Maska review: It's predictable and sweet, but short on substance

An old Irani cafe. A doting mother. An overambitious and misled son. Neeraj Udhwani's Maska has all the ingredients of a proper 1980s masala film, but he tempers it with a lighter, modern laissez-faire style, that makes for a nice watch in desperate times.

A simple story with not too many complexities, Maska is a throwback to nostalgia with Jaaved Jaaferi and Manisha Koirala bringing alive the bad puns and Dad jokes, even as a new generation takes over. 

When Rumi (Prit Kamani) wins the face of Phiroszshah Baug, he begins dreaming of making it big in films. But his mother, Diana (Manisha Koirala), can only see him behind the counter of their legacy, Rustom's Cafe. In an age where Irani cafes are dwindling away, Rumi sees no point in pursuing his mother's dream.

At an acting course, he falls in love with the ambitous Mallika (Nikita Dutta), who inhabits a world miles apart from his sheltered Parsi life. In attempting to make his way through the industry like her, Rumi begins to lose his way, and his dream as well. When he meets Persis (Shirley Setia) who is blogging about Irani cafes in Mumbai, he rediscovers his father's legacy through her eyes. Caught between Mallika and Persis, his mother and acting, Rumi finally decides to take a stand. 

While the story is simple, Udhwani builds it on the template of nostalgia. The emotional core of the film revolves around the cafe and its inhabitants. These are covered wonderfully. It is Rumi's struggle in Andheri, as he does the round of auditions, that feels like a dawdling diversion. 

Dutta as the strong, independent Mallika puts in a decent effort. She plays the contrasting woman to Rumi's life. Yet, the role feels a little underwritten and perhaps could have been better explored. 

Kamani puts in a good performance as the lost young man, who can never quite figure out the right thing to do. Even when he does the right thing, he ends up breaking someone's heart. In that, the character is very relatable, and is played with a coyness by Kamani.  

Setia's Persis is a sweet addition to the story, and acts as the catalyst for Rumi's transformation. This is the singer's first foray into acting, and while she does appear raw, there is a certain naive innocence that works for this story. 

While these characters are good, it is the veterans who truly shoulder the film. Koirala's Diana, while an over-the-top Parsi stereotype, is immensely relatable and touching. Her performance as the distraught mother, whose son does not realise his responsibility, hits too close to home for this reviewer. 

Then, there is Jaaferi. Pulling off a ghost dad, `a la Naseeruddin Shah in Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na (2008), Jaaferi is hilarious. The easy presence aside, his timing and mimicry have not faded. Throw in a plethora of Dad jokes, and you have a character that puts a smile on your face. 

While Maska is sweet, it feels a little less filling than expected. Ishita Moitra and Udhwani's writing finds easy solutions to some complex moments, and it feels a little lackadaisical. The story also has a predictable, time-traveled arc for each character that makes it a staple template product, rather than a new experimental experience. The feel-good package aside, Maska is as familiar as a packet of Amul butter. 

The best moments of the film are all connected to the cafe. The sight of patrons, old and young walking in, as well as the story of Hassan (Savi Sidhu) add a smile to your face. 

Eeshit Narain's camera follows the food preparation scenes with a certain sensuality, and captures the quaint Mumbai sunlight in Irani cafes wonderfully. The walks through South Mumbai, and the sight of other Irani cafes in the city make for a lovely addition. 

Yet, in times of desperation with cinema halls shut, people panicking, and fear pervading all around, Maska presents a lovely picture of the sweet moments in all our lives. Least of all is the joy of sitting with friends at a cafe with bun maska and chai. May those days return soon.