‘Jatishwar’: The mystery of memories

Memory has a major role to play in writing and rewriting history. History is not confined within pages of fat books, but history is a liquid narrative, which takes the form of that memory which carries it and gives shape to it. This memory might be the memory of single person (personal histories), or of a collective populace. Therefore, history has myriad versions, and it is impossible to pin down a single version of the truth. Therefore, Rohit (Jishu Sengupta) is flabbergasted at the initiation of his dream project – of discovering Antony Firingie, the man and his music. The film takes a documentary mode, and commendably so, as Rohit interviews people on the streets of Chandannagore to find out what the public memory of Antony is. Nobody seems to know Antony, apart from the fact that matinee idol Uttam Kumar had played him in a Bengali blockbuster in the early 70s! That is the most familiar memory of this great musical genius, who seems to have receded into oblivion. Jatishwar, as it has been erroneously publicised by many, is not a remake of Antony Firingie. Yes, the retro-story in sepia tone is no different from the Uttam Kumar-Tanuja classic, but there’s much more to this Srijit Mukherji film. 

The fact that nobody could give any valuable information on Antony speaks volumes on the gradual dilution and eventually complete erasure of a genre of music (here mostly kabigaan, and its various phases), which was immensely rich, and demanded of the artists superlative intelligence, presence of mind, and the potential to compose impromptu! Kushal Hajra (Prosenjit Chatterjee) is perhaps no real Jaatishwar! He might not indeed be a reincarnation of Antony! He is perhaps that lost memory which is personified in a the form of man, a man who smarts under the massive history of that lost era which heavily weighs down on him and robs him of his sanity. The film takes its cue from such cult Indian films such as Madhumati or Sonar Kella (I was even reminded of another Uttam Kumar classis, Sannyasi Raja), and plays on two different levels: on one hand, it recalls and revives a particular musical genius who had a significant contribution to Bengali music, on the other, it firmly situates itself in the tradition of reincarnation or rebirth films, which have always been box-office successes in India. Music and cinema, therefore, blend in the narrative of Jatishwar, revealing a rich cultural tradition, while acknowledging Indian Cinema’s heavy dependence on songs and lyrics. The film could have used a few more well-known Bengali songs to reinforce the nostalgia...apart from some fading tunes (E shudhu gaaner din..., etc.), not much has come into the film, sadly enough!

I would refrain from delving deeper into the story, which is after all, a love story. It is also a film about communal harmony. In fact, the film also unveils that cultural colonialism was not a one-sided process; it was a game of exchange, after a point of time. As the narrative moves back and forth in time to establish so many plot strands, the whole attempt sometimes looks a tad forced. But, what is evident is that a lot of research has gone into the film. Kudos to Srijit Mukherji! But, he could have been a little more careful in streamlining the plot! 

Kabir Suman’s music is a definite plus; and interestingly, remarkable experiments have been done with the camera. It jolts, it jerks, shifts points of view, and what not! Prosenjit Chatterjee as Antony is a stunner (thanks for the dubbing), but Prosenjit the actor shows himself best in Kushal Hajra. But, the mannerism in his voice, which has become much too familiar, sticks out like a sore thumb. Jishu Sengupta is low-key and adorable. Swastika looks older than the character she has played, but she has tried her best. Mamata Shankar, Abir, and Kharaj are the other mentionable names in the whole gamut of Tollygunj starlets populating the film.

Mishawr Rawhoshyo: Mummified in Mediocrity

Mishawr Rawhoshyo! The exoticism and thrill embedded in the title ends in the title itself. Srijit Mukherjee’s latest is chic and smart, but lacks the edginess of a thriller. The disappointment grows steadily having set in at the very outset. The unforgivably miscast Prosenjit Chatterjee’s atrocious English and pretentions of intellectualism grate on the nerve from the very first scene which is, however, occasionally alleviated by Aryann (Santu), the only saving grace of the film. Prosenjit is the last person any Bengali can imagine in the garb of Kakababu, and he adds insult to injury to the character by performing it rather badly. In fact, the film should have been called ‘Chokher Bali’ or ‘Eyesore’, the title alluding to Prosenjit’s awful performance and even more agonizing screen presence. The biggest flaw is that Santu appears brighter and more intelligent than Kakababu, and the audience all along misses with a sigh a younger Soumitra Chatterjee or any other intelligent yesteryear actor who could have essayed the role with panache. Mukherjee could have cast some Bollywood actor, rather than let his film sink. Prosenjit cannot be cast in every other role; he might have a mass appeal (but am sure he was never popular with the educated metropolitan audience), and he does not have the polish or learning to perform such literary characters like Kakababu. It’s blasphemy to cast him! Just note how Prosenjit appears like a fish out of water in the JNU campus! You cannot but feel sorry for the poor chap. Sunil Gangopadhyay must be turning in his grave. 

If Prosenjit wasn’t causing enough anguish, Mukherjee brought in his own interpretation to the original story and linked it up with the revolution in Egypt. The idea was indeed novel, but the execution is terribly confused, perfunctory and shallow. No serious research seems to have gone into it, and the lack is glaringly visible in every single frame. In trying to contemporize the story, the filmmaker forgot to work on the mystery bit, and failed big time in packing the right kind of punch to let the thrill build-up. He ended up making an unpardonable mockery of the Egyptian Revolution. Despite Indraneil’s honest effort, the revolution which is in its rudimentary stage fails to appeal to the audience’s sympathy, for the filmmaker only skims the surface of it, not bothering to plunge deep.

The film actually tends to push you out of the theatre every time Sujan and Swastika Mukherjee appear on the screen in their pitiable middeclass-ness. No adjective can actually convey how agonizing they are; in fact, they have done more harm to the film than Prosenjit! And be prepared to be tortured by Santu's middleclass nyaka romance with a dolled-up nyaka girlfriend. Whatever it is, it is tortuous all along!

Mishawr Rawhoshyo, is totally rawhoshyo-less, and would remain in people’s memory for being the first Bengali film which had given plenty of screen time to the Sahara Desert. That would be its only claim to fame!  What Mukherjee has forgotten is that people have access to much better ‘detective’ films produced across the globe, thanks to the internet, and films like Mishawr Rawhoshyo can only cause embarrassment to the highly informed audience of the present day. Mediocrity being Tollywood’s forte, nothing could be expected from these directors; and Bengali Cinema would continue to revel in shoddiness, occasionally looking back nostalgically to a bygone of era of watchable films. 

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Photo courtesy: en.wikipedia.org

Source: https://www.google.co.in/search?q=mishor+rahasya&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ei=iF5jUrxohoysB_aSgcgL&sqi=2&ved=0CAcQ_AUoAQ&biw=1366&bih=664#facrc=_&imgdii=_&imgrc=U2PJWStONN-EqM%3A%3BpPHL8UytlQG3rM%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Fupload.wikimedia.org%252Fwikipedia%252Fen%252Fthumb%252Fb%252Fb2%252FMishawr_Rahasya.jpg%252F220px-Mishawr_Rahasya.jpg%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Fen.wikipedia.org%252Fwiki%252FMishawr_Rawhoshyo%3B220%3B274

Accessed on 19 October 2013.

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