Ahaa Re (The Two Lovers/Oh, Look at You), Review: Castle of love on bedrock of food

When you want to make a film about love, lost and found, romance, sublime and selfless, it is a good idea not to include components like villains, fights, item songs, crude comedy, sexual overtones and foul language. So what do you fill your screenplay with? How about conflicts and disparities, of many hues and various proportions? And food? Yes, food. Well if you are a foodie, and a romantic foodie, then why not? That is what writer-director Ranjan Ghosh, a romantic foodie, does, and does rather well, in his latest film, Ahaa Re (Bengali, with English sub-titles), which comes right after the revolving journey of Rongberonger Korhi (also Bengali). It is softer, and more personal, than the previous outing, and equally watchable.

In a nut…in a nutshell (the food is getting to me), ‘a man and a woman, two completely different persons from two different countries and religions, discover that one thing that bonds them together is their love of cooking.’ Not enough? Let’s reveal more.

A couple, visibly in love, are discussing their future on a boat-ride, while digging into stuff that the man has cooked. The young woman is keen on going to Paris, where she has just secured internship at Dior, while the young man entreats her to stay back. She, however, is adamant and moves on, without as much as an à bientôt. We see a title caption saying ‘Raja’s story’. But the story is not about ‘Raja’ and Shahida (Amrita Chattopadhyaya). It is about Farhaaz ‘Raja’ Chaudhary and Bashundhara Ganguly.

Ghosh’s family comes from Faridpur, in Bangladesh, so he thought of making his hero a BanglaDeshi, from Dhaka, the capital. And since Ghosh cannot cook to save his life, he made Raja Chaudhary (Arifin Shuvoo) a Master Chef. Raja gets a job in Kolkata and comes to India, the country where he did his schooling. But that was in New Delhi. This is his first visit to Kolkata, which is, ironically, the Bengali speaking capital of India, as is Dhaka, in his own country. Raja Chaudhary (name definitely borrowed from Mr. and Mrs. Iyer--2002) is a Muslim, born to Hindu parents, but brought-up as a Muslim, after his widowed mother remarried a Muslim.

While having lunch at a restaurant (chefs usually eat out or order from home delivery!), he gets into a minor argument with a woman customer (Rituparna Sengupta), who runs a food home delivery service, over the same dish that the two are eating. Like we shall discover, Ghosh strongly believes in duality and binaries, so the woman turns out to be Hindu, the majority religion in India, and a Brahmin (high caste priestly community), at that.

Soon, Raja finds out that the boy who delivers his tiffin is the brother of the woman who does the cooking for her Young Bengal food supply brand, and one day, when he is unable to come, Bashundhara herself makes the delivery. Since electrical power supply is affected at that time, he sees her in the light of his torch, and the passage, and the chemistry is ignited again. He will woo her, try to win her, and, in the end….but all that will happen after you have heard and seen Bashundhara’s story.

Ranjan started writing the script in October 2014, and finished the first draft in March 2015. He then wrote the treatment of the story, in which he jotted down all his research on how a chef functions. The first draft was ready by December 2015. After writing two more versions, he narrated the script to Rina Di (actress-director Aparna Sen; thanked in the credits), his mentor, and she said that this  was his most mature script so far.

By then, he had started facing rejections from producers because the love story was of a Hindu and a Muslim. For the role of Bashundhara, Ghosh approached Rituparna Sengupta, who had worked with him in Rongberonger Korhi (based on famous short-stories), in 2017, and she agreed. What is more, when prospective producers developed cold feet at the idea of financing a film that had an inter-religious pairing, including a BanglaDeshi Muslim as the hero, she even produced it.

From obvious examples of ShahRukh Khan and Sharmila Tagore (Bengali and Hindi filmstar of yesteryear), to the inter-religious marriage of Bengal’s second Poet Laureate (Rabindranath Tagore is the obvious first laureate), Kazi Nazrul Islam, all cited and discussed in the film, men and women from Hindu and Muslim faiths had indeed loved and married without much ado, though in the case of Islam, his taking of Pramila Devi as his spouse led to excommunication of both individuals from their religions. But then that was nearly 100 years ago. We’ve come a long way since then. And yet, the Hindu-Muslim conflict is not the only one at the core of this film.

Both Raja and Bashundhara are nursing wounds of separation, she of her husband and miscarried fœtus, and he of Shahida, who was lured to Europe. Both are cooks, but he is a first class Master Chef, while she is a modest domestic cook and caterer. He wants to come out of his shell, she is content living in it. He has both parents, she is an orphan who has only a father-in-law, Atanu Ganguly, who is constantly badgered by a builder to sell of his house in lieu of cash and a terrace flat. Raja is taking a bank loan to buy a house in Dhaka, and eats beef, a sacrilege among Hindus.

