How
many
films
have
you
seen
where
you
forget
you
are
watching
a
film,
where
the
line
dividing
the
audience
from
the
characters
get
so
blurred
as
to
make
the
distinction
almost
redundant?
"Pink" sucks
us
so
deep
into
its
characters'
lives
that
we
come
away
breathless
and
anxious.
For
almost
ten
minutes
after
the
end-titles,
I
couldn't
move
from
my
seat.
I
had
just
seen
what
three
Delhi
girls
had
gone
through
because
they
decided
to
have
a
fun
night
out
after
a
rock
concert
with
some
boys.
In
Meenal
(Taapsee
Pannu),
Falak
(Kirti
Kilhari)
and
Andrea
(Andrea
Tariang),
I
saw
all
our
daughters,
grappling
with
the
befuddled
notions
of
'What
Men
Can
Do,
What
Women
Can't
Do'
and
what
happens
when
women
do
what
men
say,
women
can't
do.
"Pink" is
a
very
important
film,
and
not
only
because
it
addresses
gender
issues
with
such
caustic
elan,
biting
away
at
patriarchal
prejudices
with
such
skill
and
efficiency
that
we
don't
even
realize
how
much
of
the
indictment
the
narrative
presents
against
patriarchal
bullying.
It
all
comes
out
in
a
tumble
in
a
rousing
courtroom
finale
where
the
aging
but
still
sharp
lawyer
Deepak
Sehgal
(Amitabh
Bachchan)
with
a
dying
wife
(Mamata
Shankar)
in
the
hospital,
provokes
the
spoilt
rich
politician's
scion
(Angad
Bedi,
sufficiently
credible)
to
say
why
it
is
okay
to
force
yourself
on
a
certain
type
of
"loose" women
even
if
they
say
no
to
your
advances.
But
then
here's
where
the
narrative
plays
out
a
greatest
lesson
without
glee
or
glory:
when
a
woman
says
no
to
sex,
it
is
a
no.
Period.
So
stop
right
there.
Just
because
that
girl
you've
been
staring
at
for
much
more
than
14
seconds
is
wearing
a
short
skirt
and
laughing
loudly
and
drinking
and
cracking
a
dirty
joke
at
a
party
where
"nice" girls
are
not
allowed,
it
doesn't
mean
she
can
be
forced
to
have
sex
with
you.
"Pink"
takes
us
beyond,
far
beyond,
black
and
white,
and
away
from
the
comfort
zone,
into
an
area
of
exposition
on
gender
discrimination
where
it
is
hard
to
deify
the
victims
and
demonize
the
aggressors.
This
is
where
this
film
scores
much
higher
than
other
remarkable
treatise
on
Sex
&
The
Single
Girl.
The
three
protagonists
in
"Pink"
are
no
lip-biting,
sympathy-seeking,
urban
cowgirls.
They
have
their
weaknesses,
their
blind
spots.
They
like
their
fun.
But
must
they
pay
for
it?
They
stand
up
to
that
one
truth
which
the
Big
B's
legal
rhetorics
help
us
ingest:
a
girl
can
be
any
way
she
wants
to
be.
She
could
have
sex
with
as
many
partners
as
she
likes.
She
still
has
full
authority
over
her
body.
So
the
next
time
a
guy
thinks
a
woman
is
of
"that
sort",
he
should
think
again.
"Pink"
grabs
our
collective
biases
and
age-old
notions
about
permissible
boundaries
for
feminine
behaviour
by
the
shoulder
and
shakes
them
hard.
This
a
film
that
can
change
gender
equations
in
our
society.
The
first-half
creates
an
atmosphere
of
terror
through
little
scenes
that
convey
so
much
of
the
truth
about
gender
inequality
and
sexual
politics
without
sweating
over
the
drama
generated
in
cinema
of
this
sort.
The
background
score
is
minimal
and
mellow,
almost
scoffing
at
our
perception
of
high
drama
associated
with
cinema
on
male
oppression.
Aveek
Mukhopadhyay's
camerawork
is
so
majestically
unobtrusive
that
it
takes
us
into
the
heart
of
Delhi
without
getting
emotionally
drenched
in
the
journey.
The
narrative
is
constantly
in
a
hurry
to
get
on
with
the
story.
Yet
there
are
poignant
pauses
in
the
plot.
Ritesh
Shah's
dialogues
question
flagrantly
patriarchal
values
with
cool
authority.
Big
B's
sardonic
arguments
in
the
courtroom
are
specially
edgy
and
devastating.
This
brings
us
to
the
performances.
Each
actor
big
or
small
brings
vast
credibility
to
his
or
her
part.
The
neglected
Kirti
Kulhari
comes
into
her
own
as
Falak
with
a
lot
to
conceal
in
her
life.
Kulhari
plays
the
character
with
such
moral
equity
she
leaves
us
no
room
to
judge
her
blemishes.
Her
breakdown
in
the
courtroom
will
shake
every
member
of
the
audience,
man,
woman
or
child.
In
contrast,
Taapsee,
who
plays
the
main
target
of
gender
assault,
sheds
no
tears.
She
conveys
her
character's
textured
torment
with
an
austerity
of
expression
that
is
remarkable.
Andrea
as
the
girl
from
Meghalaya
who
gets
caught
in
the
vortex
of
a
murky
scandal
is
the
portrait
of
vulnerability.
But
it
is
finally
Bachchan
who
holds
the
key
to
this
remarkable
film's
incontestable
power
and
efficacy.
He
is
the
voice
of
reason
and
the
conscience
of
a
morality
tale
where
right
and
wrong
are
not
easily
identifiable.
Yet
when
he
sets
forth
reasons
as
to
why
a
no
from
a
woman
means
no,
we
are
looking
not
at
a
rousing
courtroom
performance
but
a
voice
that
ricochets
through
generations
of
patriarchal
smugness.
"Pink"
offers
us
no
easy
comforting
solutions
to
the
issue
of
women's
safety.
Should
a
city
girl
feel
safe
with
a
guy
who
is
well-dressed
and
from
a
well-to-do
family?
Is
it
okay
to
be
friendly
with
a
man
a
girl
hardly
knows?
"Pink"
poses
questions
and
leaves
the
answers
hovering
in
the
sphere
of
intangibility.
It
possesses
an
emotional
velocity
regarding
the
theme
of
violating
a
woman's
private
space
that
we
last
saw
in
Tapan
Sinha's
"Adalat
O
Ekti
Meye".
That
was
30
years
ago.
As
we
can
see
in
"Pink",
things
haven't
changed
much
over
the
years
for
women
in
this
country.
Don't
miss
this
film,
and
don't
walk
out
during
the
end-titles
or
you
will
miss
out
on
two
vital
experience.
Of
knowing
what
really
happened
"that
night"
and
of
hearing
the
Bachchan
baritone
recite
Tanveer
Qausi's
powerful
poetry
on
feminine
awakening.