I'm Watching You...


Sir

 

It has been some time since I last watched an Indian film and whenever there is a considerable gap between one Indian film and the other, I wonder why I have let so much time go by. Surely, there are many conceptions and misconceptions about Indian movies and Bollywood in general, and my intention is not to do away with them. This would be a task fit for a dissertation, at the very least. All I want to do is to talk about one film, here, that surprised me positively and more so than others.

 

 

 

(Careful now, spoilers lie ahead)

 

 

 

 

Written and directed by Rohena Gera, it is a film about hope: the hope to be free, to be independent and to be happy. Something that is not guaranteed or even easy to attain for a woman in India. The times are changing, but there is still a strict class division in Indian society and these classes have more than one dimension. It is more than just the income that divides the people and causes rifts that separate rich from poor, the educated from the uneducated (or what we believe to be uneducated), women from men. Within this field of tension, the film establishes a tentative relationship between a young widow from the country, who is trying to become a seamstress, and the pampered young man she serves. She is paid by his doting parents– though they have little screen time and only act as a driving force, as an emphasis of the existing gulf between him and his servant Ratna, brought to a trembling life by Tillotama Shome. Their social circles only show the differences between the two main characters. He is the toast of the high-society, a good friend and even better match for the girls of his social circle and beyond that, whereas Ratna is crafty but poor and without any formal education, a nobody to his parents and his friends.

 

What I love about this film is the unpolished un-Bollywood-ish look and feel it has. It is quiet, careful and it feels real. Without much ado, it follows the humble life of Ratna, who becomes a widow at 19. This event ends her social life due to the strict moral codes imposed upon widows. It is a set of rules, deeply rooted in the belief of dharma. The dharma is a set of stages a human goes through in life and to which a corresponding set of goals one must achieve to have one’s karma in order, so to say, is tied – #lifegoals, just around 2000-4000 years old. What this means is that, if you become a bride, your goal in this is to serve your husband, bear him children and later accompany him into hermitage when this stage of his life comes. This is Ratna’s dharma, too, and if she fails to fulfil it (i.e. bearing her husband children, taking care of him) it is considered her fault. This point is especially made clear and shown in another film: Water by Deepa Metha, which is another serious film tip of mine and a must-see! The death of the husband is considered the wife’s fault and since she cannot fulfil her dharma in this life anymore, she must wait for another, even if she is only nine years old. Better luck next time… But back to Ratna and her troubles.

 

 

Ratna’s husband dies shortly after their marriage due to an illness that his parents had concealed from her parents. Four months after the wedding, Ratna becomes a widow and a pariah to society. She is not even allowed to be on the pictures of her sister’s wedding because it would be considered ill-luck for the bride to meet a widow on her wedding day – Said widow already killed one husband, so…

 

Ratna is also not allowed to marry again for the same reasons. Another marriage is out of the question for Ratna and the relationship she builds with her “Sir”, Ashwin, is a forbidden one. Ashwin is played very sensitively by Vivek Gomber, someone I would love to see more of because he manages to bring the privileged high-society, modern Indian to life and gives the character depth beyond the script. Contrary to Ashwin, Ratna is constantly aware of the gulf that separates them and is not only hesitant but also rejects him and his affection, though it breaks her heart to do so. The very patent-ness Ashwin likes about her makes her practical enough to say goodbye to him despite his protests. She sees the difference between the reality in a village, where she comes from, and the reality of leading a life in the city. She knows and states so that, if her late-husband’s family would get wind of a relationship between her and Ashwin, they would drag her back to the village and imprison her there in order to retain their family honour. She would then be only another useless mouth to feed. He, on the other hand, having been to America and having seen that there are other ways, at first thinks that their love is possible.

 

Their relationship begins as a more or less typical relationship between master and servant. Ashwin, a good-looking, upper-class, high-society offspring is typically uninterested in Ratna and in her life. Despite his politeness towards the servants, they are, in the beginning, hardly more than pieces of furniture, a mere convenience. His mother employed Ratna, also as a maid for his bride-to-be, whose name is Sabina, but who only has one retrospect-scene in which she gives Ratna the confidence to wear bangles as a widow – a taboo in the village.

