TEAFF 22: Four films on the fifth day, including two Indian Competition films, for my two eyes

Since Fatherless had been screened on the first day, in place of ‘6 am’, another film, Asampurno, directed by Amartya Sinha, was screened. By this time, I had realised that burning the candle at both ends, i.e., waking up early and going to bed late, was taking its toll. So, I skipped Asampurno, and arrived in time, well, almost in time, to watch an Indian English film, in the International Competition section.

The Weight of Longing/Iktsuarpok (India: Omkar Bhatkar)

Bhatkar is a Playwright, Poet, Professor, Digital creator, Visiting Lecturer at Somaiya Vidyavihar University, Head and co-founder at St. Andrew's Centre for Philosophy and Performing Arts and Founder of the Metamorphosis Theatre Inc. Having met him several times at events organised at the St. Andrew’s Centre, I was aware that he is a thinker and committed promoter of performing arts. Though the Centre has been dormant of late, Bhatkar used this opportunity to make his debut feature film. It is called Iktsuarpok. That itself should give you a hint of what to expect. The word comes from the Inuit language, one of the three branches of the Eskimo-Aleut language family, and means impatient, restless anticipation when waiting for someone to arrive, leading you to repeatedly look outside or check for them, a feeling with no single English equivalent. Bhatkar is midget-sized, and used to be mistaken for a student when he started lecturing. As poet and playwright, he has carved out a niche for himself as a distinctive voice that speaks in a language all his own. Before making Iktsuarpok, he made a documentary about the murals of the chapel at Santa Monica, old Goa. Iktsuarpok is an adaptation of a play by that name, written and directed by Bhatkar himself. On the surface, Iktsuarpok is about a family that comes together after years, to spend Christmas in Goa, and discover a volley of bitter-sweet emotions that will make this journey a memorable one for all of them. That it is adapted from a play is apparent within a couple of minutes of viewing. The going is heavy, and that is putting it very mildly. We are served a blend of poetry, philosophy, and a hundred quotes, from many names that might be familiar only to students of philosophy, flashed on the screen in extra-large sizes, captured in unknown, striking fonts. Add to that up to 13-minute long takes and only occasional token scenes outdoors. For highly intellectual audiences, it might be case of preaching to the converted. For those who seek help in motivational books, this might be a kind of reference tome. And for those who can sit through a 91-minute lecture, which appears to be like an interactive Q & A session between the characters, deceptively unfolding in film form, impressed by French film-makers of yore, like Eric Rohmer, among others, constantly dissecting both verbal and non-verbal communication, sentence by sentence, word by word, it could be path-breaking.

Rating: ** ½

Pinjar/The Cage (India: Rudrajit Roy)

Firstly, do not confuse the title with a Hindi film made a few decades ago. Next, realise that the title is both realistic and symbolic, addressing the plight of caged birds, and humans caged in their invisible cells. Made in the Bengali language, with a smattering of Hindustani, Pinjar interweaves four stories of characters battling their destined captivity A doctor by training, and a practicing one at that, his prescription includes a bird-catcher, a migrant bird-seller, a widowed teacher and an abused wife. The bird-catcher doubles as a religion neutral faqeer, who dons Hindu attire while going around Hindu neighbourhoods and blessing their places of business with holy smoke, and changes into a Muslim get-up, to cater to Muslim shop-keepers. Followers of both faiths part with a few currency notes in return. With all this, he is barely able to meet his needs, and provide a decent life to his almost adult daughter. The migrant is a Muslim and his religion comes in the way of renting residential accommodation where he wants to live with his Hindu wife, currently in his village, or a bigger shop, to expand his bird business, for nobody wants a Muslim tenant. The middle-aged office worker has an amazingly platonic love affair with a junior colleague at her office, her only solace from a husband who drinks and beats her. With so much to say, Roy needed all the 137 minutes the film lasts. Little is known about the illegal capturing and trading in birds and animals in the country, and Roy has taken pains to present an authentic account of their operations. Though the characters could not be more diverse, the thread that unites them is that they all live in traps. A well-chosen cast adds to the film’s merits. Four parallel stories might be a little difficult going, yet Rudrajit is not swayed towards any one at the cost of the others.

