What is it that one longs for? Assumption? Success? Happiness? The first two wishes could lead to the third, but the eponymous character Qala receives nothing. The Netflix Original follows the story of this aspiring singer who hates music as she battles prejudice, rejection, ostracism and her own demons. Why is Qala Manjushree facing all this?
This Netflix film’s 1930s setting answers that question, but doesn’t explode in that direction. Qala has multiple levels where if one aspect is removed, the others still provide enough food for thought for the audience.
Shortly after her birth, this then-nameless baby is subtly accused of being a predator (via natural law) since her twin brother was stillborn. In the eyes of her emotionally distant, talentless mother, Qala tries to break into the world of music to find acceptance, only to face a brutal dismissal in favor of someone else. As Qala tries to overcome this, she realizes that her actions have consequences.
Writer/director Anvita Dutt initially leads us to believe that Qala suffers from visions and has seen her brother grow. It seems as if her mother’s hard (lack of) love is tormenting her and her grown brother accuses her of having won the battle for the “survival of the fittest” in the womb. As the layers peel off, we understand that’s not the case when desperation drives a distraught daughter to an intentionally sneaky act. It is this action in the past, the reason for it, and its effects that are portrayed via a mixture of today’s scenes and flashbacks.
Tripti Dimri shines as and in Qala
Tripti Dimri plays the title character and is the only person on screen to shine. That’s to be expected when a movie is named after a character, but why does she stand out? Dimri’s tentative tone as she nudges and speaks as if walking on eggshells allows the audience to understand her deep desire to find every possible method of getting through to her mother.
Qala’s horror as she sees Jagan driving her insane shows the inner conflict she must fight alone. Their transformation at points in the Movie where she acts desperate and exudes charisma is a small gain. What is the price for such a small profit?
Qala’s mother, Urmila (Swastika Mukherjee), has a small role showing her reticence towards her daughter (whom she believes will be deprived of a son). Without a showbiz support system, and given Mukherjee’s character’s empowered appearance before her daughter’s pleading efforts, Qala’s alarming and chaotic descent draws audiences’ sympathy for her character. The question arises whether she deserves it despite her bad conscience.
Elements of Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment come to the fore here. Black Swan does that too, via an in-your-face sequence, but Darren Aronofsky’s film is a far cry from that pre-Indian independence drama. A work by Robert Louis Stevenson appears in a frame. This seems like a fitting story to compare Qala to.
Jagan (Babil Khan) has little screen time in his debut and Amit Sial’s role feels like an extended special. Would developing these characters detract from Qala’s story? I think it’s well balanced as the director allows the audience to see an ignored daughter, a persecuted singer and an exploited industrial cog in equal measure.
Also Read: All Quiet on The Western Front (2022) Review: Meticulously framed film captures the barbaric horrors of war
Qala has amazing visuals
While the actors don’t really shine as a collective, the same cannot be said of Siddharth Diwan’s cinematography, Meenal Agarwal’s production design and Vasudha Saklani’s set design. Visuals of the nebula as the characters sail in a boat will linger in your field of vision long after the credits roll. If that doesn’t catch your eye, the scenes at Qala’s house are fascinating. A view of a secluded house in winter, where lamps and candles serve as the only source of light after dark, makes for a spectacle. You can even see this as a glimmer of hope or a slowly dying flame of each character’s dreams.
For Qala it is the dawning light as her mother has found another (worthy) student. For Jagan it is the illumination of a future, and for Mrs. Manjushree the lights represent a small fire within her that has awakened her from her sleep.
The music is one thing that will stand out, especially Jagan’s vocals. I noticed that the power of Qala’s singing changed. They faded when Jagan was around, reaching an enviable pitch elsewhere to show she was special in her own way. This creative choice even contained the subtle message that you have to live your passion in order for it to thrive. Hard work is a leveler, but there’s a glass ceiling in an area that takes natural talent to break.
As well as the songs, there is also good use of the background music to convey the terror on Qala’s face. It comes when she gets her first hallucination as the pace picks up. I like the fact that the director hasn’t overused this, having thrown it in to penetrate the psychological horror part of the film.
Should You Watch This Netflix Movie?
With a running time of just under two hours and a multi-layered story about society, music, exploitation and acceptance, it should be on your watch list. Qala breaks the illusion of success and the desire for perfection and shows the audience that actions have consequences. A small misstep can be “just a crack in a glass lock”.
Qala is now stream on Netflix.
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