Aligarh, the Film: On Privacy, Homosexuality and Isolation

A man is going home in a cycle-rickshaw. The rickshaw pulls to a stop and the driver joins the man in his apartment. After some time, two other men enter the building, slowly and hesitatingly, one egging the other one on. No sooner do they break inside the apartment, the sounds of screams and whacking pierce the cold, dark night.

This is the opening scene of Aligarh, and while this may seem like any other ordinary scene, it is not. We don’t see what goes on inside the rooms of the said apartment, we only hear the proceedings and see signs of activity from outside the building, like a cheeky passer-by or neighbour, looking up at the window and trying to decipher the goings-on inside.

This is the central event around which the film revolves- that of a university professor being walked in on during a strictly private moment. The depiction of this scene from the perspective of an onlooker far away from where the main action is taking place is deliberate and a stroke of genius, visually telling us the nature of the content of the scene- a gross violation of something that should have remained private and personal.

Aligarh is about a professor Dr. Siras, who after being filmed during a homosexual act, is suspended from the university he teaches at and is slapped with charges of homosexuality and of tainting the university’s reputation. In comes a young, enthusiastic journalist named Dipu who befriends the professor. He slowly draws the professor out from his cocoon until the latter confides in him.Throughout the film, we see shots of Siras peeking from behind closed curtains and dark windows- the perfect metaphor for someone who lives life cowering in fear, and who can never come out of the closet. The scene in which Siras is implicated, stripped and filmed is later shown to us again, once from the perspective of a camera that is part of the sting operation and once from the perspective of the professor himself. During both times, there is strong tone of voyeurism, of showing us something that should not have been seen.

Homosexuality may be the theme which one would associate with the film, but it is the theme about the right to privacy which stands out the most all the while without downplaying the humiliating ostracism faced by homosexuals in our society. While their sexuality is central to their brutal treatment by others, the film refrains from reducing them to their sexual orientation alone.

When Siras is interviewed by Dipu about the night in question, he describes how he is an outsider, a professor of Marathi among people who speak Urdu. He then goes on to talk about poetry and rues about how little people engage with it today. He composes poems in Marathi, has several books to his credit which have seen little circulation and is self-deprecating about his spoken English skills, yet perfectly translates his own poems into English. We see him caged in his apartment, wrapped in a long shawl softly mumbling a song by Lata Mangeshkar, as he sighs in melancholy. He is a person very much among us and a part of us.

His rejection from society is shown right from his dismissal by a physician when he goes to see the latter, to his removal from his rented quarters, not once but twice. The poor Muslim cycle-rickshaw driver Irfan, who was with him during the fated night, is hardly brought up again, except when Dipu goes looking for him. We hear he has disappeared after being mercilessly beaten up by the cops. Again, giving him very little attention in the narrative must be deliberate. Irfan is a person from one of the most marginalized sections of society, who completely slips from under the radar and barely registers on the film’s universe- just the way it is in real life.

Even after being cleared of charges that the university had accused him of in court, we see that it means very little to Siras. What good will winning a case do to a person who has been rejected by everyone around him, even his family, and forced into a life of loneliness and dejection? Of what use is the apartment that is returned to him a day after he takes his own life, when he has been deprived of respect and dignity all this time?

We not only see Siras’s descent into despair, but also see Dipu getting affected by it and internalizing a deep sense of discomfort. He complains angrily when he finds one of the women he is staying with as a paying guest in his room tutoring kids without his permission. He loses his temper even at the slightest hint of the invasion of his privacy, thus making us think about what Siras must have gone through. There is a sense of being watched and eavesdropped which pervades the film and which Dipu betrays in a scene where he keeps checking his back as he leans in for a kiss in a secluded location, with no signs of anybody around. The closing scene ends on the same note- with Siras squinting, straining his ears as he sits on his bed and asks if anybody’s there, before the screen turns black.

The writing is vivid. The direction succeeds in showing the increasing suffocation and paranoia faced by Siras. Rajkumar Rao is wonderful, but it is Manoj Bajpayee who takes the cake and breathes life into the professor, a man pushed to the brink of society. His performance is both moving and hard-hitting. Aligarh is an important film that deserves a larger audience, but will unfortunately be relegated to the viewing lists of a few.

