Posts Tagged ‘Movie Recco’

Most of us saw Lipstick Under My Burkha at last year’s Mumbai Film Festival (MFF). Since then, the film has been doing the fest rounds and winning accolades internationally. On home ground though, it has been the exactly opposite scene. Battle with CBFC went for long, and then the task to find a proper release and distribution partner. Ekta Kapoor came on-board and gave the much needed boost to make it look visible. The film is finally in theatres this friday.

Here’s our recco post on the film, written by Raj Kumari. It was written last year after the MFF screening.

No Male Rescuers

Lipstick Under My Burkha (LUMB) was one of the best films I saw at MAMI 2016 – a bold & honest take on female sexuality. All four protagonists are females (how often that happens in India?) so it can be easily said that it is about female sexuality but I felt at the deepest level it is not. And I am so happy about it being not so.

But still it shows the different perceptions about female sexuality in four different stages of a women’s life through four characters Rehana Saeed (a college girl), Leela (a young lady of so-called marriageable age), Shireen Aslam (a middle-aged married women) and Usha Bua ji (an elderly woman).

The film explores their desires, fantasies, and struggle to own their heartbreaks with such honesty and poignant sensitivity that it’s impossible not to see your own secrets in them.

And even after crossing so many slippery alleys of this topic of female sexuality and repression when it becomes very easy (and even cathartic) to take sides by providing a rescuer for these characters, this film allows itself not to take such a decisive stand and sticks to its POV of just being a witness. The film doesn’t rescue them, it just lets them be. The focus remains tight on the process of suppression only, and hence the core of sexuality comes out blazingly clear.

And what is it?

Sexuality is never about body. And more primarily about male or female body. It can not be. As it involves both male and female energies, whatever be the outer form of the body, male or female or any other gender. Sexuality is about being free, being open, being whole in your presence which generally manifests as being with your own body. And of course, this openness and freedom can come through wearing what you like, smoking, being explicitly exposing or demanding sex openly (some of the tropes repeatedly used/reinforced in our films to show a ‘liberated’ woman). But being sexually liberated is further about understanding that these are just few symbols of freedom against respective symbols of suppression. They ALONE are NOT freedom. Yes, they do serve till some deeper grounds of being open with the self is found. And the film attempts to take us to that depth too.

(SPOILERS AHEAD) 

It defines the core of freedom in the scene where Bua-ji owns her desires, and her ownership of them in front of all who used to respect her. She didn’t feel any shame, grudge or pity. She showed courage to assemble all of her torn, broken, humiliated self in her arms and took shelter in her bedroom calmly and with the same ownership. There were male oppressors but there was no male rescuer in the film, and this itself says how deeply mature the intent of the film is. I loved the film a little extra for this one golden aspect.

And in the last scene, how beautifully it showed that such a place of courage becomes a platform for all such courageous hearts to identify with their struggle. A platform to make mistakes, comparing your struggles with others, and finally seeing the commonality of self ownership as the final rescue.
Do watch it. And let us know what you thought about the film.

Five boys in their pre-teens, hailing from a small-town in Maharashtra, each knowing the loss of a dear one, jump into a lake from a height in the total abandon of childhood’s innocence. The protagonist is the last to jump; he hesitates and then takes the plunge. For me, that was the defining moment of Avinash Arun’s debut film Killa.

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Cinema world-over, is moving towards telling big stories of small people. While we continue to have (and be mesmerised) by our Interstellars and Mad Max’, we are also rejoicing in looking deeper into the souls of the commoner through the canvas of everyday life. Iranian cinema, arguably, showed the world the way, and in India, it is Marathi cinema, among other language films, which has moved the cinematic zeitgeist inwards. Little people, little moments and large stories. Not larger-than-life; very common, very grounded, very real and because of this, large. Especially gratifying is the fact that the child as the protagonist is finally here. Our lenses have finally found his story worth telling. His world is being looked into, explored, understood and loved, a practice that has always been at the periphery in our cinema. Vihir, Shwaas, Tingya, Shala, Fandry…the list keeps increasing. And now Killa.

In Killa, Avinash delves into small-town life and his own personal memories of childhood, and paints a moving and heart-warming picture of learning to fight one’s battles with life. It is the journey of a boy still grappling with the death of his father that happened two years back, and the constant change of environment that has followed. It is the story of his mother, a single woman, gritty and upright, determined to ensure she is now the father and mother to her only son. It is the story of courage to break away from the past and it is a story of love, loyalty and trust. But most importantly, and which is why it is more beautiful, it is the story of taking the plunge. And thus, finding the light at the end of the tunnel. In Killa’s case, the cave.

