Meet the Monteiros of Goa. They’re quite an awed couple, responding to most situations — mundane and bizarre — hyper-dramatically. Indeed, the opening scene with the middle-aged twosome coupling, is howlarious.

Terrific kick-ooof-aaah-pant-pant, grope-grope. Now only if this independently produced Love, Wrinkle-Free directed by first-timer Sandeep Mohan had stuck close to Mr and Mrs Monteiro, there wouldn’t have been gratuitous sub-plots, leading to an overpopulation of characters. And the pace wouldn’t have s.l..a..ckened. Never mind. Completed in a budget of under `1 crore with 35 investors, this comedy of manners showcases talent from Mumbai theatre supported by newcomers. In fact, just for that, the effort — which has been released with zero publicity — elicits cheers.
Despite the dense screenplay, you do connect with Mr Savio Monteiro (Ash Chandler), a horny 38-year-old sales manager in a lingerie firm. On his workplace comp, he has designed flavoured candy nighties, which he’s sure will sell in gazillion quantities. Meanwhile, Mrs Annie Monteiro (Shernaz Patel), older than her husband, becomes preggers for the first time. She’s thrilled, he’s flabbergasted. And their sullen foster daughter (Arika Silaichia) snaps, “But why can’t you guys have used a condom?” Heh heh.
Alas, the plot becomes thicker than a brick, then, meandering into Goa beaches and bylanes. The director loses focus by lavishing footage on the daughter’s deceptively spiritual Tibetan boyfriend, besides going gaga over a beachcombing druggy and his dad, a spaced-out mafia don (Sohrab Ardeshir). In addition, there’s a yoga-espousing NRI woman (Seema Rahmani, pleasant), her conman boyfriend, a salsa coach, a perenially grinning French mademoiselle, a guitarist of Portuguese antecedents, a priest who leads a choir group… phew enough, enough… you can’t help feeling that too many cooks are spoiling the bibinca out here. Eeeps.
It’s when Mr Monteiro strives to be amusing by mimicking Marlon Brando of The Godfather, and when his wife, despite her ageing vocal chords, competes in a singing contest that the film rocks big-time. The wife’s Bo Derek-like fantasy image emerging from the waters is a riot. Ditto every morsel of conversation between the long-married couple whose lives have taken a zany U-turn. Surprisingly, the angle about them running an alfresco restaurant is never explicated, a lost opportunity for an abundance of tasty gags. On the upside, when the couple begins to suspect each other’s sexual fidelity, tension simmers instead of lapsing into ugly melodrama. They look at each other with wounded eyes, as if to convey that their dalliances will die a natural death. Now that’s a rare mature touch.
For sure, it could be asked that without the overabundance of characters, how would the storyline have moved forward? Correct. Snag is that in the event, you lose sight of the duo’s anxieties and aspirations. Unnecessarily, the director opts to detail the adopted daughter’s lovelorn shenanigans, the mad don’s bickerings with his madder son, and the NRI woman’s inexplicable relationship with Savio Monteiro. Is she a tease, leading him on? Or is she simply stupid? Questions dangle. Rankle.
Conventionally, films set in Goa harp on the drug culture, and the feni-and-cashew ambience. Although Sandeep Mohan touches upon these elements, it’s with a plea for an end to the clichés. Recalling a legendary Portuguese football champ, dealing with the local predilection for seafood, and the preservation of the centuries-old villas, are communicated subtly — as much through the dialogue as the moodily-lit cinematography. The music score is ethnic throughout, topped by an outstanding gospel number.
In the acting department theatre trouper, Shernaz Patel, finally gets a lead role which she unarguably deserves. She’s excellent, frequently elevating a scene way above the script with her involvement and spontaneity. Sohrab Ardeshir, stage veteran, is wonderfully self-mocking. Stand-up comic Ash Chandler as Savio Monteiro, is eminently likeable.
Here’s an indie venture, which has its languorous and irrelevant stretches. Ignore them. Because in sum, Love, Wrinkle-Free, is a zestful, smile-inducing caper. Worth a dekko. KM