Black Dog [2024]

 Guan Hu’s bleak and wryly funny redemptive drama Black Dog straddled multiple genres – edgy revisionist Western, reflective state-of-the-nation cinema, sardonic social satire, and heartwarming human-animal buddy film – while delivering this simultaneously epic and intimate tale. It exhibited diverse cinematic influences – Jia Zhangke’s muted and melancholic commentaries on the human cost of China’s rampaging economic progress (the Chinese giant, incidentally, played a notable cameo in it), Kelly Reichardt’s love for oddball small-town outsiders, and Buster Keaton’s droll persona of a flummoxed individual unable to comprehend the world around him – which made it even more absorbing. Set in a derelict ghost town adjacent to the Gobi Desert – filled with deserted houses, inhabited by dwindling individuals existing on the margins and infested by violent strays, and superbly shot in wan yet striking widescreens – on the backdrop of preparations for the 2008 Beijing Olympics, it begins on an eccentric note as a ramshackle bus loses control and flips over upon being ambushed by a pack of wild canines. Lang (Eddie Peng), a former stunt motorcyclist and rock guitarist who’s just been released on parole from prison after serving many years for manslaughter, returns to this desolate wasteland that’s changed beyond recognition. There, upon joining a corrupt taskforce formed to free the town of strays – as part of a broader programme to give the place a cosmetic makeover ahead of the Olympics – this laconic bike-riding loner inadvertently befriends the wiry and feral titular dog. Meanwhile, he finds his father – former zoo-owner – drinking himself to death, tentatively reconnects with a beautiful and lively circus performer (Tong Liya) with whom he possibly had a romantic past, and is continually chased by a snake-venom peddler seeking revenge.

p.s. Watched it at the 2025 Bangalore International Film Festival (BIFFES).

Director: Guan Hu

Genre: Drama

Language: Mandarin

Country: China

April [2024]

 Déa Kulumbegashvili’s second feature April, like her shattering debut film Beginning, was an austere, minimalist, brooding, intensely intimate and formally rigorous work. Operating in the intersection of sparse and desolate realism, scorching social commentaries and undercurrents, and elemental body horror, the film was foremost – like its predecessor – a radical exercise in feminism and a searing investigation into small-town bigotry. Women’s mind, body and agency were evoked as political and personal battlegrounds through its protagonist Nina (Ia Sukhitashvili), an ob-gyn who complements her work in conventional hospitals delivering children with performing secret abortions and surreptitiously providing birth control procedures in intensely religious, conservative and patriarchal village communities. Her acutely isolated life – she fills up her spare time by either being lost in her ravaged interiority or dangerously picking up strange men while taking lonely long drives or engaging in emotionally vacant on-off physical encounters with a kindly ex-boyfriend (Kakha Kintsurashvili) who’s also a respected colleague at the hospital where she works – is punctuated when a baby dies upon a natural delivery performed by her. The grief-stricken father, associating the tragic occurrence with her rumoured work as an abortionist, accuses her of wilful murder, leading to growing scrutiny on the hospital and in turn on Nina’s professional ethics and morality. Sukhitashvili gave a spellbinding turn in portraying her solitary, troubled and defiant character’s emotional struggles and existential crises. The film comprised of a string of viscerally unsettling sequences – including a “live” birth like Márta Mészáros’ Nine Months and a clandestine abortion like Mungiu’s 4 Months, 3, Weeks and 2 Days – shot with gripping exactitude in bravura long takes, while its “slow cinema” aesthetics were accompanied by disquieting imagery and nightmarish atmosphere.

p.s. Watched it at the 2025 Bangalore International Film Festival (BIFFES).

Director: Dea Kulumbegashvili

Genre: Drama/Psychological Drama/Social Drama/Experimental Film

Language: Georgian

Country: Georgia

La Casa [2024]

 There isn’t a dearth of memorable films foregrounded on siblings and relatives who, upon an unplanned reunion, get flooded with unresolved memories, and tenuously accomplish a semblance of reconciliation. And yet La Casa, Álex Montoya’s bittersweet, seriocomic and deftly layered adaptation of Paco Roca’s graphic novel of the same name, had an enlivening authenticity and freshness about it. The filmmaker composed it through a nuanced mix of myriad emotions – humour, warmth, nostalgia, melancholy, grief, regrets, repressed bitterness – and delicately evoked vignettes that added underlying complexities into this exceptionally intimate slice-of-life tale. The death of their aged father – once a vigorous person who became an ailing, lonely man in old age, and who meant profoundly to each of them, albeit in vastly different ways – brings together three siblings to the now barren, dust-filled house filled with echoes of the past. Their primary intent is to sell off the place. That, unsurprisingly, turns out far more difficult than they’d anticipated. Moreover, while they’ve drifted apart and their lives have taken divergent courses, they still retain fierce bonds which unravel over the course of a few days. The film’s exceptional ensemble cast comprised of David Verdaguer and Olivia Molina as José, a writer, and his editor wife; Óscar de la Fuente, Marta Belenguer and María Romanillos, respectively, as older brother Vicente, his wife and their daughter; Lorena López as the sister; and Miguel Rellán as an ageing neighbour. Exquisitely photographed in warm, muted colours and interspersed with sepia-toned Super8 reels, it’s really a mini-marvel that such a seemingly “unoriginal” film, at the risk of being seeped in contrived sentimentality, instead succeeded in being such a richly textured work and an absorbing watch.

