My brain is basically a cloud of cotton candy right now. Fluffy, a little sticky, and probably not very good for me. It’s 1:52 AM and the credits just rolled on *Maska* on Netflix and I’m just… melted into my couch cushions. I feel like I need to take a shower to wash off the sheer amount of sweetness. What did I just watch?
Okay, so. This guy, Rumi. He just wants to… not run his dad’s 100-year-old Irani cafe. That’s the whole movie. And honestly? Relatable. My dad wants me to get a "real job" and I’m over here writing weirdly emotional movie reviews in the middle of the night. We’re basically the same person, except he has better hair and a way more photogenic family business. I clicked on this because I was scrolling through Netflix for, like, an hour, and the poster was just so… bright. And Manisha Koirala is in it, and, like, my mom loves her, so I was like, sure, why not. It was the perfect couch movie. The kind you don’t really have to pay full attention to, which was good because I was also trying to finish a bag of chips at the same time.
There’s this one line. This one line that is just stuck in my head like a bad pop song. The girl, the quirky artist girl, Persis, she’s describing herself. And she says, "I'm a bubble with a soul." I literally paused the movie. I put my hand on my forehead and just stared at the screen. I was like, "What does that even MEAN?" It’s so pretentious. It’s the kind of line someone writes in a journal they hope someone will find. But now, an hour later, I’m still thinking about it. A bubble with a soul. It’s stupid. It’s also… kind of beautiful? I don’t know. It perfectly captures that character – all floaty and ethereal and full of hot air, but with something genuine inside. Ugh, I can’t believe I’m even saying that.
It reminded me of my grandpa. He had this collection of old, rusty cameras. Like, dozens of them. He was always trying to get me interested in them. "Look at this one, Ishaan, it's from the 1960s! The lens is a work of art!" And I was always like, "Yeah, cool, Grandpa," while secretly playing on my phone. He wanted me to have them, to carry on his… legacy of taking blurry photos of birds, I guess. I never took them. They’re probably still in his attic, gathering dust. Rumi’s struggle with the cafe, with his dad’s legacy… it hit a little close to home. But whatever, that’s not the point. The point is bubbles. And chai.
I kept pausing it. That’s the beauty of Netflix, right? The power of the pause button. I’d pause to go get more water. I’d pause to check my phone. I’d pause just to stare at my ceiling and contemplate the sheer absurdity of the plot. This guy is trying to become a famous actor to impress a girl who calls herself a soul-bubble, and he’s faking it by making these terrible short films, and his dad is just… there. Being a dad. The whole thing feels like a very long, very well-shot episode of a TV show. Which isn't a bad thing! It’s just… a thing. It’s comfortable. Like a worn-out sweater.
The love triangle. Oh, the love triangle. It’s the classic, reliable, childhood-friend-vs-new-and-exciting-person scenario. Andi, the childhood friend, is played by Prit Kamani, and she’s just… so solid. So real. And Persis is all sparkles and weird metaphors. I spent the whole movie rooting for Andi, obviously. I thought I loved their dynamic, the way she calls him out on his nonsense. But now that I’m typing this… was it actually kind of predictable? Was I just falling for the easiest emotional beat? I don't know. Maybe I’m a sucker for the "right person was there all along" trope. It works, okay? It just works.
And Manisha Koirala. She plays Rumi’s mom, who’s in a coma for most of the movie, but she’s still more of a presence than half the living characters I’ve seen in films this year. She just floats through his memories, this perfect, idealized figure. It’s a bit much, but she sells it. There’s this one scene where Rumi is talking to her, just pouring his heart out to her unconscious body, and I’ll be damned if I didn’t feel a little something in my eye. I had to physically look away from the screen and focus on a particularly interesting stain on my wall for a second. It was the chips. I just got some chip dust in my eye. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
So yeah. I watched it at home. On my couch. With the familiar glow of the Netflix UI bookending the whole experience. The big, dramatic "TUDUM" sound at the start felt a bit at odds with the cozy, small-scale story, but whatever. I was in my comfort zone, and the movie was a comfort movie. It didn’t challenge me too much. It didn’t make me think too hard. It was just… nice. A pleasant little diversion. I feel like I should be criticizing it more, for being formulaic or for having that one character who’s a walking, talking Pinterest board, but I just… can’t. It’s like getting mad at a puppy for being cute. It’s pointless.
Okay, my brain is officially shutting down. The cotton candy is melting. I feel like I need to watch something gritty and dark now to balance out my cinematic diet. Maybe a documentary about serial killers. Or just that video of a cat playing a tiny piano again.
6/10. - decent
-Ishaan