Mayanagar Movie Review : Lives, lies and the tale of a city

Kolkata remains central to Aditya Vikram Sengupta’s cinematic aesthetic, its mundane beauty and gradual decay serving as muted spectators to the unfolding stories.
In Mayanagar, Sengupta’s most accessible film to date, the city transforms into a central character. The headline-grabbing upheavals of the past two decades shape the plot, emerging as a catalyst that drives seemingly disparate narratives to converge.
The story, which revolves around Ela – perhaps a tribute to the late Bappaditya Bandyopadhyay, another narrator of nuanced Kolkata tales, and his Elar Chaar Adhyay – is portrayed beautifully by Sreelekha Mitra. Ela is the illicit daughter of the owner of the mythical Circarena. Sengupta captures a longing for the city’s past that feels pervasive, yet never overly bitter-sweet.
Mayanagar opens with the death of Ela and Shishir’s (Satrajit Sen) only child. As one life unravels, Ela seeks to move on from her emptiness, yielding to Pradipta’s (Anirban Chakrabarti) advances.
At the other end of the narrative, Ela’s stepbrother Bubu (Bratya Basu) drowns in depression, drinking away his nights amidst the ruins of the Circarena, his only company being the elderly Ananta and his son Raja (Shayok Roy).
Between these two lives, a city reveals itself. Raja works tirelessly to fulfil his modest dreams, unaware that the funds he is gathering are being funnelled into Pradipta’s Ponzi scheme. When the scheme collapses, a newly constructed flyover, overseen by Ela’s childhood lover Bhaskar (Arindam Ghosh), also comes crashing down. The disaster kills Pradipta, sends Bhaskar to prison, and results in life-threatening beatings for Raja.
As Ela returns to Shishir, the news of Bubu’s solitary death reaches her, making her the sole heir to the once-glorious theatre. Ela finds the switch to the revolving Circarena stage, steps onto it, and elevates herself. Like Jonaki, Mayanagar ends in a dream.
Mayanagar is carried by its actors. Sreelekha Mitra, as Ela, is sublime, a criminally underrated talent in contemporary cinema. Bratya Basu, both thespian and actor, is unforgettable. Debutant Shayok Roy delivers an exceptional performance, while Anirban Chakrabarti convincingly embodies the sleazy Ponzi-scheme boss. Arindam Ghosh plays Bhaskar with a measured elegance.
Sengupta’s empathy for the lives of others shines through his keen, observant eye. His critique is sharp, but never without humour. One can’t help but wonder whether the repeated motif of mosquitoes symbolises the corruption and cultural rot that has taken hold of Bengal over the past two decades. Either way, both the mosquitoes and the rot reflect our undeniable reality –never mind the endless Tagore busts around town or the Rabindrasangeet playing at traffic signals.