Sridevi couldn’t have had a better comeback film than English Vinglish. It is a much better image-reinvention film than Queen, featuring the talented Kangana Ranaut. Both these films have a woman as the protagonist and the lead actresses perform to the best of their best potential. But if you look a little closely, English Vinglish comes up a notch higher in exploring the emotional alleys of its protagonist’s journey, more empathetically than Queen. The difference lies in the films’ gaze.
Shashi vs Rani
In English Vinglish, Sridevi’s character is portrayed with a certain empathy, she wears a certain gravitas of self-respect despite her general diminutiveness, that encourages us to take her seriously from the very beginning. Her grace commands our attention to look beyond the surface into where there is disquiet.
Queen, on the other hand casts its protagonist into a persona rather than a person. We know and understand little of Rani, except what we can glean from her social context. We take her lightly enough for most part of the film, with more affection than admiration, playing along merrily with the misplaced antics of this lost little girl. We always see her journey through this image, never meeting her inner world. But in EV, Gauri casts a thoughtful eye on what it means to be a woman and through that we understand Shashi’s outer and inner journey. She strikes us as a real person, an individual. Rani, on other hand amuses us as a prototype.
Rejection vs Heartbreak
Rani’s challenge of overcoming heartbreak is a typically universal crisis, unlike Shashi’s, whose situation is very individualistic. The pain of loss and rejection unfortunately stays an archetype in Rani, as we never really know what it means to her to have had her heart broken. On the other hand, we understand very well what lack of English language skills mean to Shashi. This perspective informs our relationship with their journey and while we cheer for both with equal enthusiasm, we are able to appreciate Shashi’s victories better than Rani’s triumphs. How can we not, when the first time we see Rani break down in the face of her trauma is through a mock-treatment, whereas Shashi’s weakest moment is a searing portrait of the woman’s pain.
Both women are struggling to attain self-assurance against the male, the hegemonic ‘other’. Both suffer from lack of respect from their partners. Their journeys cannot be fully understood without the male and in EV, as much as Shashi’s character is layered, so is her husband’s. But in Queen, Vijay is as opaque as Rani. They do not become people in our eyes and hence their relationship doesn’t resonate with vibrance. It appears to though, because it strikes the right notes, but those notes are too derived from a type.
Breaking Free
Both women are breaking free of societal impositions and self imposed limitations. While the triumphs of both are equally heart-warming, Shashi’s victory has a largesse of spiritual growth about it, reflected in her contentment. While Rani’s is limited to the emotional growth reflected in her confidence. For one, it is about closure, for the other, it’s about new beginnings. Maybe, that’s why Shashi’s journey unravels like an emotional roller-coaster while Rani’s story unfolds like an adventure trip. It’s all about the gaze.
Which is more appealing is a rather subjective matter, but what remains with us is the gaze. Maybe that needs a little shifting, perhaps.
(At The Quint, we are answerable only to our audience. Play an active role in shaping our journalism by becoming a member. Because the truth is worth it.)