Even with her mother Shirin (Rokeya Prachy) bedbound after an accident which severed her spinal cord, it is the health of Saba (Mehazabien Chowdhury) you start to worry about in Maksud Hossain’s debut feature that takes its title from its beleaguered lead character. The twenty-four-year-old can’t be too pleased with having to put any career prospects on hold to take care of Shirin, having dropped out of university and unlikely to pick it back up with her chronic condition, but her mother is hardly appreciative of her efforts, demanding food she shouldn’t be eating and admonishing Saba for not being compassionate enough. It’s clear the tough love is necessary when keeping her mother alive involves remaining active and engaged, but Saba is nonetheless bound to be worn down, not even aware of how bad it will get when Shirin has a sudden heart attack and requires surgery that is all but impossible to pay for.
The slim amount of hope produces an enormous amount of stress and tension in the compelling drama set in Bangladesh where economic anxieties can be felt all over the city of Dhaka, but especially in the humble home of Saba and Shirin where the only chance of covering the costs of surgery are to sell the place. When Saba’s mom rejected earlier offers with the hope of leaving something behind for her daughter, she isn’t moved to do so now even when her life depends on it, forcing Saba to come up with the money in the month her mother’s expected to live without proper medical attention. A frantic job search leads Saba to a hookah lounge where she’s an unattractive job candidate, with the owner not eager to treat the country’s conservative laws by having her wait tables and even less happy about the extended lunch break she asks for to run home and take care of her mother, but his second-in-command Ankur (Mostafa Monwar) is mildly encouraging and Saba’s sob story wins him over, perhaps putting some money in her pocket, but jeopardizing her time.
“Saba” is energetic when the character has no time to rest, but it’s vibrant for other reasons when Hossain wisely goes against the grim palette typically associated with such tales of desperation. Saba’s home may not hold a lot of love in it these days, but it remains vibrant when every room has a different color to it and her work, with its ambient neon lights, has plenty going on. But the film is also enlivened by the relationship that starts to form between Saba and Ankur, who is likely too old to be considered romantic partner, but the two share a desire to leave their present situation and a knack for being resourceful when Ankur has a side hustle of importing alcohol into the predominantly Muslim country to sell under the table. When a radio report wafts through Saba’s home about how Bangladesh has cultivated a growing millionaire class at the expense of those beneath them with little tax collection taking place, Hossain clearly has bigger ideas in mind, but through the two scraping by on their wits, “Saba” is able to reflect what a painful grind it is for so many to simply stay afloat, let alone endure a catastrophic incident where the expense of recovering may be worse than what ever pain was inflicted in the first place.
Chowdhury carries the film, convincing at having the fortitude to make difficult decisions left and right but occasionally letting the cracks show as far as the toll it takes. Hossain shows even more confidence in turning her plight into a riveting race against time.
“Saba” will screen again at the Toronto Film Festival at the Scotiabank on September 8th at 9:10 pm and September 14th at 9:15 am.