Anvita Dutt calls Bulbbul a fairytale in the very indigenous sense of the word. This supernatural drama, currently streaming on Netflix is the conformist tale of the demon-woman or “chudail”, as we all know it, but with the very empowering undertone of feminism.
Set in the backdrop of 19th century Bengal Presidency, Bulbbul starts with a spitting image of patriarchy as we are introduced to the form of child-marriage where a young girl is married off to a rather old man. The eponymous lead of the movie- Bulbbul (played by Tripti Dimri) is strikingly beautiful in her role as we see her turning into the “Thakurian” of the manor years later.
A striking abnormality in the family is the absence of any children in the household. Given, the movie is from a time when women were treated nothing more than seed-bearers to continue the family tree, this plot hole strikes a different tune. Along with the fact that even though set during the British empire, we do not actually see any interaction with the British government and use of any dialect from that time, which only takes away the essence of the timeline the movie tries to depict. The premise is the age-old fable and is pretty predictable even when presented with mysticism.
We also find the touching influence of Satyajit Ray’s Charulata in Anvita Dutt’s Bulbbul as we see the broken nest be instrumental for both Charu and Bulbbul’s awakening. A little too literal as well as metaphorical for the latter though. Even the relationship between Bulbbul and Satya resonates with Charu and Amal’s camaraderie and shared interest in verses. The misty blood moon nights, in synchronization with Amit Trivedi’s enchanting background score, makes the film all the more bewitching to watch.
The performances are stellar. Tripti Dimri is beguiling as the doe-eyed young bride looking for the warmth of companionship in the haveli and changing into the mysterious “Badi bahu” with mischief and untold secrets twinkling in her eyes as she fans herself using the peacock feather hand-fan which marks her newfound regal demeanour. The change in her sarees’ hue from pastel (in the past) to slate (in the present) signifies her transition to own up to the title of the house’s most honourable member.
At times, the film falls short of capturing the ethnic Bengali air and rather settles for a contemporary North Indian tone. Even with the magnanimous Thakur-bari, heavy golden jewellery, big red bindis and Alta and crisp dhotis– not a single character speaks Bengali. No, not even the minor ones. With a fleeting Bengali song that we hear Binodini hum, the unsettling feeling of the entire movie set in pre-Renaissance Bengal and still not a single hint of it other than the apparent indication of the location written on-screen which never leaves you as you watch the film.
Stay tuned to The Hollywood Tribune for more such reviews!