Director: Karan Kandhari
Writer: Karan Kandhari
Stars: Radhika Apte, Ashok Pathak, Chhaya Kadam
Synopsis: A genre-bending comedy about a frustrated and misanthropic newlywed who discovers certain feral impulses that land her in unlikely situations.
When a film begins without dialogue, it can let its aesthetics sink in. You get a feel for the characters, the setting, and the way the filmmakers will tell their story. Sister Midnight begins this way and introduces writer/director Karan Kandhari’s strange vision of domestic frustration that morphs into a sort of Vampire’s Kiss in the style of Wes Anderson.
That Andersonian-like feel is all over Sister Midnight; from the quirky absurdity to the way the camera moves. In their own style, Kandhari and cinematographer Sverre Sørdal, make a film that lets the camera itself be a driver of jokes. There is a shot that begins with Uma (Radhika Apte) sitting on a seawall contemplating the disease she hasn’t yet figured out. She just wants a moment to be with her thoughts, but to her right there is a crying woman, the camera slowly pans to the woman, then back to Uma, who also hears a crying man on her left, to whom the camera pans, and then back to where Uma was only to find her running from the seawall and back into the city behind it disgusted that she can’t find peace. In another perfect scene, Uma takes Reshma’s (Smita Tambe) dog for a walk. She stops in place and shouts to a boy off screen if he wants a dog, the camera pans to the now very excited boy and his guardian. There’s a cut with Uma back to where Reshma, her husband, and Gopal (Ashok Pathak) sit. Uma remains standing and tells the other couple that she and Gopal have to go and, by the way, the dog ran away.
These touches come from Kandhari as a director, but also his whip smart script. This tale of a misanthropic, frustrated newlywed is brimming with dry humor and the bizarre. The wordless bits are fantastic, but it’s Uma’s sharp tongue that will have you bursting out laughing. She has a comeback or a barb for every perceived wrong and the fact that it comes from this unassuming woman makes the verbal jabs even sweeter. There are also some terrific scenes between Uma and Sheetal (Chhaya Kadam), Uma’s neighbor. The two of them create the imaginary dialogue of a sordid affair while they go through the drudgery of their day. These scenes show a different side of Uma and that she hasn’t entirely sworn off all human interaction.
That balance is pulled off so well because of Radhika Apte’s stellar performance. She has a ferociousness that makes the scenes of Uma’s anger and frustrations entirely justified. Apte has incredible timing and a great aptitude for physical humor. As Uma, Apte makes us hope we can find a way into her heart as some of the other characters in the film do because the warmth Apte portrays when Uma likes someone creates a yearning from us to hope to be one of those people and feel that warmth.
If Sister Midnight has faults it is in the drag of its final act. It doesn’t help that otherwise superior editor Napoleon Stratogiannakis and Kandhari keep stalling the action with many fades to black. They use the technique throughout the film to denote the passage of time, but after the turn in the story it just feels like many minutes are needlessly added to the film when we want more story. When Uma is stagnant, so is the script. While it feels like the filmmakers were trying to create a circle back to the isolation of the beginning of the film, the momentum is lost.
Though, how can you really dislike any film when that film includes a roaming band of vampiric goats? Sister Midnight is one of those rare horror comedies that never lets the horror elements overpower the humor. If anything, the horror just heightens the earned bit of tragedy at the turn. Sister Midnight will have you laughing in ways you won’t expect and loving the visual feast of an artist who knows how to create a story with a camera.
