Sabar Bonda is a tender, and exquisitely crafted slice-of-life drama that taps into universal human desire of making a meaningful connection with another human being, observes Mayur Sanap.
In debutant director Rohan Kanawade's Sundance-prize winning Marathi feature Sabar Bonda (English title Cactus Pears), the most ambitious swing the film takes is how simply and utterly unsensational it is.
For a film about blossoming love between two men, it's easy to categorised this as a queer romance, but the film is nonchalant of this 'tag' and never allows to become its sole identity.
What we have here is a tender, and exquisitely crafted slice-of-life drama that taps into universal human desire of making a meaningful connection with another human being. And the romance is just the organic extension of the story which is essentially about one's silent stride against societal norms and expectations while holding on to dignity.
Anand (Bhushaan Manoj) is a single, gay man in his 30s living in Mumbai.
His parents, who come from a rural background, have accepted his sexuality.
The first time we see Anand is when he is in the hospital with his mother (played by the wonderfully restrained Jayshri Jagtap).
His father has passed away after battling a prolonged medical condition.
The hospital wall has a hazy photo frame of Anandi Gopal Joshi, India's first lady doctor who defied societal restrictions in the 19th century to become a symbol of progress.
There's a rebellious streak in Anand too, especially the way he treats his sexuality as his core identity and the way he has formed the ability to express himself to the people close to him.
The only time we hear abstract terms in muffled voices ('khaas dost' for boyfriend) is from other people around him.
He also sees the absolute need of coming out to his parents with utmost honesty and withdraws himself from a former lover who is now married.
When Anand arrives in his ancestral village in rural Maharashtra, he must spend the next 10 days to perform funeral rites alongside his relatives.
As someone who grew distant from his roots, this is a fish-out-of-water situation for him.
He is surrounded by people who bombard him with do's and don'ts as they carry on with their performativity of grief which feels farcically funny.
The rules matter.
The traditions matter.
But nobody wants to know how the mother-son pair would want to grieve.
They are also pestered with questions about his marriage.
During this period, Anand reconnects with childhood friend Balya (Suraaj Suman), a farmer who is being pressured for marriage by his aging parents.
What unfurls over 10 days is the rekindling between Anand and Balya that gently shape the world around them.
What's lovely about Sabar Bonda is that it isn't about any hard-pressed issues and neither does it deliver any preachy, big statements on sexual identity.
Director Kanawade's compassionate gaze let his characters be, as he crafts a small canopy of emotions where they just go about their lives.
The romance doesn't have a dreamy summer landscape as Call Me By Your Name, but it isn't a wistful romance as Brokeback Mountain either.
Their grimy lives are matched by the un-pretty locales, which are mostly shot in natural light, and the night scenes are often enveloped in pitch dark of a cold, winter month.
There's matter-of-factness to the narrative which is further accentuated with a lived-in feel. And the two perfectly-pitched lead performances give the film a very real and tangible feel.
Manoj, especially, hits some big notes in his performance, but we never see him 'acting'. It's a wonderfully intuitive performance.
There's also no spoon-feeding of a background score.
No unnecessary theatrics.
The slow-burn temperament makes sure that we are sucked right into the story that paints the kind of emotional intimacy we rarely see on-screen.
And when the big intimate moment arrives, it is presented as something very light, very par for the course.
The long lingering looks between two men, their brief touches are captured by un-curious camera that is simply observing them without an ounce of sensationalism. Even their naked bodies lying in nature feel like other creatures in the surrounding.
Nothing is ever fully overt.
The film ends on a poignant note where the core message of empathy comes in full effect.
With that, Sabar Bonda solidifies itself as a remarkable gem, which lingers in the mind and heart after the credits have rolled.
How rare is that.
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