Trapped in a loveless marriage and repulsed by the repetitive need to conform, Uma (Radhika Apte), a newly wed bride, snaps and morphs into a succubus/blood-sucking witch overnight. It’s ironic that it happens before the conservative neighbourhood she’s married into, which scrutinises her for her liberal, outspoken views, already labelling her as such.
“Sister Midnight” is quirky, nihilistic, mind-bending, macabre, and a fever dream that’s simultaneously nightmarish. These descriptions set the tone for Karan Kandhari’s BAFTA-nominated work, which has one foot in surrealism, the other in a warped reality. The staging feels like one is watching a play unfold, particularly a repartee regarding divorces, divorcees, and marital bliss between the cynical Uma and a like-minded neighbour Sheetal. a complex conversation that’s a far cry from the usual scandalous gossip that circulates among the other bored housewives in the neighbourhood, at times within ear-shot of Uma whose private life instantly becomes the hot new talking point.
A Film that Defies Convention
The film features timeless iconography—such as the heroine walking the streets alone at midnight with only drunks ambling home to keep her company—that would fit right in with a horror movie. Another shot of Uma standing in the doorway, with her hair dishevelled (akin to the “Bride of Frankenstein’s” hairdo) fit in with this motif.
Yet, “Sister Midnight” doesn’t box itself into one particular genre. Kandhari serves up a cocktail of pulp, kitsch, neo-noir, and sci-fi by presenting human concepts such as arranged marriage through an alien lens. The film compares to works such as “Bulbbul,” “Colossal,” or “Pari”, which also masterfully blend genres and explore the monsters within women alongside women waging a battle against monstrous men with nuance. It also impresses with sharp observations on patriarchy, which saps the fairer sex of individuality or personality. Women are conditioned into either depending on men or catering to their every whim. Thus Uma frets over the obligation of carrying her zombie-esque husband around like dead weight throughout her life. This is a genuine worry that will later materialise itself in a literal sense. The romantic adage of ‘in sickness and in health’, in fact, takes on an entirely morbid meaning towards the climax.
Marital Instability and Gender Norms
The film also highlights marital instability via the perspective of the newlyweds, both who find themselves in the deep end. There’s no manual to being the traditional housewife for Uma, neither a textbook on learning to be an emotionally available husband for the detached, celibate groom Gopal (Ashok Pathak). As a result of their poles-apart outlooks on gender equality too, the couple break out into arguments over who should cook and who should calculate the cost of groceries on their honeymoon itself. Shouting and scolding replace sensitivity, sympathy, and sex in their marriage. While Uma doesn’t wish to live like a queen, she only wishes for Gopal to extend basic human courtesies. However, he is either too hungover over on the weekends or working late every other week. Due to archaic gender roles—since he is the ‘man of the house’—Gopal is also not answerable to anybody.
As if marriage isn’t tough enough, behaving ‘normally’ in a topsy-turvy world is even tougher. The film showcases adult responsibilities as overhyped tripe which only leads to one missing out on enjoying a simple sunset or a calm day at the beach. And even when Uma does try taking a day off by herself to sit by the seaside, she once again finds herself surrounded by morose faces and loud, hysterical sobs. As a trans woman (whom Uma befriends later) remarks, “The drudge never ends.”
“Sister Midnight” also eerily highlights the obliviousness of an unremarkable world where individuals are conditioned into living and dying at work. Neither Uma’s husband nor the one-note local gossips notice how feverish she’s grown of late—apart from Sheetal (Chhaya Kadam), who expresses concern even before any symptoms start to show. And in yet another scene, a woman enquires whether Uma’s sickly complexion is due to a skin whitening cream. It is incredibly unsettling to watch the young lady waste away even after escaping her usual routine as a housewife. This time she faints at her job as a janitor but continues to mop floors soon after regaining consciousness. She’s fallen prey to yet another manmade construct—toxic work culture—and comes down with a case of the work blues. As it turns out, the grass is exactly the same shade of grotesque green on the other side too!
The Film’s Imagery Enhances its Themes
The film’s imagery further conveys this exhaustive cycle and claustrophobia. Uma and Sheetal walk around in circles, unable to escape the neighbourhood with all roads eventually leading to a dead end at a rubbish heap. The liftman at Uma’s new workplace goes through the motions, accepting the monotony of his job in transporting people to the same floors. Meanwhile, Gopal passes by a row of hovels where the gender roles remain unchanged. Thus, even haunting and grotesque imagery of Uma lying next to a dead bird on the terrace with her arms outstretched—as if free from her own cage—feels oddly satisfying.
“Sister Midnight” also allows its trudging heroine a breather amidst the restrictive atmosphere. Uma eventually finds solidarity amidst a group of trans women who playfully cat-call her as she walks home from work but never treat her as the other. They’re likely far better company than the drunks and a lot more accepting than the judgmental housewives in her neighbourhood. And this marks the beginning of a beautiful friendship. In a world filled with conformists who grate on the nerves, Uma and her rebellious girl gang are the epitome of cool. Later, she reaches out to her insecure husband too, teaching him to accept himself and to open up. Thus, she cultivates a mutual sense of trust to keep their relationship from withering away completely.
Another aspect of the movie that stands out is its contemplative use of colour, sound, and contrasting lighting. Instances include Uma’s lavish, colourful wedding garments that brighten up her day only once (on the day of the wedding) which she obviously can never wear again. The same can be said of the fancy-but-heavy glass bangles—which are akin to shackles. Along with the loud noises of the urban setting, these traditional hand accessories annoy her with their constant noisy jangling. A member of her found family also adds that “True friendship is being able to sit in silence.” But Uma is unable to bear the cumbersome, long silences and lack of communication with Gopal.
Society and Suffocating Expectations
Uma still aspires to add a touch of colour and homely aesthetics by stealing house plants to decorate a corner of the unremarkable hovel, yet this exercise too proves futile. Eventually she remodels herself into a workaholic out of sheer frustration. The background music (East meets West as strains from “The Weight” by The Band accompany Uma when she leaves for work soon after Gopal returns from his shift) conveys the hectic and weary work schedule. In yet another scene, she leans up against the cool metal walls of the elevator, reveling in the peace and quiet as it glides towards freedom at midnight. In this case, the terrace of her workplace where she lies down to star gaze becomes a safe-have, finally catching some shut-eye at the end of an exhausting shift.
Lighting and juxtaposition also play a role here. The filmmakers’ use of shadows and chiaroscuro lighting couple with relatives audibly mumbling about the compatibility of the newlyweds during a wedding ceremony. The fact that it’s held in a tiny room further captures the suffocating and altogether unmanageable expectations heaped by society.
A Whimsy, Wild Rebellion
“Sister Midnight” also serves as an excellent one-woman show for actress Radhika Apte, who chews up scenery as the young, hungry, and ‘feral’ woman of the house, Uma. She craves her own space and simultaneously owns her unconventional persona. Apte excels at switching between the many layers demanded of her character. She commands Gopal with just a gesture, shooting perplexed looks at his conservative reactions. A particular humorous instance involves him rushing out at just the sight of her undressing on their wedding night. She cuts through the unbearable silences with obscenities and executes dry humour with deadpan perfection. My only nitpick with this movie is Apte’s co-star Chhaya Kadam (of “Laapataa Ladies” fame)—who is equally exceptional as Sheetal—had very little screen time.
Ultimately, the whimsy and wild rebellion of “Sister Midnight” may not be everyone’s cup of tea. However it’s worth a watch for portraying existential dread, marital woes, and mental instability in a style that’s as unique and unapologetic as its main character.