 

As Ashwin finds out that his bride-to-be, or Madam, as Ratna deferentially calls her, has had an affair while he was away in America, he leaves her at the altar and returns home to his stylish, yet comfortably furnished flat in a modern skyscraper. He understands why Sabina has had the affair because he did not love her enough. His proposal to her was more out of a sense of obligation than out of love and she needed more. This is a very unusual stance toward the situation and is contrasted by the more conventional view of his peers. He is uninterested in his servants, at first, which is partly due to his sadness and because he does not know any better. In general, he is a better master than others. He says thank you, when she offers him food etc., defends her and consoles her when his friends or family behave coarsely, and Ratna even has her own room to which she can withdraw after her work is done. But while she is supposed to not want anything anymore, she dreams of becoming a seamstress or even a fashion designer. Ashwin allows her to visit a course to that end, which is really generous of him (*irony off*) and then starts to become interested in her and her life. He is astounded at the difference in their realities and cannot believe the situation to be as bad as Ratna says. As their relationship progresses from flatmates to hesitant lovebirds, he asks her repeatedly to call him by his given name and not his title, which would blur the boundaries between their ranks, their social classes and genders even more. He falls in love with the “patent” woman, who is life-wise instead of educated and vain like the girls his friends and parents want him to fall for. Her quiet, unassuming presence, her care for him and his needs beyond what she is supposed to do – such as hiding the wedding presents out of sight so that Ashwin is not reminded of his unfaithful nearly-wife, answering the phone and denying his presence so that he does not have to talk to the unfaithful one – endear her to him because he notices them. She also tries to cheer him up with her own story, of how the death of her husband failed to end her life though it should have according to the code, and unwittingly makes him interested in herself. He begins to take an interest, to care, to read her moods. And they have these small conversations, these little moments, which are sometimes sweet, sometimes a bit awkward.

 

One of my favourite scenes is when he comes home, without knowing that a very snobbish fashion designer has thrown her out of her shop after one derisive look at Ratna and that she is deeply hurt by this. Ashwin enquires after her dreams and she reacts hurt to everything he says because she feels mocked and he has no idea what hit him. But instead of being angry at her, he buys a glossy fashion magazine for her, telling her that everybody should be allowed to dream of anything.

 

 

Another scene comes relatively shortly afterwards: A very unabashed girl comes one morning out of his bedroom to be greeted by a suddenly disappointed (or even hurt) Ratna, asks for a glass of water and then simply leaves. She shows some awkwardness, but nothing more. In contrast, Ashwin’s walk of shame, when comes out of his bedroom and sees Ratna, is epic. This scene is short, yet intimate and very well played by the actors. They manage to completely fuse with their roles and make themselves disappear.

 

 

 

The movie juxtaposes her hard life with his easy existence as a son of rich parents. The end is an open one. After a soft, loving kiss – for which my heart is still aching – he leaves for America for her good, out of love and the insight that simply the rumours would be enough to end the little bit of social status she has left, but he does not leave without helping her get a job as seamstress. A last goodbye, so to say. He is not convinced when Ratna tells him how the world turns. The first chink in his wall of conviction appears due to his good friend, who tells him that, even if he married Ratna, she would always be his maid and his mother would not even sit at the same table as Ratna. Another, deeper crack appears, when he walks into his mother’s kitchen where Ratna eats with the other servants and he asks her whether she wants him to wait for her to finish. These very servants do, what all people do: they think the worst of others – probably because they would do so – and they talk. Ratna makes it very clear to Ashwin the consequences his niceties have for her, the loss of face that comes with them for her and how it will destroy her. She moves out and this is a very powerful scene in which the different worlds Ashwin and Ratna live in comes into focus and stark contrast.

