The Disciple

 The Disciple

2020, Marathi, Netflix, 7.2/10 IMDB, Directed by Chaitanya Tamhane

A compendium of a young boy's misplaced tenacity, who is 'lost' in the process of mastering an art form, as he finds himself trapped in a vicious routine of attempting to become the best. A hard hitting crux, a universal prototype of the 'lacklustre-beings' who are pulverized in the race to outshine.

My mind was making a list of success sutras and thantras I had been advised all my life. Deep down I knew I haven't done it all to its prescribed perfection, as it seemed humanly impossible at any age. I was in awe to see the lead character Sharad Nerulkar following each one of those to a 'T', onscreen. He was attempting to make it big in the classical vocal world- a dream that had been thrusted upon, by his father. I was proud of him as he was my own and wished to see him succeed before the film's end credits rolled.

Sharad's dad had tried to channelize his son from young, to help him cut a niche for himself in the vocal world. Now that Sharad's father is not alive, it is weird though to know that his father is seen a failure in Sharad's grown-up eyes. Nevertheless, Sharad remains faithful to the path that his father had chosen for him. But the answer to my query, was beautifully illustrated in the screenplay that followed.

When Sharad holds possession of the rare audio tapes of his guru Vinayak Pradhan's mentor, Sindhubaai, who was called Maai, we as viewers believe that the advices of Maai, is going to be the turning point in his 'to -be' flourishing musical career. The voice is mesmerizing and seems an answer to all the metaphysical queries of any musical being. The words and the voice, soothes Sharad's pain of his failures and he is hooked to the tapes as an abandoned baby to a comforter.

After a while I was puzzled, if Maai's pearls of wisdom were, way too philosophical that transcended Sharad to a world that is different from his. Competitive world often demands rational tactics to have few head turned towards oneself, let alone become noteworthy. His guru subtly hinting a feedback on Sharad's attempt of composing a new tune by himself, doesn't provoke him and at the same time he is not keen on analyzing on the feedback either. At one instance, he hears Maai's voice on the tape, uttering words to comfort him, pertaining to his present dilemmas and that is when the director concurs with the viewer's confusion to reveal that Sharad might have started to hallucinate. Sharad quickly decides to part with the tapes, but it was already too late, I thought, as he was in his mid-thirties by then.

The film is universal in the sense that, it relates each one of us to the 'success battle' phenomena be it any given field. Losing the battle and settling for a mediocre life should be a familiar routine in every household. But the film left me with a couple of sleepless nights as I was dwelling on the intentions of the maker of the film.

On discussion about the film with few others, I was surprised that the film had jolted the morale of some of the people who were already successful in their respective careers. The film had kindled some serious thought process in them to a point where they ended up evaluating the choices they had made in their lives. I saw it as the strength of the film. It left the viewers have some serious introspection. On further discussion with few others, the essence of the film seemed to also touch upon the intangible factor as well call it in India, 'Adrishta' the self-explanatory word, 'a drishta' meaning, 'can't be seen'. It's the version of the right time, right place, right people theory, often denoted by the laymen as 'Luck'.

Sharad's conversation with the critic when he is in his 20's, had some conflicting facts to be taken a call on, to shape his career. The story would have been a completely different one, had Sharad rationalized his approach and tried to see 'past' the demigod Maai's trance voice. I found myself arguing that, Sharad's instinct should have led him to do a honest self-assessment. If he had dug deep, he might have even analyzed whether the passion to be a singer was his own or was a borrowed dream. Even if my thoughts sounded a little too harsh, I counter argued, he should have evaluated his ability, weighing it from an outsider's perspective. I was even convinced, that the gurukul era is long gone now but there are few noble humans like Sharad, who let themselves get entangled in the selfless 'Guru-Seva' and forget to emancipate their own soul, free to choose what it desired.

Success is such a relative term and there are many such Sharads around us in our daily life who doesn't know what it takes to be successful, as most of them are mimicking the dreams of others and not theirs, probably.

I am often worried for the 'year-long' toil of the reality show contenders. Are the children being guillotined for the dreams of their parents and gurus? How many of these contenders would want to continue music as their main career and if they do choose to, how many are successful? The film has a similar such subplot of Sharad following the rural contender on a reality show, who starts of singing classical songs when she enters the competition and ends up singing sexy numbers. But the director is conscious to respect each individual's decision, on how each one wants to be known to the world and hence Sharad is not seen one bit judgmental. The same goes to his reaction when he sees the huge fan following of his peer and compares it with his own.

