Member Reviews

मुरली का बचपन से एक ही सपना था कि ओलंपिक में जाना है, गोल्ड मैडल लेकर आना है। बड़ा होकर वह फौज में गया तो बॉक्सिंग के ज़रिए अपने इस सपने को सच करने में जुट गया। लेकिन 1965 की जंग में उसे इतनी गोलियां लगीं कि वह अपने पैरों से लाचार हो गया। मगर उसने हार नहीं मानी और स्विमिंग करने लगा। 1972 में हुए पैरालंपिक (दिव्यांगजनों के ओलंपिक) में तैराकी में गोल्ड मैडल लेकर आया। यह एक सच्ची कहानी है और ‘चंदू चैंपियन’ (Chandu Champion) इसी कहानी पर बनी है। आप चाहें तो पूछ सकते हैं कि यदि यह सच्ची कहानी है तो इतने बरसों से हमने इसके बारे में कहीं पढ़ा या सुना क्यों नहीं? जवाब वही पुराना है कि हमारे समाज के नायकों और उनकी प्रेरक कहानियों के प्रति हमारे समाज के कर्णधारों का उदासीन रवैया इसका मुख्य कारण है। मुरलीकांत पेटकर भी ऐसे ही एक नायक थे जिन्हें न तो उचित पुरस्कार मिले, न ही सम्मान और वक्त की आंधी ने उन्हें हाशिये पर कर डाला। लेकिन पिछले कुछ सालों में जब सरकार ने ढूंढ-ढूंढ कर ऐसे नायकों को सम्मानित करना शुरू किया तो उनकी कहानी भी सामने आई और 2018 में उन्हें पद्मश्री देकर सम्मानित किया गया। उसके बाद लोगों का ध्यान उन पर गया और नतीजे के तौर पर यह फिल्म बन कर आई है।

There is a poetic aspect in author Benyamin’s novel reaching the hands of director Blessy. In the journey of Najeeb Muhammad, a Malayali immigrant in West Asia, who gets abducted by one of the region’s many slave owners, there is an element of miserablism that resonates with the cinematic inquiry Blessy has been conducting over the last two decades. His films, in essence, are excavations of grief from the depths of unfortunate ordinary men who go from one tragic situation to another. In Thanmathra(2005) and Kalimannu (2013), the human body becomes his primary work material. Pain and suffering are visceral in these films, animated without any subtlety to pierce into the viewer’s consciousness. In Aadujeevitham, Blessy finds a goldmine.

Often, it is the films made with passion that leave a lasting impression on the minds of the viewers. Nothing larger-than-life, no grand sets, nothing unbelievable – just a simple story told with sincerity and made relatable by its characters. If Amaltash was to be explained in brief, this would suffice. Amaltash is a simple, straightforward story of a gifted musician named Rahul (Rahul Deshpande) whose life has changed after an incident in his past. Rahul has learned the importance of soaking in the small pleasures of life and being composed in the most strenuous of situations. Enter Keerti (Pallavi Paranjape), the NRI from Canada who lands in Pune to meet her grandmother (Pratibha Padhye) and has a chance encounter with Rahul who is at her granny’s house to tune their piano. Taken by Rahul’s musical prowess, Keerti meets him again at Rahul’s friend’s music store. They talk and bond over music and soon strike a friendship. Love blossoms organically. But are they meant to spend their life together?

Child Actors in Indian mainstream films, largely, follow an ancient repertoire. They emulate the sticky sweetness of store-bought fruit juice, hiding their characters’ deeper flavours under their affected cadence and countenance. Rarely assigned with weightier emotions like rage or grief, their ‘cinematic’ is confined to giggles, pouts or pulling long faces. In mainstream imagination, child personas offer little intellectual stimulation to the audience; they come devoid of any deeper meaning to decipher.

This January, Malayalam cinema saw the convergence of its two extremes. A big-budget drama featuring a male superstar who wields unassailable influence over the local audience was released in theatres on the 25th, jolting the film ecosystem out of its lull. Coincidentally, Kiss Wagon, an experimental feature film directed by Midhun Murali, premiered in IFFRʼs (International Film Festival of Rotterdam) coveted Tiger Competition section, where it won two prizes– the FIPRESCI award and the first Special Jury Award.

Early on in Jayant Digambar Somalkar’s Sthal – four men can be seen discussing a woman’s complexion. “She seems fair, doesn’t she?” one of them asks, only to be shut down by the other: “It is all make-up. Didn’t you notice her elbows? They gave it away.” The woman, actually a young girl named Savita (Nandini Chikte), barely out of her teens, in her final year of college pursuing B.A (Sociology), is being looked at as a prospective bride. Those men could be talking about livestock. Such is the ‘marketplace’ for arranged marriages – especially in India, where such casual indignities are fair game.