Niruttara (Kannada)
Director: Apurva Kasaravalli
Cast: Bhavana, Kiran Srinivas, Aindrita Ray, Rahul Bose
Films do not always have to tell us stories that we have not heard before. There is nothing wrong with cinema that takes you to familiar places, situations or kinds of people. It is the treatment of the tried and tested premise that ultimately matters, for that can make even what is recognisable completely fresh and new.
The tragedy of Apurva Kasaravalli’s debut, Niruttara, is not the fact that the film elaborates on a plot we have seen many times before, but it does nothing else with it. Achint (Kiran Srinivas), a young rock musician, falls in love with Hamsa (Bhavana), an older, married woman. Hamsa’s marriage to Pradeep (Rahul Bose) is failing. So, just when Achint thinks there is no future to his love story, Hamsa reciprocates. What happens to this tangled web of relationships forms the rest of the story.
One of the problems of Niruttara is that it relies on cliches while telling an already predictable story: a busy, corporate slave husband and a lonely wife, a young enthusiastic man-child fascinated with a rich, older woman (the recent Ae Dil Hai Mushkil comes to mind), and a road trip that is life-changing and a convenient escape, to name a few. Every trope in the film seems belated in its use.
These cliches also rob the narrative of any complexity. Take the male characters in the film. What we know of Pradeep is that he is a corporate slave; in fact he is on the back foot right from the time he is introduced. Similarly, if impulsive enthusiasm is Achint’s trait, we see only that. It is clear that Apurva focusses on how these two types of men make Hamsa feel, but one wishes he had given them more depth.
Hamsa though is indeed a complex figure: calculated and impulsive, loyal and unfaithful — all at the same time. But the narrative universe around her consistently feels lacking and lonely, at times making one feel that she is lashing out more at her writer. It is also almost as if Apurva tries to make up for his half-baked male characters by investing heavily in dialogues and long, metaphor-rich monologues. Unfortunately, this method of telling more than showing distances us from his characters.
Aindrita Ray plays the role of Shravya, a documentary film-maker, the catalyst who helps Achint and Hamsa meet. As a viewer, one wants to know more about Shravya, whether her feelings towards Achint amount to more than friendship etc.,but her role seems limited to that of a connecting dot.
Overall, one finds it difficult to buy into Apurva’s vision as a storyteller. Stylistically, he is inconsistent: he oscillates between creating over-the-top moments and deeply understated ones. Achint is standing literally with his mouth open when he first meets Hamsa. And it is equally true that Achint and Hamsa slip into a relationship in the most subtle, downplayed manner. As much as Apurva is evidently a fan of lingering, long takes and scenes, key scenes of confrontation and disagreements are contrastingly brief and curt. You are left wondering what his own take and argument are really amid the heavy reliance on cliches, dialogue and music. A single vision does not emerge.
Rahul Bose delivers an effective performance but his Kannada pronunciation is distracting and evokes humour. Bhavana delivers a compelling performance. A little melodramatic but Kiran Srinivas too performs well. H.M. Ramachandra’s cinematography elevates the film and creates consistently engrossing visuals. Apurva also seems to be a fan of sanitised, lavish spaces. Even the village scenes in Himachal Pradesh and Rajasthan retain this sterilised quality. This works partially to create a dream-like environment but fails to root the narrative in a locale firmly. It is Niladri Kumar’s music that finally carries the film on its shoulder and helps us get through a needlessly 160-odd-minute-long film.