First published here: http://theindianeconomist.com/aligarh-film-privacy-homosexuality-isolation/

Image Courtesy: The Indian Express

Thoughts on Sairat: The Social Commentary Behind The Romantic Drama

Sairat, Nagraj Manjule’s Marathi feature film after the national award winning Fandry, has been wowing audiences in Maharashtra ever since its release. With a powerful score by Ajay Atul, music that has been topping charts and a charming lead pair, Sairat would give any mainstream Hindi love story a run for its money.

To many who’ve seen the film, Sairat may not offer anything new in terms of storyline- we have had many Indian films showing young couples fighting their families and the society for love or being persecuted for entering into relationships outside their social standing. The inherent message then, is that love conquers all and renders all barriers inconsequential. However, more than a star-crossed lovers’ romantic drama a la Romeo Juliet, Sairat is a film with a striking commentary on society and the caste and class backgrounds of its protagonists.

Set in Bittergaon in rural Maharashtra, the film introduces us to this place with sound alone. As credits are being rolled on the screen, we hear a man commentating a local cricket match. The opening sequences establish the chaotic setting- the people, their language, the vast fields of sugarcane, and the political mileu. All of it looks very real, like setting foot in the village ourselves and the actors look like they’ve lived the lives of the characters they’re portraying. (This is not surprising, as the actors are from similar social backgrounds as their characters and were handpicked for this very reason, unlike the tradition of mainstream films where actors are often chosen on criteria other than whether they suit their characters.)

The male protagonist Prashant, fondly called Parshya is a lower caste boy and son of a fisherman, who has a crush on the rich, landed, upper caste, local political leader’s daughter Archana (Archie).  The feisty, tractor and bullet-riding Archie, who pushes out a group of boys from a well because she wants to swim in it with her friends, is used to having her way. This sequence follows her father mocking his political opponents for not keeping a firm hold on their women, showing a society that places its collective morality in their absence of agency and sexual fidelity. When she sees Parshya trying to pursue her, she reciprocates with enthusiasm and saves Parshya from being beaten up. While she is the female protagonist in the film, this is quite uncharacteristic of the romantic interest of a male lead. She continues to subtly break such gender stereotypes even later, when we see her drive her husband around in a big city, a minor yet refreshing change from watching women in the forefront, rather than the background.

Aiding in the diversity of the social setting are Parshya’s friends, Pradeep (langdya), a boy with bowlegs and Salim (Salya), a Muslim – all of them marginalized in some way in their village. Even as we see Pradeep rationalizing his feelings not being reciprocated by the girl he likes as an inevitable consequence of his slight disability in what is a wonderfully done scene, Parshya and Archie revel in their affection for each other, the difference in their backgrounds not coming in the way of their budding romance. There are symbolic references to it though, like in the scene where Archie is seen dancing in a balcony on the top floor, while Parshya is dancing on the ground below.

Dodging Archie’s family and narrowly escaping the witch hunt that ensues after they are caught together, they flee to Hyderabad. This is when the difference in the stature of the two is magnified. Both find adjusting to their new surroundings difficult, especially Archie, whose circumstances see a drastic fall as compared to her life at home. We see some friction between the two, with Parshya even showing an abusive streak. But it is only when they leave their prior identities and the social hierarchies inherent in them behind, that they start their life together from scratch.

If you’ve not seen the film, please stop here as spoilers follow.

Just as we are relaxing in our seats from the tension of the chase sequences from before and preparing for a happy ending, that the final blow is delivered. A flock of birds appears in the background, an omen of impending events that we see throughout the film, and a sudden change in tone of the film follows- one moment you have a group of guests quietly drinking tea, browsing through the couple’s albums, playing the part of relatives and friends on a normal visit, and the next moment you find the couple lying in a pool of blood.

The almost casual manner in which they are killed makes the ending even more chilling and hard-hitting. While some might find it clichéd for a love story like this, it is actually a gruesome reminder of the deep caste-hatred in our society and of how some divides run so deep that they don’t get bridged even with time, even after the passage of many years after the couple’s elopement. And when rooted in  realistic setting like this, it is a far cry from other films with similar endings, which glorify the sacrifice that is implied when the lead pair is killed.

