Dear Maa
The plot revolves around the disappearance of a 12-year-old girl, which deeply impacts her mother, leading her on a search that transcends both physical and metaphorical boundaries.
“Dear Maa” marks Aniruddha Roy Chowdhury’s return to the Bengali film industry after an 11-year hiatus (his last film in Bengali was “Buno Haansh”). He returns to his hometown, where his characters reside in high-rise buildings, stare at endless oblivion, and deliver poetic monologues. A languid sense in the narrative, dreamy frames of the metropolis, Kolkata, all act as an ideal comeback for the director.
As evident from the trailer, the film delves into the emotional aspect of motherhood and adoption, where maternal responsibilities collide with career, ambition. A child nearing adolescence, being aware of her adoption, faces a moral dilemma as she searches for her biological mother, bringing unexpected feelings and thereby disrupting her relationship with her adoptive mother. A mother unsure of her genuine feelings towards her daughter, and a daughter unsure of whether her affections are forbidden or not, are explored in the film.
The dynamics between mother and daughter are quite evident in various scenes, and it is fragile, vulnerable, but still believable. Most of them are realized through their reminiscing about the memory of latter’s father (Awrko, played by Chandan Roy Sanyal). But how these character dynamics evolve, change with time seems underexplored.
At the beginning of the film, Awrko and Brinda (Played by Jaya Ahsan) are the focus, with the script exploring their tussle over having a child and finally agreeing to adopt one. It seems so hurried, as it seemed it would go deeper into the aspect of adoption. The character of Awrko suffers from one dimensionality, although given enough screen time; But Chandan Roy Sanyal delivers. The scenes on the seashore where the family leisurely spends time occasionally pop up, and it works, as they are the scenes that visually explore the relationship dynamics in the family, especially between father and daughter. Avik Mukhopadhyay shoots those scenes with a certain poetic conformism. It looks beautiful, and so does the family. The bird’s-eye view of a shiny metropolis, the dimly lit but warm tone in each frame ensures a sense of belonging, loneliness, and grief at the same time.
Bickram Ghosh aptly provides soothing music texture to the film, which highlights the narrative tone without being too intrusive and overbearing.
The narrative never actually explores the ambition of Brinda as a careerist properly, despite labelling her as ambitious; it is only through her husband’s dialogue that this aspect is portrayed. The problem with the central characters in the films is that they are being introduced properly, but seldom explored intrusively. Even the reason why the biological mother abandoned them in the orphanage is being exposed through dialogues.
A parallel can be drawn with Krzysztof Kieślowski’s Decalogue IV, at least thematically. Both explore the idea of realization, though in different ways. While the latter shows a profound impact related to a child’s awareness of her adoption, the former hardly addresses this effect, which could have supported the reason behind the girl’s actions and more or less established the story’s main premise. It was a jarring shift in the narrative, as the buildup falls short for the disappearance.
Still, the film excels in churning out delicate moments of affection, love, and tenderness on various occasions. Surprisingly, Anubha Fatehpuria (The House help) brings an affectionate presence and serves the role of an unusual matriarch in the film, which is very well elevated by her performance. The investigation arc, although not praiseworthy, has its moments, with Saswata Chatterjee (Investigating officer) anchoring with a memorable performance again. The only comical moments of the films have been delivered by him, with his sharp comic timing and unusual wit, he is an absolute show-stealer. Jaya Ahsan as Brinda juggles with numerous aspects of womanhood. Her character undergoes subtle changes in perspective towards life, initially reluctant to become a mother, to being insecure when she learns about her daughter finding her biological mother. She played every aspect with nuance and reserved brilliance. Nandika Das also plays her role efficiently as the elder version of the daughter, her insecurities, fears have been expressed well.
The investigation arc ends in an abrupt tone, and the approach also doesn’t seem grounded, which, although it doesn’t take anything away from the film, could have been given a better treatment.
Although the screenplay occasionally lacks depth in tackling the sensitivity of the subject matter, ‘Dear Maa’ is a well-performed tale that grazes through concepts of womanhood, motherhood, and a universal dilemma of every career-driven present-day couple.