I remember watching Dhobi Ghat (2010) a few years ago. The movie being about Mumbai and its diverse demography was one of the key reasons that drove me towards it since I am a huge admirer of storylines with multiple characters and angles. While I was hoping for the film to be a meditative yet breezy slice-of-life drama, I was hit right in the gut when it came to an end. With its focus on the disparity between the lives of different classes in this melting point of Mumbai city, it showcases how people from diverse backgrounds are collectively thriving and driving away at the same time.

The shots of dull grey and bright blue skies, narrow lanes and mounting skylines, fungus-ridden flimsy outer walls and aesthetically pleasing inner apartments, captured strikingly by Tushar Kanti Ray, convey the underlying hollowness within the glorified image of this bustling city. It paints the larger canvas and embodies the spirit of its people, i.e. the characters of Munna, Shai, Yasmin and Arun, whose lives get intertwined in their pursuit of love and aspiration above the grappling shackles of loneliness and indifference. Also, the use of the “Guerrilla" technique in filmmaking eliminates layers and adds authenticity as the audience is able to look and observe them closely like they share the same intimate setting.

This exchange between the city, its atmosphere and the characters continues in the sound design by Ayush Ahuja that stays true and withholds its essence with the blend of traffic noise, rain droplets, working of under-construction sites, passing of local trains, etc. On the contrary, the film progresses at a very gentle pace, which stands on the opposite end of all the rush and impatience this city is largely characterised with. This choice by editor Nishant Radhakrishnan helps the storyline to break the outer illusion and shed light on the inner facade. The stillness is further complemented by the solemn music composed by Gustavo Santaolalla that consumes and elevates those many pockets of silence.

Dhobi Ghat was co-produced, written and directed by Kiran Rao. It was her directorial debut after assisting in various critically acclaimed films like Lagaan, Swades: We The People and Monsoon Wedding. Her take on Mumbai and its people was much more contemporary, which brought the required novelty as the city has been stereotyped time and again to be the land where only crime, mafia and celebrities breed. Quietly shifting the focus, this movie drops its lens on the common people who are found to be lost in the overwhelming mix of glitz, glamour and gore. As the film concluded, I was left pleasantly stunted and eager to watch more films by Kiran Rao. 

Unfortunately, there were no other films for me to watch. Until last year, Dhobi Ghat was the first and only film she made in 2011, which was disheartening to see. Thankfully, she has made a comeback with Laapataa Ladies (2023), an endearing yet poignant social comedy-drama that reflects upon the state of loss most women experience in rural India, where their lives are majorly restricted and tied to the uneven thread of marriage. Their sense of individuality and wish to fulfil dreams often goes for a toss while trying to align themselves with the expectations of society. In one of the many beautiful scenes from the movie, we find two women characters engaged in a conversation about how they got so busy fulfilling their respective roles as daughter-in-law and mother-in-law that they missed out on the opportunity to become each other’s friends.

Selected as the official entry of India for the 2025 Oscars, it would be an understatement to simply call Laapataa Ladies a breath of fresh air as the movie has been able to create something unique out of a genre which was so admired and utilised a few years ago that it eventually got too saturated where each film started feeling like an assembled project rather than a voice trying to say something different. Right from the casting, the film has broken patterns and introduced newer faces, with Nitanshi Goel as Phool Kumari, Pratibha Ranta as Jaya and Sparsh Srivastav as Deepak Kumar. They have led the film strongly with their earnest performances, alongside veterans like Ravi Kishan as Inspector Shyam Manohar and Chhaya Kadam as Manju Maai, who again reaffirmed why they are highly regarded for their work, as they do not miss a single beat throughout the running time and their evolving character arcs.

Their performances are aided finely by the writing of Biplab Goswami, Sneha Desai and Divyanidhi Sharma, who deserve credit and appreciation for crafting such a brilliant story and screenplay. It is studded with dramatic and wholesome moments that never overburden the flow of the narrative. Instead, it blends seamlessly to offer an engaging and insightful experience. Also, the manner in which they have used humour as a tool to comment on characters’ commentary as they ridicule pivotal issues and frame it trivial for their amusement was very interesting to watch. For example, when Deepak meets Inspector Shyam Manohar to file a report about her missing wife, he cracks a joke and asks him to reveal the trick behind it. This moment is not supported by a piece of funny background music or a laugh track to hint that it is supposed to be funny, and we observe a helpless Deepak silently staring at him in need of help.

While handling such issues in films, there frequently comes a point where the filmmaker tries hard to underline the matter at hand and deliver a clear message to the audience. Fortunately, with Kiran Rao at the helm of affairs, there is never a single moment crossing that fine line. Take the example of the climax scene where Jaya takes up the veil from her secrets and reveals her truth. In my understanding, this moment could have easily taken the shape of becoming preachy, but it does not and solely sticks to the storyline. It happens because the dialogue does not cater to society and its flaws, rather, it communicates the story of Jaya for us to understand her motivations. Also, the framing of this scene by cinematographer Vikash Nowlakha does not entirely focus on Jaya. Instead, it takes the entire ensemble sitting in the police station, indicating it to be a part of the bigger picture.

In this tussle between characters and societal ideologies, the music album composed by Ram Sampath adds a feel-good flavour while becoming one with the tone of the film. It is supported gracefully by the lyrics of Divyanidhi Sharma, Prashant Pandey and Swanand Kirkire, who gently instil a pinch of quirkiness to the layered messaging. If you notice how I have written about both films, you will get an idea of how drastically different the two of them are. The way Kiran Rao has adapted herself to present both these tales of rural and urban societies is truly commendable. It feels a little unfortunate that we do not have enough movies to watch from such a compelling voice. At last, all we can wish is to kindly get more films from Kiran Rao soon and ensure we celebrate them wholeheartedly.