The Fortunate One

(original Title: Sonam) Monpa (Arunachalee) / 2006 / colour/ 120 mins by Ahsan Muzid

Set in the Himalayan abode of Arunachal Pradesh at the altitude of 15000 feet above sea level along the Indo China Border, debutant Director Ahsan Muzid details in lyrical style the many hues of Monpa tribal life. Appropriate historical and mythical references as well as an examination of the customs and traditions are necessary to narrate this difficult tale of a small family and Muzid does not falter. While exploring a subject like this, history usually plays a contextualizing role and in ‘The Fortunate One,’ it is the milieu that subtly allows us to be aware of the legends, myths, oral tales of the Monpas so as to enable us to go beneath the surface to extract meaning and significance of what unfolds.

‘The Fortunate One’ as a film stands on a solid ground for it never slips into overstatement. Here, Sonam the lone wife of one such yak shepherd falls in love with a young village lad while her husband is away in the high mountains. Though the husband does not initially come into terms with this turn of events, he finally approves her second marriage but cannot help feeling a deep anguish. Consenting to the marriage, he makes a frantic and somewhat mad journey to the heights – a sequence the director executes to great effect and which beautifully portrays the agony and frustration of the husband. More humiliation however awaits him when Sonam declares that he has not fathered the newborn son; his love for her and the son is however so pure he continues to take care of both. In his mind he continues to fight a different battle, a battle to prove his valor and masculinity, and he kills a menacing Snow Leopard up in the mountain and returns victorious only to see his wife being let down by her other husband. Sonam now realizes the wrong that she committed by dishonoring and disregarding a purer love. Finally this sense of guilt and remorse leads Sonam to her death as she finds atonement only there, a belief embodied in the Buddhist religion. Here the appropriate sub-plot of the leopard hunting is used metaphorically, not only to indicate that the senior husband must prove his valor/ virility but also to suggest the violent feelings aroused in him at the damage done by custom and tradition to his sense of self.

The lushness of the backdrop and the authentic depiction of Brokpa’s lifestyle add to The Fortunate One convincing delineation of the follies of an unpractical social custom at least in terms of emotional bonding among individuals. The director handles this social yet human issue with considerable flair. “When I was doing research for the film in the Monpa society, I encountered many persons who had suffered a lot on account of this particular practice of polyandry, accepting it as their destiny. In my film The Fortunate One the wife and her two husbands suffer to the point of desperation. This story depicts that no two men can live together with a single wife”- the director Muzid says in an interview. The film therefore advocates monogamous bonding between men and women and suggests that Sonam is the fortunate one even in death because she realizes (albeit belatedly) the pleasure to be derived from the monogamous institution of marriage. Making the director’s task easy in depicting this delicately tragic story, the cinematographer Naresh Sarmah skillfully captures the beauty of the place and precariousness of the characters’ situations in the midst of hostile nature. The use of folk tunes and Buddhist hymns in the background score further heightens the mood to memorable effect. The opening and last scenes of the The Fortunate One – that of a silhouette of traditional yak dance – reminds one the similar scene of Bergman’s The Seventh Seal.

By Bitopan Borbora: The writer is a film critic associated with ‘Assam Tribune Group’, India Photo source: www.sonam.net.tv

Nayi Neralu

(original title: In the shadow of the dog) Kannada / 2006 / colour / 120 mins
by Girish Kasaravalli

To recount the story of the film briefly, Venkatalaxmi has lost her husband twenty years ago and she now lives her daughter Rajalaxmi and her late husband's father Achchannaih and mother Nagalaxmi. Venkatalaxmi has grown accustomed to her life as a widow, so she is taken aback when Achchannaih announces that her late husband has been reborn in the body of Vishwa, a young man from a distant village.

Venkatalaxmi is not sure she wants to disrupt her life but Nagalaxmi urges her to meet the man and see how she feels. While Vishwa does not remind Venkatalaxmi of her husband, both Achchannaih and Nagalaxmi believe he carries his spirit. The old parents see Vishwa as a chance for their late son to be returned to them and Venkatalaxmi accepts his presence as an opportunity to start her life over again. However, Rajalaxmi rejects Vishwa's claims and wants to prove to everyone that he is a fraud.

As if almost by design Venkatalaxmi and Vishwa are brought closer and the inevitable happens. Venkatalaxmi becomes pregnant and it is now the turn of hypocritical Brahmin society to be shocked. Since it is no longer possible for Venkatalaxmi and Vishwa to reside in their village, they move away to the coast and set up house on the seashore. At this point, Vishwa’s conduct seems to become more questionable as he begins to lose interest in his ‘wife’. Still, Vishwa is not simply a fraud as the director sees him. Kasaravalli leaves the film open-ended and Vishwa emerges as a mentally feeble individual, himself something of a victim, and Venkatalaxmi as not the only person whose life is blighted. The title of the film makes a reference to a segment in the Mahabharata in which a dog accompanies Yudhishtra turns out to be his father, the God of Death.

