Behind closed doors...

Film: Raincoat Director: Rituparno Ghosh Cast: Aishwarya Rai, Ajay Devgan, Anu Kapoor Rating: *** ½ Plot: On a rainy afternoon, two estranged lovers meet after six years. As they exchange notes on each others lives, some strange truths are revealed. Setting: An old bungalow in Kolkata, with no electricity and its windows always shut to the outside world...I was very sceptical as I walked into the theatre to watch Raincoat. There were more than a couple of reasons for my then frame of mind: 1. Ajay Devgan — He had impressed me with his earlier performances in both Company and Gangaajal. But I — and the audience — had already seen him in his 'intense' avataar. The question foremost in my mind was, "What else would Devgan have to show as far as intense is concerned?" 2. Then there was Aishwarya Rai — An actress who has disappointed each time one of her movies or her performance have been hyped. She has irritated and she has hammed, but she has never impressed — or maybe it's just me. Now, here was director Ghosh who's gone on record saying that Rai has outdone herself with Raincoat. 3. Rituparno Ghosh and the promos — There was the question of the director's being comfortable with the language as this is his first movie in Hindi. Then the promos promised the movie could be a bore — former Bihari lovers, set in Kolkata, lots of talking. "Pseudo intellectual" is what came to mind. With the above misgivings, it was difficult to keep the objectivity as I took my seat in the hall... Two hours later when the audience and me streamed out of the hall, I realised that Rituparno Ghosh and Raincoat had put me firmly in my place. Here's why: 1. Ajay Devgan. He is Manoj Tiwari (Mannu), a sensitive and simple man, currently jobless and who has come to Kolkata to arrange some money to start his own business. As a man who has lost all and has to resort to borrowing money from his school friends — people he hasn't seen for the last 15-odd years — Devgan excels. The desperation, the depression, the hesitation and the sense of shame to have to borrow ("beg" as Mannu says) are portrayed brilliantly by Devgan. There's a particularly touching scene — Mannu is shaving in the bathroom, when he stops and starts to cry. There are no dialogues, but Mannu's fear and anxiety come across clearly to the audience. Even in the scenes where Mannu is talking about his former love Neeru (Rai), and in the scenes with her, Devgan conveys hopeless love beautifully. He does not drink a la Devdas, and yet you know this is a man in love, who has not forgotten and perhaps never will. 2. Aishwarya Rai. She is Neerja (Neeru), once a lively girl, now married for six years and living in Kolkata and who has her own secrets to hide. As a woman who gives up her childhood sweetheart to marry "security", a woman who speaks of happiness and yet has a tragic air about her, Rai - to our pleasant surprise - was a big surprise. Yes, there are scenes where she irritates, but if you don't count them, this is by far Rai's best performance. Both in the flashback sequences and otherwise, Rai brings Neeru's character to life. On one hand, she is the housewife who sits at home all day clad in a silk sari ("because they get spoilt otherwise"), watches a lot of TV and cribs about the servants who run away at noon. Then there is Neeru, Mannu's love, who was naughtier ("Are you scared to see an adult movie with me?") and mischievous (pretends to be hurt to make Mannu climb a wall). 3. Story and script. Raincoat was supposed to be serious and intense, it was. And that's where the movie delivers another surprise — the lighter moments in the movie come when the audience least expects them. Like when Mannu shows why his wallet seems heavy and takes out the paan masala packets from inside. Or when an ailing Mannu pulls Neeru towards him and instead of any 'lovie-dovie' stuff, Neeru says, Mujhe bhi bukhar lag jayega." (I will catch the fever as well). The scenes where Neeru gets jealous of Mannu's fictitious secretary are also sweet. What are most endearing in the movie though are the lies. The lies that Mannu tells Neeru about his present financial conditions; and the lies that Neeru tells about her life. Even when the truth is out, both maintain the charade. Kudos to director Ghosh for under-playing the emotions as well. When Neeru tells Mannu that she is getting married ("He is six feet tall and has given me this diamond ring, can you?"), Mannu does not declare war against the world. He just begins to sob and says, "Even I am six feet tall." Despite the pace of the movie (it is slow), Ghosh manages to keep the what-happens-next factor alive. Today when even whodunnits are predictable, this simple story keeps the viewer engrossed in the happenings on screen. Speaking of whodunnits, the post-interval twist in the tale is worth waiting for. Till the interval, the windows in the house are shut. Post interval, Mannu opens the windows, and the truth suddenly tumbles in... surprising me, yet again. Walking towards the exit, I overheard one of the audience say, "This was an art movie." So much for the audience using phrases like "parallel cinema". But Raincoat is neither art nor parallel, it is simply a classic.