Member Reviews

Calcutta is a living, breathing entity in Khakee: The Bengal Chapter, but not in the way we have come to know of it on screen. The city — familiar to the world as the hub of culture and creativity, as the land of Tagore and Ray — is imbued with a sinister edge in this new Netflix series, functioning as a hotbed of gang wars, organ trafficking, kidnapping, murder and of the consistently tenuous equation between cops and criminals. So, a machher bajar, where the act of buying fish has almost been romanticised into a form of art by the Bengali gastronome (honestly, is there any other kind?) sees a policeman being hacked in broad daylight by a bnoti; At the parar cha-er dokan, adda is definitely a mainstay but so is the brokering of hit jobs. A significant character’s body is stacked against the gate of the Victoria Memorial, forming a dichotomous (I refrain from saying ‘striking’) bloody red foreground against the pristine white facade of the city’s iconic landmark. Guns are traded at New Market. The streets are seedy, the changing positions of the players often finds the underbelly indistinguishable from the rest of the city. Calcutta carries the burden of many bodies, its streets tinged with blood.

Sometimes a certain space defines your identity and you don’t know it until that space is taken away from you. Indrani directed Bengali film Chhaad tells you about a school teacher, a dormant artist Mitra/ Paoli Dam, who loves to spend her evenings on her building terrace. It is here she befriends her niece and a few kids who come up to fly kites. She attends school in the morning post her daily chores as a daughter-in-law of a joint family, Mitra looks forward to watering the plants on the terrace of their dilapidated building.

Two Malayalam films that world premiered at the 29th International Film Festival of Kerala in December 2024 share DNA despite employing different milieu and techniques. Fasil Muhammed’s Feminichi Fathima (also screened at the 14th Indian Film Festival of Bhubaneswar) is about the eponymous Muslim housewife in Ponnani in Malappuram and possesses a day-in-the-life narrative. Sivaranjini’s Victoria designs a single day as a series of single takes in the life of Victoria, a beautician at a parlor in Angamaly who is juggling a characteristically busy day at the office and a tenuous period in her personal life. The two films have little in common in terms of setting and visual grammar, but they share philosophies and wrestle with the politics of survival and existence. They focus on women’s labor, the physical strain on their bodies, and the casually developing solidarity with the women around them.

Netflix should be flexing its UK arm more often. It seems to be doing all the heavy-lifting, especially when it comes to long-form programming. After last year’s One Day and The Gentlemen, Netflix UK has already delivered two stellar new shows this year; incidentally, the same writer is involved with both. Just a few weeks ago, the prolific Jack Thorne spearheaded Toxic Town, a crowd-pleasing drama about social injustice, told from the perspective of the women that were most affected by it. Thorne’s latest is the even better Adolescence, a psychological thriller that he co-created with actor Stephen Graham. It’s only March, but Adolescence, the fascinating examination of masculinity and urban alienation that it reveals itself to be, is already a contender for the best show of the year.

Celebrating the cultural ethos of a city through an anthology is not a new cinematic concept. Over the years, we have watched films etching the spirit of Paris, Tokyo, and Mumbai on celluloid. This week, we have some distinguished names from the Indian film industry collaborating with Australian talent to mark the cultural diversity of Melbourne. Known for their distinct idiom, Onir, Imtiaz Ali, Rima Das, and Kabir Khan map the themes of sexuality, disability, gender, and race, gently emphasising the inclusive nature of the city. Based on real-life stories, the protagonists’ truth touches the emotional buttons without necessarily triggering a wave of reaction. Perhaps the format limits the creative souls from taking leaps of faith and deepening the conflict as in the short form, sometimes the goal becomes more important than the means. The denouement starts knocking at the door before the journey is fully realised.

जंगल में एक अधेड़ शख्स वीडियो बना कर खुद को गोली मार लेता है। वीडियो में वह बताता है कि 1985 में उसने अपने दो साथियों के साथ मिल कर इसी जगह पर एक लड़की को गाड़ा था। खुदाई में पुलिस को वहां एक लाश मिलती है। पता चलता है कि यह किसी रेखा नाम की लड़की की लाश है। मारने वालों को भी पुलिस पहचान लेती है। धीरे-धीरे पुलिस को यह भी पता चल जाता है कि रेखा को क्यों मारा गया। लेकिन एक रहस्य अंत तक बना रहता है कि रेखा आखिर थी कौन? कहां से आई थी रेखा? और क्या वह लाश सचमुच रेखा की ही थी? हिन्दी वाले जो अक्सर छाती पीटते हैं न कि उनके पास अच्छी कहानियां नहीं होतीं, उन्हें साऊथ की ऐसी फिल्में देखनी चाहिएं और गौर करना चाहिए कि क्यों साऊथ वाले उनसे कंटेंट के स्तर पर चार कदम आगे खड़े होते हैं। सीखना चाहिए उनसे कि जब कोई थ्रिलर बनाओ तो उसमें थ्रिल पर फोकस करो, सस्पैंस रखो तो ऐसा रखो कि देखने वाला सिर के बाल नोच ले लेकिन उसे क्लू न मिले। यह नहीं कि पुलिस वाले हीरो की डिस्टर्ब लव-लाइफ दिखा दो, हीरो है तो मारधाड़ दिखा दो, बेमतलब का नाच-गाना दिखा दो, पर्दे पर हीरोइन आई नहीं कि उससे कोई ‘ऐसा-वैसा’ सीन करवा लो, जबरन कोई कॉमेडियन घुसेड़ दो। मतलब यह कि जब तक हिन्दी वाले अच्छी-भली कहानी के ऊपर बिना ज़रूरत के मसाले बुरकते रहेंगे, उनकी फिल्मों का रंग भले चोखा निकले, स्वाद बिगड़ा हुआ ही निकलेगा।

Two Malayalam films that world premiered at the 29th International Film Festival of Kerala in December 2024 share DNA despite employing different milieu and techniques. Fasil Muhammed’s Feminichi Fathima (also screened at the 14th Indian Film Festival of Bhubaneswar) is about the eponymous Muslim housewife in Ponnani in Malappuram and possesses a day-in-the-life narrative. Sivaranjini’s Victoria designs a single day as a series of single takes in the life of Victoria, a beautician at a parlor in Angamaly who is juggling a characteristically busy day at the office and a tenuous period in her personal life.

Adolescence opens with a scene of a police officer DI Luke Bascombe (Ashley Walters) dealing with his son over the phone. The boy doesn’t want to go to school because of a bad stomach. When his colleague wonders if he will let him get away with the lame excuse, Luke says, “He knows Tracy (his wife) will say no, and I am a soft touch." The scene kicks off as a cute little moment between two officers and escalates into a volatile arrest sequence of a 13-year-old boy named Jamie Miller (Owen Cooper) as DI Luke and his team burst into his house. It takes a while to realise that the shot hasn’t cut ever since the first frame, and it doesn’t till the end of the episode. Adolescence has four episodes, each one done in a single shot, leaving you wondering how few sequences were even done. However, it is not a series that is all about technical excellence. After a while, you tend to forget the single-shot brilliance as the story is even more engrossing, taking you closer to a devastating state of parenting, the school system, and the rise of toxic masculinity.