The maker's choice not to make the character react profusely at any point, other than the few jumps to a thumping music towards the end, shows the meticulous scripting in keeping the character, a non-dynamic one throughout. This is the primary reason for the character being what he is in his 40's as well. The camerawork and its angles in the opening scene, where it carries the point of view of the spectator and inches to narrows down to the tumburi person, to tell the story of 'the disciple', is a signature one of the director, I guess. And the snail-paced camera movement from behind Sharad's back, in perfect sync to the imperfect tunes of his, during the performance which is apparently his last on stage, compliments the mood of the scene perfectly. It is right after this scene, that the character chooses to see from within, to evaluate himself and ironically, we are only seeing his back with his head drooping low and not his face. A sheer masterclass from the team.

How can I end without mentioning those 'lost eyes. of Aditya Modak who plays the lead role of Sharad. Those eyes never digressed for a moment from communicating those inner most fragile emotions promptly to the audience. Those yearning eyes towards the curtain fall, when the boy with a tiny tumburi sings on the metro, 'I sowed a tamarind seed in the edge of a well and the tree sprouts fish', it wrenched my heart. I saw my daughter in those eyes, I saw her fear of losing. The same failure I see on the faces of those tiny hearts on the traumatizing reality shows. May god be with those beings who did not create history, for not all are makers of history.

The film's success is evident in the non-cohesive ranting of mine.

Nomadland

 Nomadland

2020, English, Disney Hotstar, 7.5/10 IMDB, Directed by Chloé Zhao

While the pandemic ridden world around you speak, what a fine work of art this Oscar winning film 'Nomadland' is, the film is deeply disturbing as it communicates volumes of personalized emotions. The film calmly challenges the very basic driving force of millions across the planet- the desire to build a nest of their own called 'home', for some people, it even means to 'die in it' rather than to 'live in it'.

The movie looks 'life' through the eyes of a van dwelling nomad widow, named Fern, played by the adept actor Francis Mcdormand. Fern has no job, no house and no one to call her 'own'. Isn't that what each one of us are bracing ourselves, all our healthy lives long - the frightful 'stranded all alone' moment.

The film opens to a storage room where Fern had kept her belongings. She is selling most of it to procure a van for herself to travel in it and find a job. Her teary eyes say, each of those wordily possessions, had a tale to tell. It connects to the viewers instantaneously, as we all tend to hold on to things that we call it 'ours' and found it hard to let go of, however trifling it might be.

I experience a very similar emotion each time I dust the tiny figurines in my living room. A prompt flashback of where and when I had bought those souvenirs would flash upon my eye. My otherwise poor memory, would over work, to get me a tight close-up of the souvenir shop I bought it from, along with umpteen other insignificant details, including a tiff with my husband during that trip.

My 'empty nester house', in the middle of the pandemic had another trail of thought to add to the dusting routine. I wondered what my only daughter would do to these memorabilia, after my time here is over. She has no plans of settling down on this side of the planet. A decade or two is the precise life of these 'memory dolloped figurines', I thought to myself. I chose to watch 'Nomandland' on the very same day of my dusting routine, destiny I call it. The movie left me weary and the already swaying inner self of mine seemed shattered. When life is zeroed down to a void with no memories, no people, no purpose, what does one do? If I find myself in Fern's shoes, what would I do- I could hear my inner 'Me' questioning repeatedly.

When a young girl questions Fern at a store, if she was homeless, Ferns answers, 'I am house less'. Home to her, is the confined space of her van, whereas, a house to her seemed rather a physical structure with unwanted space in it. The more she learns on the survival techniques of a nomad's life from fellow nomads, the director tries to engulf the audience into the simplified livelihood of the nomadic herders. At some point, I turned to look at the huge space I call 'My home' and it seemed to make no sense for some weird reason.

The other fascinating element of the film is, when Fern is seen envisaging the possibility of getting back in to a caging life. In a dilemma whether to accept the offer of her fellow nomad Dave, who is moving in with his son's family for good, she braves to overcome the temptation, not letting herself 'anchor down' for the rest of her life in a 'House'. She breaks free the claustrophobic life and a jump cut atop a cliff that follows is sheer magical. The gushing wind ruffling her hair makes one feel what it means to be free of human ties. Suddenly the 'stranded all alone moment' is not as dreadful as it sounds, I thought. My mind was trying to find random parallels in 'Vanapratha', the third of the four ashramas of the Hindu tradition, which means 'to give up worldly life' and retire to the forest.

The film convincingly moves on and the watch becomes even intense when she visits her abandoned house at the Gypsum plant. She had lived there with her husband until he died and for sometime even after his death. The house she had described earlier in the film, had left a picture in the viewer's mind, a scenic backyard with a vast desert landscape, meeting the mountains at the horizon. The image of the now uninhabited house, stripped of its 'once upon a time' identity, stands like a mere skeleton, a thing of the past. The 'memories' are the only remains of the life it denotes and those are the ones that Fern is seen carrying with her on the road.

