(The review mentions suicide and self-harm and contains spoilers for the film ‘Mah’)

Having reviewed many terrible films for some time, I felt nothing could affect me. I thought I had become numb to all sorts of bad films. I have lived through the cringe-inducing ‘Na Eta Na Uta’, the toilet humour of ‘Jatrai Jatra’, the black-face of ‘Poi Paryo Kaley’, and even ‘Password’ featuring Sunny Leone. To top it all up, I have survived theatrical screenings of multiple Anmol KC films. I have witnessed so many awful movies that I thought I had seen it all. But nothing could prepare me for ‘Mah’, the new film screening in the theatres.

But what exactly makes a bad film? Answers to the question can range from the audience having no interest in the subject matter/ genre to films that disregard verisimilitude. The answer is subjective, vague, and based on individual experience—you just feel it in your gut when you’re watching a bad film.

I use a very simple metre to judge bad films. If the film does not respect you, it is a bad film. Filmmakers must respect that you’re putting in an extra effort to go to a cinema hall to watch their films. Going to the movies has always been a communal experience, and you have to look/smell nicer if you’re participating. You spend money on commuting, parking, movie tickets, overpriced popcorn, nachos, and fizzy drinks. The film has to respect your time, money, and effort.

Besides disrespecting us as a viewer, ‘Mah’ makes an extra effort also to insult our intellect. The film’s story is about Ayush Rasaily (Sanjog Rasaily), a person living with suicidal thoughts. We meet Samar Thakuri ( Nirajan Pradhan), who wakes up to a phone call from Ayush’s Father (Saroj Khanal) urging Samar to come to the hospital. Upon arriving, Samar learns that Ayush is in a coma because he attempted suicide. Ayush’s father and the doctor (Nisha Adhikari) ask Samar to investigate the reason behind Ayush’s attempt. The doctor dramatically proclaims, “You just have 72 hours!”

And, you are left scratching your head—why 72 hours? The ticking clock is nonsensical and has no bearing on Ayush, Samar, Ayush’s father, or the doctor. We are never given any answers as to what would happen if Samar didn’t complete his mission on time.

The story and screenplay of the film are poorly written by Prakash Puri, also the producer. Puri uses a lot of flashbacks to tell the story. He also seems to think that we, the audience, have amnesia. So, every fifteen or twenty minutes, Puri makes sure to recap everything that has just been conveyed. Same scenes are replayed in black and white or with a dramatic voiceover—repeating information, making the film long, dull, and lethargic.

Film critic Pauline Kael in her essay ‘Trash, Art, and the Movies’ argues that a bad film alienates us instead of absorbing us into the story. When movies are bad, she writes, ‘we are aware of the mechanisms, we are cynical to their aims and values’.

‘Mah’ plods for over an hour, alienating us. During this runtime, we follow Samar as he interviews people related to Ayush. His mother (Sarita Lamicchane), Ayush’s ex-girlfriend Preeti (Poonam Shrestha), and Ayush’s current girlfriend Ruby (Rubina Thapa) all paint a picture of Ayush as a drug user, a pathological gambler, and someone who has borrowed a lot of money.

Now, we lose interest because Ayush is neither interesting nor intriguing as a character, but the film wants to present him like he is Charles Foster Kane of ‘Citizen Kane’ (1941). The writer never cares to give us enough material to be invested in the character.

You will see a feeble attempt to salvage the film by shoehorning a mandatory twist at the interval and a message at the end. In the interval, Ayush is being strangled by an unknown figure in the hospital. However, we are told that the scene is ‘a dream’ and the audience groans!

In the end, Ayush confesses that he attempted suicide because of his parents. If you try hard enough, you might find an intended and layered message about the impact parents can have on a child’s mental health, but this subject is unexplored and remains superficial. The film tries to tackle big themes— suicide, gambling, drug addiction, and what does it have to say about them? Nothing. Before the end credit roll, we are shown data about suicide rates in Nepal, and we don’t know what we’re supposed to do with the information.

Perhaps the easiest way to tell if a movie is bad is also through its technical feats, such as cinematography, sound design, and art direction. According to the YouTube channel ‘wisecrack’, a bad film frequently displays technical issues regarding ‘post-production, sound, excessive use of recycled footage, shoddy cinematography, incoherent directing, and unconvincing acting’. In ‘Mah’, you will find concrete examples of all of these issues and even more.

The entire film comprises mid-length shots and closeups, by Tenzin Palden. The compact shot sizes make you feel like the film is made for television or meant to be viewed on smartphones. In cinema hall screens, though, you would often find Palden’s shots out of focus. Sandip Magar, the art director, somehow makes the film worse—the film’s frames look very empty. Most of the time, Palden is forced to shoot his actors flat against an empty wall. But the film’s audio is the worst. Location sound by Bhuwan Rawal and the post-production audio by Mukesh Shah are disturbingly noticeable. We are often distracted by the audio, especially in outdoor scenes.

I Googled how to survive bad films and ran into ‘hate-watching’ again. In the past, I have enjoyed rubbish films like ‘Mrs. Serial Killer’, by Sirish Kunder, only by hate-watching it. But I couldn’t hate-watch ‘Mah’ because of Subarna Thapa, the director. I have great respect for Subarna’s short films’ Malami’ (2011) and ‘Chora’ (2014). Both films (now available on Vimeo) are exemplary films that filmmakers of my generation have learned from.

Watch Thapa’s short films, and you will call him a visionary, but watch his feature presentations, and he will seem aesthetically impaired to you. His film ‘Fanko’ is an absolute bore even when you play the film at 1.5 speed on YouTube, and ‘Bato Muniko Phool 2’ is a horrendous disaster that no one speaks of. Even his widely celebrated ‘Sungava’, has been panned for being a film about the LGBTIQ community told from a heterosexual man’s perspective.

In ‘Mah’, Thapa’s directorial efforts can be summarised as ‘tell, don’t show’. The film is overly dependent on mid-lengths and close-ups. These are shot sizes filmmakers choose specifically to film people talking. When you, as a director, are consciously saying that you will only film dialogue, visuals will take the back seat, and the story will always be told to us, never shown.

When you choose to tell the film in those shot sizes, actors need to be on point. However, in ‘Mah’, they are neither supported by the script nor the technical team. Of the lot, Nirajan Pradhan playing Samar feels tolerable. Everyone else is either forgettable or unforgivable. Shristi Shrestha has a two-scene cameo in the film. Her performance, especially the scene where she professes her love, can only be described as ‘pure cringe’.

Sometimes, watching bad films can be educational. Even bad films make you feel something, and it helps to explore why a film made you feel that way. These explorations can be important, especially if you are yearning to make films or a young film student wanting to learn what not to do.

After watching ‘Mah’ and writing about it, I feel even more invincible mentally. I feel more confident in my ability to sit through any film. I recommend you to watch the film, not for its entertainment value but to test your patience and build resilience.