While the country’s dark underbelly of crimes expand by the day, whose responsibility is it to show the path towards light? Is it only the law enforcement? The answer is larger than that. There are invisible men in the side wings, playing their roles loyally to save the country from corruption, even if it comes at the cost of many sacrifices. Costao—directed by Sejal Shah and starring Nawazuddin Siddiqui in its titular role of a customs officer in Goa—shows the intrinsic roles that the government servants play to keep the country safe. It is not a made-up tale about a righteous man, but a film inspired by the real-life Costao Fernandez, a customs officer in Goa, who carried out a major raid against a gold smuggling operation and put his personal life at risk to save the country. While he had to face court trials for murder, dangerous threats against his children, and suspension, Costao Fernandez became a larger than life embodiment of collective justice in the end.
The real-life background for the film can be traced back to an incident that took place in 1991 in Goa, where Costao Fernandez was involved in raiding a smuggling operation involving Alvernaz Alemao, the brother of influential political figure Churchill Alemao, about an illegal consignment of 1.5 kg of gold. The film remains true to reality, and the Alemao brothers are represented by the D’Mello brothers—the elder, a political candidate, and the younger, Peter D’Mello, in charge of the smuggling. What unfolds in the two hours of the film is the saga of an honest customs officer who is more action than words. Costao is critiqued in the department by his seniors for his unconventional way of carrying out investigations and not following rules. However, his moral compass points him in the right direction even when he does not go by the book. When his superior asks him to follow the rules, he answers that nobody learns English by following the grammar—a statement that will make or break his life later in the film.
Costao begins with a premise that delves into the underbelly of Goa—dealing with a network of corruption, political influence, and violence. Costao has an unconventional way of working. He gets the tip about the D’Mello brother’s illegal shipment of gold arriving at the port on the morning of D’Mello’s sister’s wedding from a trusted informant. Costao, exhausted after a three-day vigil, follows the lead and catches the culprit on his way in a car. However, he is stabbed all over and ends up killing the culprit in self defence. The rest of the film explores themes of personal justice caught in the red tape of legalities—and how larger-than-life heroes are often painted as villains in an unjust world dictated by corrupt politicians and lawmakers.
One would expect the film to involve high-tension chases, an abundance of action, and the occasional bloodbath, but the film balances the narrative by showing Costao’s interior life as a father and a husband just as much as it focuses on his bravery as a justice seeker. The film uses its storytelling as a method to strike this balance—as we look at Costao’s life through the eyes of his daughter Marissa. The film has used Marissa’s lens to explore how heroes look not just to the outside world, but to people who matter the most to them.
Priya Bapat as Maria Fernandes is resilient in her portrayal of Costao’s wife, portraying the sacrifices of being the wife of a person fighting for justice. While army wives and their families are glorified, we must not forget that the wives and children of policemen and other civil servants serve the country with countless sacrifices and solemn support. Maria is accommodating but frets over the fact that her husband is at times an absent husband and absent father. In answer to her complaint, Costao answers that he puts “duty” and “beauty” at the same priority—a silly joke that make Costao’s character more human, more accessible than a somber police officer in most cop thrillers. We see Costao’s character as a family man, a loving father struggling to protect his three children, and a devoted husband.
Although the film sets off with a thriller premise with a protagonist navigating a network of crimes, smuggling, raids, and political fights, the second half of the film changes its track. It does justice to the real-life Costao by showing him in a human light. The film also carries strong imagery, like Peter D’Mello’s widow and a flock of women clad in black first surrounding and then attacking Costao, depicting the burden of conscience that he carries heavy on his shoulders.
The film also explores that although the civil servants are at the top of the system, gatekeeping us from perils, there are invisible workers at the grassroot level who facilitate their jobs. In fact, towards the end Costao’s trial for murder becomes a question of moral judgement about whether to save his own dignity, or protect his informer’s integrity. During the court trial, Costao never budges from his stance of not revealing the informer’s identity so as not to put him at risk. It could have cost Costao a punishment as hefty as death, but his integrity makes him the true hero of the story. We had seen Costao’s human side with the informant before when he borrowed his shirt, one the informant had bought for easter, then thought for a moment and told him he would return the shirt washed and pressed before Easter. Costao does not treat the informants as inferior, but as friends–people who have equal value in the system of protection.
Nawazuddin Siddiqui delivers a grounded performance, continuing his legacy of playing the ordinary man’s hero torn between the rules of the system and his personal conscience. Sejal Shah’s direction tells the story in a restrained way, not allowing it the risk to devolve into a melodrama or run-of-the-mill cop thriller. Costao is a film that not only focuses on bravado but also shows that in the relentless pursuit of right or wrong, humanity shines through.