 

Since he cannot live in the flat where she is not (his father suspects him of sleeping with Ratna and says so), he leaves for America. When she realises that he is behind the job at the fashion designer’s studio, the opportunity of her lifetime, she wants to visit him, to thank him, though Ratna has always declined his offers for help because she wants to stand on her own two feet without being in someone’s debt, especially to someone like Ashwin who could use this easily as leverage. Tillotama Shome manages to display the mixture of reluctance, shame, hope and determination that governs Ratna’s life. It is impossible not to fear and hope with her and to pray that her dreams come true, that their love may yet be! Even though she broke the ties to Ashwin when she moved out of the flat, the viewer hops that this has not been it, that this, whatever this is, is not over, yet. When Ratna discovers the locked door of his apartment, she despairs a little, for she wanted to thank him for this opportunity, feeling sorry for her refusal and, naturally, her pining for him made her want to see him once again. Despondent, she flees to the roof of the building to think (and maybe cry a little bit). She then takes out her mobile phone – I was already at the edge of my seat – and calls a number. The viewer can hear his voice and then Ratna does not say anything. She fights with herself a few too-long seconds before she finally dares to say his NAME.

 

Be still my heart.

 

And thus, the film ends with hope. Hope that she will make it as a seamstress. Hope that their love does have a chance. Hope that she might go to America with him, leaving the family behind (even though this seems a bit far-fetched since she loves her little sister so much that she paid the tuition for her so that she could become a learned woman). Hope, that the Indian society is changing enough for them to be happy together.

 

Shome and Gumbar display wonderful chemistry in this gentle, insightful and serious romance that is far from what most people think of as Bollywood-film. The film is not high-gloss, big-picture-esqe, though it captures the grand cityscape of a million lights and worlds, it is a rather introspective study of Indian society and the rifts that go through it. The film is full of silences equally full of unspoken words and unvoiced thoughts, of little moments that accumulate like drops into a tidal wave of feeling.

 

I can only recommend watching this “little” gem and want to add it to my film-collection rather sooner than later.

 

 

*The pictures used here are all screenshots from movie-trailers you can find on YouTube.

 

 

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Buffy or Guilty Pleasures

 

The (probably only) positive thing about being sick is that you get to watch series for which you would normally not have the time. It is the only upside, though.

 

One of these series is Buffy – The Vampire Slayer. I must confess that I completely underestimated the series as a youth. Apart from the slapstick and the funny one-liners for which mostly Xander and Buffy are responsible, it now has the benefit of nostalgia – the music, the tech-gadgets (pagers!), the clothes… And when I say: “Oh my God, the clothes!” I am talking about fuzzy sweaters, swirly colours, baggy jeans and leather corsets, which, if at their best, are combined freely with each other. Fun fact on the side, there is a twitter account dedicated to Bad Buffy Outfits: https://twitter.com/BadBuffyOutfits . If you want a good laugh, go check it out.

 

 

 

(Again, from hereon the web is dark and full of spoilers – continue only if you have watched the series or do not mind spoilers!)

 

 

 

What I love about the series is the abundance of themes and motifs that are important to young people. The writers have tried to cover subjects that teenagers and young adults can relate to. But even at the riper age of (over) 30, you can still take something away from the series, though these themes and motifs are now more memories than actual day-to-day problems.

 

Take for instance the first big love. It was incredibly important at that time, all-consuming, and definitely more important than anything else, school and family included, was it not? Was it not nice to have the time to be able to focus all your attention on that subject, to be able to dedicate oneself fully to the question, whether the boy next door or the one in class 10b, the one with the nice smile and the blue eyes, might be interested? Sure, at 30-something, love and relationships are still important and can take up a lot of your brain-capacity, but you still have other things to worry about, such as your work, the rent and the bills, and you simply cannot afford to ignore everything just because your new colleague seems nice or your boyfriend has left. To watch how Buffy completely loses herself in the relationship with Angel, as well as the level of devotion she shows him and he shows her seems unimaginable in anything but the first big love. Everything is shiny and new and every cut hurts more because it is the first cut. It is bittersweet to watch and reminisce about your own (probably failed) first love and/or relationship – also not a bad conversation-starter.

 

There are other themes and motifs, of course. I will look at the motif of the younger sibling first. It is one of the most obvious and persistent because it is part of three seasons, varying in importance and influence on the storyline.

