Tuesday, November 3, 2015

Titli- Stings Like A Butterfly


In a newly evolving, gradually urbanizing world, the air is coated with dust.

The dust, flung from the massive pits into which concrete is poured and steel rods are implanted, is something that blocks out the glint of the sunlight, to the effect that even as it is bright and glitzy in this new town, the grey skies bear down on the denizens of the ground.

In the little, crammed ghettoes that lie at the periphery of these wannabe skyscrapers, the dust is an element of the land- like the muddy water flowing from squeaky faucets, the greasy icing on a birthday cake or the sweat and blood that flows in its gutters. It coats your face, your clothes and even your conscience.

Kanu Behl’s sobering, stunningly bleak debut is about a youngster trying to escape the grime, the filth and the moral decay that surrounds him in the form of his psychotically-messed up siblings. But while there is enough argument in his favor, as to make us empathize with his world-weary gaze at a pitch-dark world around him, by the end of the tough-to-stomach tale, he himself ends up throwing up all the filth that has accumulated in him for his single-minded dream.

‘Titli’ is indeed a harrowingly brutal tale of trying to break free in a cruel world whose walls won’t really cave in but Behl’s nuanced storytelling help to make even the unpalatable vital, organic and pretty much unmissable.
The eponymous slacker is a particularly unhappy, listless young man, who has dreams of buying up some parking floor space in a newly developing mall in Gurgaon. He needs to cough up a chunk of cash for that and when he steals the same from his elder siblings, such is his incompetence that he loses it all too.

The elder brothers, a hair-trigger Vikram (Ranvir Shorey) and the calmer and possibly homosexual Bawla (Amit Sial) are naturally furious. Together, the three brothers jack vehicles on lonely highways, with always bloody results and after the said money goes missing after a job gone wrong, Vikram is most infuriated on knowing that his younger brother wants to fly the coop.
The family decides to get Titli married and the girl, a middle-class college girl by the name of Neelu, is chosen and eventually considered for manipulation by this all-male ensemble. What begins from here is a twisted tale of man-woman relationships, with Behl and co-writer Sharat Katariya offering ruthless but often precise insights on the skewed gender and socio-economic issues at play in this godforsaken hinterland.

But while the premise might sound like that of a gritty caper- Titli deals with the reluctant Neelu to let her meet her married lover, while she herself helps him out with the money- rest assured, it isn’t. This is hardly what you call a thriller. Rather this is the kind of intelligent, astute character drama that we have forgotten to make. Instead of glorifying Titli or merely lambasting his flawed, fearsome yet believable brothers, this is a film which admirably does not choose sides and keeps everything real.

Behl, who assisted producer Dibakar Banerjee for the searing ‘Love Sex Aur Dhokha’, showcases a cannily similar flair for both authentic flavoring as well as deliciously clever nuance crammed in the most unlikely ways. ‘Titli’’s barely furnished mise-en-scene-shot evocatively with 16mm cameras by Siddharth Diwan-is nevertheless alive and throbbing with meticulous detail- from dinners of gravies made with ‘sattu’, to the choice of sub-par cinema playing on the midget TV screens, from the dank lighting of the bedrooms to the cardboard boxes as improvised furnishings in a house as bare as bones. It is all fantastically crafted and Behl and Diwan often craft mesmerizingly earthy sequences- sequences so terrifically soaked in well-timed silences- Titli gazing at a humming insect inside his lampshade, Bawla gazing at women shaving men at a roadshow, Vikram momentarily pausing as a victim’s blood spurts on his face and Neelu crying silent tears on her dim-lit nuptial night, not so much of grief but rather of hideous fear of the lithe monster lying beside her.

But all that would have been a window-dressing if the narrative had not been as nuanced as the visual cues on display. The dialogue often crackles and naturally so- the profane lines barked out with raw immediacy, the more spontaneous wisecracks often hilarious (at one point, Bawla bursts out that women make great salespeople for almost everything) and the quieter moments (the ones in which Titli and Neelu try to bond awkwardly) have a solid ironic punch that lends great weight to crucial scenes. The writing is often a marvel, the characters are all disgustingly flawed yet all too real and it would be a crime to reveal more of this.

‘Titli’ is not really a family drama, as much as it is not a crime caper. The pacing is fantastically unhurried but after a time, and a particularly flawless first hour, there are a few rough spots in the narrative, more out of Behl’s first-time ambition rather than any inherent problem. For one thing, the storyline often diverts from the central thread of Titli’s dysfunctional siblings and shifts its focus to the two hapless leads. While this warrants some starkly beautiful moments, the focus is a bit inconsistent. The violence is often bald and grotesque and there is one moment which will bring down a hail of gasps but the humor is often fascinatingly crueler. This is a film in which a little daughter repeats her new guardian’s curse blankly, where a man is infuriated over the difference of maroon and red, where a test drive turns from smart-mouthed to gruesome, where a husband breaks his wife’s hand so that the fixed deposit dowry can be settled and so much more.

Both newcomers, Shashank Arora as the lean and mean Titli, and Shivani Raghuvanshi as the spunky Neelu, are quite fabulous. Arora grounds his character’s despair in a blend of horrific chauvinism and believable weariness, while Raghuvanshi nails that fine balance of vulnerability and spirited pluck. 

But the show often belongs to the great actors around them- Sial is impressively balanced between rage and genuine empathy, Lalit Behl, the director’s father, is quite exceptional as the idle patriarch, content to sink his biscuits into tea even as his sons argue. And the best of all is Shorey- fiery, hot-blooded, hilariously sentimental and yet with a wonderfully mushy core in his messed up soul- just check out how he tries to please Neelu at the breakfast table.

‘Titli’ is not a film everyone can digest. Behl fashions a bleak, restrained, desaturated world in which the brightest color might be that of smear of blood. It tells volumes of the fundamentally screwed-up nature of parenting and family upbringing in the country’s massive lower classes but not all of it is communicated directly and there is more to than this sprawling film than meets the eye. It does not quite answer its arguments to satisfying effect but that is perhaps the part of its untamable, angry beauty- a film which, like the harsh reality of the brutal terrain it explores, has an ending far from perfect. Still, both the climax and the film’s raw power give us hope- for cinema in particular.

My Rating- 4 and a half stars out of 5



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