p.s. Watched it at the 2025 Bangalore International Film Festival (BIFFES).

Director: Alex Montoya

Genre: Drama/Family Drama/Ensemble Film

Language: Spanish

Country: Spain

Miséricorde (Misericordia) [2024]

 Alain Guiraudie channelled Claude Chabrol – the latter’s recurring love for delivering cutting and subversive social critiques through tales of passion and crime in provincial France – in his delectably teasing pastoral noir Miséricorde. The film also possessed a morbid sense of humour – that was at its most darkly funny in a sequence where the protagonist is served mushrooms for dinner that’ve grown at the site of a murdered man’s corpse, recalling Imamura’s penchant for macabre fun – and an increasingly absurdist streak, interlaced with charged homoerotic overtones. It began on a creepily banal note, as the protagonist – shot from his POV – drives through winding country roads in near silence; one can already sense that unseemly developments await at his destination. He’s Jérémie (Félix Kysyl), a soft-spoken baker presently out-of-work, who’s returned to his bucolic hometown of Saint-Martial to attend the funeral of his former boss who he admired. Things take uncomfortable turns from get-go as the middle-aged widow (Catherine Frot), who figured Jérémie was in love with her deceased husband, offers him an extended stay at her place and is poker-faced about the ensuing intimacy, while her volatile and aggressive son (Jean-Baptiste Durand) – possibly triggered by some repressed memories – is increasingly hostile to Jérémie as he thinks that the latter is planning to seduce his mom, which rapidly escalates into violence. Jérémie, meanwhile, has a soft-corner for an unemployed pot-bellied loner, while an impish local priest (Jacques Develay), who’s also an avid forager of mushrooms, is attracted to Jérémie. The tranquil environs of this sleepy village evidently mask a saucy core rippling with delicious amorality and sizzling carnality, and this duality found sly accompaniments in this droll, playful and earthy work.

p.s. Watched it at the 2025 Bangalore International Film Festival (BIFFES).

Director: Alain Guiraudie

Genre: Thriller/Crime Thriller/Black Comedy

Language: French

Country: France

The Girl with the Needle [2024]

 Magnus von Horn’s harrowing The Girl with the Needle, that transformed a real time and a true crime event into nightmarish gothic horror, walked a razor’s edge between bleak period film, intense exercise in exploitation cinema and extreme miserabilism. With a rigorous formal grammar – informed by Carl Theodor Dreyer’s spare desolation, German expressionism, Lynchian grotesquerie and von Trier’s provocative portrayals of suffering – it crafted a fervid, claustrophobic and unsparing vision of deprivation, sordidness and violence. But what made it, for me, most unsettling was its moral ambiguity and troubling representations bordering on exploitative. Set in 1919 as the devastating WW1 is culminating, and in a Copenhagen that’s a hellish mix of muck and destitution, the film’s protagonist is Karoline (Vic Carmen Sonne) whose woes and misfortunes are portrayed with ambivalence and even apathy. Living in squalid conditions and working as a lowly seamstress at a grimy factory, she’s left pregnant – which she unsuccessfully tries aborting – when her affair with her boss comes to a cruel ended. Meanwhile her husband, who she’d assumed dead, returns with debilitating war trauma and a grisly facial disfigurement that gets him employed as a circus freak. Her life takes a seemingly positive turn when she befriends Dagmar (Trine Dyrholm), who claims to illicitly arrange adoptions of unwanted babies; Karoline, in turn, becomes a wet nurse to Dagmar’s 7-year-old daughter. Unbeknownst to her – and viewers who aren’t invested in Danish history – this genial middle-aged lady is the notorious Dagmar Overbye. The film, which began with overlapping images of faces grimacing into rictuses that reminds one of Goya and Munch’s paintings, bristled with visceral terror that – complemented by its disconcerting score – remained through till the end.

p.s. Watched it at the 2025 Bangalore International Film Festival (BIFFES).