 

Buffy's younger sibling is introduced very abruptly and the viewer has no idea where she comes from. Dawn, as we learn, is everything: sweet and pretty, yet cumbersome, tiring and a huge challenge for Buffy, especially after the death of her mother. To be honest, the Dawn-Story-Arc infuriates me every time I see it. To me, the whole story-arc seems forced and unnecessarily convoluted. Though it brings us Spike back as a main character, it is my least favourite season. My bf thinks the 6th trumps the 5th in being the worst season because they are all so whiny in the 6th, yet to me, it is the Dawn-Arc, as I will call it.

 

Dawn is shown to be unnecessarily clumsy and she is – oh my God – stupid above all. How can one person be so dumb and unreasonable, even if she is supposed to portray an adolescent, a young person who goes through puberty? I mean, does she need all her brain cells to breathe and eat so that none are left for anything else? At some point, I was very nearly happy about every bad card she got dealt because she deserved all of them. Breaking things – if you know you are clumsy, you leave your fingers off things - , lying, lashing out unreasonably, which is the most teenage-y thing she does, and last but not least stealing… Dawn does better herself over time, but by the 7th series, it is a bit late, in my opinion, to like her after all the things she has pulled these past two seasons. She will always stay the selfish and dumb sibling who is too self-involved to think for a second.

 

I have to admit, I am an only child, but even my friends with siblings said that Dawn is often behaving dumber than the usual sibling. “Seriously dense” was one of the descriptions used and I have to agree. She does improve over time, but even in later episodes, she is hard to stand due to her pouting, obstinacy and incorrigible temper. And then there is the screaming.

The tinnitus is strong with this one.

 

The death of Buffy’s mother Joyce is another motif: the death in the family. The writers made a rite of passage out of it. The father is absent (whom you could legally sue for support, but who is conveniently far away and completely uninterested in his children) and Buffy has to again outgrow herself. From then on she has not only to be the Slayer with the weight of the world on her shoulders, no, she also has to bring home enough money to feed her sister and herself and become somewhat of a mother for Dawn without actually being the mother. And Dawn is so not helping her sister – she is making things worse and worse by flunking classes, stealing and in general being a brat about everything. More than once I wished I could put my hands into the TV and shake her. Giles is also being stupid about this whole affair. He is the father figure in the whole series, the only father-type Buffy has, and when Buffy really needs him, instead of setting some boundaries and helping her on, he leaves her.

 

The episode of Joyce’s death is a masterpiece, though. There is no music, no comfort in sounds, just stark neon light and people who are coarse and very unhelpful. Joyce’s sudden absence is made palpable by the lack of music of any kind to which we are so accustomed in movies to transport feelings and emotions. The fact that they never close Joyce’s eyes is also kind of shocking. Normally, the ambulance or the undertaker would do this, but they all leave her eyes open. It emphasises Joyce’s transition from warm, stability-providing mother to an empty shell without a soul, to a body that is left behind when the persona leaves – also emphasised by the fact that Buffy is not supposed to move “the body”. This episode is, all in all, a turning point for the series and has a whole set of problems in its wake for Buffy and the gang.

 

Additionally, there are many themes and motifs connected to Buffy’s circle of friends, which are usually supposed to teach the viewer a lesson. Here are a few of said themes and motifs:

 

  • Growing up together and how relationships change because people go different ways in life. For example: Willow and Buffy go to college, whereas Xander is becoming a part of the workforce. Apart from the very different decisions that have to be made and the different schedules that make it harder for the trio to meet, there is another lesson in there: go to school, study hard and you can make something of yourself or you will struggle to find a job that does not make you want to do anything but. Xander succeeds anyway, but this is not a given and the show makes this point clear, for Xander only succeeds through hard work.

