Girls Will Be Girls Review: Shuchi Talati’s Tense, Razor-sharp Debut Slices Through Control And Freedom

Shuchi Talati’s Girls Will Be Girls bears the imprint of a female coming-of-age tale. But this maiden feature doesn’t get encumbered by an expanse of plot and overwrought trajectory that accompany such narratives. Instead the precise, minimalist drama tilts into sensations and specific emotions within the canvas of a sixteen-year-old, Mira (Preeti Panigrahi) in a Himalayan boarding school.

The onus falls on girls. ‘Appropriate-ness’, ‘abiding by the rules’ and ‘upholding age-old Indian culture and customs’ are the watchwords, hammered through the school pledge. They are under the purview for transgression. Discipline is starkly skewed:the boys are let off the hook easily; the rules of morality don’t apply to them. When Mira shares her concern with a teacher about the boys’ indecency, she’s doled out one advice: “The best strategy is to ignore”. The girls are instructed to be as unprovocative as possible. Supervision and authority tie down their movements and decisions. Mira, the head prefect, willingly imbibes the school ethos.

With the arrival of a new student, Srinivas (a magnetic Kesav Kiron), sparks fly. But of course, there are too many curtailing forces, both at school and home. She’s not scared of her mother, Anila (Kani Kusruti) who’s around for her board exams and lives nearby. Rather there’s utter indifference. “Now I just can’t stand her”, she says. She’s not outright hostile to her mother, though she maintains a wary distance.

Talati accentuates the scenes the three share with bristling tension. There’s a thrilling edge, a nervous uncertainty to the shifting dynamics in these scenes, as Mira finds her mother pulling away Srinivas from her. It’s a hijack, a whittling away of his interest that seemingly turns to Anila.

Anila doesn’t see this coming either. Her first impulse is to warn the boy to keep his relationship to Mira within the bounds of friendship. She’d invited him home for that. But she’s taken aback, swept by his interest in her. He’s keen to engage with her beyond the maternal. Her marriage, which she’d stormed into, has turned cold and strained. Sri’s interest gives her a lively surge. It makes her feel heard. However the screenplay also renders Anila sketchy, with a backstory that only comes through in foggy, disparate snatches. You might wonder how much the provocative ambiguity of her responses to the situation have been inserted just to bewilder. It’s Kusruti who helps sharpen and ground these shaky moments.

Shot in a boxy 4:3 ratio, Girls Will Be Girls imbues every fraught exchange of glance and fleeting touch with extraordinary frisson. Be it Mira and Sri putting up a flyer together or sharing a blanket during an astronomy club session, every brushing touch fizzes with sensual discovery. Febrile undercurrents between the mother and daughter supply the film with taut pacing. There’s a tinge of secret power play, a simultaneous admission of the friction as well as some degree of awkward hiding. A dance scene, which starts out with Mira and Sri before Anila takes over and shows her daughter the moves, captures all the uncomfortable mother-daughter tussle.

Talati keeps you on tenterhooks, twisting certainties of how even the most harmless exchanges might abrasively swing. Every scene among the three hangs on the cusp of a confrontation. Kusruti brings unpredictable energy to these scenes. Mira constantly scans the room, desperate to be lavished with the attention Sri had first shown towards her. She grows resentful and restless, aching to recapture him.

Talati teases perceptions of the seemingly escalating intimacy between Anila and Sri. Suddenly Mira finds herself edged out with the two carving out a snug space. The well-travelled son of a diplomat, Sri is suave and charming, planting himself in a new group and place with ease. Mira is startled to realise she doesn’t just have the exclusive trust of the teachers. Sri can smooth-talk his way into those same circles as well. This shatters her sense of identity, much of which has the validation of authorities as its fulcrum. She’s pitched as the model of obeisance and order. So in a demonstration about proper uniform length (“uniform to your knees”), it’s her example that’s put forth. She’s also asked to rat out on her friends should they be improper.

But being an ideal student spurs its own isolation. Mira is so wrapped up in serving excellent conduct that there’s dissonance between her and her schoolmates, who are more raring to break free. Talati delineates the rift between adhering to patriarchy and moving out of it. The account of Mira’s cousin who eloped is, therefore, reiterated to her as a cautionary tale. Talati is more confident in the private space; the school strictures seem too imprecise and contrived. There’s holistic sternness but the rules of supervision, barring the initial stretch, are largely indistinct. As a result, the movement between school and home strikes jarring notes.

Rising above this, Panigrahi’s performance maps Mira’s discovery of pleasure, when she allows herself to honestly express what she wants. Small, particular recognitions of her desires resonate with enormity. Moments like Mira exploring her body, the giddiness of newfound pleasure are handled with sensitivity and tenderness. Straddling curiosity, watchfulness and self-possession, Panigrahi’s performance charts the route from Mira’s tentativeness to irrepressible eagerness and self-assurance. Girls Will Be Girls drives with pointillistic impact into microscopic moments of reckoning and realisation. What undoes it however is a stretched, underlined and downright implausible climax where horror and heartbreak hit Mira in overblown ways that have been much alluded earlier. All the emotional buildup turns diluted.

Girls Will Be Girls had its South Asia premiere at the MAMI Mumbai Film Festival 2024.