When Anne (Léa Drucker) has sex with her 17-year-old stepson, she closes and sometimes covers her eyes. It’s a pose that brings to mind what people say about the tradition of draping a napkin over your head before eating ortolan, that the idea is to prevent God from witnessing what you’re about to do. Théo (Samuel Kircher) is as fine-boned as any songbird — “You’re so slim!” Anne gasps in what sounds almost like pain during one of their encounters, as she runs her hands up his rangy torso — and just as forbidden. And despite the fact that what she’s doing could blow up her life, she can’t stay away. It wouldn’t be fair to say that desire is a form of madness in Last Summer, a family drama as masterfully propulsive as a horror movie. Anne remains upsettingly clear-eyed about what’s happening, as though to suggest otherwise would be a cop-out. But desire is powerful, enough to compel this bourgeois middle-age professional into betraying everything she stands for in a few breathtaking turns.

Last Summer is the first film in a decade from director Catherine Breillat, the taboo-loving legend behind the likes of Fat Girl and Romance. Last Summer, which Breillat and co-writer Pascal Bonitzer adapted from the 2019 Danish film Queen of Hearts, could be described as tame only in comparison to Rocco Siffredi drinking a teacup full of tampon water in Anatomy of Hell, but there is a lulling sleekness to the way it lays out its setting that turns out to be deceptive. Anne and her husband Pierre (Olivier Rabourdin) live with their two adopted daughters in a handsome house surrounded by sun-dappled countryside, a lifestyle sustained by the business dealings that frequently require Pierre to travel. Anne’s sister and closest friend Mina (Clotilde Courau) works as a manicurist in town, and conversations between the two make it clear that they didn’t grow up in the kind of ease Anne currently enjoys. It’s a luxury that allows her to pursue a career that seems more driven by idealism than by financial concerns. Anne is a lawyer who represents survivors of sexual assault, a detail that isn’t ironic, exactly, so much as it represents just how much individual actions can be divorced from broader beliefs.

In the opening scene, Anne dispassionately questions an underage client about her sexual history. She informs the girl that she should expect the defense to paint her as promiscuous before reassuring her that judges are accustomed to this tactic. The sequence outlines how familiar Anne is with the narratives used to discredit accusers, but also highlights a certain flintiness to her character. Drucker’s performance is impressively hard-edged even before Anne ends up in bed with her stepson. There’s a restlessness to the character behind the sleek blonde hair and businesswoman shifts, a desire to think of herself as unlike other women and as more interesting than the buttoned-up normies her husband brings by for dinner. Anne enjoys her well-coiffed life, but she also feels impatient with it, and when Théo gets dropped into her lap after being expelled from school in Geneva for punching his teacher, he triggers something in her that’s not just about lust. Théo is still very much a kid, something Breillat emphasizes by showcasing the messes he leaves around the house as much as on his sulky, half-formed beauty. But that rebelliousness speaks to Anne, who finds something invigorating in aligning herself with callow passion and impulsiveness instead of stultifying adulthood — however temporarily.

This being a Breillat film, the sex is Last Summer’s proving ground, the place where all those tensions about gender and class and age meet up with the inexorability of the flesh. The first time Anne sleeps with Théo, it’s shot from below, as though the camera’s lying in bed beside the woman as she looks up at the boy on top of her. It’s a point of view that makes the audience complicit in the scene, but that also dares you not to find its spectacle hot. Breillat is an avid button-pusher responsible for some of the more disturbing depictions of sexuality to have ever been committed to screen, but Last Summer refuses to defang its main character by portraying her simply as a predatory molester. Instead, she’s something more complicated — a woman trying to have things both ways, to dabble in the transgressive without risking her advantageous perch in the mainstream, and to wield the weapons of the victim-blaming society she otherwise battles when they are to her advantage. It’s not the sex that harms Théo; it’s the mindfuck of what he’s subjected to. After dreamily playing tourist in Théo’s youthful existence, Anne drags him into the brutal realities of the grown-up world. The results are unflinching and breathtakingly ugly. You couldn’t be blamed for wanting to look away.

‘Kunddala Puranam’, starring Indrans and Remya Suresh in the lead, is the kind of movie you might want to watch for its focus on village folk and their everyday lives, offering a break from the bustling city. However, its far too simplistic approach may not work for all, especially at a time when filmmakers are trying to break new ground with experimental storytelling, unique styles, and mixing genres.
‘Kunddala Puranam’, directed by Santhosh Puthukkunnu, is set in Kasaragod, where a family opens up their private well to their neighbors. The well is an often-used trope in Malayalam cinema, with women characters gathering around it for water and some gossip. Venu (Indrans) and Thankamani (Remya Suresh) have a school-going daughter who yearns to wear gold earrings but can’t because of an ear infection. When her condition improves, Venu, who works as a security guard at a local bar, decides to purchase a pair for her. The gold earrings soon become the source of both happiness and unhappiness for the family.