 

  • Love interests and how to deal with them – or in Xander’s case how NOT to deal with it. Xander is very interested in Buffy, whereas Willow loves Xander and Buffy is totally into Angel. Whereas Willow tries and hopes and, in the end, gives up with good grace, Xander is always jealous and vindictive (to be fair, Angel uses him as a punching ball given the chance). He also uses magic to take revenge on Cordelia and can, in general, be considered the person to do the dumbest thing about a situation that can be done. “Oh, I am twice the idiot”, he says to Giles when he wonders how one can be such an idiot to use a love spell – but Xander has his moments in the series that make up for his idiocy – Saving the world from Willow, for example. By the end of the series, he is a well-rounded character and human,

 

  • Making stupid decisions (a.k.a. trusting people you’ve never met as in Willow’s love-chats with a demon or using love-potions),

 

  • Loneliness and what it can do to people (the girl who became invisible),

 

  • Peer pressure and how to deal with it (Cordelia’s stand against her social circle and going with her heart instead of her popularity),

 

  • Drugs (Willows addiction to magic)

 

  • Unhealthy relationships and being strong about it (Tara leaves Willow when she prioritises magic over her feelings for Tara)

 

 … And there are so many more: being responsible about having sex, having sex, accepting responsibility, moving past your differences, being gay and that is okay, too (which is incredibly important!)…

 

 

Then, obviously, there are the monsters, most notably the vampires and they pose some exciting questions. In order not to get too lost in all the subjects the vampires offer, I want to focus on, what I consider to be, the biggest question that the vampires pose: How much of the man is the vampire?

 

At the start of the series, we are told that when a human is bitten and transformed into a vampire, a demon “sets up shop” in your body and that it may “talk like you and act like you” but that it is a soulless thing that would do things you would never ever consider doing. This theorem is often countered by Angel and Spike whom we get to know quite a bit during the series. By the end, it seems clear, that the demon “vampire” is more likely the darker side of the human embodied and even this is sometimes questionable. There is Harmony, for example, who is not bad enough to be a real danger. She kills for food, but not for fun and her plans to slay the slayer usually fail before they become remotely dangerous and Buffy laughs it off most of the times. In her human life, Harmony was an insipid cheerleader-type girl that put peer-pressure on Cordelia. Her only “redeeming” feature were her pretty looks and they did not get her far in life. As a vampire, she has not changed a bit, apart from the blood-sucking and the big teeth. It seems as if only the base urges and meaner character traits are left after the transformation, though the vampires are able to love and do good – even if they don’t have a soul (yet), like Harmony and Spike. The soul is more akin to a moral anchor that gives a vampire the ability to evaluate their deeds according to a human understanding of good and evil. The soul is the ruling instance that rules good from bad and checks the anger, gives the bearer a frustration-management that makes him socially acceptable and keeps him from murdering the innocent. In short, as a vampire, they simply lack a conscience that could haunt them for evil actions, but they are basically the same person they were when they were human. Angel was a playboy, who, without a thought, slept with women, made lewd jokes and was altogether a rather unpleasant person to be around when you are female and or not drunk. He transforms, after he had been cursed with a soul for the first time, into a self-pitying beggar and then into a moody, aloof and “dark” person who can still be quite… dick-ish all around. I would not describe him as socially well-adjusted. Angel never wants to better himself, he has no goal for himself, no reason to change. Even his eternal love for Buffy does not make him want to be better than he is. Instead, he develops an unhealthy obsession for her that cannot, by any stretch, be classified as love. When he leaves after he has been re-cursed, Buffy is heartbroken, but she recovers after a while.

 

Contrary to Angel, Spike wants to be enough. As a man, he wanted to be enough for his love interest, wanted to be good enough, funny enough, just enough to be loved back – A harmony-bear through and through (I am not sorry for that pun!). Only after he has been wronged many times and been insulted, he despairs and his transformation into a vampire seals the deal so to say. He gives in to his base urges and his darker side (yet, he transforms his mother in an attempt to save her from tuberculosis) emerges. He becomes a really bad boy, who kills his tormentors, is finally “loved” by Drusilla, who is quite mad, and accepted by his small peer-group. He kills two slayers, but when he meets Buffy, he starts to change. In the end, he endures pain and hardship to gain a soul to be finally worthy of Buffy. To him, a “demon”, the soul is not a defilement, but a badge of honour. It is also the reason, why, in my opinion, Spike is a much more interesting character, with much more depth than Angel and he has the bonus of comic-relief, which is often sorely needed amongst all the death and carnage that Buffy and her friends encounter.

