A New Wave and A New Identity
The second annual London Indian Film Festival screens the best of independent cinema. Mike Corcoran gives the whole picture on two films boldly tackling the theme of homosexuality.
A rebellion is occurring within Indian cinema that is stamping a new identity onto the world; one quite removed from the commercial tendencies of the “alien planet” that is Bollywood. Social taboos are being addressed head-on, no longer shrouded by veils of subtlety and allusion. It is a New Wave, and upon its crest is the London Indian Film Festival (June 30-July 12).
It hosted a brilliantly eclectic mix of independent filmic talent spanning many genres – from the hilarious crime caper Delhi Belly, to the poignancy of Sanjoy Nag’s melodrama Memories In March – screened in some of the finest cinemas the city can offer: I was lucky enough to be part of two nights of film, dance and discussion at the cosy Waterman’s Centre in Brentford, followed by the opulent grandeur of Cineworld Haymarket.
Both the films I watched concern themselves with homosexuality within a reactionary society, and the conflicting emotions of characters who inhabit that setting. They are slow-moving, contemplative explorations of mood and atmosphere, time and space, thought and action.
Memories in March tells the story of a bereaved mother’s (Deepti Naval) emotional journey whilst coming to terms with her son Siddharth’s recent tragic death. Travelling to Calcutta, she stays in his empty apartment, piecing together who he was through his possessions and encounters with the people within his life. She meets his boss Ornob (Rituparno Ghosh), who seems just as torn as she is; it turns out that Ornob was her son’s lover. The film depicts a journey of unlikely kinship between the conservative, kindly mother and defensive, vulnerable Ornob – two very different people – culminating in a mutual understanding and respect for one another.
In one key scene, whilst he helps her pack up Siddharth’s books, the camera notes two in particular: 21st Century Sexualities and Empires of India. As they rest upon one another, we see the visualisation of the conflict between the old order and the new; tradition versus the modern, each battling for dominance, which in turn mirrors the interaction between the characters; it is this subtle balancing act which informs the beauty of this melodrama.
Before Kaushik Ganguly’s Just Another Love Story began, the lights dimmed and the spotlight focussed on two Indian dancers in traditional attire. Beautiful music accompanied a short interpretive dance, as a duo of effeminate-looking men in saris moved hypnotically in front of us: a fitting introduction to the themes of the film, that of fluid genders and identities.
The complex narrative focuses on the director Abhiroop’s (Rituparno Ghosh) attempts to make a film about the reminiscences of the iconic transgender Bengali stage-actor, Chapal Bhaduri. In documenting Chapal’s past relationships, Abhiroop begins to see echoes of his own personal experiences. The film’s structure creates a tiered storyline: the reality of a production team recording Chapal’s memories; and Abhiroop’s own personal thoughts projected onto the narrative, in which his impersonation of Chapal tells the audience how closely interlinked their lives are. There are shifts between time periods and character subjectivity, wonderfully creating worlds within worlds.
In the Q&A that followed, renowned filmmaker Ghosh – who has made his first forays into the acting world in both films – told of his fears concerning public outcry in India; much to his amazement, the films were warmly received. He spoke of a ‘third gender’ in which he categorises himself; neither man nor woman, but “something in between.”
For a country that holds the Kama Sutra so close to heart – a text which deals unambiguously with all variances of sexual life – it seems something has been lost or suppressed in regards this free expression within India’s media. Homosexuality was a taboo subject – up to this point – which could only be alluded to rather than openly discussed.
Since 2009’s monumental constitutional amendment that decriminalised homosexuality, it is no surprise to see that a catharsis has occurred within Indian culture. Attitudes have undergone a considerable shift, perhaps also the result of seismic changes in India’s literary world: authors such as R. Raj Rao have begun to highlight these shadowy issues. As one of India’s leading gay rights activists, his novels, such as The Boyfriend, have put Indian Queer literature on an international platform, aided by the online promotion of gay literature through www.queer-ink.com.
Through the festival’s entire programme, we saw a new breed of Indian cinema relishing in the confrontation of previously unaddressed subjects in an unflinching and uncompromising way. It is precisely this championing that makes the festival such a vibrant inclusion within London’s cinematic calendar.
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