A new kind of cinematic sensibility celebrating the multitude of voices that constitute the Great Indian Bazaar has crept into our cinema. And it's heartening to note those women directors who don?t necessarily represent a feminine perception on screen have precipitated some of these changes.
Last week we had Kannika Verma's brave but flawed DANSH. This week another debutante director Ruchi Narain bends the rules of Hindi cinema to come up with a film that's as tangled as a jalebi in deep-fry.
We never know which way the flour of life flows in this freewheeling dish driven by a hunger to take our cinema into dark forbidden recesses.
KAL is partly a comment on the PAGE 3 crowds, screaming out loud for attention at parties where no one hears anything except the sound of the ear-blasting music and the sound of your own tired blood pumping in vain.
The futility of these posh but derelict lives is well caught by Ruchi's restless camera. But the characters don't seem to belong to the canvas as comfortably as they do in Madhur Bhandarkar's PAGE 3. The actors playing the rich and the infamous are largely effective in a tentative, tousled way. They don't seem to have existed before Ruchi Narain's capricious tale caught them in the act.
Often you feel the jerky camera movements and the far-from-smooth progression of the plot is not a presumption for the characters but a pretext for poor production values. That certainly takes away from the considerable novelty-value of the proceedings. What remains is a feeling of lingering regret, precipitated by a sense of furious foreboding.