 

After all this praise, you must be wondering, why I say that Buffy is a “guilty” pleasure of mine. It is probably because of the cheesy lines, the sudden and strong pathos here and there and the not-so-subtle trash-factor that the series has. On the one hand, the masks and everything make it quite trashy in places, but on the other hand has the series aged quite well BECAUSE they did not use much CGI, which was seriously underdeveloped when the series started. The use of CGI increases over the series, especially the transformations of the vampires improve a lot, but they still use masks for the vampire-faces, which is a definite bonus. The other factor to make Buffy into a “guilty” pleasure for me, is the wallowing in melancholic memories and half-lived experiences from when I was their age. Schools in Germany and the USA do have many differences. There are no Cheerleaders and Quarterbacks that define where the upper side of society is in Germany and few schools in my time had messes where everyone ate the same food. But my experiences as one of the better students were not completely different from what, for example, Willow has to live through. I never cared much for what I wore – “if it fits, I sits”, so to say – and I was mocked mercilessly for it. I also did not care much about who was at the top of the pops or who was smooching whom. I read books, wrote and studied, went horseback riding and swimming and was generally a total outsider. I never fit in with my classmates. I was both too normal to be weird and too weird to be normal. This fact thankfully changed when I entered the 11th grade and the classes were mixed and poured into “courses” and by 12th grade, I finally found friends that I still have to this day (yay me!). I can relate to the challenges of talking to the right or wrong people, butting heads with fellow pupils, wearing the wrong clothes or nail lacquer, trying to be invisible, having to cope with all the homework, falling in love for the first time, losing friends along the way, having to say goodbye to loved ones.

 

 That is why the Buffy series is a guilty pleasure for me and will continue to be so.

 

 

 

I would love to read your thoughts and questions in the comments below.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Blade Runner 2049

Atmospheric, claustrophobic and restless - a society deeply in turmoil between the ambitious task to settle on new planets and the dystopian reality of hell on earth.

It's been a while since I saw the original Blade Runner movie. It seemed to be kind of obscure at that time. The atmosphere, though, was one to remember. It felt dark, it felt lonely, it felt hopeless. Until - there was love. At that point, I was convinced that this film is a love-story. And on the side, it was also about the question what makes us human - which supposedly is love.

 

(Careful now - Spoilers lie ahead of you...)

So when I went to see Blade Runner 2049, I was eager to see how they would follow up on this milestone of dystopian urbanism. My first impressions of the artwork were similar to those of Blade Runner. Cold, hopeless - dystopian (duh). The visuals are naturally better than the ones in the original, though the original seemed more rugged, rougher around the edges, which was part of its charm. Blade Runner 2049 still looks overcrowded yet lonely, dark and forlorn, but not as grimy as its predecessor. Following Officer K (played by Ryan Gosling - whom I've somehow not yet seen on screen) through the city, while he is trying to solve the mystery of his past and the wooden horse that is somehow tied to it, gives the audience an idea of the life one leads in this place. There is the loneliness we already saw in Blade Runner, the glaring streetlights and the obvious differences between the rich and the poor, between blissful ignorance and hopelessness. The visuals are sharp and striking, often artful and alien. The place of the blind Niander Wallace was irritating to my eyes at best and disorienting most of the time with its wandering light and the shimmering water. Water is often used in this film as a prop for great, if not somewhat depressing, visuals - be it in the firm and the house of Niander Wallace (played by Jared Leto), or in the scene when Officer K kills Niander's secretary who claims herself to be the best of them all - meaning the replicants. With this, we come full circle in the sense of emotions, especially one: Love. Sylvia Hoeks plays Luv so perfectly emotional while being a being that is supposed to be unable to love - because that is supposedly the one thing that makes us human. Or was that procreation?


