He shines, and despite its darkness, so does the film. You want him to break free, and fly away. You watch, with mounting horror, your heart in your mouth. And Ranvir Shorey, as the oldest sibling whose violence is the most corrosive, yet the most heart-breaking, is outstanding.
Newcomer Shashank Arora lives and breathes Titli, the young fellow looking desperately for a way out. The performances are excellent: from Raghuvanshi who channels hurt and bewilderment and stoicism in the face of an overwhelming situation, to Lalit Behl, who bids fair to be the creepiest, most parasitic Hindi cinema father, to the middle brother Sial who tries to keep the peace.
These are characters who do what they do because they see no other way to act, even if the relentlessness and dispiritedness becomes a bit too much to take at times. They are not monsters– and this is where Behl’s insider track knowledge of the place and the people comes in– who bludgeon and curse and shout and bully to keep on top. You may have seen all kinds of Delhis and Dilliwalas and ‘walis’ in the movies, but Behl’s city and its inhabitants are in a class by themselves in the way they inhabit their rabbit holes, and fill them with their rage and helplessness. Titli’s alliance with Neelu (Shivani Raghuvanshi), a girl acting under her own compulsions, is not forged because the family feels that he needs a bride, but because a female is a good front to ensnare innocents: who will suspect a con when a fresh-faced girl is around? Still of Titli.
0 kommentar(er)
