Langdai Ama: A Fragile Portrait of Family, Culture, and Creative Aspiration

Last Updated on June 23, 2025 by SPN Editor

Langdai Ama, written and directed by Binoranjan Oinam, is a 2024 Manipuri film that aspires to tell a deeply personal and culturally rooted story of familial fragmentation and inner conflict. At its heart lies Thoiba Rajkumar, a young documentary filmmaker grappling with the quiet implosion of his family. As his parents part ways—his mother, an emotionally rich folk artist committed to cultural preservation, and his father, a pragmatic man chasing upward mobility—Thoiba becomes the axis on which two diverging worlds spin, with neither offering him full comfort.

The film sets out with promise, drawing the viewer into an emotionally tender space with its gentle rhythm and restrained tone. It reflects on separation not with spectacle but with silence, absence, and emotional undercurrents. There’s a maturity in how the film approaches conflict, often letting it linger beneath conversations rather than erupt into overt confrontations. That choice, on paper, is commendable. But in execution, it becomes uneven.

The most compelling performance in the film comes from Tonthoi Leishangthem, who plays Leima, Thoiba’s mother. Her presence on screen is quietly commanding, filled with a deep emotional undercurrent that feels lived-in and authentic. Tonthoi’s ability to convey pain, pride, and vulnerability without overstating any moment is what ultimately gives the film its heart.

Rajkumar Amarjeet, as Ibouchou, Thoiba’s father, also delivers a grounded performance, effectively portraying a man who believes he’s acting out of necessity, even as his choices estrange him from those closest to him.

However, the film falters significantly in the casting and performance of its central character. Amarr Mayanglambam’s portrayal of Thoiba feels like a misstep. Amarr leans heavily on exaggerated expressions—particularly in his eyes—which, instead of inviting empathy, occasionally break the tone of the film.

Amarr’s performance lacks the internalised subtlety the role demands, especially when set against the more calibrated portrayals delivered by his co-actors. In crucial emotional moments, rather than drawing the viewer in, his dramatics unintentionally create a sense of detachment, even evoking unintended laughter in what are meant to be affecting scenes. As a result, the emotional gravity of Thoiba’s journey is significantly diluted.

The screenplay, written by Binoranjan Oinam, builds on a strong thematic foundation but suffers from an underdeveloped structure. Moments that should serve as turning points for the characters often feel too fleeting or insufficiently explored. There’s a sense that much is being left unsaid, but without the narrative architecture to support that kind of subtlety. Characters who ought to shape or challenge Thoiba’s evolution remain lightly sketched. Conversations linger, but their emotional resonance is inconsistent, leaving the audience craving a deeper engagement with the material.

Most notably, the film’s ending arrives too abruptly—an exit that feels more like an editorial decision than a natural culmination of the story. While ambiguity can often enrich a film, here it feels unearned and disengaging. Rather than prompting reflection, the sudden cut-off disrupts the emotional flow and denies the viewer closure. The abruptness doesn’t enhance the film’s emotional truth—it compromises it.

Thematically, Langdai Ama attempts to wrestle with the question of how cultural inheritance, personal identity, and emotional abandonment intersect within a fractured family unit. The film hints at the deep psychological cost of being raised between two clashing value systems—one rooted in preservation and the other in progress. While the narrative initiates this conversation with sincerity, it does not fully excavate the emotional and ideological tensions it introduces. The result is a thematic arc that feels suggestive but not entirely complete. The film touches on the loneliness of being caught in-between—of being a child who carries the weight of both love and resentment—but it sometimes pulls away just when it might have dug deeper into the consequences of that emotional burden.

Yet, despite its shortcomings, Langdai Ama deserves recognition for its ambition. Technically, the film is well-executed, with cinematography by Tarun Wang, editing by Alam Thani, and music composed by Jeetenkumar Naorem. The film is produced by Reshi Thokchom under Evening Star Films.

Langdai Ama is, in many ways, a film caught in transition—much like its protagonist. It carries the weight of its cultural and emotional themes with sincerity, but stumbles in execution. It may not fully arrive at the place it sets out for, but its journey is one of artistic risk, and that in itself deserves credit. With a stronger central performance and a more resolved script, it could have soared higher. Still, it leaves behind a trail of moments, ideas, and visual poise that reflect a director and a team genuinely striving to push the boundaries of what regional cinema can be.

Rating: ★★★☆☆ (3 out of 5 stars)