Asa Jawar Majhe: Of Drudgery and Romance and Poetry

It’s one film which has been cropping up in our conversations now and then since it premiered at the 71^st 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.

Shobdo: For Art’s Sake

It’s been ages since a meaningful Bengali film was made, where art and philosophy blended seamlessly. Shobdo (Sound) is indisputably one of the greatest Bengali films made in recent times. Such a claim might sound too lofty, but certainly not without foundation. Why is Shobdo unique?

·          1. The trend of films on the film industry has taken over Tollygunj for quite sometimes now. While most filmmakers have stuck to the major players (directors, actors or musicians), none has thought it necessary to bring to the fore the technicians. The foley-artistes’ indispensability has never been recognized. And am certain, even cine-lovers have barely ever spared a thought on them. Kaushik Ganguly’s Shobdo makes out of the ignored foley-artiste a hero, and hammers home the fact that without him films would have been but unreal. For, without sounds, verisimilitude cannot be achieved. A fact, which I am sure, has eluded many till date.

·         2. It’s been really long since any Bengali film has delved deep into the psyche of an artiste, and has represented creative madness with such compassion. Tarak’s obsession with his art segregates him from reality much to the disconcertment of his wife and psychiatrist, but Tarak is so overpoweringly fascinated with his art that he fails to separate his art and reality. For him, his art (the world of sounds) becomes reality. Without being preachy, the film floats a profound philosophical discourse on artistry, creative impulse, and how art might enslave life. It might be painful for those to whom the artiste is personally consequential; but, such coalescence of art and life is necessary for creation to approximate perfection.

·         3. Shobdo, therefore, becomes a very refined commentary on filmmaking and its penchant to approximate the reality it represents. The re-creation of sound effects demands of the foley-artiste a very alert ear for the various sounds, no matter how subsonic they are ---- the fine difference in the little ‘thud’ sound made by an empty cup and a cup filled to the brim; the difference of the sound of footsteps on a wooden staircase and the sound made by boots on a gravelled path, etc. Shobdo makes you feel that if a good screenplay is the backbone of a good film, the foley-artiste’s sound effects are like blood that runs through the arteries and veins of that screenplay. The behind-the-scene reality of a ‘show’ is unravelled by Shobdo remarkably.

·         4. The film, while celebrating creative madness, romantically evokes the superiority of the sounds of nature to human speech. The tearful psychiatrist wonders after a night of hard-partying the general inconsequentiality of human speech, which is more often than not, nonsensical and insensitive, and mostly meaningless. Sound waves are not sounds, but mere signifiers which the human brain interprets meaningfully, as it is trained to. While language often dominates in this world of sounds, the ‘mere’ sounds too are no less significant, no less meaningful than language. Kaushik Ganguly has commendably touched such depths without being preachy anywhere.

·        5.  The film also negotiates with ideas of ‘normality’ and that which is dubbed ‘abnormal’ by the mainstream. Tarak’s strangeness (his inability to interpret human speech and his obsession with other kinds of sounds) is eventually reclaimed as another way of looking at things, a perspective (largely auditory, if I may call it so) which is not available to the majority. Yet, Tarak has to come back to the mainstream of life; so, he is finally sent to a rehab. The ear-splitting sound of the ambulance struggling over a sandy beach, acquires a different meaning altogether in the closing scene. Is it a signifier of Tarak’s protest as he stares on silently with a blank look in his eyes? By the time the end-titles roll, the audience becomes much too aware of all the other sounds they hear, apart from the dialogue.

    

      Ritwick Chakraborty’s marvellous performance would definitely fetch him numerous awards and accolades in the coming year, although it’s surprising that he has missed the national award. Raima and Srijit are good, if not brilliant. Churni would have scored really high had she not given the same performance in numerous other films before. Victor Banerjee is quite redundant to the plot.

      Kaushik Ganguly is certainly emerging as one of the greatest filmmakers of contemporary Tollywood. The uniqueness of his subjects is commendable and is a great relief from the tear-jerking sentimental middle class dramas or nerve-racking action-packages that have almost destroyed the Bengali film industry. Shobdo is a film from which other promising filmmakers might draw inspiration and abandon tested ground, and tread on un-trodden path. By taking the ‘road not usually taken’ Kaushik Ganguly deserves two-thumbs-up! 

Image courtesy:

dearcinema.com