One could so easily get used to watching outstanding Indian films weekly: last week, I saw the brilliant "No One Killed Jessica", and this Friday brought Kiran Rao's polished debut "Dhobi Ghat: Mumbai Diaries" to town. While I feel spoilt with this cinematic bounty, I realize that it is nothing to take for granted.
"Dhobi Ghat" follows the stories of four characters, and a fifth one emerges as the film progresses: Bombay, or Mumbai, herself. The city that embraces these four, and millions of others besides, is as inexorably unfathomable as the ocean that laps at its edges, providing refuge and solace to some, while being callously indifferent to the fate of others. Bombay remains impervious to the fluctuations of seasons, fortunes, time, and tides, concerned simply with the business of being, of existence. Kiran Rao captures this ethos of the city with remarkable success, while unfurling the stories of some who would try to make sense of her.
Two of these are Shai, a wealthy Parsi investment banker from New York, whose year-long sabbatical affords her the opportunity to explore her Indian origins; the other—Yasmin—a gentle, affectionate soul, has moved to the big city from small town Uttar Pradesh, agog at the promise of a new start in a metropolis.
Then there is the artist Arun, a misanthropic recluse, who must move house often due to the reluctance of Bombay landlords to rent out accommodations beyond eleven months, and Munna, a street smart, large-hearted dhobi, or launderer, who is the link between these people who inhabit such disparate worlds within Bombay. The city's driving monsoon rains are capable of lulling to sleep the fortunate few who are languorously ensconced in affluence, while others must scramble madly with tarps and plastic sheeting in the dead of night just to keep their rude beds dry. It is a world of contrasts, indeed.
Shai has a one-night stand with Arun, who abruptly brushes her off, but becomes hooked on the video diaries of Yasmin, who appears to have been the previous tenant of Arun's new rental digs. We never actually meet Yasmin, but develop great affection for the sweet-natured small town girl from her meticulously kept video journal intended for her family in Malihabad. Munna meets Shai and an unlikely bond develops between them.
Each character's obsession with the perhaps unhealthy, maybe unattainable, appears to be what they have in common. Shai's budding friendship with Munna makes him harbor romantic notions about her, while she, intrigued by the reclusive Arun, starts shadowing him with her camera. Arun—mesmerized by Yasmin's journal—tries uncovering her whereabouts. Energized creatively by her diaries, he starts painting with a renewed drive. Each character's aspirational quests are what unite them with every other person who comes to Bombay, the city where nothing is impossible; where many dreams are dashed, but some, against all logic, are gloriously realized.
There is an assurance in Koran Rao's writing and direction that outstrip her actual filmmaking experience. Her deftly-written screenplay does not spell everything out for the viewer. One gets a clue here, another there, and must intuit the full inner life of her characters. This is a grown-up film about pragmatic people, briefly caught up in the illusory magic of possibilities, before opening their eyes anew to the implacable realities of the world they inhabit.
Newcomers Monica Dogra (Shai) and Kriti Malhotra (Yasmin) do praiseworthy work, allowing us into the interior lives of their characters. Aamir Khan, the veteran, offers a solid interpretation of a man exorcising the demons of his past, and finding hope through the optimism of his video muse, Yasmin. But it is Prateik—the son of the late great actress Smita Patil—who holds the film together. Prateik's Munna is no fool; he has negotiated the mean streets of Bombay from the age of eight. He is aware of what people must do merely to keep body and soul together; he himself holds down a number of jobs of varying degrees of legitimacy, but his basic purity and innocence remain unsullied. His tentative overtures towards Shai, his unselfconscious goofiness, and his innate decency make him one of the most endearing screen characters of recent times, and Prateik deserves a huge amount of credit for fleshing out such a multi-layered character.
Kudos to Kiran Rao for handling her cast with an exquisitely light touch, and for the delicacy and determination with which she unveils the many Bombays we see in this film. She enables us to understand what the artist Arun might mean when he raises a rueful glass " to Mumbai, my muse, my whore". Tushar Kanti Ray's audacious camera work brings Bombay to vivid confounding life. Just how he accomplished filming amid the teeming chaos of the city's Mohamadali Road with someone as instantly recognizable as Aamir Khan fascinates me endlessly. Gustavo Santaolalla's evocative acoustic guitar score is perfect for this film, imbuing it with the same tragic wistfulness that permeated "Brokeback Mountain".
"Dhobi Ghat" is a film for adults, made with unwavering integrity and passion, and Kiran Rao—if there is justice in this world—will soon be one of India's celebrated filmmakers.