Luv is driven by her desire to be loved by Niander whom she is devoted to with all her programmed heart. Her antagonist, the good one, is Officer K who loves his maid-programme, Joi. When we see Joi being advertised for on the streets it makes her death and the knowledge that her algorithms turned her into something truly special the more jarring. It nearly made me tear up to see machine lovers parted by... death? Or how do you call it when a programme is deleted? The love that once drove Blade Runner Rick Deckard to question his inhumanity and procreate with Rachael (which leads to an entirely different question of whether Deckard is, actually, a human being believing himself to be a replicant or whether he is a replicant that is mysteriously able to reproduce which is why Niander is so highly interested in him and his offspring) now drives Officer K, Joi and Luv to act the way they do, blurring the lines between humans and machines.
This circle was unexpectedly expectable, yet, I was not disappointed by the lack of new storyline that unfolded before my eyes; I was mesmerised by the atmospheric density of the city, the vast, shrouded immensity of what once seems to have been Las Vegas and the hopelessness of the slums.


The soundtrack blew me away, too, not only because it was eardrum-shattering loud at moments. Its loudness made sense. It emphasised the dejection one feels in this dystopian world, where many are forced to scuttle over an earth that is struggling to feed them all and only the rich, hopeful ones are able to leave the world and settle on new ones that seem to be better, an escapist fantasy that cannot become real for the masses. Hans Zimmer, Jóhann Jóhannsson and Benjamin Wallfish created a score that is able to tie the city, the wastes and the slums together in one kaleidoscope of sound and silence, of hope and desperation, of emotions and cold calculation.

When I left the cinema, I was flashed. Even though the storyline is not big, not really new or surprising, it makes for interesting food for thought. What is humanity? Can machines be humane without being human? Can you be human without being humane to other beings? Are you the sum of your memories or of your choices? Is dying for someone else really the most human thing you can do (I had to think of I-Robot here)? And what does it mean for us humans, if machines can be like us, if we can build humans/machines that are like us, but expendable to us, to use them as we want on other planets as an expendable workforce?
The ethical questions you can discuss afterwards are manifold and I am not sure how I would answer them. But if you ask me, whether I would watch this film again, I have no doubt about my answer: Yes, I would.

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Viceroy's House

The expectations I had when I sat down in front of the big screen were not fulfilled because the film was different. I had expected a somewhat traditional romance within the story that envelopes different strands of storytelling.

In short (for those who are afraid of spoilers), it was:

- good

- sad

- frightening and upsetting

- historically accurate (compared with what I know through my studies in Indology and British Studies)

- surprisingly honest

- heartwarming

 

For those who are not afraid of spoilers: continue down below.


I do not know a time in which India was not divided. I have ever only known India and Pakistan as two different countries and somewhat part-time mortal enemies (without wanting to get into an endless discussion about religion and beliefs - I think it is so incredibly sad and pointless that so many people have been dying worldwide due to an argument about whose god/s is/are better). "Viceroy's House" sheds light on a turbulent, bloody, horrible part of India's history that became Pakistan's history, too. In the scene when the household is being divided, it also shows the senselessness and lunacy, the hectic with which the subcontinent was parted in two... or three... or rather four (?) parts, if we count West-Pakistan, East Pakistan, India and Karachi as separate entities.

The scenes of the fleeing people, the hopelessness in some of the people's eyes upon hearing the dismal news from burned homes, massacred children was partly acted and partly provided through historical film-material.

I had known that it was the biggest mass-flight in history, but to read of 14 Million people losing their home, the place they had lived in with their families sometimes for generations, and to read of 1 Million dead people saddened me deeply. The film did not spare the audience from the view of dead bodies, neither of men, nor women, nor babies. For someone who feels sometimes like crying when watching the news, the film was a bit more than goose-bumping.

The difficult love story of Jeet and Aalia is intertwined with the more heartwarming story of the Mountbattens who are depicted as honest, well-meaning people who were trying to make the best decisions for a country that had been neglected, to say the least, by the British during their rule. They give you the positive moments in this film when you think, "wow, they actually tried", which makes it so much more unbearable to see them being used. There is some pathos in the way the Mountbattens fight for the people and in the way Jeet and Aalia are reunited after losing everything they ever had - a home, family, their future - but it is a much needed against the harrowing historical film-material that makes you want to cry and rant and scream at the unfairness of it all. Especially when you are from the future, so to say, and know how much these two new countries have... butted heads ever since.