Director: Magnus von Horn

Genre: Historical Drama/Crime Drama/Psychological Horror

Language: Danish

Country: Denmark

Carnival Is Over [2024]

 Fernando Coimbra, who’d shot to fame with his multi-award-winning debut film A Wolf at the Door, returned to his Brazilian milieu after a considerable gap with his deliciously twisted and riotously entertaining third feature Carnival Is Over. By infusing grand Shakesperean themes of ambition, lust and power – slyly channelling Macbeth from Lady Macbeth’s perspective – into the pulpy and lurid B-movie palettes of 80s neo-noirs and crime thrillers, Coimbra delivered a dark, violent, wickedly funny and gleefully nasty blend of highbrow and lowbrow that continuously subverted viewers' expectations right till the hilariously messy climax. Valério (Irandhir Santos) and Regina (Leandra Leal) are a married couple happily invested in their kinky role plays and living in a luxurious villa overlooking Rio de Janeiro. He’s never wanted to get into his father’s criminal underworld business even if his wealth was accorded on account of that; his father’s death, unfortunately, has complicated his exit plan, as he isn’t just riddled with debts, his scheming uncle – who’s taken ownership – is hatching plans of his own. Egged by the luscious, volatile, self-serving and splurging Regina, Valério sets in motion a counter ploy to get rid of his uncle and take charge of the operations so that he can then sell it. Ironically, once he tastes the allure of this netherworld, he takes to it like a duck to water, thereby triggering a fatal game of distrust, deceit and betrayal between the couple. The film’s sardonic humour and unpredictability were accentuated by Leal’s superb turn, Valério’s organic transformation and Regina’s mom who dishes out bad advices. The pulsating sound design, that ranged from silences and discordant notes to frenzied beats, made it all the more riveting.

p.s. Watched it at the 2025 Bangalore International Film Festival (BIFFES).

Director: Fernando Coimbra

Genre: Thriller/Crime Thriller/Black Comedy/Marital Comedy

Language: Portuguese

Country: Brazil

Caught by the Tides [2024]

 Few filmmakers have so masterfully blended profound socio-cultural upheavals with achingly intimate individual stories, and the inexorable flow of time with stasis, melancholy and transience, as Jia Zhangke. Caught by the Tides – with its episodic structure, zooming in on two outsiders drifting and reconciling over three segments across multiple years, inextricably counterpointed with China’s tectonic mutations – immediately recalled his two previous films Mountains May Depart and Ash Is Purest White. Jia, in a remarkable artistic choice, composed the first two segments by sifting through a thousand hours’ outtakes from three films – as well as deliberately shot additional footage with plans of converging them into a future work – viz. Unknown Pleasure from 2002, his sublime masterpiece Still Life from 2006, and Ash… from 2018; the final segment, shot during Covid-19 pandemic, was the only one filmed in present. Astonishing self-reflexivity aside, this radically conceived assemblage imbued it with fascinating additional textures and subtexts – be it the organic ageing of the two lead actors (Zhao Tao, Jia’s partner and muse, and Li Zhubin), or the changing visuals, viz. grungy and energetic low-fi videos in the first segment, bleak and meditative widescreen exteriors in the second, and recently shot digital images in the third. While it did have a skeletal narrative – a dancer (Tao) and her boyfriend (Zhubin) are separated when he leaves Daton to find work elsewhere; she travels to the site of the Three Gorges Dam to find him; and he eventually returns amidst Covid-19 restrictions – it also possessed long observational stretches and interludes like fly-on-the-wall documentaries and travelogue essays. Incidentally, while the mesmeric Tao hardly ever speaks, the film was a kaleidoscopic compilation of folk, pop and disco soundtrack.

p.s. Watched it at the 2025 Bangalore International Film Festival (BIFFES).

Director: Jia Zhangke

Genre: Drama/Romance/Road Movie

Language: Mandarin

Country: China

The Seed of the Sacred Fig [2024]