Rating: ***

Gondhal (India: Santosh Davakhar)

As a non-Maharashtrian, the first time I heard or read the word Gondhal, it was in the title of a film, Gondhalat Gondhal (1981). Later, I found some Marathi-speaking individuals using it as a word meaning chaos or confusion. I, too, used it as such, in the little Marathi I can speak. It took this 2025 film to change all that. I discovered that Gondhal primarily means confusion, disorder, or chaos, but also refers to a specific traditional folk ritual/performance, involving loud singing and a loud orchestra to boot, dancing, and storytelling, dedicated to deities like Khandoba. Davakhar chooses the ancient ritual as the backdrop of a tale about mismatched bride-grooms and the rule of fear in a village a few decades ago, when a jester would be happy to receive a tip of two rupees. A young woman is about to be married to a man she knows little about and is not impressed by what she knows. She is infatuated by the son of the Patil (Headman) of the neighbouring village, and flirts with him, but is deeply in love with Murli, a Gondhal performer. Amidst the revelry, we learn that the daughter of one of the villagers had been raped by the Patil’s son, and gave birth to a boy. She is now no more. His grandfather, who is a sort of takes care of him. The personal stories of each character are sandwiched between wild revelry and partly narrated by the grandfather, who is a sort of a sootradhaar. While the rituals and traditional customs are acted out in front of a fluid camera that makes several shots look like one take, the Gondhal will soon move towards a child’s sodomisation and three brutal murders. In a way, you are watching a documentary about the Gondhal tradition, interspersed with a doomed love story, where only three characters will emerge as the survivors: the child, his grandfather, and the chosen groom. Interestingly, the bride to be, in a role that could be termed as that of the heroine, comes out as a dark grey, manipulative character. A good example of a purely local subject captivating national audiences that might even capture the imagination of international viewers.

Rating: *** ½

Kurak (Kyrgyzstan+ Switzerland/Serbia/France/Luxembourg/Netherlands/Italy: Erke Dzhumakmatova, Atageldiev)

Screened in the presence of co-director Dzhumakmatova, Kurak was part of

the Country Focus on Kyrgyzstan. Kurak, in English, is Patchwork. But the film is much more than patchwork. It reminds us the women are still preyed upon in many misogynistic societies, and corruption is a malaise that eats through the fabric of humanity, and Kyrgyzstan is no exception. The film opens with newsreel footage of a real-life 2020 women’s protest in Bishkek. The rally for women’s rights is violently disrupted by opposing men, and police, who had been standing by suddenly begin arresting the female protesters. It then delineates a fiction tale about a young girl, Nargiza, who is befriended by the son of a politician through a website. They decide to meet, and the boy takes her to his brother’s place, under the pretext that it is his brother’s birthday. They kiss and dance, and then the boy shows his true colours. He drugs and rapes her. Unable to face the trolling that follows, both on the Internet and from friends and fellow students, she commits suicide. Her mother wants justice, and approaches Jamila, a high-ranking TV journalist and supporter of gender equality, who, behind the scenes, is the mistress of the politician whose son raped the girl. The legislator offers her money, which Nargiza throws away. She will find her own way of getting revenge. Erke’s film reveals to us that nudity and sex in films were not taboo even when Kyrgyzstan was part of the Soviet Union (USSR), and yet, Meeram, a young Webcam model, working secretly in a closed studio, becomes the victim of a blackmailing "dirty cop", who blackmails her by threatening to make her videos go viral, and turns her into a sex slave. We feel the distinctive, warm touch of the directors, and the climax is extremely well-handled, not falling into the trap of turning into an action packed vendetta saga.

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