Sister Midnight

Bluesky

“Why can’t you just be normal, like a normal person?” Gopal (Ashok Pathak) asks.

Uma (Radhika Apte) doesn’t know why – at least not at that stage. It will take her some time to accept that perhaps she’s not a normal person, and then to go even further, and accept that that’s okay. She really wanted to be normal. She tried. She thought of Gopal as her childhood sweetheart and travelled all the way to Mumbai to marry him and live with him in his little yellow house. It’s not her fault that he doesn’t seem to have any sexual interest in her. It’s not her fault if she gets frustrated with nothing to do all day but shop and cook and sit around. She tries to resolve it by getting a job as a cleaner, but walking home at night, after late shifts, brings out something unexpected within her, something that’s even harder to know what to do with.

The film, which made a splash at Cannes, has been described as a critique of arranged marriage, but that scarcely sums it up – besides which, any number of people stumble into marriage in other ways only to experience similar frustrations. Uma’s problem isn’t limited to her marriage. She’s simply too big for her surroundings, even in one of the world’s biggest cities. There’s a force within her that nothing seems able to satisfy. When she does find relief, it’s messy and dangerous and creates new problems which seem determined to follow her around.

Embodying this troubled woman, Apte delivers a performance of extraordinary intensity, reminiscent of some of the work of Aubrey Plaza. She’s also adept at dealing with the film’s tonal shifts, with its wild comedy and sudden, unpredictable moments of tenderness. Gopal doesn’t know what to do with Uma, but there is something between them. Neighbour Sheetal (Chhaya Kadam) despises her at first, treating her as a clueless hick, but becomes a loyal friend. Uma at first shuns the company of the hijras who hang out on her route to work, but gradually develops a connection with them as she begins to recognise that she, too, is a true outsider.

The film is a riot of colour, with gorgeous costumes and astute use of light. Every frame feels like the product of conscious decision-making, with nothing merely carrying us from one point to another. Though they may not compare to our heroine in force of will, all of the characters are lovingly drawn and three-dimensional. The sounds of the city ebb and flow, helping to express Uma’s mood swings. There’s a pounding selection of songs that would seem out of place in most films in this setting but fit perfectly here, rough and gritty and filled with a lust for life.

The début feature-length film by director Karan Kandhari, Sister Midnight is vivid and peculiar, urgent and absorbing and uncomfortable, and you should not miss it.