Shoojit Sircar stands tall among Bollywood’s most prolific directors. He has crafted a unique identity despite having just eight films to his credit. Each movie is a distinct chapter, that reflects his constant reinvention of style and storytelling. Naturally, when his latest release, I Want to Talk, hit the screens, I was eager to see what he would bring to the table this time.
As expected, the movie carried the unmistakable Shoojit Sircar stamp and stellar storytelling, but what surprised me was the complete subversion of his usual style. How does it diverge from his previous works? Let’s explore.
A Realistic Portrayal of an Ailing Man
At its heart, I Want to Talk tells the story of Arjun Sen, a man diagnosed with cancer—but that’s just the beginning of his ordeal. Over time, we learn that Arjun’s condition is far worse than initially believed, as multiple cancerous growths and countless surgeries push him to the brink.
Such a premise usually takes one of two routes:
- A man, aware that his days are numbered, chooses to live life to its fullest ala Anand.
- A bleak, unrelenting tragedy that becomes a misery fest, leaving the audience in despair ala Ikiru.
Shoojit Sircar, however, chooses neither. Instead, he masterfully finds a middle ground. He presents a portrayal that is as realistic as it is poignant. Arjun does not transform into a euphoric optimist and start celebrating his remaining days, nor does he spiral into utter hopelessness. Instead, he takes a calculated approach, grounded in his pragmatic, corporate mindset.
The film beautifully captures Arjun’s paranoia as he grapples with his mortality. He yearns to live but doesn’t know how to save himself. His instinct as a marketer kicks in, and he starts manipulating his life like a project—an act of denial that grows stronger with every surgery. The toll of his condition becomes evident as he turns numb, he maintains a facade of normalcy but loses touch with his emotional core.
This duality is exemplified in a small but striking moment—when the ceiling fan in his room falls. Arjun brushes it off with an unsettling casualness, his detachment showing the profound confusion and numbness enveloping him.
The Phenomenal Use of Sparse Narration
One of the most striking innovations in I Want to Talk is Sircar’s use of sparse narration, a refreshing departure from conventional storytelling. Arjun occasionally narrates events from his life, but Sircar employs this technique judiciously, using it as a form of relief for the audience rather than a narrative crutch.
For instance, a harrowing scene where Arjun suffers a heart attack is made surprisingly light with his dry commentary: “What are you doing, God? So many surgeries, and now this small heart attack too?” These moments balance the film’s emotional intensity and provide it a bittersweet, almost cathartic touch.
Towards the film’s conclusion, the narration shifts from Arjun to his daughter, Reya. This adds an emotional depth that is both unexpected and deeply moving. While these narrations don’t necessarily drive the plot forward, they enrich the viewing experience. Moreover, they offer a unique flavor that only a filmmaker of Sircar’s caliber could achieve.
Exceptionally Well-Written Side Characters
While Sardar Udham remains one of Sircar’s most celebrated films, it had one minor shortcoming (for me at least): its underdeveloped side characters. In I Want to Talk, however, Sircar addresses this brilliantly. He easily delivers some of the most memorable supporting characters in recent Bollywood cinema.
Nancy, Arjun’s therapist, and his doctor stand out for their nuanced portrayals. Nancy’s arc, in particular, is devastating; despite her limited screen time, her presence leaves a lasting impact. Her suicide in the latter half of the film is gut-wrenching, a pivotal moment that completely breaks Arjun, but as I said before, he refrains from showing any emotions openly.
Meanwhile, Arjun’s doctor is layered and enigmatic. The witty banter between him and Arjun is a source of warmth and humor. This adds a human touch to an otherwise somber tale. These interactions become the emotional anchor of the film, and showcase Sircar’s ability to imbue even the smallest roles with depth and significance.
Brilliantly Crafted Dialogues
Dialogues have always been a hallmark of Sircar’s films, from the wry humor of Piku to the haunting poignancy of October. In I Want to Talk, Shoojit along with the writer Ritesh Shah takes this legacy to new heights. They craft lines that resonate deeply without ever feeling heavy-handed.
Nancy’s biting remark to Arjun as he contemplates suicide—“You’ll be called a failure who failed at both life and death”—is a stark reflection of her own internal struggles. Or consider Arjun’s heart-wrenching comment to his daughter: “I at least exist on your paper.” These dialogues, delivered in meticulously staged moments, strike a profound emotional chord and they linger long even after the credits have rolled, at least I haven’t stopped thinking about them since watching the movie.
A Bold and Moving Experience
I Want to Talk is a deeply personal and experimental film that feels less like a story being told and more like an experience to be lived. While it may not find the commercial success it deserves, its artistic merit is undeniable. Shoojit Sircar has once again proven that he is not afraid to push boundaries. He easily delivers a film that is bold, innovative, and emotionally resonant.
This is cinema at its most powerful—a medium that not only tells stories but also makes us feel, think, and reflect. I can’t wait to see what Sircar creates next. Until then, I Want to Talk will remain etched in my heart as a testament to the transformative power of filmmaking.
Ritesh has only two passions in life: movies and writing. With over two years of professional writing experience, he goes beyond SEO norms to convey his unfiltered love for cinema. A devoted admirer of Martin Scorsese, Ritesh believes that cinema is the most powerful storytelling medium on the planet, and through his words, he seeks to share that passion with the world.