or nuance, adds to your dissatisfaction. The series is packed with themes that had potential for greater resonance among all age groups, especially the youngsters, given Mariam’s content creation dreams; however, the rushed and template-handling make it an over-familiar experience.

Bandwaale is now streaming on Prime Video!