Wardrobe of Nepali Actress Priyanka Karki

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It’s a little bit like tumbling down a rabbit hole. Watching the new Suntali, Bhaskar Dhungana’s feature film debut, you’re keenly aware of having stepped into a bizarre new world several notches removed from the one we inhabit—a heightened reality that implores us to suspend disbelief and surrender to its many delightful idiosyncrasies. “It’s practically an elaborate joke!” a friend exclaimed towards the end, entirely complimentarily of course, and that’s certainly one way to describe the film, given the archly comic—often out-and-out farcical—tone and distinct stagey-ness about the proceedings brought about by highly-stylised visuals, music and exaggerated performances on the part of a wonderfully on-form cast. Suntali is also, more generally, a loving send-up of, if not tribute to, Nepali cinema itself, gently poking fun at the tropes and types that have come to define our films over time. 
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