Nothing underlines the wild, rebellious heart of Mari Selvaraj’s Pariyerum Perumal (2018) quite like Santosh Narayanan’s music. For example: during a stretch, when the hero (Kathir) and heroine (Anandhi) are spending time apart, after he’s warned by her father since they belong to different castes, the hip-hop song Naan Yaar starts playing to some dynamic visuals.As much as it’s about heartbreak, the sequence is also about the protagonist’s inner tussle with his own beliefs. Shazia Iqbal’s Dhadak 2, a Hindi adaptation of the 2018 Tamil film, uses a more conventional ballad (sung by Vishal Mishra) during this stretch, muting the male protagonist’s reckoning with his identity, replacing it with a more palatable subplot of aching, star-crossed lovers. The choice dilutes the source material’s counter-cultural intent, making it a more yielding piece of work.Produced by Dharma productions, the title of Iqbal’s film alone invites questions. A ‘franchise’ of anti-caste love stories? Especially, considering how both original films were made by Dalit filmmakers, which went on to be commercial surprises. The optics will always be against such franchises unless there’s sufficient proof that a remake or adaptation (with bold artistic choices) is driving the conversation forward in some way. Instead of merely co-opting its success.Dhadak 2 isn’t a lazy remake, it tries to chart its own pathSaying Dhadak 2 is better than Dhadak (2018) is a lost cause because how can Shashank Khaitan’s film [a limp remake of Nagraj Manjule’s fiery film, Sairat (2016)] be a benchmark for anything remotely good. To its credit, Iqbal’s film has a voice and feel of its own. But does it ever get out of the shadow of the original film? I’m struggling to answer this in a cogent manner because it’s a complicated situation.Iqbal’s film was stuck with the censor board, during which it had to reportedly make 16 changes, including removing caste names, rephrasing dialogues and removing a blue tint on a dog during a dream sequence (which is there in Mari Selvaraj’s original film too). The place where the film takes place isn’t mentioned during the runtime, even if the accent suggests Bhopal.How impactful would Dhadak 2 have been in a world without censorship? Who knows? The dilemma here for a film critic lies in whether they should see the film in front of them, or try to estimate the intended film? How much of a rope should a critic give, accommodating a film’s ‘flaws’? The answer might vary from one person to the next but it might still be possible to make an educated guess based on what’s in front of us, while empathising with what could have been.Neelesh (Siddhant Chaturvedi) is an aspiring law student at the National Law college. He’s made aware of his ‘lower status’ in society, when the Dean (played superbly by Zakir Hussain) asks him: “Quota?” Neelesh nods. In a clever callback, co-writers Iqbal and Rahul Badwelkar, assuage Neelesh’s humiliation.A classmate asks him again: “Quota?” Neelesh replies with “Donation?” And they nod at each other. The film primarily follows Neelesh as he tries to navigate law college, and falls in love with his upper-caste classmate, Vidhi (Triptii Dimri).Dhadak 2 isn’t a lazy remake, it tries to chart its own path. It invents a student politician character, Shekhar (Priyank Tiwari), modelled on Rohith Vemula. Vidhi has more of a voice in this film than Anandhi’s Jo had in the original. However, it’s still not the same as her being an equal to Neelesh. If the film is about Neelesh’s caste, then that makes him the protagonist.But if this is a love story between Neelesh and Vidhi, like Dhadak 2 often props itself to be – I’d want both characters being given equal care. It doesn’t help that Dimri’s limited histrionics don’t differentiate her performance as Vidhi from her past films. Manjiri Pupala, Shekhar’s love-interest and a faculty member in the college, who was splendid in this year’s Superboys of Malegaon is exceptionally short-changed. I thought there was much left to be explored in her character.Saurabh Sachdeva has arguably the most author-backed character in the supporting cast, playing an Anton Chigurh-like figure, weeding out the ‘traitors’ of caste hierarchy. Played by Karate Venkatesan in the original, the character becomes a metaphor of an intolerant society itself, going around serving ‘justice’ to young boys and girls, who have ‘forgotten their place in society’.But I enjoyed Zakir Hussain a bit more. Playing a Muslim dean of the law college, I loved the way he uses his deadpan tone to say ‘Pakka?’ (Are you sure?) after Neelesh introduces his real father, as opposed to an impostor the first time around.Siddhant Chaturvedi was always going to be a great choice as Neelesh, given that the actor started out as playing a cricketer from an oppressed caste, Prashant Kanojia, in Amazon series, Inside Edge. He simmers and quakes, like an underdog one wouldn’t help but root for. There’s a definitive scream towards the end, which feels like a righteous explosion. But his tanned face, Bollywood’s shorthand for ‘poor’, remains the most unconvincing detail of an otherwise fine performance.This is the most we can probably expect from a mainstream film in this eraHowever, I did find myself troubled by the Twitter-speak in the film’s dialogue. The way Vidhi keeps saying “Humaari caste alag hai, isiliye?” more than once. The way Neelesh’s mother (Anubha Fatehpura) talks about her Dalit identity in as many words. Also, how Vidhi throws around terms like ‘privilege’ and ‘toxic masculinity’ to Neelesh – the stiltedness keeps puncturing the illusion of an otherwise grounded narrative.I’m assuming those who haven’t seen or revisited Pariyerum Perumal recently, will find plenty of things to be moved by in Iqbal’s film. If anyone remembers her defiant short film, Bebaak (2019), I’d say she is capable of more.For all the talk about an individual’s freedom to dream in Dhadak 2, it’s ironic (or probably fitting) to see a filmmaker caught between a studio’s capitalist neglect and a censor board afraid of any kind of specificity. Dhadak 2 wants to be a crusader on caste atrocities, but, even by the end I couldn’t picture it as any more than a worried bystander.But then considering the state of affairs, and the question mark on personal and artistic liberty, this is the most we can probably expect from a mainstream film in this era. That’s the real tragedy at the heart of Iqbal’s film.*Dhadak 2 is playing in theatres