In many ways, Lajja is a knock-out. As a mainstream Hindi film, it is highly theatrical but also quite powerful, intense, and fascinating, even if like many films of the genre, it's melodramatic, overlong, has some bad action sequences, and not always rings true. The film tells the story of a runaway wife who flees her cruel husband. It turns into a road movie of sorts which unfolds in three chapters, each presenting the story of a woman. Strong women, powerful women, the sort of women who were feminist before the term feminism was coined, and before some people started dealing with nonsense in the name of it. For the kind of style the film adopts, the dialogue is exceptional, and each chapter is gripping and involving. It just works like a very good quality play.
The first chapter is generally very enjoyable. It is a witty and humorous commentary on the Indian wedding system, providing a great glimpse into the weddings of ultra-traditional Indian families, exploring in minute detail the truth behind the glamour and celebration. The groom's father is awaiting to obtain the dowry, and the bride's father is anxiously nervous, checking that everything is intact and making sure his daughter's price is ready until the ceremony begins, in worry that if it is not done in time, his daughter will be abandoned right before the ritual for everybody to see, and his own honour will be trampled to shame. This segment, while resorting to sentimentality in some portions and having far too many attempts at comedy which at times do not flow well with the story, is funny and sad in equal parts, and is ultimately inspiring, for its way of showing how someone could summon up the courage and stand for their family's dignity without fear of losing their own. The second chapter tells the story of a racy theatre actress who has an affair with a married man and who lives her life according to her own terms. The third story, which is said to have been based on the true story of a woman from Assam, is set in a very primitive village where Ramdulari, the mother of all villagers, whose son makes the fatal mistake of falling in love with the landlord's daughter and actually dating her, with Ramdulari's story culminating in the film's most terrifying scene.
Santoshi presents us with a list of female characters, all of whom are modern-day versions of Hindu mythological goddesses, and their characters, in chronological order are, Maidavi, Maithili, Janki and Ramdulari. Each character is presented in an episode of its own and is related as seen through the eyes of Manisha. Each episode aims to convey critical messages of feminism, celebrating the existence of women and addressing their empowerment. Each sequence shows a transformation in which the protagonist decisively makes a place in the sun in a brave act of demanding to be respected. Yes, it sounds very shallow and formulaic and, indeed, Santoshi does tend to go a little bit too far in his attempt to make his feminist point, but as frankly stated by Santoshi himself, Lajja is aimed at the wide Indian audience. He adds the most familiar commercial ingredients of Hindi cinema, including item numbers and typical action scenes which take away from the film's realistic mood, and yet the movie works for its intensity and brutally honest depiction of so many of the issues it deals with that they are easily forgotten and forgiven. Even the most melodramatic sequences are true to the context and seem more or less appropriate. The film's flaws are easily recompensed by proceedings that are equally realistic and powerful, by fantastic dialogues, by great songs, by several comic sequences which lend comic relief, and most importantly by superb acting.
And speaking of acting. The film's main protagonist is Manisha Koirala, who is very good but, in a way, serves as the background for the more interesting stories of the other players. The three players are Mahima Choudhry, Madhuri Dixit, and Rekha, each leading her respective chapter. The supporting cast includes Jackie Shroff, surprisingly not in his element as Koirala's husband, although the role is a caricature so not much could have been done. Anil Kapoor, however, is an absolute hoot in a highly enjoyable comic performance which provides fantastic relief in a most tense first chapter. Ajay Devgan is similarly excellent, and his action sequences are quite fun even if not very realistic. Mahima Chaudhry is impossibly beautiful but she also matches her gorgeous looks with a lively act and a very convincing monologue at the end of the chapter. It's too bad she never got her due. Madhuri Dixit, in one of her best and most mature roles, does a stupendous job as the feisty actress who bravely defies tradition and stands for what she believes and fights for justice. Dixit's charismatic screen presence is indeed one of the film's prime assets.
But the main thing that will tug at your heartstrings and remain with you after the show is over is the powerhouse performance by Rekha, whose fiery, heartfelt portrayal is so indescribably amazing that no words would do it justice. In less than 30 minutes of screen time Rekha delivers one of the finest performances of her career, capturing every bit of her character's essence and making it hard to believe it's an actress playing a role. She just becomes Ramdulari. At first, she provides comic relief with her usually brilliant comic timing, but it is the latter portions of her part that leave you wordlessly disturbed. She plays some of the most difficult scenes with such unsettling intensity that anyone watching would have chills down their spine. Her emotional outbursts show acting at its deepest expressive level; they are so real and horrifying that I'm sure many viewers would prefer to look away to avoid witnessing such heartbreaking pictures. This is one of the best performances I've seen in any film of any time, delivered by a lady who once again proves she is an acting legend in a league of her own and one of the best actresses in India's cinematic history.
Lajja is overlong and watching it in one go will require patience. As said above, several attempts are made to relieve the tension. A sensuous number with the sexy Urmila Matondkar, and a graceful traditional wedding song with Sonali Bendre, are very effective, but unsurprisingly, the best dance number is Madhuri's "Badi Mushkil". The film's biggest flaw may be the ending, which is disappointing. It may be relieving, but it looks awfully contrived and sugarcoated. That being said, much is forgivable in view of the film's great advantages and entertainment value, and especially the great acting.
