Bariwali turns 21: Rituparno Ghosh’s languid drama places Kirron Kher’s acting prowess at the epicentre

Bariwali, Rituparno Ghosh’s slow-burner feature was yet another pleasant surprise that the late director gifted to the world at the turn of the century. The film’s title, literally translating to The Landlady, is a clear hint into the world that the filmmaker wished to build. 

Nestled in the suburbs on the outskirts of Kolkata, Ghosh chose to turn his cinematic lens onto yet another fascinating tale about an upper-middle-class clan that is now on the brink of extinction. Once a proud family that hosted the village’s prestigious puja, it now only boasts of a crumbling yet opulent mansion with the lineage’s sole survivor Banalata (Kirron Kher).

Ghosh created Banalata’s world out of nothingness. Daily house chores, reprimanding the domestic help and incessant TV watching apart, her life had little. The only compatriot (age-wise) that she finds near her is an ageing man-servant Prasanna, who has been a loyal server to the family since his young days. 

The other, rather dramatic portion of Banalata’s life is occupied by her over smart house help Malati (Sudipta Chakraborty). Malati’s equation with Banalata is fascinating and multi-layered.

While on one hand Malati and her unabashed sexual desires towards the village scoundrel are in sharp contrast to Banalata’s spinsterhood, the elder lady’s benevolence with her at times softens the cut-throat girl to provide her service (and affections) selflessly.

While Banalata’s universe epitomised stasis, Ghosh wanted a spectral opposite with Dipankar (Chiranjeet Chakraborty), an impassioned filmmaker with idealistic approaches to the craft. As he comes to become Banalata’s centre of attention, viewers are bound to notice the contrast in their two worlds. 

But his collusion leads to several romantic rendezvous between the two where they subtly flirt with the other. Dipankar praises Banalata’s homely warmth and compliments her on her looks. Kher’s treatment of her character was both patient and nuanced. 

Deservedly winning the National Awards for her role in the film, Kher ensured that Banalata had a complete arc throughout the film’s runtime. She begins with constrictions but soars to a point of ecstasy (I daresay, hubris) and encounters the inevitable fall.

Bariwali’s aesthetics are deeply embedded within the works of Rabindranath Tagore, especially his works’ screen adaptations by Satyajit Ray. 

Ghosh borrowed semblances of Bengali literary and cultural elements into a cinematic mosaic. Jibanananda Das’ famous female protagonist of his noted 1934 romantic poem Banalata Sen. 

One of the other novels that Bariwali possibly took from is Tagore’s Ghare Baire (The Home and the World, 1984). Though the women’s natures are different in terms that Banalata is far meeker than Ghare Baire’s self-assured Bimala, the characters’ fates are similar. They both experience a surge of romantic affections towards a wayward Casanova, whose introduction into their circles disrupts their lives irrevocably.

Dipankar’s vivacity is alluring for Banalata, who chooses to act like an anodyne in his life. His sense of anxiety and hesitation are countered by Banalata's blind faith in his abilities as an artist. Bonding over their quotidian tales, Dipankar even asks Bimala to play a small role in his film, pretty assured that her presence will only enhance its aura. Bimala, an ever-ignored woman, takes his words as gospel truth and steps before the camera.

While the crew and cast amp up the support, Dipankar’s treatment of her on sets is less-than-favourable. Yet, she does not see that as an ambiguous signal. Instead, her respect for him increases as she now bills him as a true perfectionist.

Ghosh beautifully weaves a space for Banalata's growing love for Dipankar. Through her homemade Bengali delicacies of fish, meat curries and chochchori (a mixed vegetable dish); through her demure glances at his stares; through her half-smile behind the face covered by the edge of her saree – Banalata seeks to gain the love of her paramour. It’s interesting how Ghosh chooses to highlight the rousing sexual desires in Banalata through snippets of dream sequences. Her insecurities and desires conjoin to produce meaningful subtexts throughout the film. Ghosh’s use of motifs throughout the film is purposefully reminiscent of an old-world charm.

For Ghosh, Bariwali was a commentary on many nuanced elements of Bengali lifestyle. The food, clothing and lifestyle of a fading aristocratic family were placed at the epicentre of a tale on loves found and lost. Only, Ghosh narrated it so well, the loss seemed bittersweet.