Couple of days of contemplation made me ask myself, whether Fern would have chosen to live the nomad's life if her husband hadn't died or if she wasn't broke. She takes this path when she is in a crisis and chooses to stick to it, as she couldn't stomach the mundane life any longer. The minimalist living, sure is intriguing and for people like me, who think 'Home' is synonymous to security, the possibility of experiencing it, might be only if it is the last available resort.

If life were to force upon me a trip to the Nomadland, it might as well be a worthy one, I thought.

Mandela

 Mandela

2021, Tamil, Netflix, 8.5IMDB, Directed by Madonne Ashwin

A satire that doesn't just stop at mocking the infamous tryst of cash-for-votes in the state, but also comes a full circle in chalking out a plan to outsmart the politicians, thwacking some sensitive issues on the go, from rural toilets to caste discrimination.

The debut director teaming up with the co-producer Balaji Mohan, reminds the viewers of the latter's style of non-preachy political satire. It does seem a paradox when we are in the middle of the pandemic, as the movie 'Vaayai Moodi Pesavum' was about a fast spreading virus that mutes people.

The strength of 'Mandela' lies in its casting and a 'novel-like' narration. The director's fortitude in addressing heart wrenching discrimination, through a simple narrative, is laudable. The film captures casteism being embedded in the lives of villagers and none of them sees it as an offense. The movie 'Article 15' approached the same issue through a serious plot in contrast to a satire here.

For instance, the lead male, played by the amazing Yogi Babu, is so very used to being asked to come through the back door of houses that he ends up searching for a back door in the postoffice too. Either the lead character's self esteem is portrayed to be insignificant or the character is developed in such a way that he doesn't realize that he is being abused at. The character seems plainly ignorant. It does seem rhetoric, but the director makes it evident that the remote villagers hold on to these discriminations even if technology is an inevitable part of their lives. He cleverly picturizes this flaws in the system in the scene, where people are seen defecating in the open, behind trees yet merrily meddling their mobile phones.

The film is also a compilation of many poetic scenes- the touchy scene where the female lead played by Sheela Rajkumar, deciding on a name for Yogi babu to help him apply for an Aadhar card, the casual scene where she identifies the drawing skills in a young boy and motivates him to start practicing alphabets, the cute scene in the photo studio when Yogi Babu sees Sheela involuntarily tucking her strand of gray hair- the list is long.

Yogi Babu is unbelievably convincing as he plays this innocent barber under a banyan tree with an ambition of building a saloon. He brings to life the 'Malgudi Days' kind of character. The subtle innocence of the character in the first half, is a perfect set up which is promptly paid off through the controlled performance by the actor in the later part. Thankfully the director did not make the character go overboard by transforming him in to a super saviour. Yogi Babu's responsible choice of being a part of a venture like this, is admirable and he does complete justice to the choice he made.

The common man character that travels throughout the film, is a representative of the viewer. The solution that the films draws its curtain with, to do away with the cash-for-vote tryst in the state, is worthy of attention and even seems persuasive. Once the 'common man' adheres to saying their votes are 'not for sale', the politicians will be left with no other choice, other than pulling their act together.

Karnan

 Karnan

2021, Tamil, 9/10 IMDB, Directed by Mari Selvaraj

A rumination of the forgotten people's war of a 90's village, captured artistically, turning the table for the oppressed. Albeit the disclaimer trying to cover up the anxiety of seeking justification and safely calls their work a fictional one, the makers succeed in reiterating and voicing out their aggression through bona fide characterizations.

Going by the golden rule of, 'Show, Don't Tell', Director Mari Selvaraj, does extensive sensory detailing. The introduction of the protagonist Karnan, played by actor Dhanush reminds the Werner Herzog's documentary 'Cave of Forgotten Dreams'. The actor's face is seen drawn using a torch fire on a confined ceiling of a cave like space. This is a metaphor for the tribal state of living of the villagers and their burning issues. The film attempts to document, the toil of the suppressed. All they are toiling for is a near normal human life with due honor.

The similarities in the names of the village and the police station, rhymingly aligns your brain. It points to the most evident communal violence in two of the southern Tamil Nadu villages in the 90's. The genesis of the violence is an altercation between a bus driver and a youngster of the village. It affirms its correlation to the month-long clash of the real- life incidents that happened in Thirunelveli in 1995.

The director's debut outing, preps for the kind of movie his second venture Karnan. Both his films premises are set in Tirunelveli, the director's native. The stories his narration unveils are earthy and pregnant with untold sorrows. His unpretentious making, allows the viewers sample the pain that embodies the 'discourteous world' of the suppressed.

'A bus doesn't stop in a village' - sounds trivial to the urban ears. All we associate with it is, is the usual commuting obstacles of the villagers. We pity them not having access to the medical facilities during an emergency. But Mari Selvaraj gives a bigger arc to the issue that is deserves. It opens up a pandora box of never imagined long list of logical curbs which needs to be addressed. 'Under development of the youth workforce' is the pivotal issue that the director is narrowing down. This is a result of the youth being deprived of their basic rights to education. The development and upliftment of the entire village rides on educating their next generation. The director convincingly portrays that people are forced to grab the attention of the state, to warn of its inadequacies. And they do it by enforcing law themselves, as they are left with no choice.