 The Seed of the Sacred Fig is a fearless demonstration of how even the most intimate spaces – the confines of one’s home, familial bonds and private thoughts – aren’t exempt from paranoia, conflict and violence when one resides in a totalitarian theocracy. Through a gripping tale filled with urgency, fury and dissent, Mohammad Rasoulof as much chronicled revolution in progress as he defiantly participated in it. Having courted bans and arrests on multiple occasions, it compelled him to flee Iran and take political asylum in Germany to avoid draconian punishments. The film both directly and metaphorically examined the “Women, Life, Freedom” protest movement through a seemingly regular middle-class Tehran family. Iman (Missagh Zareh), the middle-aged patriarch employed with the country’s judiciary, has just received a big promotion, bringing with it better salary and a bigger apartment, as well as troubling moral consequences because – like a puppet – he must sign on documents which will seal death sentences. Consequently, his family – comprising of his doting wife Najmeh (Soheila Golestani), and independent-minded daughters Rezvan (Mahsa Rostami) and Sana (Setareh Maleki) – must keep his profession a secret. Meanwhile, massive protests and the government’s brutal crackdowns against it bleed into their home through disturbing found footage shot on mobile phones – which, in today’s times, have come to provide powerful counterpoints to complicit mainstream media – that the sisters secretly follow. Their physical separation from the turbulence outside gets breached when a college friend is grievously wounded, and the fault-lines within the family irrevocably escalates to disturbing proportions when Iman’s official handgun – in literal mirroring of ‘Chekhov’s gun’ – goes missing. Rasoulof’s polemical resistance was accompanied by terrific performances and a riveting script that unfolded like Matryoshka dolls.

p.s. Watched it at the 2025 Bangalore International Film Festival (BIFFES).

Director: Mohammad Rasoulof

Genre: Drama/Family Drama/Political Thriller

Language: Persian

Country: Iran

The Room Next Door [2024]

 Pedro Almodóvar’s first feature-length film in English, The Room Next Door – based on Sigrid Nunez’s What Are You Going Through – bore all the distinctive signatures of the veteran Spanish maestro’s serious-toned films. With its two complementary middle-aged women characters, blend of melodrama and artifice, lush visual designs, predisposition with mortality, and wordy script, one wouldn’t make any errors in guessing its director, even if – perhaps on account of it having been made in a cultural milieu far away from his home turf and in a language that he’s not fully comfortable in (thereby necessitating translation of his screenplay from Spanish) – it also felt tad stilted and mannered at times, and lacking in the kind of playful vibrancy that one finds in his best works. It, nevertheless, was engaging enough thanks to the commanding performances of its two lead actresses – Tilda Swinton (who’d also featured in Almodóvar’s tantalizing short The Human Voice) and Julianne Moore –, in the way it tampered its funereal theme with effusive emotions that bordered on the campy, and cinematic references ranging from Fassbinder and Bergman to Keaton and Rosellini. Ingrid (Moore), a bestselling author, and Martha (Swinton), an erstwhile war journalist – old friends who’ve even shared the same boyfriend (John Turturro) – are reconnected after many years when the former suddenly finds out that the latter is afflicted with terminal cancer. As they revive their deep friendship through old memories, anecdotes and regrets, Martha confides into Ingrid that she’s decided to end her life and requests her to be in the room next door when she does that. Almodóvar, interestingly, permeated the atmosphere with an air of mystery, even if the premise was unambiguously clear throughout.

p.s. Watched it at the 2025 Bangalore International Film Festival (BIFFES).

Director: Pedro Almodovar

Genre: Drama/Psychological Drama/Buddy Film

Language: English

Country: Spain

Camera Buff [1979]

 Camera Buff, which established Krzysztof Kieślowski as an essential voice in world cinema, powerfully evoked his rich background as a former documentary filmmaker as well as his sublime prowess in crafting profound social, political, existential and moral inquires through narratives. It also stirringly exhibited self-reflexive elements – be it his own early days as amateur cinephile or his ethical grappling with the repercussions of documenting “truth” in complex political climates that ultimately influenced his decision to switch forms – through Filip (Jerzy Stuhr), a once easy-going man, doting husband and carefree worker, who discovers a magnetic love for cinema, becomes an amateur documentarian, experiences political and existential awakenings at the cost of marital and professional stability, starts understanding both the vitality and predicaments of his images, and eventually decides to train his lens on himself. Four key moments shaped his journey – his impulsive purchase of a 16mm camera to film his new-born daughter; being commissioned by his boss (Stefan Czyzewski) to shoot their factory’s jubilee celebration and then coaxed into submitting that at a festival; confiding into his troubled wife (Malgorzata Zabkowska) that he wants deeper experiences instead of simple contentedness, thereby cementing their marital collapse; and a work of activism inadvertently leading to the expulsion of a senior colleague (Jerzy Nowak) he’s fond of. Shaped by exceptional performances spearheaded by the outstanding Stuhr, delightful use of wry humour in the script, and engrossing visual compositions, the film’s two particularly unforgettable sequences involved the airing of an immensely moving docu that he’s made on a disabled colleague and his instinctive urge to view his wife’s departure through a frame, and featured a cameo by Kieślowski’s great namesake Krzysztof Zanussi as himself.

p.s. This is a revisit. My earlier review of this film can be found here.

p.p.s. Watched it at the 2025 Bangalore International Film Festival (BIFFES). 