The idiom of realism is an unusual choice for the film but it still raises many questions. The chief one pertains to how deeply the notion of reincarnation and the theory of transmigration of souls are embedded in the Hindu psyche. In actual practice, people use the notion to explain away difficulties and rarely look around them for evidence of who they might have been. Nayi Neralu is different in much as the realistic treatment chosen by Kasaravalli brings home to us the absurdity of a situation in which a young widow is coerced into conceding conjugal rights to a complete stranger, with the tacit support of her orthodox Brahmin in-laws, nominally her protectors, who have been only too mindful of the rigors she must undergo to keep her mind and body chaste.

Nayi Neralu is impeccably shot in color by Ramachandra Aithal and the luminous greens are a treat to watch. Isaac Thomas Kottukapally’s musical score is haunting. Another thing that deserves mention is the performances. Kannada art cinema has come a long way from its early days and the overacting that marked many of the early Kannada art films is completely absent. Performances by Pavitra Lokesh as Venkatalaxmi and Ananya Kasaravalli as Rajalaxmi are especially professional.

Saira

Malayalam / 2006 / colour / 90 mins by Dr. Biju

The issue of the religious identity of the Indian Muslim has become a contentious one today with the Hindu right virtually demanding that Indian Muslims demonstrate their loyalty to the nation. Dr Biju Kumar’s Saira tries to bring two intricately connected issues into the limelight, namely the animosity between religious groups mindful only of the suffering undergone by their own kind but not of the hardship they cause others and the gradual descent of the milieu into violence because of ‘terrorism’. The story revolves around Saira (Navya Nair), the daughter of

The strongest statement made by the film pertains to the absurdity of Muslims having to prove their loyalty to India time and again. Ironically, Khasim Abbas the terrorist assumes that Ustad Ali Hussain will be sympathetic to his cause simply because he is a Muslim. It takes much effort on the Ustad’s part to convince the terrorist otherwise. Another factor brought out by the film is the tendency of the Islamic terrorist to regard only the suffering of his own community as significant and having no eyes for the suffering of anyone else. ‘We all belong to humanity,’ the Ustad declares, “and it is only humanity that suffers.

Saira deals with an explosive problem not only in India but in the whole world but the aesthetic it employs deliberately shuns high drama. It also does not engage in the blaming game as more commercial ventures about terrorism are apt to do. Instead, the director tries to keep the narrative austere and true to its purpose which is to show how irrelevant the laying of blame is to those who have no stake in the politics of communalization. Especially noticeable is Dr Biju Kumar’s use of nature. In the sequence where Saira and her colleagues leave the terrorist leader to depart through the lush green jungle, the camera catches a spider waiting patiently in its web. The important thing is that this imagery can also be read as metaphor for the dangers lurking ahead for those who are unwary. In some of the other sequences, the director deliberately eschews lighting up a scene (perhaps like Jean-Luc Godard) and this infuses much of the action with deep ambiguity. We don’t know who is perpetrating the violence or who are the victims but the violence is there for everyone to see.

The film is very accomplished in its style and the frequent back and forth in time is handled with finesse. Nedumudi Venu, who plays the Ustad, is a well-known actor but it is almost impossible to recognize him, so perfectly does he blend into the role. Also, we see him playing on the tabla expertly with none of the common tricks of montage. This is quite a revelation.

Crystal Clear

(original title : Nital) Marathi /2006 / colour / 135 mins
by Sumitra Bhave & Sunil Sukhtankar

Vitiligo may sound a minor issue for a major film and one may question the solemnity with which Nital approaches it but there are, nonetheless, deeper issues involved. One issue associated with skin color in India is the notion of ritual purity. 'Black' is associated with the 'lower castes' in popular prejudice and white patches on one's skin may correspond to some kind of contamination of the blood so feared by caste Hindus. Is not Nital gently suggesting this when it also makes Neeraja have poorer antecedents than Ananya's family? 

It is perhaps not right to give away the ending of Nital to the reader but this is not a newspaper review and the directors Sumitra Bhave and Sunil Sukhthankar introduce a special twist that gives the film some complexity and that the reader should know about. When Neeraja returns to Bangalore after her unfortunate experiences with Ananya's family, another man with a darker skin and without the appearance of belonging to the highest caste tries to make his interest in marrying Neeraja known to her. But at that moment, Neeraja is distracted by a call from Ananya who is also bent on proposing. The other man understands that his suit does not have a chance with Ananya also being a suitor and he withdraws hastily. It is perhaps this twist pertaining to colour/caste prejudice that takes the film beyond the scope of a mere 'disability film'.      

The film has some good songs – music by Srirang Umrani and lyrics by Sunil Suthankar himself -and competent camera work by Sanjay Memane. Vijay Tendulkar, the leading Marathi playwright gives an excellent performance as Ananya's liberal-minded grandfather. Devika Daftardar as Neeraja acquits herself creditably.