One good thing about lurking on Facebook, after getting tired of hopping between Instagram, Reddit, Twitter, and occasionally Pinterest, is the rare luck I find while scrolling through my feed. It’s been ages since I frequently used this platform whenever boredom struck me. It used to be my go-to app when I wanted to binge on contents and posts, regardless of their relevance to me. Since I migrated to Twitter and eventually Instagram years ago, my perception of Facebook shifted, and I found it no longer catered to my social media needs.

It was just recently when I felt the need to use it again. Basically, I only access it through my web browser (my pride won't let me install it again) when I want to check notifications and share my blog posts. While there, I also spend some time scrolling. Since updating my settings and only following pages I like, I enjoy seeing good content that I don't usually come across on Twitter or Instagram. Like a couple weeks ago, I came across movie suggestions where a particular film was mentioned and was showered with praise in the comment section.

"The best film yet this year".

"This film had me on the edge of my seat".

"The plot twist!"

These are among the many reviews I saw on Facebook. My urge to watch it intensified when I also saw a Reddit post discussing the film, and I didn’t find any strikingly negative comments. That’s why we decided last Monday, while having dinner, to finally give this film that everyone has been talking about— Maharaja —a shot.

Maharaja is a 2024 Indian film about a barber who seeks vengeance after his “Lakshmi” is stolen by three masked burglars. To everyone’s great surprise, this “Lakshmi” is neither a prized possession nor a family member. It is a used dustbin, lovingly stowed in one spot of their home like a deity figure.

The film opens ludicrously— with familiar Bollywood sounds, slapstick sequences that sometimes fall into dry amusement, and a rather hurried start. The next thirty minutes, or perhaps the entire hour-long runtime, seemed intended to contort our faces into the ugliest expressions possible as we tried to make sense of what was happening. I felt like another ten years had been added to my age due to the stress of trying to figure out where the film was leading me. It all started—or rather, the film made us believe it started—after his daughter left for a sports camp. I thought it would be a typical night for Maharaja, but there were rubble and debris all over his house, and amidst it all, he lay on his side, unconscious and obviously wounded.

After he regained consciousness, he went to file a complaint at the police station. It was revealed that his house had been burglarized, but what concerned him most was his “Lakshmi,” their cherished dustbin. This threw the entire police station into chaos, as they were convinced he was a madman. Who on earth would file a complaint over a dustbin? It would make sense if it had jewelries or was made of gold or some expensive material. However, it was just a goddamn dustbin!

The inspector didn’t believe him (who would, really?), but when he was willing to spend his money for its sake, they started to humor him. They began their investigation, and the inspector formed a team to help him replicate the dustbin and eventually get the money they wanted. However, as they made progress, and the story unfolded, the truth slowly emerged, and things began to fall into place.

It is especially true that we tend to project an emotional connection to items that hold sentimental value and specific memories by giving them names. I experienced this, particularly during my childhood, when I used to name my Barbie dolls in an effort to make them feel real and relatable. I would always choose fancy names like Tiffany, Chloe, and Margo, which suited their appearances perfectly. However, as I grew older, certain things sadly faded into the past. While some people might still have the tendency to name their personal belongings, I no longer do so, as life has changed.

That’s why, despite it raising a few eyebrows, I understand that Maharaja naming a not-so-special dustbin might stem from an emotional bond that has yet to be revealed from the outset of the story.

But why "Lakshmi?"

Lakshmi was introduced to us early in the movie. It was a used dustbin, with no signs of its once shiny iron skin. Despite its weary appearance, it was clear that Maharaja and his daughter Jothi no longer treated it as a mere dustbin, but with an almost sacred reverence-- akin to a deity figure. And to my surprise, upon researching it, Lakshmi is actually a Hindu goddess that symbolizes wealth, fortune, and prosperity. In the story, as we found out the truth in the end, we could say that the dustbin was indeed a fortune as it was the one who saved Jothi from death.

We could say that “Lakshmi,” the name of their dustbin, played a huge role in the story. It piqued our curiosity and drew us into the mystery. Why was Maharaja so desperate to recover this seemingly ordinary dustbin? What secrets did it hold that made him willing to spend a fortune just to have the police track it down and return it to him?

Initially, the inspector and his team thought Maharaja was a madman. However, through relentless investigations, they soon realized that the barber was hiding something about the dustbin. Maharaja wasn’t crazy; he was after something, using them more than they were using him. If it meant making his plan easier to execute, Maharaja was willing to spend his fortune for it.

The answers were yet to be revealed, but one thing was certain: Lakshmi was no ordinary dustbin, and Maharaja was definitely hiding something beneath it. Later in the story, we discovered that Lakshmi wasn’t actually stolen; he had hidden it under his daughter’s hospital bed. This scene also revealed what really happened to him and his daughter that night when we found him unconscious at home. It wasn’t a burglary, and he wasn’t beaten up. Everything was due to revenge, leading to a series of revelations and twists.

The film wasn’t linear. The story deviated from what we initially thought or what they led us to believe, strategically weaving the past and present to baffle us. Honestly, I was tricked, and the whole time I still had no idea what was going on until Selvam spotted a familiar gold necklace with a footprint pendant, just after Jothi confronted him. This was the monumental juncture in the film where the truth and the anticipated twist were finally revealed.

I would say the build-up of tension and the anticipation of the twist were all worth it in the end. It wasn’t lame and definitely deserved the buzz it generated across the internet.

Is it worth the hype? Yes, definitely. Maharaja is the kind of film people can enjoy when they have no idea what to watch during their spare time. The night we watched it, I was bored. Since I had nothing else to do, I decided to give it a shot, hoping it would meet my expectations set by the hype. This film can stir your curiosity and maybe even pique your interest—it’s a good choice when you want to spend 2 or 3 hours on something thrilling. If you’re not too strict with technicalities, you can overlook some of the action scenes. I wasn’t expecting the few gore scenes, as the film initially didn’t seem to head in that direction.

Is it the best film of the year? Surely not. Among all the films in this category so far, there could be one better than Maharaja. It is worth the hype but somewhat overrated. It has an interesting plot but could improve in terms of execution and production. With a bigger budget, the CGI could be more realistic, and the action scenes more thrilling. The intention to intensify the trajectory was there, but unfortunately, it fell flat due to poor CGI effects, making the scenes feel cheap and unexciting. The sound effects during punching, kicking, and stunts also sounded unrealistic and quite distracting.

Overall, Maharaja is a 3/5 film for me. The plot is very interesting. The inclusion of Lakshmi, a dustbin, as a decoy to keep viewers engaged and thinking is commendable. The fact that this is a revenge drama with a unique element like a dustbin is intriguing. The non-linear narrative helps build tension and keeps the story a big jigsaw puzzle for the viewers. Sadly, the execution was the biggest issue and could have made it a near-perfect film if the action scenes were more realistic. Despite these lapses, Maharaja still offers an enjoyable experience.