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“I think we have forgotten the life, the buildings, and the streets we used to have not so long ago.” Miyazaki said this about Sen to Chihiro no Kamikakushi. Killa, in more ways then one way, pays homage to a kind of childhood fast disappearing and one many of us have never even known. Yet, its emotional tone resonates universally, drawing in even those unfamiliar with the social landscape of the film. An intensely personal film, it is life experienced through the eyes of a sensitive, lonely, fatherless, pre-teen boy. Moving from town to town due to his mother’s transferable job, he pines for putting down roots, for friends he can grow up with and for his dead father. His mother is trying her best to be both the parents for him, stretching to breaking point to ensure him his due upbringing.  It is with a humane eye that Avinash sees the single woman’s struggle, also reflected in the elderly neighbour. Both women develop a bond of mutual respect, an intuitive sign of recognition when one kind, strong soul meets another. The women are lonely too and they are fighting it. Loneliness is the vast canvas Avinash paints his story on because little Chinmay has to break free of this very loneliness and find hope.

Killa, the central motif of the film then becomes the symbol of Chinu’s inner one, the fort of loneliness and mistrust he is caught in. His search for the exit from the fort becomes a beautiful metaphor of his efforts to get rid of the loneliness. And when he emerges into the sunshine he finds hope and trust, literally and figuratively. On the face of it, it is a simple film with a linear narrative, a well-used form. Couched within is a multi-layered narrative of an inner struggle, the experience of which is evoked rather than told. A complete freedom from the need of dramatic tension yet letting the story find its own resolution is evident in the way it unfolds and in certain ways, it is a liberating experience; to co-opt a 3 Act structure and do away with dramatic turning points yet end with confidence, is in my eyes, quite an achievement.

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The visual imagery of the film and its soundscape resonates with the simplicity of verdant, small-town life and a child’s inner tenderness. The spaces Avinash uses make up Chinnu’s external and internal world which we experience through the different locales, his home, school, bridge, fort, cave…The visuals are beautiful without being imposing or picture postcard perfect and the staging is natural, keeping the film moving with a steady rhythm of life instead of depending on the artifice of drama. Avinash also handles the small class-room dramas, especially the weaves of inter-personal relationships between children as peers with a certain tenderness and an understanding of the fragility of their world. The performances extracted out of the children are warmly naturalistic endearing each one of us with their quirks and innocence. We see them as children are, vulnerable and stubborn, inexperienced and wise. Perhaps, the biggest victory of the film is bringing to us the ‘cleanness’ of children…something that permeates into the entire experience of it.

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Ingmar Bergman said ‘No art passes our conscience in the way film does, and goes directly to our feelings, deep down into the dark rooms of our souls.’ Killa does that in its own unassuming way, going directly to our feelings and deep down into the dark room of our souls and lighting it up a bit.

Fatema H. Kagalwala

First published in the Lensight Feb 2015 issue.

LKF
Kenny Basumatary’s Local Kung Fu (with English subtitles) released this friday. Some of us had seen the film and quite enjoyed it. Here is a Baradwaj Rangan-ish bullet point movie recco post by Kartik Krishnan.
  1. Dash of Takashi Kitano humor and tribute to oranges-Andaz Apna Apna.
  2. Goon with the funny smile plastered on his face 24X7
  3. The 70 yr old grandfather who wields the stick with Kamal-Hassan-Thevar-Magan-ish dexterity.
  4. The superb tongue-in-cheek Guthka khaane se swasth ko haani pahunchti hai PSA cleverly forced in
  5. Candid out takes end credit sequence
  6. Fried Silkworms, Snail curry, rice pancakes ahhh the food
  7. The overweight Karate goon who sings Raagas
  8. Spirit of the cast and crew and a budget of less than a lakh
  9. Ekta Kapoor spoof
  10. Absolutely naturalistic performances
  11. The Number One U 18 goon – Bonzo !
  12. The energetic action sequences
  13. The girl with Assamese-Malayali roots
  14. The gallis and koochas of Assam
  15. The uncle who asks “You need to take a crap or something?”
  16. The music (Wish the songs were subtitled too) Sample this
  17. The Requiem-waala montage thrown in once or twice
  18. DLFG – Delhi Liberation Front For Gurgaon
  19. The stories told in each and every fight – kaun kispar kaise bhaari padta hai 
  20. The irreverence and non seriousness of it all – with the tone set from the the opening statement itself !
  21. The goons shaving & whiling away time when bikes enter in super slow motion!
  22. Even a small time thief fights back in Kung Fu-style
  23. The villain whose caller tune is the sound effect of kicks & punches
  24. No pretentiousness of an art film, No (ok, may be a little) filmy-pana of a commercial film
  25. The vision guts and passion of Kenny Basumatary who has acted, written, directed and edited the film

Do catch the film playing at the limited screens.

