'Baab' Review: AR Rahman's Score Elevates This Haunting Psychological Drama

The opening shot of Baab gives a glimpse of the depths the film seeks to explore. The camera moves from an indecipherable space to a close-up of a woman's ear as she writhes in pain, struggling to quell a distressing noise that seems to emanate from within. She is Wahida, a divorcee and mother of two, suffering from tinnitus-a condition in which an individual perceives sounds such as hissing, buzzing, or ringing even when there is no external source for it to occur. But Wahida's condition is not merely physical; the tinnitus is almost symbolic of her internal conflicts as she navigates a world shaped by grief, memory and loss.

Nayla Al Khaja, the UAE's first female filmmaker, pulls the viewer into her emotional orbit right from this powerful opening sequence through to its final scene. Baab, her second feature after 2023's Three, unfolds across multiple layers, exploring themes of complex relationships, family secrets, guilt and the raw pain triggered by the death of a loved one. It is at once, a compelling psychological exploration of intense human reactions as it is a statement on mental health and unaddressed feelings.

Wahida (a fabulous Shaima Al Fadl) is shattered following the death of her twin, Nisma, a loss which quietly but profoundly alters her bond with her immediate family. Her relationship with her mother (Huda Alghanem) is fraught, marked by the latter's barbed taunts about her divorce and single status, while her children, Amal and Tareq (Meera Al Midfa and Mansoor Alnoamani), struggle to cope with their mother's increasingly erratic behaviour. Their housekeeper Surooji (a stellar Sabiha Majgaonkar) is the quiet witness to the mounting stress, her subtle reactions mirroring our sentiments as audience as we are drawn into the ladies' emotional unravelling. Adding to the sense of unease is the green door in the house, a sealed space that supposedly holds secrets, and one that Wahida becomes determined to open in her quest for truth.

Her life upends further with her discovery of cassette tapes which shed new light on what happened to Nisma. What actually led to her death? Who is responsible? Do past familial pain impact the present? Is there more to the door than meets the eye?... You begin to wonder.

But that's where Baab surprises you. It is not is not a cut-and-dry predictable thriller with a shocking twist featuring the lead characters. On the contrary, it's a deep dive into the recesses of the mind and the inexplicable journeys it can take when influenced by sadness and loss. The more Wahida attempts to come to terms with the death of her sister, the more she spirals into a vortex of emotions that blur the line between hallucination and reality. The gateway to the door (Baab in Arabic, hence the title) is a metaphor for a passage into Wahida's inner turmoil, showcased in a raw, unvarnished manner.

Baab is an intimate exploration of anguish and silence in all its uncomfortable shades. Eschewing linear styles of storytelling, Nayla Al Khaja, along with co-writer Masoud Amralla Al Ali, adopts a distinctive approach to portray the four stages of this heartache, where the protagonist's descent into disintegration is rendered with touches of fantasy and psychological symbolism. This aspect of surrealism makes for a haunting viewing experience. Nayla lays it bare with remarkable honesty, the camera not flinching from showing every worry line on Wahida's face with the intensity it requires. And it is this artistic treatment that makes the proceedings even more poignant.

Two elements stand out. One is, of course, AR Rahman's magical score. The Oscar, BAFTA and Grammy-winning composer's atmospheric music-his first for an Arabic language film-lends a mysterious aura enabling us to feel Wahida's angst. Sound designer Krishnan Subramanian elevates the eerie ambience, the notes effectively heightening the film's tension. And then there is acclaimed Dutch cinematographer Rogier Stoffers whose deft camerawork strikes a visual language of its own. He captures the stark beauty of Ras Al Khaimah's landscapes as incredibly as the confined suffocation of Wahida's home. The technical aspects of Baab are top-notch, making it a production of international standards.

Above all, Baab is a triumph for Nayla Al Khaja's vision and creativity. Placing women at the centre of her narratives while exploring larger themes of emotional trauma, she carves a distinctive space in contemporary Arab cinema, one that is defined by intimate storytelling delving deep into human psyche.

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