Charulata (1964)

The striking opening sequence, all of the first almost ten minutes, captures the entire universe of the eponymous Charulata with an effortless grace. The depiction of desolation and ennui, usually more associated with Antonioni, is portrayed with a lucidity and perfection that is rare.

Charu (Madhabi Mukherjee) glides through her palatial mansion, its set design meticulously constructed to reflect the era in which the story is set. Its vast emptiness mirrors Charu's lonesome existence, while her newspaper owner husband Bhupati (Shailen Mukherjee) continues to be preoccupied with his work, which he is also quite passionate about, even comparing it to Charu, stating it to be her Souten or a second wife (translated as 'rival' in the Criterion English subs!).

A lover of literature and poetry, a big fan of Bankim Chandra Chaterjee and perhaps a hidden literary genius herself, we see Charu biding her time roaming about, browsing through books, humming songs and sewing. But more importantly, she also kills her boredom by taking a curious look at the outside world through the half covered windows with a gaze that often switches between contemplative and childlike. The latter quality is more evident in the way she moves from window to window, simply to catch a glimpse of a portly man with an umbrella passing by, her opera glasses always acting as her lens to observe a world that seems distant or inaccessible to her.

In a not-so-subtle manner, Ray shows how Charu feels at a distance even from her husband who fails to notice her as he walks past, following which she fixates the opera glasses on him, watching him walk out of the frame.

Bhupati isn't the stereotypical wife-neglecting husband, however. He does love his wife. He is just so preoccupied in his business and passion of voicing out his political beliefs through his paper (Charu's rival, as mentioned) that he is temporarily unaware of his wife's presence and her needs. It suddenly strikes him that she may be lonely when he finally notices that she has enough time to embroider a nice handkerchief for him! He is also quite the naïve one, bestowing his trust on his family members without giving it second thought. One betrays him, the other stops short of doing so! Bhupati is a well written flawed character; a good human being, designed to be sympathized with, but one who's so preoccupied with his paper and armchair activism that he is totally ignorant of what’s brewing under his very nose; including his wife's loneliness, her attraction to his cousin and an evil scheme at work.

The dark void of Charu's existence sees some light with the arrival of Amal, Bhupati's younger cousin, who is introduced with an overtly symbolic entry of a storm (a literal storm brings in an emotional storm to come!). Amal is a young, vibrant chap, quite passionate about literature and poetry. Charu is gradually swept away by his charm and a common interest. She feels liberated, merely in experiencing this attraction!  The fabulous garden scene that's a highlight of the film, demonstrates this perfectly.

Some great camera wizardry at display right there; with the camera itself possibly mounted on a swing and capturing the beautiful Charu humming away and then cutting to Amal, who sways in and out of her line of sight. The joyous stupor comes to an abrupt halt, however, when Charu notices a woman with a child and is reminded that she is also childless; and perhaps can never have one with her husband. And then the worried gaze shifts towards Amal; a sense of sudden guilt perhaps makes her quickly snap out of it!

What's often brought up as a commonly applied motif is the women shot behind bars of windows, obviously symbolizing a woman's emotional imprisonment despite the lavishness that surrounds her. It isn't just Charu but Manda (Gitali Roy) and others as well, filmed behind the bars, perhaps extending Charu's plight and making her an epitome of the 19^th century Indian woman, a prisoner of her own fate and of the male-dominated society, married off to some rich man in an arranged ceremony and forced to give up her personal freedom. It was an era when it was not very common for married women to venture out or socialize and hence the entrapment was a real deal; emotional as well as physical, symbolized further by the caged birds.

Ironically, Charu's husband is an advocate of liberalism, a vocal supporter of the renaissance movement as well. Raja Ram Mohan Roy, the father of Indian renaissance is mentioned; he was famous for abolishing the infamous Sati system in which a woman was forced to die with her husband in his funeral pyre! And despite his liberal views, Bhupati also belongs to this very segment of society in which women are left to languish in their trapped existence, rarely at liberty to be independent, and forced to be at the mercy of their spouses.

Charulata's empty existence does find some meaning eventually when she goes ahead and writes and publishes an article in vengeance, just because Amal asks her to "show some respect". Bhupati's reaction to this is a complex one; one of astonishment, shock and embarrassment, at being made aware of his wife's talent by his drunk friends. For a second he doesn't know what to think, and it is stupendously conveyed.

For a film so delicately balanced and executed, the denouement, specifically when Charu breaks down into an unrealistic monologue, "Why did you leave me Amal?" conveniently timed, just as Bhupati happens to be at the door is a tad clumsy, contrived to deliver him the double blow and eventually reach the broken nest, tragic freeze frame.  It feels like a cop-out, and an obvious writing deficiency. There could have been other well thought out ways to make him aware of the fact that Charu loved Amal. Also, one wishes the line delivery of Shailen Mukherjee was less affected and artificial, especially when he speaks in English. 

Amal fleeing overnight because of Umapada's  (Shyamal Ghoshal) betrayal is a bit abrupt as well. Why not stay around and offer his cousin some moral support instead? While Charu's feelings for Amal are quite explicitly exhibited, Amal is never shown reciprocating to that extent, hence it seems a bit of a stretch for him to act so impulsively and clear out fearing another betrayal.

Lilting music, great cinematography, great writing, carefully executed mise en scène and an extraordinarily splendid performance by Madhabi Mukherjee make the film.

Score: 8/10

Shabdo (2013)

What happens when a sound design artist gets so obsessed with sound that he fails to even notice the spoken word? Kaushik Ganguly, in his spectacular psychological drama centering around a foley artist's obsession with his job, tries to focus on the gravity of such a dire situation.

