Karab Kandhari’s entry to TIFF Romania’s midnight movies brings out the demonic in female rebellion
To have a pretty good idea of where a film goes right and wrong, it sometimes doesn’t take much more than a look at the poster. In the case of Karan Kandhari’s fervent feature debut, that poster is an obvious variation of the iconic poster for Taxi Driver. Instead of Travis Bickel in front of his vehicle, there is the young Indian protagonist Uma (a vivacious Radhika Apte) standing with a determined look on her face and a dust mop in her hand. Ready to clean the dirt off the streets in much more house-wifey fashion? That is what the director-writer seems to say with his preposterous projection of male aggression onto a female figure.
Its problematic implications make it oddly fitting for a narrative veering into muddy misogynistic waters. Overt gestures to the contrary remain unfulfilled. The macabre Mumbai fable morphs from comedy of manners to romcom, mystery thriller, and hilarious horror. Uma’s descent into animalistic aggression and serial killer style behavior suggests that she is a female counterpart of Scorsese’s male vigilante. This would make her a case of toxic femininity. Only, there is no such thing as toxic femininity – especially not in the traditionalist patriarchal structures surrounding the protagonist. A middle-aged woman from a lower caste with few options, she is forced into an arranged marriage with timid Gopal (Ashok Pathak).
He is visibly embarrassed by the sudden intimacy with an ostensible stranger. But not Uma. She is an angry Brown woman, demanding money, refusing to do household chores, and the “maternal duties” nosy neighbors and new in-laws admonish her about. Apte lends her caricature character’s simmering fury an irresistible defiant edge. Kandhari’s screenplay and direction, however, offer little social criticism and no analysis of the sexist system trapping the newlyweds. Showing both partners as equally affected by their enforced union denies patriarchy’s significantly worse impact on women. This implication is amped up as Kandhari reverses the traditional power imbalance. Not only is Uma clearly the dominant part in the marriage, she becomes literally rabid.
She’s plagued by an inexplicable malaise that has her don sunglasses and huddle in thick blankets despite Mumbai’s sweltering heat. The cure for her mysterious illness is fresh blood. At first, only animals fall victim to her inhuman impulses. As she develops an amorous appetite for Gopal, consequences are fatal. A goat and various birds bled dry by her start following her persistently. Animated with old-fashioned stop-motion technique, this undead entourage is one of the funnier beats of the utterly unhinged plot. Bright, blotchy colors, abrupt cuts, and a sonorous score by US musician Paul Bank’s, drifting between punk, grunge, and country classics, complement the story’s wild twists and turns.
Kandhari never smoothes the sarcastic scenario’s edges but sharpens them. Anarchic aesthetics give Uma’s vampiric transformation a stylish subversiveness and raucous humor. But garish and occasionally gory flourishes can’t make up for the many flaws of the eccentric midnight movie. Its messy structure lacks pacing and consistency, supporting characters are dropped at will, the psychology is flat, jokes often misfire, there are no scares, and the atmosphere sways between bland and bizarre. Thanks to Apte’s strong lead performance, deadpan dark humor, and some deliciously weird ideas, this over-the-top genre exercise could still be enjoyable. Its crucial flaw is the faux-feminist subplot. Uma is a crass stereotype, neurotic, nagging, and volatile.
Her growing romantic feelings for her husband imply she’d just have to learn to love him. Here, female empowerment appears as literally demonic: a woman who doesn’t conform to social ecxpectations of heteronormative monogamy, traditionalism, and subservience is an abomination. Uma’s emancipation parallels her unnatural urges while her zombie-pet followers suggest she is more animal than human. She is also a classic succubus, deadly for the man she lusts after. Both in the plot and on the poster, Uma is a woman trapped in straight male projection. This projection perceives femininity not as genuine but a male derivative; deranged, destructive and demonic.
- OT: Sister Midnight
- Director: Karan Kandhari
- Year: 2025