Dhanush is a mere tool in the hands of the director. Nevertheless, his contribution to the title role is noteworthy. And none other than him could have brought the exasperated youngster's role to life. Except, it almost had become too repetitive to see him play versions of the suppressed in his recent collaborations. In director Vettrimaran's 2019 Asuran, Dhanush played the father role of Sivasamy in his national award-winning performance. His son Velmurugan's role was played by Teejay. It's a consolation, for people who wished Dhanush had played his eldest son's role as well in Asuran. The role of Dhanush in Karnan seems an extension of it.

Police official exercises his vendetta by inflicting pain on the helpless old villagers at the police station. It's just because he wasn't offered a chair during the enquiry at the village. The director turns a real hero, when he dedicates a long shot, almost a tunnel vision kind. All this amidst the wary conflicts between the villagers and the police force. The camera follows the boy who was sent to fetch a chair for the police official. He is seen nobly delayed, as he had to carry his bed ridden granny to pee.

The camera captures the revolt in its full glory. Santhosh Narayanan's music sets the appropriate mood. But the director fails to comply with his genuine attempt of 'show, don't tell'. Instead, he succumbs to add verbal expressions. He seems doubtful if his symbols would fail to connect with the audience. This defeats the purpose of whole bunch of semiotics that was detailed meticulously right from the first frame. He got desperate to get the message across to the masses who can't decode the subtly.

The Yaman character travels along with Dhanush as his mentor and friend. Lal Paul, plays the character that's at par with the protagonist. Lal nails his performance but it still left me yearning. I would have been content to see an actor with roots in the southern dialect to have played the character.

Yogi babu's horizon keeps widening with every versatile film that he features off late. It is a treat to watch him playing this rounded character of Vadamalaiyan in Karnan. Gouri Kishan playing the friend, outshines Rajisha Vijayan, the female lead. Her character seems to damper the narrative and very much doubt it if it was the mutilation that caused it.

The antagonist character of the policeman who excesses brutality on the villagers, played by Natarajaj isn't very convincing. Whereas, Laskhmipriya playing Dhanush's elder sister, pushes the narrative forward poetically. She glistens, especially in the last scene when she sees her brother being lauded by the villagers.

Irul

 Irul

2021,Malayalam, Netflix, 7/10 IMBD, Directed by Naseef Yusuf Izuddin

Besides the concoction of semiotic denotations and connotations, and a deal of intertwining indexes and symbols- there seems a sincere attempt to denaturalize the myth of conveying terror ideologies, through a refreshing brew of innovative templates.

The film opens, sans any boring prologue, with Alex's (Soubin Shahir) nightmare. He tries to meet his lawyer friend Archana (Dharshana Rajendran), to vent his distress but she is immersed with her office work. They plan for a get away without their mobiles, and end up being stranded with a broke down car. They try to seek shelter from the rain in the nearby house. The owner of the house, Unni (Fahadh Fassil) opens the door after a mysterious wait. The template should be, either Alex is a man of sleezy intentions or the lavish house owner, a nerdy hawk waiting to grab his prey. Within 20 minutes of the film, you find yourself in its intended crux, when the old templates start shifting towards some intellect debate and you are convinced, it isn't going to be mundane anymore.

The aesthetics of the film engulfs you with its dramatic camera works, the striking sound and crisp edit. You still braise yourself for the creepy faced supernatural to push through the screen across to your face anytime though. But the makers defy strongly such naturalizations and you hook yourself to the curious plot. Using the color 'red' to foreshadow fear, seems to be used often, but your brain constantly cautions you of a cheat code, that the maker might be pranking you with.

The dangling sword keeps shifting over the heads of the three characters, teasing the audience to correlate retrospectively the normal dialogues that appear abnormal with the turn of events every minute. The maker scores with his choice of a simple narrative, of the plot's complex thread, in his own time. Thankfully the film's running time is short.

It does fatigue you with the mystery of who the convict is going to be, as the chair keeps swirling till the end credit roles, but nevertheless, it keeps you engaging throughout. Playing on the lines of the Rashamon-effect, the story journeys with its unreliability or absence of eye witness and its contradictory descriptions that manipulate the interpretations of the audience.

The maker's inspirations, fondly reminds of the 'Circle Dance' of Bela Tarr's, in the sequence that precede the epilogue, in bringing the film to its closure. From the perspective of the maker's, his attempt to unravel the plot in stripping its layers, sure is impressive. Unsure, if the efforts would get translated to the audience, with the team's true intentions though.