There's more to like than dislike when it comes to the film 'Lipstick Under My Burkha'. The film narrates the tale of four women in a neighborhood in Bhopal.

Leela (Aahana Kumra) wants to run a honeymoon-management venture with photographer (and sexual partner) Arshad (Vikrant Massey) around the same time that she gets engaged to Manoj (the typical groom with 90s Bollywood sensibilities) leaving her in a dilemma on who to choose while going forward in life. Rehana (Plabita Borthakur) gets to portray a character that resembles the film's title - a college student who loves to wear bold designer dresses, jeans and sneakers (and of course, lipstick) under the dark burkha she dons while leaving/returning her home (her folks are in the tailoring business). Shirin (Konkona Sen Sharma) is a saleswoman by day (which her husband doesn't know of) and sex-object for her husband by night. Usha Buaji (Ratna Pathak Shah) is in her mid 50s, a matriarch known for her uprightness. She secretly engages in a horny phone- romance with a young swimming coach.

Wait, all these characters are actually different shades of 'Rosy' - the fictitious heroine of an erotic novel, read by Buaji. Or are they not? While the film raises valid points on freedom of expression (in terms of occupational aspirations, dressing styles, sexual interests or taste in music even) when it comes to womenfolk, it does so at by portraying most of the men characters as vile/rotten/insecure. Is it so hard to make a feminist film without depicting the men as scoundrels (cheating husbands, jealous and instantly-dumping boyfriends, daddies who believe their daughters should be hidden away in boxes)? I think a feminist masterpiece would take shape only when women are portrayed (holistically) on/above par with their strong-willed (and well- written) better halves. That's when you feel a sense of genuine gratification. 'LUMB' ultimately falls well short on this aspect and the climax has the feel of an under-cooked dish (symbolic of one of those 'shredded novellas').

Of all the four characters, I think I'd have to go with Shirin. Konkona induces a tinge of subtlety to her character that the viewer finds easy to empathize with, and also gets some of the best-written scenes in the film (one involving a pest-control gun). While the rest of the performances are solid on their own terms, it is the intrepid rendition of certain (though-of-as) tabooed themes that mostly strike the viewer as refreshingly good. And here's something I found quite odd. Rehana is both a 'Miley Cyrus' and 'Led Zeppelin' fan. (It almost feels like she has only listened to that one path- breaking popular song from a band and all of a sudden, started addressing them as her favorite!).

This isn't 'English Vinglish', 'Queen' or 'Parched'. Still, I'd say 'LUMB' is worth a viewing for its unabashed take on women's desires and aspirations (regardless of age), though with its own set of flaws.

Verdict: Not a must-watch, but worth checking out!

While forcing himself on his wife, the man utters, "You are a married woman, don't try to be the husband," as a retort to one of her actions earlier that day that he didn't approve of. The busy streets of Bhopal outside don't pay heed to this little indoor activity capable of instigating a sense of horror and revulsion in the viewer. You can look the other way and ignore what's happening on screen, but writer-director Alankrita Shrivastava will not let you as she takes you on a superficial journey of four women as they try to fight stigmas and oppression in a male-dominated country that still hesitates to consider marital rape a criminal offense.

Sex may still be a taboo in India, and that is why the narrative opens with Leela (Aahana Kumra), a beautician, enjoying a quickie with her photographer boyfriend while her future husband awaits her arrival so they could get formally engaged. She is forced into an arranged marriage by her widow mother who is not too jubilant about any of her escapades, let alone sexual, because she is a girl who has to eventually end up as a husband- pleaser. The base story is same albeit in different contexts in the neighboring houses where certified babymaker Shirin (Konkona Sen Sharma) will soon be admonished for "trying to be a husband", pseudo-kleptomaniac college girl Rehana (Plabita Borthakur) goes to some uncool extents to blend in with the cool kids at college but still staying within the limits of Islam, and senior lady Usha (Ratna Pathak Shah) tries to find sexual satisfaction through pulpy literature. They all live in the same complex as the viewers are taken through their individual life stories slightly interwoven for reasons favoring a moral climax.

The leading women in Lipstick Under My Burkha are rebellious and opportunistic. Motivated by self-interests, which the film often likes to attribute to inhibited female sexual desire, these four women are trying to find their own ways to fight oppression in a patriarchal society. Among their adversaries are objectification, societal dogma, and preconceived general notions related to feminine desire – all of which have a combined effect against their common cause.

However, the boldness and vivacity of these stories should not be considered as a bona fide encapsulation of stark issues it so rapturously tries to raise. Other than Shirin's story, which you may have already seen in one medium or other, the remaining three give a peek only from the periphery. What is Usha's history and why does she behave the way she does? What is Leela's problem? They are wafer- thin subplots that do not go deeper, thus failing to come up with any solutions to the problems. The film suggests everything, but resolves nothing – and that is what troubled me as a viewer. A tinge of misandry could be sensed in the screenplay but the writers cover it up by introducing colorful secondary characters.