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– To know more about the film, click here to read an old post by the film’s lead actor, writer an director Kenny Basumatary.

– For more info on the film, visit its Facebook page here.

– To watch its trailer, click here.

And this list comes from Aniruddh Chatterjee, the self-declared biggest Korean movie fanatic on this side of the planet. Do read the post, and do watch the films. If you have come across some interesting Korean movies recently, do let us know in the comments.

Over to Aniruddh.

SECRET  SUNSHINE

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Jeon Do-yeon relocates alongwith her young son to the village where her recently deceased husband grew up. And tragedy strikes again. The film is not so much about the tragedy itself, as about its aftermath. Jeon Do-yeon’s performance is as raw and naked as it can get.

Note: Jeon Do-yeon won the Best Actress award at Cannes Film Festival for Secret Sunshine.

Lee Chang-dong is fairly underrated when it comes to the big league of Korean directors. His last film Poetry is an absolute gem. Do watch his entire filmography which includes Oasis, Peppermint Candy and Green Fish.

Secret Sunshine is now available on Criterion DVD/Blu-ray.

CASTAWAY  ON  THE  MOON

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A failed suicide attempt results in Jeong Jae-yeong play Robinson Crusoe in a conservation island in the middle of Han River. The only person who can see him is Kim Jung-yeon, an agoraphobic, who has shut herself in one of the city’s high rises.

Offbeat, quirky, bizarre yet immensely endearing take on romantic comedy.

PAJU

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The opening scene in the film sees Seo Woo traveling in a taxi through dense fog. From the first shot director Park Chan-ok is preparing the audience for the ride. Paju is about the complicated relationship between a young girl and her brother-in-law and complications that follow. Gorgeously shot by Kim Woo-hyung and a brilliant and emotionally nuanced performance by Seo Woo in her breakout role.

This is what we call a mood-piece!

TREELESS  MOUNTAIN

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A tender, almost meditative tale of resilience, while facing constant abandonment from family. Heartbreaking real performance from both leads, Kim Hee-yeon and Kim Song-hee.

THE  DAY  HE  ARRIVES

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Hong’s films are very Woody Allen-esque. His characters aren’t as neurotic as Allen but definitely immature and self centered fools. Beautifully shot in monochrome, highlighting the winter, the film is about Yoo Jun-sang, a retired film director, currently teaching film studies, and his encounter with friends, acquaintances and strangers over the next few days when he visits Seoul.

Note : Hong Sang-soo is criminally underrated when it comes to the big league of Korean directors.

He is a Cannes Film Festival regular with five of his films nominated for either Palme d’Or or Un Certain Regard. His film Hahaha won the Un Certain Regard award in 2010.

Do check out his filmography which includes Woman on the Beach, Tale of Cinema, Night and Day, Hahaha and the recent In another Country.

JUVENILE  OFFENDER

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A beautiful film about a couple of lost souls trying to fit into society, knowing it is difficult for them to change at all.

Terrific performances by Seo Young-joo and Lee Jung-hyun.

DANCE  TOWN

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The struggle of a North Korean refugee trying to cope with her new life in South Korea as she’s constantly under the radar of South Korean intelligence alleging her to be a spy.

Note : The final chapter in director Jeon Kyu-hwan’s town trilogy, other two being Mozart Town and Animal Town.

BLEAK  NIGHT

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Bleak Night is post-mortem of a suicide. Three high school friends, their loyalty, betrayal, guilt and despair leading to and post the suicide. Touches the important topic of bullying and violence in high school.

Yoon Sung-Hyun makes one of the most assured directorial debuts in recent times.

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Since we have become a generation of Buzzfeed and because “listicles” are still not dead, am going to pick the easy route. Here are the top 10 reasons why i loved Shuddh Desi Romance and why you shouldn’t miss it.

1. Jaideep Sahni – I was wondering if he will deliver or not. This is a virgin territory for him – a full throttle romantic film. And more suspicious because he was talking like my another favourite screenwriter, Charlie Kaufman. Love versus love portrayed in films, expectations versus reality and all that jazz. Well, he not only delivers but pushes the envelope and sends it out of the park. Terrific lines all over, all that which seems so natural that it’s difficult to believe someone actually wrote it. And especially at a time when everyone is taking this dialogue route, at least in mainstream hindi cinema space.

2. Morality is Dead – A friend got a sms from a veteran journalist – SDR’s morality is falling faster and lower than the rupee. Not surprising. This film might be shocking for the conventional theatre going crowd and especially when it’s not set in any Tier-1 city. Aha, what fun, to piss of those old holy cows.

