Abir, too, has nicely played an introverted man who fails to express the torment he is experiencing. Poulomi too has done complete justice to her role as Makar’s soft-spoken wife, Srimati, and a sister who senses the trouble brewing in her brother’s life in Purulia. He goes about playing Makar with such effortless ease that it’s truly a treat to watch him. Bringing these two islands together was a challenge, which the film hasn’t addressed well.īut when it comes to performances, Mosharraf is the film’s high point. Ashoke and his family too, seem like people without roots or relatives.
Makar comes off as more of a comic relief rather than a good father, husband or employer. None of the characters are truly established. This, in turn, weakens the character portraits. The result is that neither of the threads get enough attention. The storyline has been developed well, but somewhere, despite the climactic connect established with a dictionary, it fails to justify the two threads. And both men ultimately discover the meaning of their lives in the pages of a dictionary. While Makar fumbles when it comes to speaking the right English words, Ashoke, knowing well what’s happening between his wife and Suman, is on a quest to understand what being a husband really means.
Suman is the thread tying the two different stories, both of which revolve around specific meanings in life. On the other hand, there’s his brother-in-law, Suman, who gets involved in an extramarital affair after getting posted as a teacher at a school in Purulia. In reality, it takes him back to the days when he had no other option but to have that very combination as a morning meal. On one hand is the semi-educated Makar aka Mak, who is so obsessed with an opulent and progressive lifestyle that he almost spends sleepless nights after he sees his son enjoying curd and flattened rice for breakfast. And it’s this duality and elusiveness that Bratya Basu deals with in Dictionary.