Directed by: Kaushik Ganguly Starring: Rituparno Ghosh, Indraneil Sengupta, Chapal Bhaduri, Raima Sen, Jisshu Sengupta, Churni Ganguly, Charlotte Hayward, Arindam Sil, Arindol Bagchi

What could have been a sententious, pitiful portrayal of a hapless world of homosexuals is saved by the lead actor’s outrageously vulnerable performance. Director Kaushik Ganguly seems too concerned in trying to eulogise the tragedy of the third gender, while the actor Rituparno Ghosh is busy celebrating the passion, beauty, power, lust and energy of the androgyne. And Cinemawalla’s Aarekti Premer Galpo becomes one of the most exciting, modern and important films of our time.

So, barring loads of cliches, Kaushik deserves applause for conceiving a rather brilliant script about a gay filmmaker’s attempt to make a documentary on the first self-confessed gay Bengali jatra actor Chapal Bhaduri, who was famous for playing female roles. The two parallel stories, randomly juxtaposed, collide and become one wholesome narrative. It is here that Kaushik manages to make a distinct impression.

I have never been comfortable with Kaushik’s big screen ventures. Both Waaris and Shunya E Bukey were trite, even superficial. I have no idea of the fate of his comedies (Jackpot and Brakefail). But with Aarekti Premer Galpo, Kaushik definitely raises the bar for contemporary Bong cinema. The very brave decision to cast the same actors in both Chapal’s story as well as Roop’s and etch out parallels does the magic. It not only makes the film structurally more sexy but also enhances the philosophical quest. We realise that despite the difference in time and their choices, both Chapal and Roop are essentially lonely and will remain so. In spite of Chapal accepting his inevitable position as the slave mistress and Roop defying all social prejudices, both will finally remain as the “other man”.

But I must add that the full potential of this magical story has not been tapped. What could have made Aarekti… rise closer to Farewell My Concubine or M Butterfly (despite the discrepancies in budget) is the almost monastic absence of violence and humour. All the scenes — from the prejudices and uproar among the north Calcutta neighbours against Roop’s filming to the Hetampur villagers refusing to allow the untimely performance of Sitala — are very sketchy and refuse to acknowledge the sexual violence inherent in social discrepancies. Even the head-shaving sequences of both the child Chapal and the adult Roop lack the brutality it deserves and verges on the pathetic.

Only Jisshu’s volatile Tushar slapping Chapal breaks the pathetic monotony and remains as one of the best moments. Same goes for the almost school-masterly lack of humour, which considering Kaushik’s immense potential as a comic actor, is unpardonable. Stray scenes of Roop asking Arindol for sanitary napkins or ordering Taranga not to offer tea in special mugs do not make up for the overall negation of frolic.

The pain inherent in the scenes where Rituparno’s Roop and Chapal Bhaduri argue brutally over filming his (Chapal’s) secrets or when Roop tries to get police help to shoot the final climax while doing Chapal’s make-up work brilliantly because of the almost hilarious foppishness of the performers. One doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Several other scenes turn pallid because of this singular lack of wit. Yet this more-than-two-hour-long film holds primarily because Kaushik and his cast manage to churn out moments that are brilliant in isolation. Old Chapal sneaking out of his house to join the shoot; Raima’s Momo debating on Roop’s moral integrity and exploitative nature with Basu; the young Chapal forcing a paraplegic Gopa (the wife of Chapal’s patron; Kumar) to dance to Praan bhoriye and both breaking down in tears; Kumar forcing his household keys into young Chapal’s hands; Uday inviting Roop to Nice outside the temple at night; Roop and Basu bashing each other as they kiss... are moments that will remain with me for a long time.

Though Indraneil’s Basu seems too tutored, his almost phlegmatic Kumar is his best performance till date and demands you to take him seriously. But between the two, Jisshu, as both Uday and Tushar, steals the show purely because of a certain nonchalant intensity so rare among the young actors of today’s Tollywood.

Chapal Bhaduri himself has a certain forlorn charm of a lost child that armtwists you into falling for him. Raima’s Momo, though ignored by the script, manages to grab you because of her effortlessness. And exactly the reverse happens with Churni. I deeply regret to say that in trying to sentimentalise and not playing the bitch, Churni’s Rani, the sad wife of the bisexual cinematographer Basu, ends up harmless. She is simply there causing no damage to the film nor ruffling any feathers. I would like to remind her of Michelle Williams’s silent anguish in Brokeback Mountain which refuses to get overshadowed by Heath Ledger’s haunting performance.

Much of the overshadowing however is perhaps because of Rituparno Ghosh’s overwhelming persona. If his Roop almost reaches the dizzy heights of Jaye Davidson in Neil Jordan’s The Crying Game, his young Chapal manages to supersede the ‘hot ice’ quality of John Lone in M Butterfly. Rituparno stuns and, I am certain, it is not his personal effeminacy or energy that does the trick. It is primarily because after a long time we have with us a Bengali actor who is not ashamed to be vulnerable, who relishes playing the over-emphatic bitch, the fop, even the lusty clown (the fight scene with elderly Chapal).

Why didn’t Rituparno cast himself as the fool in his Last Lear, God only knows. I truly believe he would outlive any other Indian actor in that role. His conscious decision to enhance the manliness in Roop’s voice and the squeakiness in young Chapal’s pays off. His almost Sisyphean narcissism in both Roop and young Chapal brings out a sense of doom that makes Aarekti… much more than Just Another Love Story. Though the actor in me finds his Roop more complex and dynamic than his Chapal, which perhaps flirts with the sentimental at times, the actor Ritu once again proves the key line of David Cronenberg’s M Butterfly: “Only a man knows how a woman is supposed to act”.

Apart from the russet tones of the Chapal story, Soumik Haldar’s cinematography does not push the edginess of the film much. Debojyoti Mishra’s constantly soulful and unusually loud folk tracks defuse the tension, adding to the sentimentalism, though Mainak Bhowmik’s arbitrary juxtaposition of the two stories manages to fight this damage. And lastly, a big hug to the producer Tapan Biswas for having the balls to fund this rather complex and brave love story which I am sure will go down as a breakthrough, if not fiscally, definitely artistically.