Director: Krzysztof Kieslowski

Genre: Drama/Political Satire/Marriage Drama

Language: Polish

Country: Poland

The Brutalist [2024]

 The Brutalist is an impressively imagined epic – at once monumental and intimate – on trauma, hubris, immigrant experience, corrosive ambitions, and demythologization of the American Dream. Its novelistically structured form, punctiliously conceived Eurocentric aesthetics, and exhilarating yet distancing tone obsessively mirrored its brilliant but flawed protagonist, and the modernist but abrasive titular architectural style. The intricacy and exactitude with which the narrative unfolded made it appear as an actual biographical account, even if it was, at most, a film à clef; this bold combination of faux-verité and quasi-historicity recalled the two extraordinary recent films Tár and The Zone of Interest. It follows László Tóth (Adrien Brody), a Hungarian-Jewish Holocaust survivor and renowned Bauhaus-trained architect, as he arrives at the US and settles in Philadelphia after WW2; finds in Lee Van Buren (Guy Pearce) a wealthy patron who places him in charge of a significant architectural commission, but malevolently extracts his pound of flesh; and finds his fierce love for his wife (Felicity Jones) replaced with conflicted emotions when they’re finally reunited after years of forced separation. These are juxtaposed with the borderline insanity with which he builds the colossal brutalist memorial over many years, and his self-destructive tendencies accentuated by his unprocessed trauma, inability to assimilate and heroin addiction. His first glimpse of America – strikingly captured through an inverted Statue of Liberty – sets the film’s feverish mood, which was sustained through stunning visual compositions – shot on VistaVision and 35mm film stock – and compelling score that was alternately orchestral, jazz and atonal. Incidentally, contrary to what the film’s muted coda ended with, director and co-writer Brady Corbet made it particularly about the complex, ferocious and tumultuous journey that preceded the destination.

Director: Brady Corbet

Genre: Drama/Historical Epic/Film a Clef

Language: English/Hungarian/Hebrew

Country: US

Conclave [2024]

 Who’d have thought that a movie packed with ageing, pompous, conservative and hyper-religious men in ostentatious dresses could make for a taut papal thriller. Adapted from Robert Harris’ bestselling novel of the same name, Conclave was at its most entertaining when it functioned as a pulpy potboiler. When the pope dies of a heart attack, what ensues is one of the oldest and most secretive rituals – viz. election of the next pope. Lawrence (Ralph Fiennes), as dean of the College of Cardinals, becomes the most powerful man in the Catholic church at such a time as this, and congregates the titular papal conclave at the Vatican City. The frontrunners are a liberal British Cardinal (Stanley Tucci), an ultra-orthodox and gleefully nasty Italian (Sergio Castellitto), a Canadian moderate (John Lithgow) who had a suspicious meeting with the Pope just before his death, an African-American (Lucian Misamati), whose win could be historic moment for the church, though ironically, he’s exceptionally regressive in his views, and an enigmatic last-minute arrival (Carlos Diehz) who’s been based in various war zones. It was amusing, bordering on the fiendish, seeing seemingly “pious” and “dignified” men concocting petty machinations at the canteen and corridors, squabbling with each other like schoolkids, and even resorting to Machiavellian ploys to win the coveted position. Along the way murky events – both within the sequestered chamber and outside – make the proceeding more dramatic. However, where the film faltered – which slightly undermined its delicious fun – was when it tried portraying moral seriousness, existential dilemmas and political correctness. Consequently, while Fiennes was excellent in his performance, his character was arguably the least interesting of the lot vis-à-vis his smug, hyper-competitive and power-hungry colleagues.

Director: Edward Berger

Genre: Drama/Thriller/Religious Drama/Conspiracy Thriller

Language: English/Italian/Latin/Spanish

Country: UK

Padatik (The Guerrilla Fighter) [1973]

