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Oddball Comedy Sister Midnight Thrives in the Dark

Oddball Comedy Sister Midnight Thrives in the Dark
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Uma (Radhika Apte) arrives in Mumbai the way a child might roll into summer camp, or finishing school: curious mainly about her own impending misery. She has been married to Gopal (Ashok Pathak), who, she later explains, she briefly thought of as her childhood sweetheart, a temporary self-deception she uses to make the marriage go down easily. He was really more of a friendly former acquaintance, and that now that friendliness is quickly fading. So are whatever temporary delusions Uma might have held about somehow turning into a functional housewife living in a single-room Mumbai shack. Her neighbor Sheetal (Chhaya Kadam) shows her the basics (and certainly not the joy) of cooking. Chiles and big hunks of things, she explains. Most men will think of a meal heavy in these things this as hearty and satisfying. She’s right, but no one gets much pleasure out of it.

Sister Midnight has the ingredients for a social-realist dirge about a woman’s domestic circumstances that, given the tiny accommodations, limited budget, and lack of transportation, don’t look vastly different from some minimum-security prisons. Writer-director Karan Kandhari, making his directorial debut, gives Uma the space to seethe, which makes her frustrations both vividly rendered and – sorry, Uma! – funny, in their mordant way. Maybe the apology should be directed to Gopal, who bears the brunt of her worst behavior. (And just when she seems to soften to him, things get vastly and unexpectedly worse.) Then again, Uma’s rage at him also feels justified. Even more than his new wife, he seems to assume that a functional marriage will somehow fall into place by instinct.

Anyway, back to the space: Kandhari often shoots Uma positioned center frame, or composes a static shot of an object (a door, say) before a person or part of a person enters and neatly performs an action (knocking, say). The Mumbai side streets are busy, but the camera placement is careful. His compositions will remind some viewers of the American filmmaker Wes Anderson. (Late in the movie, there’s even a series of train-related shots that, intentionally or not, mirror some images from Anderson’s India-set 2007 feature The Darjeeling Limited, and some stop-motion animation that recalls The Life Aquatic.) Although Sister Midnight shares with Anderson a certain deadpan wit chased with whimsical flourishes and sight gags, Kandhari also uses Anderson-style framing to very different and very clever effect. In Anderson’s films, it suggests the protagonists’ meticulously constructed worlds that they’ve curated in an effort to reshape their reality. Here, it often suggests a pre-existing world that Uma is powerless to control. The frames are already there; she can only do so much to alter them.

She does find some brief moments of solace. First, she goes out for walks at night, where she seems to feel somewhat more comfortable in her neighborhood. Eventually, she gets a night-shift job as a cleaning woman, at a building a four-hour journey on foot away – the couple only has a bicycle, which Gopal rides to his own seemingly menial job – where she mops floors to seemingly little effect. Yet this does not seem to register as drudgery any worse than aimlessly waiting around her shack during the day, especially given that she’s been suffering from hard-to-diagnose, vaguely flu-like symptoms. Is she the Mumbai version of the housewife from Safe, poisoned by her own home?

It is around here that Sister Midnight gradually takes a turn. The movie puts its blinker on, and still, somehow, leaves the chance of surprise when it changes lanes. To even explain what movies this brings to mind might spoil the fun, especially if you’ve only seen the film’s trailer, which leans into the Wes Anderson resemblance and advertises a wicked comedy. The completely spoiler-averse should take this as a parting thought, and be gone: Sister Midnight is wonderful, transfixing in its celluloid-shot cinematography from Sverre Sørdal, which makes its many urban-nightscape scenes particularly vibrant in their long shadows, and wonderfully acted by Apte, whose near-feral aggrievement is oddly winning. It’s one of the best movies of the year so far; leave the review here and make plans to see it.

For those unafraid of something that probably appears in many other reviews and possibly even descriptions of the film’s genre, I will continue onward: Uma develops an unconventional thirst. Is she a monster, a creature of the night? Are both of those the same thing? She doesn’t seem sure, and the movie plays smartly coy about the rules we might think we recognize in this situation. Uma is not necessarily better-suited to creature-of-the-night-ing than she is at performing housewifely duties, but she’s more invested in the former (and because of that, may be more invested in the latter, too). Kandhari’s film emerges as an off-kilter treatise on identity, and what cultural, social, and physiological elements can shape it, even well into adulthood. A girl walks home alone at night, yes, as the title of another superficially similar indie movie goes. But what if that girl isn’t sure whose home she’s going to?

Director: Karan Kandhari
Writer: Karak Kandhari
Starring: Radhika Apte, Ashok Pathak, Chhaya Kadam
Release Date: May 16, 2025

Jesse Hassenger is associate movies editor at Paste. He also writes about movies and other pop-culture stuff for a bunch of outlets including A.V. Club, GQ, Decider, the Daily Beast, and SportsAlcohol.com, where offerings include an informal podcast. He also co-hosts the New Flesh, a podcast about horror movies, and wastes time on social media under the handle @rockmarooned.

 
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