Masaan review: This Richa Chadha starrer gives an impactful, insider’s view of Varanasi

by Meenakshi  Shedde The French are obsessed with Benares, or Varanasi, where Neeraj Ghaywan’s debut feature Masaan is set. Ghaywan, to his credit, offers us a delicately nuanced, insider’s view of the city. There are three French backers (Macassar, Arte, Pathé) in this Indo-French co-production (the Indian producers include Drishyam, Phantom and Sikhya). Yet there is not one touristy shot of the Ganga maha aarti, or of smokin’ sadhus, or leaf-lamps teetering into Ganga Maiya’s arms. Masaan won the Promising Future prize and FIPRESCI International Film Critics’ Jury Prize in this year’s Cannes Film Festival. Equally importantly, it releases in India, within two months of showing at Cannes, which is quite a feat for an Indian indie without stars or masala. The film weaves three stories together — Devi Pathak (Richa Chadda) has sex with her boyfriend in a hotel, resulting in a horrific experience that scars her for life; Deepak Chaudhary (Vicky Kaushal), a low caste Dom who cremates dead bodies by the ghats, has a tender romance with the upper caste Shaalu Gupta (Shweta Tripathi); and a spunky homeless kid Jhonta (Nikhil Sahni) attaches himself to Devi’s father, Vidyadhar Pathak (Sanjay Mishra). [caption id=“attachment_2360836” align=“alignleft” width=“380”] A Still from Masaan. Screengrab from the trailer.[/caption] The film has many strengths, including its characters, screenplay, dialogues, acting, music and editing. At 109 minutes, Nitin Baid’s edit is briskly paced, yet allows you to savour the gentle unfolding of a forbidden romance. It opens taut as a thriller: in the first few minutes, there is love, sex, death and blackmail. The protector of the law turns predator as a cop films Devi and her boyfriend in bed with his phone, then blackmails Devi and her father by threatening to put the clip up on Youtube. Devi is the new face of small town India: she surfs porn on the net, has pre-marital sex in a hotel, and frankly says she wanted to have sex because of “jigyasa” (curiosity). Daughter of a retired professor who now sells trinkets, she knows that only education and tech savvy can lead her out of her lower middle class, blackmail-threatened existence. Once scorched, hardened armour is her best defence. While you root for her, you don’t exactly warm up to Devi. Devi’s father is relatively liberal: as she is financially independent, he may have overlooked her affair, if the cop hadn’t blackmailed them. But money talks — and silences. Vicky Kaushal is a delightful discovery as the guileless Deepak, who romances the poetry-loving Shaalu (the lovely Shweta Tripathi). Thank god for a film that understands that women find gentleness incredibly seductive, as against macho mainstream film heroes who woo heroines via mattress-sized chests. Much as I adored Dum Laga Ke Haisha, whose heroine seeks love within marriage, Masaan’s characters are gutsier in breaching social barriers while seeking love. Varun Grover’s screenplay, dialogues and lyrics are excellent. The screenplay is like a Mobius strip uniting the three stories, using details and motifs. Some of the tropes are familiar — like the way Ghaywan uses a ring, for example — but they’re used with economy and grace. The climax, involving both Devi and Deepak, is forced. Still, one does relish the optimistic hint of a sangam, resonant of unions of rivers and lovers, beyond caste and tradition. Ghaywan’s direction keeps a fine balance in handling a high voltage cocktail of love, sex, death and blackmail, without melodrama. Backed by Grover’s insight, the small-town observations of love growing in the crevices of hardened custom are delicious. Vicky’s buddies egg him on: “Aaj hi Facebook account khol do, aur aaj hi Shri Ganesh kar do.” Later, Vicky’s way of telling Shaalu “I love you” is to say to her, “Tell me if anyone bothers you” – love in India, of course, must inherently assume sexual harassment. Avinash Arun’s cinematography is evocative, yet restrained, with marvelous night shots of the train crossing the Ganga. Ranjit Singh’s production design is meticulous, including traditional drawings on the walls of a home, a sewing machine and water jerry cans; so is the sound design. The songs by Indian Ocean are pensive, especially “Mann Kasturi” and “Bhor”, with sombre background music by Bruno Coulais. Grover’s exquisite lyrics are rooted in Hindi literature and Indian philosophy. His “T_u kisi rail si guzarti hai, Main kisi pull sa thartharaata hoon_,” is a version of poet Dushyant Kumar’s poem and has a very Indian, erotic metaphor — of a bridge shuddering with pleasure as the train rides over it. In “Mann Kasturi”, he has a line, “Khoje apni gandh na pave”, which he translates as: “The heart is like the musk deer that goes mad seeking the scent of musk, not realizing it comes from within”. Masaan shows the feisty struggle of youngsters in small-town India — familiar with computers and mobile phones — to find love and dignity, by escaping the boa constrictor of tradition, orthodoxy and misogyny. It is a superb, remarkably assured, debut film by Neeraj Ghaywan. Here’s looking at you, Team Ghaywan!   Meenakshi Shedde is South Asia Consultant to the Berlin Film Festival, award-winning critic, curator to festivals worldwide and journalist.