Tarak (Ritwick Chakraborty) is a master sound design expert, a foley artist contributing with the best of his ideas to cinema with his ingenious methods of sound recording for various ambient sounds. His colleagues and others testify to his work. All is well on the professional front, but what is it doing to his personal life? Tarak, unbeknownst to himself is losing it. He is losing his concentration power and perhaps his touch with reality. But is he really? Well it is all relative!

His attentiveness is failing him, especially when it comes to the human voice but he is all ears to the background sound! So when his wife is clearing the mess created by some spilled pieces on the floor with a broom, and giving him a verbal dosage about how clumsy he is being, he is more focussed on the sound of the broom swishing the floor and the china clay pieces tinkling against it! His braincells are already working toward giving that awesome sound some shape in the sound studio on his next assignment.

The dedication and passion to his work are nothing short of commendable but the problem begins when Tarak starts drifting away and his mind ceases to focus on anything anyone has to say to him. What's worse is how it takes a toll on his married life. His poor wife, Ratna (Raima Sen, reduced to a mere spousal role), who is a simple, homely girl, with no idea about what her husband's job entails or how difficult it really is, fails to connect with his passion. She just tries to get past his nonstop ramblings about sound. It occupies every single moment they ever get to share together. Needless to say, it makes her a second priority in Tarak's life.

Dr Swati (Churni Ganguly) under the guidance from her wise old professor Dr. Sen (Victor Banerjee) has taken up the challenging task of first recognizing the problem and attacking it to rid Tarak and his family of it. His obsession has indeed been deemed to be a psychological illness. Sure, we have all seen films that deal with talented individuals suffering from mental illnesses and hallucinations while their loved ones go through hell as they try to maintain sanity and give their eye-teeth to get the patient some help. But these films mostly focussed on Schizophrenia ("A Beautiful Mind", Marathi film "Devraai", to name a few). Ganguly however, tackles a different beast altogether, by bringing forth a situation in which a man's passion and profession form a lethal combination that threatens to take over his life!

Ganguly's script is minimalist and to the point, yet quite potent. Tarak's and his well-wishers' predicament may sound simple but it is not. The man is actually slipping. Even on a vacation meant to take his mind off his job, all he ever does, is think about sound! After a nice drinking session he makes a point or two that silences his meek wife. It silences us audiences too, as his critics. "A poet thinks about poetry; a singer sings about tunes. When I, a sound artist, thinks about sound, I'm mentally ill??" A very astute point that! 

The viewer, especially a cinephile, is more than convinced that Tarak has a point as he bolsters this theory with the importance of sound in cinema. But do the people around him understand that; those not really well versed with the art he is into? Come to think of it, this is a familiar scenario when it comes to a painter for example. His art is abstract, the individuals who do not have an eye (in Tarak's case, an ear!) for his art, do not understand that. He sees beauty in ordinary, passable sights. But does the eye of a non-artist see it that way? Beauty, they say, is in the eye of the beholder. In Tarak's strange case, it is in the ear of the listener! This facet is further accentuated in a tirade launched by Dr Swati (albeit somewhat unconvincing and forced) on the inherent subjectivity of society in perceiving what is normal and what is not.

It doesn't come as a surprise then, that things take a dramatic turn when Dr. Swati takes up the challenge to cure Tarak but gets emotionally involved and disillusioned about the whole thing. This is when Dr. Sen steps in, but the battle is almost won. Ganguly keeps it simple and focussed in a theme so rich, the film engages the viewer with a spellbinding narrative. A lot of emphasis is given to the importance of sound design in film, a very important technical aspect often overlooked, especially in Indian cinema. It is no wonder then, that Tarak knows just as we all do, that he may not be known by name, but his work is surely admired all over the globe by those who would want to pay attention.

With brilliant audiovisual techniques and some expertly written scenes, Ganguly depicts the loneliness of Tarak in a way anyone can relate to. When tea is being poured in a cup he cares a damn about what the guy sitting across the table is saying. He would rather listen to the sound of the pouring. While traveling in a train, the sound of stainless steel cutlery emanating from fellow passengers' lunch boxes seems shrill to his ears and voices almost drowned in it. He drifts away, wanders, in search of sound; follows a drunk in the dead of night, trying to imitate the sound of his awkward gait owing to lack of balance. Even when asked to rest and suspended temporarily from his job, he is more concerned about how he bungled up an important sound, that of a filled cup being placed on a table in place of an empty cup and how it is a big disgrace to his meticulousness!

The attention to detail is simply applause-worthy here, a rarity in most modern Indian cinema and Ganguly achieves it like a true whiz. Complementing him in a fitting manner are Sirsha Ray in the cinematography department and the sound department crew, Dipankar Chaki, Anirban Sengupta and Foley artist Gaya Dhar Nayak who work wonders with sound, that is the very essence of the film. Together they create a dreamlike atmosphere, complete with a stupendous dream sequence that reminds one of the heydays of David Lynch.

A few sections do let down, like Dr. Swati's sudden emotional outburst regarding Tarak's condition, after an experience at a dinner party, is a tad unconvincing and perhaps unnecessary. Victor Banerjee's Dr. Sen is given some silly and repetitive lines, specifically his harping on how he is the best! And then there's Srijit Mukherji who is annoyingly wooden as Tarak's boss and friend. But in the end accolades must be reserved for Ritwick Chakraborty's convincing lead performance. His facial expressions actually echo his aural senses and that speaks volumes of his talent as an actor! Writer/Director Kaushik Ganguly who also appears in a brief but important cameo has delivered a solid film that deservedly won the National Award for Best Feature Film in Bengali. Do not miss it!

Score: 8/10