Let's see if this run of good luck at the movies lasts the next film I look forward to is Vishal Bhardwaj's "7 Khoon Maaf".
"Dhobi Ghat" follows the stories of four characters, and a fifth one emerges as the film progresses: Bombay, or Mumbai, herself. The city that embraces these four, and millions of others besides, is as inexorably unfathomable as the ocean that laps at its edges, providing refuge and solace to some, while being callously indifferent to the fate of others. Bombay remains impervious to the fluctuations of seasons, fortunes, time, and tides, concerned simply with the business of being, of existence. Kiran Rao captures this ethos of the city with remarkable success, while unfurling the stories of some who would try to make sense of her.
Two of these are Shai, a wealthy Parsi investment banker from New York, whose year-long sabbatical affords her the opportunity to explore her Indian origins; the other—Yasmin—a gentle, affectionate soul, has moved to the big city from small town Uttar Pradesh, agog at the promise of a new start in a metropolis.
Then there is the artist Arun, a misanthropic recluse, who must move house often due to the reluctance of Bombay landlords to rent out accommodations beyond eleven months, and Munna, a street smart, large-hearted dhobi, or launderer, who is the link between these people who inhabit such disparate worlds within Bombay. The city's driving monsoon rains are capable of lulling to sleep the fortunate few who are languorously ensconced in affluence, while others must scramble madly with tarps and plastic sheeting in the dead of night just to keep their rude beds dry. It is a world of contrasts, indeed.
Shai has a one-night stand with Arun, who abruptly brushes her off, but becomes hooked on the video diaries of Yasmin, who appears to have been the previous tenant of Arun's new rental digs. We never actually meet Yasmin, but develop great affection for the sweet-natured small town girl from her meticulously kept video journal intended for her family in Malihabad. Munna meets Shai and an unlikely bond develops between them.
Each character's obsession with the perhaps unhealthy, maybe unattainable, appears to be what they have in common. Shai's budding friendship with Munna makes him harbor romantic notions about her, while she, intrigued by the reclusive Arun, starts shadowing him with her camera. Arun—mesmerized by Yasmin's journal—tries uncovering her whereabouts. Energized creatively by her diaries, he starts painting with a renewed drive. Each character's aspirational quests are what unite them with every other person who comes to Bombay, the city where nothing is impossible; where many dreams are dashed, but some, against all logic, are gloriously realized.
There is an assurance in Koran Rao's writing and direction that outstrip her actual filmmaking experience. Her deftly-written screenplay does not spell everything out for the viewer. One gets a clue here, another there, and must intuit the full inner life of her characters. This is a grown-up film about pragmatic people, briefly caught up in the illusory magic of possibilities, before opening their eyes anew to the implacable realities of the world they inhabit.
Newcomers Monica Dogra (Shai) and Kriti Malhotra (Yasmin) do praiseworthy work, allowing us into the interior lives of their characters. Aamir Khan, the veteran, offers a solid interpretation of a man exorcising the demons of his past, and finding hope through the optimism of his video muse, Yasmin. But it is Prateik—the son of the late great actress Smita Patil—who holds the film together. Prateik's Munna is no fool; he has negotiated the mean streets of Bombay from the age of eight. He is aware of what people must do merely to keep body and soul together; he himself holds down a number of jobs of varying degrees of legitimacy, but his basic purity and innocence remain unsullied. His tentative overtures towards Shai, his unselfconscious goofiness, and his innate decency make him one of the most endearing screen characters of recent times, and Prateik deserves a huge amount of credit for fleshing out such a multi-layered character.
Kudos to Kiran Rao for handling her cast with an exquisitely light touch, and for the delicacy and determination with which she unveils the many Bombays we see in this film. She enables us to understand what the artist Arun might mean when he raises a rueful glass " to Mumbai, my muse, my whore". Tushar Kanti Ray's audacious camera work brings Bombay to vivid confounding life. Just how he accomplished filming amid the teeming chaos of the city's Mohamadali Road with someone as instantly recognizable as Aamir Khan fascinates me endlessly. Gustavo Santaolalla's evocative acoustic guitar score is perfect for this film, imbuing it with the same tragic wistfulness that permeated "Brokeback Mountain".
"Dhobi Ghat" is a film for adults, made with unwavering integrity and passion, and Kiran Rao—if there is justice in this world—will soon be one of India's celebrated filmmakers.
Let's see if this run of good luck at the movies lasts the next film I look forward to is Vishal Bhardwaj's "7 Khoon Maaf".