"Autograph": Signature of Love

The film sets in to usher you into wondering how many narrative frames are actually at work. It’s not confusing, but thrilling to note that the extra-diegetic circumstances leading to the making of Autograph itself may be at work here: I mean, a debutant director approaching a veteran actor to do his film. Is Subho (Indraneil Sengupta), Srijit Mukherjee himself? Are the initial scenes a direct one-on-one take on what happened in real life? And, then, there’s this film within the film. So, what you have is a Chinese box narrative, facilitating a complex layering that does not confuse but please with all its intricacies.

Intertextuality is a trope that is ardently adopted by postmodern artists, for no work of art can claim to be original. Either overtly or covertly, subtexts of already written texts are present in every work of art is produced, and therefore, the heavy subtext of Nayak that underlies (or overlies, perhaps) Autograph fascinate as the audience is sort of engaged almost compulsively into a mind game whereby he/she delightfully recognizes the similarities with the Ray classic and of course, the departures from them. What is praiseworthy is that despite being ambitious (the ambition being as monumental as remaking Nayak), the film is completely unpretentious and somewhat humble in its treatment of the subject. Srijit Mukherjee would never invite the kind of criticism that Sanjay Leela Bhansali had to face in his attempt to remake Devdas; for very intelligently this debutant director somehow does not leave any space for comparison. Autograph is a new film, in the true sense of the term.

The love that blossoms between Arun (Prosenjit Chatterjee) and Srinandita (Nandana Deb Sen) is something that we had desirously expected to bud between the debonair Uttam Kumar and the coy Sharmila Tagore in Nayak. The suggestion of a developing soft corner was there, but that never matured. Autograph sort of compeletes, yet leaves incomplete that seemingly infinitely postponed romance in the beautiful emotional drama that shapes up involving the veteran actor and the debutant heroine. The film does send out a moral lesson, but so subtly that if you are not to alert you may just miss out on it. Subho’s transformation is the key to the moral: juxtapose the two scenes: Subho smilingly putting a coin on the beggar-boy’s plate and Subho rolling up the cab window as the beggar-boy expectantly peers in, towards the end of the film. Nothing great apparently: but do note Indraneil Sengupta’s expressions in both scenes. Mute, but they speak volumes. Indraneil would take you by storms. He is the discovery of the millennium, as far as Bengali cinema is concerned. He has effortlessly overshadowed Prosenjit who seems a bit strained. He does not really have the charisma of Uttam Kumar and he struggles to look believable. Nonetheless, he has tried --- a far cry from what he does in other films, generally.( I would like to point out that whatever Prosenjit did after his remarkably intense performance in Dosor, seemed to lack in something. It would be difficult for him to outperform himself. The intended irony was towards Konkona, but ironically enough, it was Prosenjit who drew all our tears by his sheer helplessness!) Nandana puts up a believable performance…a good choice!

The songs are marvellous! I am still revelling in the rhythms “Amake aamar moto thakte dao”…kudos to Debojyoti Mishra! Soumik Halder’s camera credibly enlivens the very urbanity of Calcutta and the depth of melancholia that resides in the interstices of the city. Note the scene where a flock of white birds fly over the vast expanse of the city at daybreak. It’s heart-warming! Srijit Mukherjee is certainly the new director on the block we can now look up to! The good news is that perhaps Bengali cinema is once again coming of age!