Neither knows anything about the other’s past, but one day Bashundhara opens up. He does not reveal anything, for beyond a short-term depressive phase, he is not really moping over his broken heart. In fact, he throws their engagement ring into the river, and with it, all prospects of ever uniting with Shahida. Bashundhara is a chatter-box, and very fond of her father-in-law, while Raja is a man of few words and hates his step-father for no real reason, besides the fact that he married Raja’s mother. Contrary to age parity norms among marital pairings, Bashundhara noticeably is older than Raja.

All of Ghosh’s characters are close to real-life. Performances are uniformly above par. You do not have to scratch too hard to see that Ghosh, like almost all Bengali film-makers, has been brought-up on a  prosaic main dish diet of Satyajit Ray, Ritwick Ghatak and Mrinal Sen. You could add Hrishikesh Mukherjee to the trio of legendary directors. Poetic dessert comes from the two giants of Bengali literature, Gurudev Rabindranath Tagore (Robindronath/Robi Thakur, to the Bengali) and Kazi Nazrul (Nozrul) Islam (Ishlam). Shots of Durga Pooja (worship of Devi Durga), symbolising the biggest festival in Bengal, are, in a way counterpoised with the exotic poetry of Kazi, ‘Ay beheshte ke jabi ay’. An outstanding song, no doubt, about heaven (behesht) on earth. There’s more musical flavour on the table: perhaps in an attempt to suggest Shahida’s presence in absentia, we have a French song too, though I could not catch the words very clearly.

There are too many shots of people meeting in streets, bazaars and restaurants as well as characters visiting others at their houses, replete with doors opening and the player walking in. This gives a repetitive, mechanical effect that should have been best avoided. It is a complete and stretched use of cinematic license, but the magic trick about the playing card becomes the turning point in the story, a card that Ghosh held close to his chest till just a few minutes before the climax. The climax itself is a bit stretched, the playing card magic notwithstanding.

After luminous performances in Utsab, Paroamitar Ek Din, Mondo and Alo, Rituparno Sengupta did a decent job in Rongberonger Korhi too. There is little doubt about her talent, but here she was not really challenged to exhibit a wide range, except in the last quarter of the film. Her wide-arched eyebrows and a forward tapering visage add a sharpness to her persona. In one scene, where she wears a dark saree, she looks extra graceful. At 48, she appears competent, as always. Arifin Shuvoo, the choosy actor from BanglaDesh, an original casting that works very well, flows with the character with just the right amount of salt or sugar or chillies, every time. We see more of his huge mop of stylised hair than the Chef’s cap on his head. The stubble and sparse moustache suit him.

Paran Bandopadhyay is in the mould of Harindrananth Chattopadhyaya/Utpal Dutt, and very adept at underplaying the jolly old man’s role. Amrita Chattopadhyay has a brief role, attracting ire from the viewers for her grandiose plans in the first scene, and makes a dignified exit at the end, where the same audiences might pardon her earlier youthful foolhardiness. Newcomer Shubhro Shanka Das plays Bappa, Bashundhara’s brother-in-law, and does a creditable job. He could be an actor to look out for. As the Kolkata restaurant owner, North Indian, Hindi speaking Kamaljeet (I do not recall hearing his name mentioned at all, but it must have been), stand-up comic Anuvab Pal makes his big screen debut, and displays worthy acting talent. There are several guest actors: Alamgir, Dipankar De, Shakuntala Barua, Bhaswar Chattopadhyay.

Shot in many real locations, including a College Street confectionary, Ahaa Re eschews artificiality in its locales, and kudos to Ranjan Ghosh, Hari Nair and Nafisa Khatun (production design) and again Nafisa Khatun (art direction) for the selections and the feel. Songs by Souvik Gupta are definite assets, with lyrics by Askor Ali Pandit and Subhadeep Kantal painting word portraits. Soothing background music has been composed by Binit Ranjan Moitra. Cinematography by Hari Nair is pleasing, though at a few places, the constraints of lighting are noticeable. One scene has too many right to left, left to right pans in restricted space. Editing by Rabiranjan Maitra is smooth, yet I feel the film could have been 10-12 minutes shorter than its 120 duration. Costume Design by Shreyasi Bose reflects the physical and mental make-up of the personalities.          

Don’t miss the epilogue: Raja and Bashundhara’s story.

Ahaa Re (which means a minor Wow in Hindi), was released on 22 February and is still running in Kolkata. If you are there, or wherever it is playing on the big screen, watch it in an auditorium. Otherwise, try the digital platform. Either way, you could say, Ahaa Re!

Rating: ***

For the benefit of my new readers and readers in regions where rating standards might differ, here is a clarification. I rate films on a scale of 0-5 *s, and ***** is reserved for all time classics. Obviously, the, films that earn ***stars or more in my reviews, are above average and definitely watchable, in my opinion.

Trailer: All links blocked by ZEE Entertainment Limited