The Kasaragod dialect, explored in films since the latter half of the last decade, has a certain charm, but what is particularly interesting is how Indrans effortlessly mouths his dialogues in the dialect. He is a masterclass in emotional acting and nails his role as a resolute father in this film. Remya Suresh, who played a prominent role in last year’s acclaimed movie ‘1001 Nunakal’, performs exceptionally well in this movie. Unni Raja, best known for ‘Thinkalazhcha Nishchayam’, also plays an interesting character. However, it is the child actor Sivaani Shibin who manages to capture the audience’s hearts with her playful innocence, a quality sadly missing in characters written for children in recent years.
Though the writers have tried their hand at humor in the movie, most of the dialogues fall flat, except for some scenes involving a drunkard and the other villagers. The story, though interesting, is stretched too long for comfort. Sound designer and musician Blesson Thomas manages to capture the mood of the story well through his music.

Feminism isn’t about bashing men; it’s about equality and empowering women to embrace their true selves. Tahira Kashyap drives this point home in her debut directorial film, ‘Sharmajee Ki Beti’, now streaming on Prime Video. But, it’s not a groundbreaking story. It is a tale of ordinary women discovering themselves amidst the struggle against social norms and tired stereotypes, a narrative which has become quite common in Hindi cinema; the most recent being Kiran Rao’s brilliantly narrated and performed, ‘Laapataa Ladies’.

But, Tahira falls just short of achieving the benchmark of being the best as her film stumbles often, before getting back on track, though with relative ease.

Just as the name suggests, ‘Sharmajee Ki Beti’ is about five women, who share a common last name. They are free-thinking women, with a voice of their own. Their only roadblock — people who they call their own.

The working woman, Jyoti Sharma (Sakshi Tanwar), has a daughter (Vanshika Taparia) who despises her for prioritising her career over herself. Homemaker Kiran Sharma (Divya Dutta), a native of Patiala, caught up in the bustling life of Mumbai, is best at managing the home, but those who live in it can barely spare a minute for her. Cricket enthusiast Tanvi Sharma (Saiyami Kher) knows how to give a tough time to her opponents with her bat, but gets stumped when her boyfriend tries to make her more “girl-like”.

The message of ‘Sharmajee Ki Beti’ is an important one: Women are not superhumans. They can’t necessarily be a hands-on mother while being a top professional or, if they are not employed, it doesn’t mean they are ‘bekaar‘ and they can step away from conventional avatars to create a place for themselves.

Great! Good message. But a good message goes nowhere without a good film. Coming in, ‘Sharmajee Ki Beti’ offers interesting perspectives and, most importantly, one can relate to the characters and their lives. There’s the quibbling mother and a daughter, there’s an unappreciated member of the household and another whose efforts are ridiculed when they don’t sit in with the societal narrative. But to bring the audience forward and in sharing their stories, Kashyap takes a while.

There’s a potentially heartwarming, feel-good movie in here somewhere. There are moments (one where the school-going Gurveen confides in her best friend Swati about her identity is my favourite) which leave you with a smile. But it lumbers along, wasting its rich material and great performers who don’t get enough room to shine, and the movie suffers as a result. Over its nearly two-hour runtime, it takes some effort to sit through.

And when you do, while keeping aside the complaints, what you appreciate about ‘Sharmajee Ki Beti’ is the absence of demonising a partner to highlight the imbalance in gender norms. The husband or boyfriend are not the villains, rather they’re appreciative of the roles played by their wives and girlfriends.

In this ensemble cast, child actor Vanshika Taparia, Sakshi Tanwar’s daughter in the film, gives perfect expression to the crippling insecurity of teenage girls about their appearance. Her portrayal of Swati, a girl who believes she is worthy of attention and love only if she looks ‘perfect,’ overshadows a seasoned actor like Tanwar.

Divya Dutta, known for her consistent comic performances, delivers many of the film’s best lines and brings depth to her performance, even in underwritten scenes. Saiyami Kher is missable. Sharib Hashmi, Parvin Dabas, and Ravjeet Singh ably carry equal weight in the plot.

Even though sometimes it feels like the film is nailing the common feelings of guilt in mothers and the teenage obsession of girls with their bodies, it just doesn’t go anywhere. ‘Sharmajee Ki Beti’ could have used better dialogues and a bit more pace to secure a place in your heart.

2.5 out of 5 stars for ‘Sharmajee Ki Beti’.