Over the last few years, there has been a surge of films centered around strong-minded, complex female characters set in India receiving critical acclaim and widespread admiration. Laapataa Ladies (2023), Santosh (2024), and All We Imagine As Light (2024) are just a few examples. While it has gotten better over time, India still struggles with its gender equality and societal roles inflicted upon women. This is why cinema has never had a more important time to amplify their voices and share these experiences with the world.
Karan Kandhari explores these topics in his directorial debut, first premiering at the 2024 Cannes Film Festival. Sister Midnight follows newlywed Uma (Radhika Apte) as she is plucked from the Indian countryside to the bustling city of Mumbai and plunged into a marriage with her arranged match Gopal (Ashok Pathak). There are a variety of perspectives in film on arranged marriages, from one of the more negative Western depictions in East is East (1999) to a more neutral, open-ended interpretation in What’s Love Got to Do With It? (2022). Here, Kandhari crafts a narrative that presents a marriage where the couple is unhappy with their situation. Rather than traditionally suppressing that feeling and pushing forward, Uma is outspoken in her wants and desires in the relationship (much to her husband’s surprise).
Every creative aspect of this film was executed from a place of true artistry. The first act instills a sense of groundedness that is only enhanced by the meticulous cinematography by Sverre Sørdal and becomes a necessary tether to reality in the chaos that unfolds later on. From the symmetrical composition when Uma sits on the floor of their home to the lustrously lit segments where she strolls in the night to her cleaning job, it is all well thought out and executed.
This groundedness is additionally reinforced by the musical choices made by Kandhari. The songs blend ‘60s/70s Western rock (featuring artists like The Band, The Stooges & T. Rex) and traditional Indian music, perfectly reflecting Kandhari’s culture as a British Indian.
For the first fifteen minutes, there is no spoken dialogue between the two main characters, which is a subtle and beautiful way to reinforce how they are essentially strangers to one another, setting an apprehensive tone of their marriage immediately. This is quickly broken by Uma vulgarly vocalizing her frustrations with the situation, completely subverting the expectations the audience has of the narrative’s direction. This unexpected but welcome surprise turns towards a darkly comedic edge in both the dialogue and physicality of the performances.
The first act explores Uma’s struggle to be a housewife after quickly realizing that she does not possess essential skills such as making meals from scratch and keeping the house in order. To begin, she rejects this patriarchal role thrust upon her but shortly understands that she cannot change her circumstances and must embrace what she has. To achieve this, she enlists the help of her neighbor Sheetal (Chhaya Kadam). The dynamic between Uma and Sheetal is critical to the story, as it firmly establishes an almost familial relationship that had been ripped away from Uma upon being uprooted from her family home, which Apte and Kadam do a phenomenal job of authentically depicting.
After it is believed that real progress is being made in the couple’s relationship, they, unfortunately, end up back at square one when Uma develops a mysterious illness where she is unable to stomach any food. From Gopal not knowing how best to react to Uma not communicating the suffering she is facing, the two resume butting heads with one another. This leads Uma to give up on her housewife responsibilities and attempt to regain some agency by getting a night job as a cleaner.
From a viewer’s perspective (mine included), there seemed to be a clear path for the rest of the story. Uma’s illness gets worse forcing her into a hospital, this becomes the reality check that their marriage needs, and Gopal takes some actions in a positive direction to thaw the iciness between the two. However, nothing like this unfolds. The audience is led into a false sense of security when, in actuality, we are faced with a tonal shift that is quite hard to grasp, involving stop-motion animals and references to the supernatural.
While there was a shock value to the changes in tone and Uma, it felt like a fresh take on this arranged marriage narrative audiences have seen play out time and time again. If there was a slowed and less extreme approach to this shift, it would make all the events that transpire in the final act less unbelievable.
The success of this film falls onto the shoulders of Apte. Her multi-layered performance as Uma glues together the absurdity of the occult happenings with the fundamental marital issues between herself and Gopal. This fusion between the two felt symbolic of the notion that non-conforming newlywed women are seen as unnatural and should be shunned or reprimanded. As far as the audience is aware, she did not exhibit these paranormal behaviors before her marriage. This descent into madness occurred because of her situation, reaffirming this theory.
For a first feature-length film, Kandhari does an excellent job of injecting obscurity into a type of story that has been told countless times, and the possibility of more narratives being spearheaded with this mindset is an exciting one.
Review Courtesy of Nandita Joshi
Feature Image Credit to Altitude Film Distribution via Deadline