 Padatik – the thrilling, fierce, sardonic and meditative final chapter in Mrinal Sen’s extraordinary ‘Calcutta Trilogy’, preceded by Interview and Calcutta 71 – was political cinema at its most blazing, dialectical and fearlessly radical. The electrifying work was infused with Godard’s self-reflexive style and Costa-Gavras’ pulsating aesthetics, in solidarity with the spirit of internationalism while embedded in the turbulent zeitgeist of 1970s Calcutta, powerfully advocating Marxist ideals and agitprop principles of ‘Third Cinema’ and cinema of praxis, and interweaved with dazzling formal and stylistic choices. Sen interspersed observational and conversational chamber sequences with energetic hand-held cams on the streets, documentary footage, newspaper reels, mock advertisements, striking protest photography by himself, Brechtian interludes, POV shots, jump cuts and freeze frames. The film consequently alternated in its championing of revolutionary fervour, class consciousness and political dissent; takedown of apathy, rigid obedience and shallow consumerism; and introspections on the Left confronting the state while grappling with internal conflicts. Splendidly shot by K.K. Mahajan and scored by Ananda Shankar, it follows a few days in the life of Sumit (Dhritiman Chatterjee), a militant Communist who’s been provided refuge, upon escaping from a police van, at an upscale apartment owned by a Punjabi-Bengali woman (Simi Garewal) who’s employed with an ad agency, sympathetic to revolutionary causes and engaged in feminist activism. Sumit’s inner turmoil – which turns towards disillusionment while stationed in the flat – is manifested through his long, intimate conversations with his hostess, changing camaraderie with a younger comrade, and his fraught relationship with his ageing father (Bijon Bhattacharya), a former freedom fighter and now an exploited factory labourer. Chatterjee’s terrific turn, and the film too, incidentally, made for a fascinating complement to Ray’s masterful Pratidwandi.

p.s. This is a revisit.

Director: Mrinal Sen

Genre: Drama/Political Drama

Language: Bengali

Country: India

Calcutta 71 [1972]

 In Calcutta 71, Mrinal Sen constructed a fierce and subversive examination of impoverishment, deprivation, exploitation and the seeds of revolutionary politics, with irony, eclectic influences informed by European New Wave and Third Cinema, and a powerful Marxist lens. Shaped like a multi-act piece, the second film in his magnificent ‘Calcutta Trilogy’ – bookended by Interview and Padatik – was as ferociously political and biting in its social observations as it was dazzling in its blend of formal choices, narrative devices and cinematic styles ranging from classical to experimental. Following an arresting montage, The droll prologue – in the veins of farcical political satire – finds the protagonist from the previous film (Ranjit Mallick) facing an absurdist trial for having exhibited anti-capitalist angst by defiling a mannequin, and featured a hilarious anti-proletarian war waged by the bourgeoisie. That segued into four thematically-linked episodes (adapted from stories by Manik Bandopadhyay, Probodh Sanyal, Samaresh Basu and Ajitesh Bandopadhyay) – a destitute family in the 1930s who’re forced to seek an alternative shelter from incessant rains; a family forced to meet ends through prostitution, while struggling to maintain middle-class respectability, during the 1943 famine; a group of rebellious teenagers smuggling rice by train, braving righteous cops and overbearing middle-class men; and a cocktail party filled with self-centred wealthy humbugs. The first three were made in the neorealist tradition, while the fourth was a quintessential Felliniesque parody. The film ended with a scorching agitprop epilogue where a young Naxal revolutionary, killed by the cops, holding the audience to account. The ensemble cast included Utpal Dutt as a sneering prosecutor, Haradhan Bandopadhyay as an irate judge, Madhabi Mukherjee as a troubled working woman, and Ajitesh Bandopadhyay as a pompous hypocrite.

p.s. This is a revisit.

Director: Mrinal Sen

Genre: Drama/Social Drama/Political Satire/Black Comedy/Omnibus Film/Experimental Film

Language: Bengali

Country: India

Interview [1971]

 Mrinal Sen made a fabulous entry into radical political cinema – blending plucky insouciance, subversive wit and searing angst – with Interview. It, in turn, laid the foundations for his blazing ‘Calcutta Trilogy’ – which also comprised of the scorching Calcutta 71 and the scintillating Padatik – and demonstrated his love for counterpointing Marxist discourse and dissent with formal bravura and postmodernist playfulness. The slice-of-life dusk-to-dawn premise is centred on the titular interview. A young, personable, middle-class guy (Ranjit Mallick) – eager to ascend the social ladder – has landed an opportunity for a lucrative job at a foreign corporation, thanks to his uncle. All he must do is arrive in a dapper Western suit. His plans, unfortunately, go haywire, as his only suit is in a laundry which is shut on account of a flash labour strike, and thereafter for being unable to remain insular in a crowded bus. The only option left to him, ultimately, is to arrive at the prized interview in a scandalously inappropriate attire. The film, interestingly, began with the dismantling of a statue representing colonial past and culminated with the disrobing of a mannequin embodying consumerist present, whilst the tone transitioned from wry and amusing for most parts to seething fury at the end. Around the one-third mark, the protagonist dramatically breaks the fourth wall while traveling in a tramcar, and sheepishly informs that he’s an actor being followed by a movie camera, his onscreen mother is played by Karuna Bannerjee (Pather Panchali’s Sarbojaya), and his story is real despite the artifice. This Brechtian departures, combined with satirical liveliness and ingenious use of street photographs and footage (shot by Sen himself), made it a work of impish, idiosyncratic audacity.

p.s. This is a revisit. My earlier review of this film can be found here.

