It’s nice to walk into an unheralded film and come out keen to recommend it to others. Shefali Bhushan’s Jugni isn’t always smooth or sensible, but its virtues are the sort that are often missing from films more highly rated: a keen sense of place; a commitment to its characters’ best and worst impulses; and an ability to suggest an emotional journey without underlining all the key moments with strings and big words.
Jugni is Bhushan’s first feature film. Before that, she spent six years running Beat of India, during which she recorded scores of obscure musicians from small towns and villages and made their work available to urban audiences. Bhushan has drawn from her memories of this period for Jugni, which is about a young Bollywood music producer, Vibhavari (Sugandha Garg), who goes to Punjab in search of a folk singer named Bibi Saroop (a character based partly on Swarn Noora, a Sufi singer whom Bhushan had met and recorded).
Before she finds Saroop (Sadhana Singh), though, Vibhavari comes across her son, Mastana (Siddhant Behl), also a singer. When she first sees him, he’s taking a bath out in the open. Incredibly, neither Vibhavari nor Mastana with his average Joe body look unduly embarrassed. Nine out of 10 films would have had him scurry for cover, but he just continues chatting with her. When she tells him she’s a producer, he insists that she hear him sing. She agrees, and is impressed. Soon, she’s recording Mastana and the wary Saroop for a film soundtrack.
It’s hardly surprising when producer and artist start falling for each other. What is surprising is how messy and lifelike this attraction is allowed to become. They’re both in relationships – Vibhavari to an alternately douchey and sensitive guy named Siddharth (Samir Sharma); Mastana to Preeto (Anurita Jha), a girl in his village – and we see the repercussions of their liaison on their hapless partners. It’s refreshing how none of the characters are allowed to seem entirely virtuous. Mastana strings the indignant but infatuated Preeto along, while Vibhavari isn’t above asking her boyfriend for money, even though they’re clearly on a break.
The film’s visual aesthetic matches its plainspoken emotional tenor. Most of it was shot on location in a village called Hassanpur, and Divakar Mani’s unfussy, observant camerawork brings out the details very nicely. The writing – screenplay by Bhushan, dialogue by Shellee – is hilariously salty in places; I particularly enjoyed Preeto’s assertion to Mastana that she’d “x-rayed that chudail” when she first laid eyes on her big city rival. Clinton Cerejo’s soundtrack is the right mix of Punjabi folk, Sufi and mainstream ballad, the only misstep being the awkward English-Punjabi duet on Hatt Mullah – a lapse in judgment that’s compounded by the fact that it’s driving the film’s weakest scene.
There are other false notes. The character of Siddharth is never developed to any satisfactory level. The later scenes in Mumbai seem to be there simply to underline the superficiality of the film world and its denizens – a line of attack that’s as old as cinema itself. The rest, though, is extremely watchable, and tied together by a game cast. Garg, a watchful actor, is believable as the confident but emotionally guarded Vibhavari, while Jha makes Preeto’s hurt palpable and moving. But it’s Behl as the motormouth Mastana who propels the film; he has that rare, unfakeable leading man charisma. We’ll hopefully see more from him in the near future, and from Bhushan.