What you may not enjoy is the sexual sequences. It can easily get uncomfortable as the film moves ahead, with oodles of one- dimensional nudity and implications. The cinematography is poor, especially in these sequences, and is most evident with Leela as she tries to satiate her coital needs. I would also blame the poor direction of supporting actors. The focus seems to be only on the four women and their immediate causes of trauma; the supporting cast look like they are in a lowbrow Television serial. There are small bulb shoots of sweetness scattered all over the film directed at those viewers looking for comic relief and revenge. The soundtrack helps in the montages here, but fails everywhere else. The songs are direct consequences of scenes, thankfully for a Hindi film, and certainly adds up to the glamour.

A wonderful cast, led by Sharma and Shah, give out a memorable performance. Kumra is impressive too, but Borthakur looks like she was forced out of her sleep to act. Nothing wrong in that, but if the makers' intention to capture authenticity was on the agenda, it definitely failed. The competition is really between Sharma and Shah, both of whom portray their characters with total conviction, making us get into their skin and feel their hardships. Sharma's Shirin is the housewife present in majority of Indian households, and I am sure all of them will admire her acting. But, how many are going to watch it? Shah is equally good but slightly more courageous in her role. Even as Usha debates (with herself) going for a swimming class, Shah enables her to think in a way that relates with the senior community where there is no place for sexual fantasies, as we see later in the film. If the theme is something that convinces you to watch this film, then it's the phenomenal cast performance that will keep you from leaving the hall between a sex scene.

Remove the theme and you will see the problems with Shrivastava's amateur filmmaking. The score often starts after every meaty turn in the film as if this is Aesop's Fables and the lead characters are introspecting. It also disregards a lot of important plot points (which can be converted into plot holes, if you like to call that) and hesitates to clarify them, giving the informed viewer something more to chew on. It is clear that the makers just wanted to scratch the surface without aiming for perfection, and when the fruits are already blooming, what more do you ask?

I do not usually get angry while watching films, but this one is a subject that should make you angry. Lipstick Under My Burkha is not intrinsically vulgar, but something that can be perceived as one. And that is what makes watching it worthwhile despite its shortcomings.

'Lipstick Under My Burkha' is the recent critical darling, that also rocked the box-office. Some call it shocking, some scandalous, some brave, some path-breaking. BUT for me, personally speaking, this one's a letdown! Slow & Tiring, this women-centric film boasts fine performances, but in terms of narrative, it fails to engage!

Set in the crowded by-lanes of small town India, 'Lipstick Under My Burkha' chronicles the secret lives of four women in search of a little freedom. Though stifled and trapped in their worlds, these four women claim their desires through small acts of courage and stealthy rebellion.

'Lipstick Under My Burkha' isn't a pro feminist film. Sure, its about women exploring their inner needs in a small town filled with repulsively sexist men dominating them, but it doesn't do much for Women in the end. I am a city boy, but I sense how it must feel to be these women in small towns. And that's why this film has done the business it has, because the connect value must be immense.

But, the narrative is monotonous & overlong. At nearly 2 hours, I found myself bored for the most bit. The 4 women have interesting dynamics & troubles to deal with it, but none engage all through. The film falls apart in the second-hour & the culmination is unconvincing. The first-hour has a few winning moments, but nothing stands out in particular.

Its the performances that take the cake! Konkona Sen Sharma, Ratna Pathak Shah, Aahana Kumra and Plabita Borthakur are scene-stealing good. The Ever-Terrific Ratna Pathak is heartbreakingly affecting as Bua Ji, who comes in terms with her needs in a society where an aged women is nearly alien. Konkona is equally competent as the housewife, only left to be a piece sexual pleasure by her horrifying husband. Aahana is feisty & seductive as a young-blood torn between 2 men & goes all-out in the sex-scenes. Here's a performer with genuine potential. Plabita is likable & forceful as the young soul waiting to sing & pursue her passion, despite her orthodox parents. These 4 four women give 'Lipstick Under My Burkha' the strength, that sadly the Writing Lacks.

Alankrita Shrivastava, The Writer & Director, has tappings of a fearless storyteller. But over here, it only shows in sparks. Her Writing is a tiresome exercise in monotony, that doesn't go beyond its one-liner concept. Her Direction, though naturalistic, still could've been sharper.

Given the hype around, I expected 'Lipstick Under My Burkha' to be a strong & engrossing film about Women in small towns of India. And while it is that, its also bland & tedious for the most part.