Director: Mrinal Sen

Genre: Drama/Political Satire/Experimental Film

Language: Bengali

Country: India

Amar Lenin (My Lenin) [1970]

 While Ritwik Ghatak’s staunch political beliefs and leanings remained largely beneath the complex dramatic surfaces of his films – imbuing the themes and proceedings with additional context without making them overtly political – they were far more articulated elsewhere, be it in his writings or in his iconoclastic documentary Amar Lenin. Once a holy grail for Ghatak aficionados as it’d been rendered obscure by censorship woes and formal unavailability – it was, in fact, banned by the country’s Censor Board, which was eventually overturned by then Prime Minister Indira Gandhi – and it continues to exist today in the fringes through low-quality bootleg copies, and denied public screenings on the rare occasions that anyone attempts to do that. What’s particularly ironic is that, this 20-minute work, made in order to commemorate the birth centenary of Vladimir Lenin, was anything but inflammatory or provocative; rather, made on a small budget, it was completely devoid of hyperbolics, belligerence and harangue, and its tone was gentle, restrained and quietly uplifting. “Jatra”, a traditional form of folk-theatre popular in rural Bengal that’re generally focussed on religious and mythological topics, was often used during the 1960s and 70s by Communist collectives and playwrights to raise social and political awareness; the docu begins with a footage of one such performance at a village, with Marx and Lenin in Western outfits but speaking in Bengali, and then ending with a joyous recital of L’Internationale in Bengali. A young farmer, upon seeing this, is inspired to read more about Lenin’s ideas and activism, and then takes a trip to Calcutta to witness the processions, events and speeches celebrating the centenary, and finally participates with other farmers in a land collectivisation drive.

Director: Ritwik Ghatak

Genre: Documentary/Essay Film/Short Film

Language: Bengali

Country: India

Thampu [1978]

 Aravindan’s gently observational, lyrical and understated docufiction Thampu delicately straddled between fact and fiction. Alongside its form and aesthetics that were shaped by verité and fly-on-the-wall filmmaking, through portraitures deeply rooted in social realities, fragmentary structure, poetic visual language, and startling instances of breaking the fourth wall, it manifested that through its making too. Aravindan travelled to a coastal hamlet in Kerala with few former circus artistes; they set up tent, called the villagers to view performances, and shot the acts juxtaposed with the audience’s enthralled reactions; the villagers eventually got involved in the preparations of an upcoming festival, which therefore led to closure of this setup that merged avant-garde filmmaking with social experiment. Its spare three-point arc – viz. a traveling circus troupe arrives from somewhere to a nondescript village; temporarily sets up shop, provides performances to paying audience during evenings, while practicing during the days; and quietly departs for some other destination – was accompanied with fleeting insights into the group’s long history, current financial challenges, and growing weariness among its older crew members, and interspersed with the aforementioned local festivities and existential crisis of a young guy belonging to an upper class family who’s at odds with his father on account of his love for arts and music instead of worldly affairs. The cast comprised of non-professionals as well as few professional actors like Bharath Gopi as the troupe’s brusque manager who wields his power over this motley group of impoverished, marginalized, disenfranchised and nomadic performers. Shot in austere B/W by veteran cinematographer Shaji N. Karun, it wasn’t surprising that Aravindan displayed such profound empathy for his subjects considering that, like them, he too existed in the margins.

Director: G. Aravindan

Genre: Drama/Social Drama/Docu-fiction/Experimental Film

Language: Malayalam

Country: India

Aghaat [1985]

