Four very different directors explore four very different shades of lust in Lust Stories, though the common ground in each is the theme of female desire, as it attempts to cut through the strait-jackets of morality, patriarchy and class.
The anthology begins with Anurag Kashyap's film, where in the very first scene, the protagonist Kalindi (Radhika Apte) is leaning out of a cab window, as it zips down the road. She's carefree, liberated, and en-route to a one-night-stand. Next to her is the visibly younger and visibly nervous Tejas (Akash Thosar). Once they're in his room, he tries to keep up with her - intellectually and sexually - as she mocks his Chetan Bhagat book collection and teases him about his lack of sexual experience. She doesn't just take charge in bed, but also his virginity.
Hereon the power dynamic between them gets murkier, as Akash happens to be Kalindi's student. Kalindi - the one ostensibly in power and often abusing it - also often seems to be the one without it, with both Tejas and her 12-years-older husband Mihir, who is encouraging her to "explore her sexuality". Radhika brings out this dichotomy of her character flawlessly, and Akash matches her performance perfectly as the clueless Tejas, who has no choice but to go along on this ride.
Zoya Akhtar's film opens with Sudha (Bhumi Pednekar) and Ajit (Neil Bhoopalam) in the throes of passion. Their intimacy devolves immediately after, when Sudha drops down on her knees to maaro pauncha. It's like the chasm of class between them splits wide open the second they are clothed, and she's revealed to be his maid. The divide gets starker still, when Ajit's parents drop into his bachelor pad to fix his rishta, or when she's asked to prepare tea for his prospective in-laws and fiancee.
It isn't so much the characters, as the choreography of Zoya Akhtar's scenes that do the talking. The family members crammed in the drawing room, shifting seats, lifting up their feet as Sudha sweeps the floor. The sounds of Ajit's father in the bathroom, flushing the pot, as Sudha irons their clothes in the room next to it. Sudha-Ajit's a sexual intimacy may seem almost deviant in a society such as theirs, yet there's a daily intimacy that plays out between the family and their domestic help, that's barely acknowledged, except in the form of gifts such as leftover mithais and slightly-ripped-kurtas. When the characters do speak, they only ever seem to indulge in small talk, be it Ajit's parents and their prospective in-laws' mind-numbing conversation on the difference between their Diwali celebrations, or even the maid-next-door gossiping with Sudha about the woman she works for. The banality of the topics seem to masquerade as normality, and the only thing that pierces through these layers of hypocrisy is Sudha's desire. Be it the acting, directing, sets or sound - this is a film that says a lot, without saying much at all.
"Kaisi lag rahi hoon?" Reena (Manisha Koirala) asks Sudhir (Jaideep Ahlawat), as she emerges from the waves in a swimsuit, in the first scene of Dibakar Banerjee's film. "Do bachchon ki maa," replies Sudhir, setting the tone for the story ahead.
Reena is married to Sudhir's best friend Salman (Sanjay Kapoor), and the two have been having an affair behind the latter's back for the past three years. Some of this has to do with the fact that Reena's identity seems to have dwindled down to "do bacchon ki maa" over the years. Or teen bachche, if you count Salman ("You want a mother, not a wife," she chides him at one point). Yet, her affair barely lets her escape from that identity either. When she suggests to Sudhir at one point, that they tell Salman about them, he asks her, "what about the children?". "Why does everyone bring up my children, when I am talking about my happiness?" she retorts.
The awkward dynamics between the trio play out at Sudhir's beach house, when they are forced to confront (or may be not) the crossroads each of them are at. All three actors have given complex, layered performances - Sanjay Kapoor, as the husband who can't see beyond Reena as the "wife, mother, hostess" package, and him as the providor of her "allowances"; Manisha as the fed-up, and now conscience-less wife, who has no qualms about playing the two friends against each other; and Jaideep, a jaded lover and dubious best friend, who's only interested in maintaining status quo.
Karan Johar doesn't let go of any of his Karan Johar-isms in his film, be it the elaborate costumes, music or even a wedding sequence. The story - that revolves around Megha (Kiara Advani) a newlywed who has to come to terms with fact that her husband is a major disappointment in bed - is an exploration of female desire, and how it is stifled, policed, controlled or ignored. Subtle isn't KJo's forte, and so, the film often ends up carrying a public service announcement-type quality. What works is the acting. Kiara Advani, who plays Megha - the bahu-next-door seeking sexual satisfaction, balances the OTT script and settings with a performance that is just-right. Vicky Kaushal is endearing as Paras, the fumbling husband-lover. Neha Dhupia impresses too, as the risque-blouse-wearing divorcee who likes to pleasure herself in libraries and encourages Kiara to explore her sexuality. Much ado has been made about the Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham 'climax' sequence, which is, well, amusing and self aware. Still, the film sticks out more than it fits in with anthology.