What seems like an innocent tale of young love at first, is actually a slap in the face of a society that still witnesses caste related honour killings. Such instances are often dismissed as isolated events from the dark corners of our country, but are in fact part of a well-oiled system that has institutionalized caste-oppression. Along with succeeding at the box-office, one hopes that the film also succeeds in provoking thought and introspection among its viewers.

First published here: http://theindianeconomist.com/sairat-socially-conscious-romantic-drama/

The Many Faces of the Police Procedural

Switch on the TV, and more likely or not one would find themselves watching a police procedural.  This is hardly surprising as detective fiction makes for popular TV shows and cinema, where the focus is on finding the face behind a series of unexplained events, who is often someone you would least expect-so much so that it’s now a rule in crime fiction. While the highlight of such films is the big reveal at the end, other more discerning ones detail the manner in which the perpetrator is brought to light in order to bring out the different themes on screen that the film deals with.

Consider the 1991 American film ‘Silence of the Lambs’ where the identity of the kidnapper-murderer is secondary to the other themes like- the relationship of convenience between a FBI trainee, Clarice Starling and a convicted psychopath named Hannibal Lecter who once practised as a psychiatrist, or the subtle sexism that Starling sometimes faces from her all-male team. The film presents us with the criminal Hannibal Lecter, an unexpectedly polite man with polished manners who maintains a chilling yet calm demeanour even as he describes the gruesome details of his cannibalistic exploits. This is a far cry from the more straightforward unhinged behaviour of another psychopath Buffalo Bill, whose is chased by the FBI for a series of kidnappings and murders.

A major chunk of films in the genre of detective fiction is the Sherlock Holmes type of film- where the detective’s deductive skills are the focus of interest as he traces down the culprit. In such films, the viewers find themselves making mental notes of the clues presented and formulating their own theories of the resolution of the mystery.

This brings us to another kind of police procedural- like the recently released Talvar which is based on true events of the Aarushi Talvar double murder case. Since the film draws from real life and has a highly publicized case at the centre of its plot, uncovering the identity of the culprits is no longer the primary goal. Instead, the focus is now on how the structural deficiencies of investigative agencies can mar an investigation from being objective and facts-based, and can put the wrong people behind bars.  Although balanced and objective at the surface, where it presents different scenarios of what may have happened, the film quietly makes a case for the innocence of the dentist couple and a possible miscarriage of justice.

The theme that stands out is the class differences between the investigators, especially the local police, and those being investigated. This divide provides fodder to speculative theories about the character of the victim and the motive of the crime. The police sermonize on matters beyond the law, as their faces betray envious resentment of the comfortable, liberal lifestyle of this upper middle class family. This is evident in a scene in the very first few minutes, where the police field intimate questions about the victim in local Hindi, which are rebuffed by the stressed parents in polished English. The servant-employer relationship is also explored. The scene, where the servant  is trying to reign in his drunken friends, who brazenly enter a young girl’s room with malicious intentions, sends chills down the middle class’s spine and makes it question the level of access of the lower class to their lives.

Along the lines of Talvar is the 2003 film ‘Memories of Murder’ loosely based on the real life serial rape-murders of young women in South Korea between 1986 and 1991. Much like Talvar, this film too follows a fictionalized adaptation of the shoddy investigation that ensues after the murders come to light. The film is not interested in who is behind the brutal acts but its psychological effect on a police force pushed to the edge in solving an unsolvable mystery. As the local detectives, with a touch of dark humour, try to pin the blame on and draw out false confessions from a series of suspects with a spurious connection to the case in order to make their job easier, a young promising detective from the capital city of Seoul arrives at the scene. Using his superior deductive methods and ingenuity, but regarded by the local detectives with suspicion, he tries to bring more order to the probe.

 But after all their efforts to find the murderer reach a dead end, and all their leads turn cold, the only tool left in the investigative arsenal of the authorities as well as the young, once optimistic detective, is an active imagination fuelling more unsubstantiated theories. Desperate attempts are made to string often incompatible pieces of the puzzle together. The mystery and the constant speculation that has led them nowhere continues to haunt them long after they have moved on from the case, some onto different professions altogether - thus showing how they keep looking for answers even in the face of a hopeless case.

There is some thought given to the place of women in society through the means of the investigation and the sexual violence aspect of the murders. When a junior female officer provides an important clue, the local cops snigger at her. One observes how they themselves leer at women, while being thrust with the responsibility of finding the rapist-murderer- thus showing how deeply embedded misogyny is in societies and doesn’t disappear even in the light of brutal crimes against women.