 While Govind Nihalani’s films were always political, rarely were they so unreservedly Marxist as his compelling and immensely underrated Aghaat. With it he delivered a persuasive, smouldering and nuanced examination of union politics and class struggle. It also, in turn, completed a trilogy of sorts with two brilliant and better-known earlier films. He focussed on a pursuer of individual justice in Aakrosh, an enforcer of legal and vigilante measures in Ardh Satya, and a custodian and enabler of workers’ rights here. Additionally, aside from being fiery, gritty and with violent overtones, the protagonists in all three were driven by their deeply embedded sense of right and wrong and stubborn refusal to quit in morally compromised worlds. It began with a striking dance performance – allegorically demonstrating revolutionary spirit of exploited workers – performed by and for a factory’s union members. Enter Madhav Verma (Om Puri), an educated, conscientious and profoundly committed union representative who’s striving to secure bonuses and benefits with everyone’s long-term interests in mind. His job, however, is complicated on account of a rival outfit – led by self-serving rabble-rouser Rustom Patel (Naseeruddin Shah, in a cameo) and mobilized on ground by his thuggish henchman (Bharath Gopi) – which is fast poaching members through nasty sabotage and reckless promises. When a shopfloor labourer (Pankaj Kapoor) meets with a crushing accident, that ensues an especially unfortunate three-way tug of war with the company bosses who’re happy to play both sides, leading towards an inevitably combustible culmination. The film, buoyed by Vijay Tendulkar’s script that was alternately wordy, introspective and high-octane, was led by a dominant lead performance by Om Puri, and fine turns by Gopi, Amrish Puri, Sadashiv Amrapurkar, Rohini Hattangadi, etc.

Director: Govind Nihalani

Genre: Drama/Political Drama/Crime Drama

Language: Hindi

Country: India

Garm Hava (Scorching Winds) [1973]

 M.S. Sathyu’s celebrated film Garam Hava delved into the minority experience during India’s Partition, not in terms of physical violence and political intricacies, but on its social and economic costs, by steadfastly focusing on a Muslim family that served as a microcosmic representation of the community. Additionally, it provided a mirror to three disparate periods – 1948, recently independent yet divided nation, on the backdrop of Gandhi’s assassination, when the story is set; 1973, on the verge of being plunged into Emergency, when the film was made (against considerable odds); and now, a polarized time replete with ghettoization and persecutions. The slice-of-life parable – adapted from a short story by Marxist and feminist Urdu writer Ismat Chughtai, and adapted jointly by Urdu poet Kaifi Azmi, and script writer, art director and Sathyu’s wife Shama Zaidi – is centred on the Mirza family in Agra, which is headed by two contrasting brothers. While the elder brother, who’s involved in politics and is aware of his self-interests, relocates to the newly formed Pakistan, the idealistic and gentle-natured Salim (veteran thespian Balraj Sahni, in a distinguished turn, that was also his final), who runs a shoe business, and stays back with his wife, kids and aged mother. His deep optimism that things will soon improve is continuously undermined as he loses their ancestral home, sees his business spiral, and faces religious hostility, while his love-stuck daughter (Gita Siddharth) suffers debilitating heartbreaks, elder son checks out, and younger son (Farooq Shaikh) fails to get employed. Yet, despite these relentlessly tragic setbacks, Salim refuses to surrender his dignity and hope, and ultimately embraces progressive politics, with this humanist streak providing a moving mirror to these turbulent times.

Director: M.S. Sathyu

Genre: Drama/Family Drama/Political Drama

Language: Urdu/Hindi

Country: India

Albert Pinto Ko Gussa Kyoon Aata Hai [1980]

 Saeed Akhtar Mirza’s excellent tapestry Albert Pinto Ko Gussa Kyoon Aata Hai opened with an absorbing ride through the streets of Bombay, accompanied by a smooth jazzy score, which immediately made this seem like an intoxicating love letter to the city. Being the gentle, erudite and politically invested filmmaker that he was, Mirza had of course in mind a much more nuanced exploration and complex investigation of the city than that. He accomplished that through interlacing of three fervently political themes – with an infectious mix of satirical chuckle, simmering angst and defiantly Marxist gaze – viz. portrayal of minority experience, depiction of a heretofore “apolitical” working-class protagonist’s furiously evolving class consciousness, and an impassioned probe into the early days of what would erupt into the “Great Bombay Textile Strike” during the early-1980s. His infusion of elements of documentary and reportage into the narrative, and a dialectical reworking of the “angry young man” persona, brought in intriguing additional dimensions to it. The film’s eponymous protagonist, played with insouciance and aplomb by Naseeruddin Shah, is a Christian auto-mechanic who starts off as an aimlessly angry, smug, opinionated and insular guy who’s proud of his wealthy customers, is incorrigibly boorish to his independent-minded girlfriend (Shabana Azmi), and is casually derisive of any protests by workers. However, when his father (Arvind Deshpande), a veteran textile worker, is beaten up by lumpen thugs at the best of the mill owners for participating in strikes, he starts experiencing a remarkable change in his political views and expressing solidarity towards those who he’d been dismissive of. The fine cast also comprised of Smita Patil as Albert’s wry sister and Dilip Dhawan as his disillusioned brother, among others.

Director: Saeed Akhtar Mirza

Genre: Drama/Urban Drama/Political Drama/Romantic Drama

Language: Hindi

Country: India