Santosh

SANTOSH is a gripping film that examines the effects of patriarchy, personal grief, and India’s patriarchal and class-focused society with nuance. It is also a gripping drama with excellent character development.

When Santosh Saini (Shahana Goswami) finds herself windowed after the death of her husband, a police officer, she is rejected by her husband’s family. Facing destitution, she takes up the option of a “compassionate appointment” to her husband’s former job with the police. As she attempts to find her way in a deeply classist and sexist environment, the investigation of the rape and death of a young girl tests her resolve and moral compass.

In the film’s opening act, the oppressive qualities of the patriarchal nature of Indian society are clearly painted. Santosh’s in-laws speak as if she is not present, and a police official barely pays attention to the grieving widow. Later, police chiefs blame the dress and alleged promiscuity of young women for the prevalence of rape. All of this sets up the atmosphere and the environment which Santosh must navigate, with a troubling echo from the future when she is contrasted with her female mentor, Geeta Sharma (Sunita Rajwar), who is brought in to steer the murder investigation away from accusations of misogyny.

“SANTOSH has [multiple] targets, though, and combining its concerns has an exponential effect on how engaging the story is.”

SANTOSH has additional targets, though, and combining its concerns has an exponential effect on how engaging the story is. The investigation much of the film follows takes place in a lower-caste rural community, and early on we watch the victim’s father being dealt with exceptionally dismissively when his concern for his missing daughter is brought to the force of which Santosh is a part.

However, in Santosh and Sharma’s railing against the apparent patriarchal misogyny that allowed this tragedy to occur – and which they must continually expend energy countering in their professional life – their resolve to fight the corrupting influence of other societal ills is lowered. In this case, the pernicious classism displayed in the film leads Santosh to dark places in her pursuit of justice. SANTOSH’s script – debut feature director Sandhya Suri’s own – displays an accomplished ability to show how failings in one part of society expose the cracks in others; that oppression of one group does not occur in a vacuum, and suffering is intersectional. Individuals are forced to play an immoral game, as opposed to flipping the board, and trauma begets trauma.

“This evolving blend of obstacles and character reactions to them keeps the film’s story moving in a constantly engaging way, even if the pace begins to drag towards the end.”

The filmmaking approach from Sandhya Suri doesn’t neglect the visual or technical. The father of the murdered girl is shot from above and framed below the police, who mock and belittle him, creating symbolic visual emphasis within the narrative moment. The victim’s hair hangs down beneath the veil covering her corpse, creating a fleeting but authentically tragic image. The sound work and use of light in a climactic, brutally cathartic scene for Santosh sharpen the individual sequence to which it belongs and the horror of its later ramifications. Small touches elevate individual character moments, such as one obscenely privileged individual casually wielding a golden spoon. This evolving blend of obstacles and character reactions to them keeps the film’s story moving in a constantly engaging way, even if the pace begins to drag towards the end.

SANTOSH is a patient film – almost to a fault as the film moves towards a conclusion – that lays out the corrupting effects of a society unconcerned for some of its citizens. The film illustrates how a dysfunctional environment can pervert the meagre empowerment it offers marginalised people.