Second Chance: A young woman’s solace in self-assertion

Film industry professionals hailing from Northeast India have carved a niche in Mumbai that often manifests in sound design and music. Of late, some of them have joined hands to produce an art house film directed by an aspiring Mumbai based connoisseur of the Tenth Muse. A directorial debut of Subhadra Mahajan, the film titled Second Chance (2024) with Hindi, English and Kullui (Pahari) dialogue has an impressive crew contributing to the maker’s adept cinematic style. Produced by Shyam Bora and co-produced by Bhaskar Hazarika, both being known for remarkable Assamese films Kothanodi, Aamis and Emuthi Puthi, their new venture includes seasoned technicians of Assam origin like Anirban Borthakur as Sound Designer, Niladri Shekhar Roy as Re-recording Mixer and Quan Bay directing its Music— each an established name in the quintessential Bollywood film world, also serving cinemas of the Northeast including Assam.  


Second Chance was premiered at the prestigious film festival of Karlovy Vary last year and has had a good reception in a number of major international film festivals in India and across the globe. It doesn’t give a run of the mill story, instead focuses on a young woman who takes refuge in her family summer retreat in the Himalayas, undergoes pain of secret pregnancy followed by abortion, and at the same time recuperates, while coping with abandonment by her boyfriend. Insofar as securing new meaning of life through an elderly woman and her grandson, it is amusing to see a cuddly kitten and a nocturnal owl, not only humans, appearing as her company in the midst of a picturesque landscape that soothes her soul. The format for a deeply melancholic characterisation is further complimented by its strictly black-and-white palette and the protagonist’s passion for modern dance form venting her agony and inner feelings.  


Self-respectful and committed as a dancer, the twenty-five-year-old Delhiite, Nia is determined to leave her ordeal behind and move on. When she confronts a sudden appearance of her boyfriend at her refuge in the Pir Panjal mountain range in the later part of the film, she refuses to enter into any renewed deal and prefers to stay back, boldly warding him off. The film has wonderfully visualised moments of her bonding with the members of her caretaker family. In an early sequence the main caretaker of the house departs on an errand, leaving his mother-in-law Bhemiin charge, along with Sunny, his kiddie whose endless mischief force Nia back into innocence she has been missing dearly. Nia has apparently found more than a Nightingale in Bhemi. In several graceful scenes of domesticity, drama is gently blended with humour, for instance when she notices that Bhemi is doing the dishes under an outdoor running tap in chilling temperature, she is gently pranked into examining the water as warm.


In all its visual panorama of the valley to the close ups of the two characters, signalling age on Bhemi’s and anxiety on Nia’s, Swapnil Suhas Sonawane’s cinematography captures the macro and the micro with equal elan evoking two-way empathy for them. Their two worlds, rustic and modern, nurture a common thread: Bhemi bears the pain of losing her daughter i.e. Sunny’s mother at childbirth and Nia bears an unwanted unborn, nonetheless Sunny brings them joy.At a critical stage when Bhemi finds Nia bleeding profusely as an outcome of taking abortion pills, she insists on calling a doctor who, she assures, is a faithful person to the extent of keeping a secret, so not a matter to worry about.


From the very opening sequence of the uncommon premise, the protagonist wants to steer away from the bitterness of her past and begin her life anew— an intense realisation from where the title of the film comes. At least in two instances when she blissfully practices dance moves, alone amidst the landscape’s virgin beauty, she seems to find catharsis; one of those scenes symbolically allows herself the titular ‘second chance’. But then, the film falls in that type which cannot easily be attributed to a particular genre. Can it be termed a choreo-film? No way, that would be deceptive since there is no sufficient exploit of the dance form to claim so. Feminist, for a strong portrayal of the lead character? Nope, the other female roles are not tailored to suit the dictate, though a part of the mise-en-scene is used to explore the intersection between femininity and domesticity. Psychological drama, for the singular focus on Nia’s state of mind? Not either, because the script allows larger social issues playing in the back of her mind. While a barrage of her messages to her treacherous boyfriend on phone goes unanswered, her parentsare oblivious of their daughter’s travails and their conservative social standing is clear from a single conversation over phone. Least melodrama, no tearjerker it is. 


In a way, the film’s visual language resists easy categorisation: the narrative posits itself through filmic syntax instead of plot development. The kitchen alongside other domestic spaces might act as self-confining prison under patriarchal conditions in an essential Chantal Akerman film, but in Second Chance the writer-director uses the space as self-liberating for the body and soul. A sagacious dealing of the subject(s) thus validates a young director who honed the skills earlier as an Assistant Director of Pan Nalin, to be precise in Last Film Show, India’s official entry for the Oscars. Kudos to first-time screen actor Dheera Johnson for a refined portrayal of the central character. The cast almost entirely consists of amateur locals from the area of the film’s shooting. The lead is brilliantly supported by Thakri Devi and Kanav Thakur as Bhemi and Sunny respectively adding a socio-geographical authenticity to the roles. For anyone who desists stereotypes in cinematic expression, Second Chance is irresistible for acknowledging the maker’s cinephile passion and formalist imagination.