It’s one
film which has been cropping up in our conversations now and then since it premiered
at the 71st Venice International Festival last year, and was later shown
at the BFI London International Film Festival where it won huge accolades. It
went on to become a global phenomenon bagging several awards in international
film festivals before it eventually opened in Kolkata amid much fanfare, but, disappointingly
in only three theatres. When it hit the Kolkata screens on 26 June 2015, film
enthusiasts made a beeline for it in all three theatres, often returning home, put
off by the Sold Out board. We were supposed to watch it at Nandan, but were met
with a condescending dismissal at the counter, for they did not seem to believe
we were asking for tickets three hours before the show. All were sold out, and
yes, long before we arrived. Our next stop was City Center, Salt Lake, which as
we realised from the website, was fast filling up too. We did not take chance this
time, and booked seats online while still on the Nandan premises. Another friend
arrived soon after, by which time City Center too was sold out; he had to run
to South City Inox to grab the last remaining seat. The point in prefacing the
review with my ‘getting or not getting to see’ anxiety is to bring home the
fact the overwhelming zest for this film, which is rare in case of contemporary
Bengali Cinema. But unfortunately, as always it has been with good cinema, this
film too did not get a statewide release, nor did it get as many screens in
Kolkata as it deserved.
Reviewing
Asa Jawar Majhe may be compared to
commenting on great poetry at the risk of spoiling its lyricism and effortless
appeal. The labour of love that has gone into the making of this film is
visible in every single frame. It seems as if the director and his
cinematographer (Mahendra J Shetty) are romancing with every bit of the film, replicating
the emotions on screen. Only profound insight and an extraordinary proficiency
in storytelling could do away with dialogue. Very few films have successfully
managed to narrate a story depending on background score alone.
The slow pace,
the lack of dialogue, the long lingering on rotating bicycle wheels, walls,
staircases, verandas, and filling of spice and lentil containers project an
existential drudgery with the “Nothing happens, twice” effect of a Becket’s Waiting for Godot. However, while Becket’s
play ends in despair of a never-ending wait continuing, Asa Jawar Majhe redeems its protagonists from the mundane
everydayness of living on by allowing them a moment of togetherness which
though short-lived comes with the intensity and ‘feel-good-ness’ of dream
romances. The film working through powerful imagery and constant reminder of a
desired but fantastical world of romance (underlined by the two prototype
romantic songs, Tumi je amar and Nishi raat banka chand playing in the
background) deconstructs the conventional paraphernalia associated with romance
and coupledom by locating its protagonists in the harsh reality of a failing
economy and the narrow alleys of a cramped North Kolkata neighbourhood. The
crescent moon zooming out to reveal the veil of a mosquito net through which it
is seen or missed is perhaps the most poignant moment in the film. The repeated
motif of the shehnai (Bismilla Khan),
which is the staple background score of most Bengali weddings, has been
brilliantly deployed too.
In a long time, no other director has seen such a brilliant
debut. Aditya Vikram Sengupta is certainly in the race to
stardom. Thanks to Suman Ghosh for backing this small
film, which might have been lost in oblivion. Ritwick Chakraborty
and Basabdatta Chatterjee’s ‘non-acting’ leaves an indelible
mark.
As the end credit rolls, it seems as if you have been exposed
to such a truth which you always wanted to tell, but never
could.
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