Police procedurals have been used to examine varied themes-right from the faults in the criminal justice system to other broader human values. Even in Hindi cinema, pure detective fiction like a Detective Byomkesh Bakshy exists comfortably alongside a Talvar in the same year, presenting to us the wide range in the genre.

A version of this piece was first published here: http://theindianeconomist.com/the-many-faces-of-the-police-procedural/

Source for Images:
http://www.koimoi.com/movie/talvar/
http://bigthink.com/book-of-the-month/lessons-in-mindfulness-from-sherlock-holmes-brain-addict

The Superficial Gender Role Reversal in the film Ki and Ka

In an industry that is notorious for producing commercial films with either stereotypical female characters, or those that objectify them with the male gaze, a mainstream film like Ki and Ka, which has a female protagonist who is ambitious about her career and a man who wants to take care of the house, sounds like a breath of fresh air. Such gender role reversals, when done on the screen, are often comedies and Ki and Ka is no different. However, neither does Ki and Ka flip gender roles successfully, nor is it a funny film that some might expect it to be.

Kareena Kapoor’s character Kia, is a woman who wants to be the best at what she does and see the pinnacle of success in her profession. Marriage and children are constraints for her, as she knows how career often takes a backseat for women for some time when they have to shoulder the majority of the housework and family responsibilities, with respect to kids and elders. Arjun Kapoor’s character Kabir, on the other hand, doesn’t have any conventional career ambitions but wants to stay at and look after the home like his mother. At the surface, both look like the perfect couple who have balanced out their roles and responsibilities in the marriage. They are made out to be so in the film as well, despite the glitches they face. But look a little deeper and you find that they are a dysfunctional couple, with Kia displaying a sexist streak right from the beginning. They have fights, but Kia’s borderline abusive behaviour towards her husband and her internalized misogyny are never truly resolved.

The gender-role reversal is superficial. There is a tangible attempt to make unpaid housework respectable and dignified, deserving of being viewed as an arduous, difficult and creative profession like other professions. The film also emphasises that work, be it in the office or at home, can be done by any gender. This is completely fine, but this is also accompanied by sexist humour when the term ‘wife’ is often used derogatorily by Kia. While it fits with the kind of character she is playing, a lot of the time it is used to generate humour to make the subject matter of the film more entertaining and palatable for the audience. The film doesn’t outwardly endorse her views, but the tone of humour and derision in which she casually makes some of her remarks makes us believe the opposite. The tone of the film is important here, because it takes one step back when it makes fun of what a conventional housewife is supposed to be.

This is classic misogyny. One of the main reasons why housework and childcare are looked down upon and taken for granted is because they are performed by women. Sample this fact – A woman wearing a man’s dress does not generate as much humour as a man in drag. This is because anything feminine is automatically considered inferior and worthy of ridicule as compared to anything masculine- which is the ideal that humans aspire to be in a patriarchy.

If a film, which claims to be progressive about gender issues, falls in the same pit of punch down humour, where stereotypes are peddled and the victims of that stereotype are made fun of to elicit a few laughs from the audience, then it’s not really doing anything new. And it’s not really different from those distasteful husband-wife jokes doing the rounds on WhatsApp, except that a man is playing the ‘wife’s’ role and a woman the husband’s.

While these are the issues with the content of the film, the film in itself is haphazardly edited, with many sequences showing problems of continuity. The premise of many scenes seems promising, but they fall flat on their face as we move on from one ineffective scene to the next. The only thing that stands out is Rajit Kapoor’s brief but genuinely funny performance as Kabir’s father, who has better comic timing than any of the lead actors, showing us the seasoned actor that he is.

The sequence that jolts us to the reality of marriage in India is the one with Amitabh and Jaya Bachchan (playing themselves in the film), where Jaya Bachchan casually asks her husband whether he would have compromised on his career for their home and marriage like she had to. This scene is done in a seemingly flippant way, but is quite poignant underneath when Bachchan indirectly points out the plight of millions of women who never had or have the power to choose to stay at home as Kabir did.

First published here :http://theindianeconomist.com/superficial-gender-role-reversal-ki-ka/