In order to steer the subject away from the politics a little, I want to come to something that I really liked in the film: the casting. Not only is it great to see that they tried to cast the actors according to the likeness they had with the originals, but that they also considered the skillset of the actor. Hugh Bonneville as Mountbatten is not a perfect visual match, he is, though, perfect in his role as Mountbatten (I guess after Downton Abbey this film is "just" the next historical step towards our times). He portraits the amiable, yet determined nature of the Viceroy with natural ease and is believable in his role. You feel with him, especially when he discovers that he has been used by his own government and that his name will forever stand for a plan that divided a country for the benefit of Great Britain. "Divide and Rule" comes as a flashback like a brick to the head.

Mountbatten's wife, portrayed by Gillian Anderson, is cast visually as well as actor-wise perfectly. She walks the line between subversiveness and submissiveness - arguing intelligently and strategically with and against her husband, and then again supporting him in order to not divide country and people further. She knows when she has lost, but she is always the voice of reason and humanity - and she is headstrong, much more a politician than her husband.

The daughter, played by Lily Travers, is also cast for her likeness with the original and has a supportive character. She is not included in the discussions and is more or less just "there". She seems to be included because there was a historical model for her, and in one scene she acts as a conduit for her father's helplessness when he lashes out at her for interrupting a conversation. For the film, she was not absolutely necessary, though.

Jeet and Aalia, on the other hand, are important. Very important. By the means of these two characters, the anguish, grief and sorrow of the Indian people are made palpable to the audience. Their tears and heartrend are hard to see because they are inherently likeable. Jeet is a Hindu and Aalia is a Muslim. Those who have seen Veer and Zaara know how Bollywood sees the lovestory between a Muslim and a Hindu - The family is against it, which leads to a prison sentence, a human-rights lawyer and very emotional songs. "Viceroy's House" shows  families that are not against their marriage, a pair that does not care whether the person they marry is Muslim or Hindu. What separates them are entities out of their control, fueled by religious hatred and insecurity, led by figureheads that were more into power than into caring for the people they should have been working for. Jeet, the honest, good-hearted ex-police officer is played by Manish Dayal. Jeet loses his whole family, his sisters, his nieces and nephews, his mother when his hometown is reduced to cinders. The short, clipped information that is given as to what has happened in his home village makes you envision the most horrible of fates for everyone. Aalia, an independent woman who supports her blind father (who in turn had supported Gandhi) is played by Huma Qureshi. She loses her father to a massacre on the night-train to Lahore, which she escapes only because her father pushes her from the still running train. The scene of Jeet and Aalia finding each other in a camp is heart-wrenching - all this loss and needless bloodshed in their lives have scarred them -, but it is also uplifting and hope-giving to see that there is a way out of this horror: love.

Before the end-credits, the audience is shown slides of facts, containing the losses, the bloodshed, in short: the horror in numbers. And it shows history coming full circle: Gurinder Chadha, the director and co-writer of this film, is a grandchild of one of 14 Million refugees that lost house and home.

All in all, I can say that the film moved me. It seemed to me an attempt at neutrality and historical correctness. It showed the hard negotiations and the political discussions that were held. It shows the pampered life of the British and has them called "rats that flee the sinking ship". The film also shows the unwillingness of the parties to work together and how this unearthed in the squabbles and fisticuffs between household-staff members. The film doled out blame to every party, except maybe Gandhi - an old man without teeth who only speaks of unity and peace makes not for a good target. The movie also showed that there were good people in all the fractions - Aalia and her father who wanted only peace, the cook who wanted Pakistan without being aggressive about it, the Hindus had their heroes in Jeet and Gandhi and the British in Lord Mountbatten and his wife. This is why I say, it was an attempt at neutrality and historical correctness.

 

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