As I began watching the film, the soaring soundtrack by Ajay and Atul, which includes the background score and the supremely melodic songs, almost felt overkill. For a film so interested in the rustic realities of rural Maharasthra, symphonies recorded at the Sony Scoring Stages in Hollywood seem a bit, out of place. If I had a chance to ask Nagraj Manjule, the acclaimed director of the film, one question; it would be if he meant for the soundtrack to be so. This is because he understands when music works and when does silence. His gut-punching end to the film, is marked by absolute silence. One of the terrifying and truly horrific variety. The narrative till that moment, perhaps aided by that aforementioned soundtrack, lulls you into a sense of complacence. Complacence for what life has in store for a young couple who court each other, brave unsupportive circumstances, and manage to survive them. As well shot as this part of the flick is, it plays second fiddle to what comes after: stark reality. Manjule's obsession with the latter provides a firm exposition of what a young couple has to endure to make their relationship work in the long run. In this case, the couple gracefully thrives; and Manjule patiently lets them. Till the point where a starker reality that our society usually tries to turn a blind eye to engulfs them, marked by the aforementioned absolute silence. Rinku Rajguru is stellar in her role of a go-getter girl who constantly believes she can defy the odds. Sudhakar Reddy's camera ably assists Manjule's vision, which is the centerpiece the aforementioned narrative builds upon with surprising gut. "Sairat" is a rightfully stirring film.
Catch more on the flick at IMDB and Letterboxd.
Call me by your name
If paths were to align, there is passion and love, a hurried cascade of affection for the other one
A Quiet Place
What deserves dwelling upon is how the film works as a Rube Goldberg machine, a wonderful contraption