Set in pre-partition India, Santi and Naz, is the story of two teenage greatest mates set towards the backdrop of life altering world occasions.
Voracious bookworm, Sikh Santi and her greatest buddy, the reasonably feistier Muslim Naz’s lives are lived in a small village. A village in a area that’s destined to change into the dividing line between India and Pakistan. They dance and play within the fields, revel within the first monsoon rains, swoon over the native hottie Rahul whereas discussing, in their very own naïve manner, the politics which might be swirling round them. Politics that can in the end divide them ceaselessly.
Whilst the political discourse rages round them, there are different components that intrude into their as soon as easy, comfortable day by day lives: the looming organized marriage of the uncompliant Naz and the pairs’ rising and complicated emotions of affection for each other.
The pacing is considerably uneven, spending time on the minute particulars of their day by day lives one second shifting to lyrical poetic passages, to sequences of music and dance to impersonations of the main political figures of the time to critical drama. The conclusion when it comes, appears to take action abruptly.
The actors do their greatest with what they’re given, however neither of the characters transcend the superficial and their extremely child-like behaviour is at odds with the extra critical materials that’s shoe-horned into the muddled narrative. The central pair’s chemistry by no means really convinces. It appears like too many concepts and not using a clear imaginative and prescient of the story arc.
There is a lot right here to work with, particularly listening to a narrative from a misunderstood, not often studied interval of historical past and from underrepresented teams, however in its current kind it fails to fulfill.
While at occasions it bursts with vitality, it by no means elevates itself above being a small, private, coming of age story regardless of the wealthy supply materials.
Runs till 19 October 2024 | Image: Paul Blakemore
