There’s a scene in Maska where the lead Rumi (Prit Kamani) is ticked off by a judge, Boman Irani (playing himself) in an acting competition. All for trying too hard to act — zyada hi mehnat (don’t overdo it), as he puts it. The film — about Rumi wanting to let go of his family legacy in order to become an actor — is also something like that. The well-meaning tribute to Mumbai’s iconic Irani cafés, is sweet but cloyingly so. The homage to the Parsi community gets too affected and contrived than spontaneous, and prefers to remain on the surface instead of taking a deep dive.
No wonder for a long stretch at the start there is a sense of disconnect, whether it is with individuals or their relationships with each other. Manisha Koirala plays Diana, Rumi's mother, with daintily over-the-top eccentricity (can any Parsi not be done that way?) Or, for that matter Javed Jaffrey as the late father Rustom. When will portraying Parsis go beyond accents and catch phrases? The Punjabiyat of Rumi's girlfriend Mallika Chopra (Nikita Dutta) feels just as practiced. Kamani comes up with a sincere turn but its Abhishek Banerjee in a walk-on role as a casting director who livens things up.
- Director: Neeraj Udhwani
- Cast: Manisha Koirala, Prit Kamani, Javed Jaffrey, Nikita Dutta, Shirley Setia
- Storyline: Young Rumi wants to let go of his family legacy to pursue his dream of becoming an actor
- Run time: 1 hour 51 minutes
Things take a heartwarming turn somewhere in the middle as Rumi battles between café and career but soon keels over to far-out sentimentality. Eventually, my big grouse with the film is that it opts for the convenience and comfort of the conventional than the uncertainty, trials and tribulations of the radical. Be it home, family and legacy, dreams and calling or even when it comes to matters of heart. It opts for the straight and the narrow and plays too safe. Why does preserving history have to be a burden for the future? Why can’t your heritage and individual identity co-exist? Why can't dreams be realigned better with reality?
In these home-bound times, the film does leave you feeling nostalgic for old Mumbai houses you used to encounter on walks. Most of all, it ignites a craving for those soft buns slathered with mounds of butter and the extra sweet tea at Irani cafés. And also those small cups of Bournvita, tea and coffee sold on cycle-carts late into the night and the wee hours of the morning in a city that never sleeps. Rather never used to sleep. Hope it soon wakes up again.
Maska is currently streaming on Netflix