3. Marriage is Dead – Commitment is fine. But why do we need the shackles to remind us that we are “committed”. Ironically, this one comes from the same production house which is in shaadi-binness. U-Turn? Hell yeah! Mommy, are you listening?

4. Parineeti Chopra – Mommy, if you still insist, can you try her. I have been skeptical about her main-chulbuli-always-smiling-full-on-enthu avatar in the last two films of her. Are they going to typecast her? But three films down and i think we can easily brand her as “show stealer”. Put her in any film, she is bound to walk away with all the glory while making it look oh so easy. Girl, you are going far.

5. No Melodrama – It’s never been our strength. To keep it minimum, to keep it subtle and yet pack a punch. Now, just see what all can a “thanda” do in situations where there is huge scope for such drama. Am not going to explain the scenes here to kill the fun. But i wanted to get up and applaud in the first “thanda lao” scene. I don’t remember when was the last time someone played it so smoothly in such a loaded scenario.

6. So much silence – Again, another rarity in mainstream bollywood. What do you write on those blank pages where your characters look into each other and say nothing and give those strange expressions that is difficult to define. It comes only with those weird situations that you get into. SDR is full of those and director Maneesh Sharma knows how to capture them.

7. No dil-jigar-dard-tukda song – what a relief. Dil hi toh hai saala, tutne do. Devads is over and out. To quote Sahni from another favourite, Rocket Singh, bikhre nahi toh kaise nikhrogey, uljhe nahi toh kaise suljhogey.

8. Climax – 2 couples and 4 characters – what a masterstroke. The way 4 characters are stuck at the same crossroads and the dialogues were criss-crossing, it reminded me of my favourite scene in That Girl In Yellow Boots – two telephonic conversations going on at the same time. Also, the climax doesn’t try to follow the conventional route. It sticks to its core idea that its prescribing from the beginning.

9. The “repetitive” tool – I read some comments saying that lot of it is “repetitive”, especially the dialogues. I thought that was brilliant writing – to use the same stuff with different characters. You know the lines, the character doesn’t. It happens more than once and the funniest is when Sushant and Parineeti try to find out about each other from Rishi Kapoor.

10. Pigeons, Monkeys and Milieu – As the film started, i kept on smiling as it played the montage filled with these various creatures. It’s been a while since our kabootar did ja ja for Mister Saajan. They are not just props, they slowly construct that rare thing which is difficult to achieve – milieu. And being aware of the world around you always helps.

All hail Jaideep Sahni! At a time when the market is flooded with fucking remakes and sequels with the sole intention of making money, here’s the one with the original voice and daring content.

Chanchal mann, ati random
De gayo dhoka sambhal gayo re
Phisal gayo re…

– Posted by @CilemaSnob

The Act of Killing

This was long before Tehelka had done any expose. I think the year was 2006. A junior from college had gone on to become a yogi of sorts – a spiritual guru who over the next few years would gather a bunch of powerful politicos as his disciples and put an Orkut profile photo showing Narendra Modi reading Time Magazine with him, in his Yogi costume, on the cover.

I had shifted to Bombay to become a writer and his phone call started with respect for this ‘brave’ decision of mine. Over the next few phone calls during the week he told me about his vision for India and his love for cows, both quite reasonable, and I listened out of curiosity and courtesy. Then, after his self-praise ran dry after multiple ejaculations over 4-5 days, he came to the asli mudda.  He wanted me to head the national cultural wing of some organization/movement he was launching soon, in association with Bajrang Dal or VHP (my memory fails). I asked him what are his views on allegations on these organizations being responsible for Gujarat riots, and pat came his monologue which came back to me right after I started watching Joshua Oppenheimer’s The Act of Killing.

He said of course it’s a matter of pride and an act whose time had come. It’s a happy situation that we still have youth who can put their lives on line for their nation. He said he is in fact sitting with two bhai jis who murdered a few people, including a pregnant lady and her child, with their own hands. Sensing my shock he said he and bhai jis can explain everything if I meet them in person just once. And then he handed the phone to one bhai ji when I cut the call in horror. College junior/Yogi called back saying he can understand the fear of rationals over such acts but he is sure that once I know the full story, I will not just accept but hug and applaud these people who murdered muslim women and children on the streets. A more heroic me would have gone to the cops or some TV channel, but I just cut the phone and never took his call again. (He called a number of times over the next month or so.)

This nonchalance puzzled me, kept me awake for many days. I rationalized that he might have been bluffing only, or trying to test me on something. It was too difficult to believe that people could boast about their crimes so easily, that too to almost strangers.

While watching The Act of Killing, in which gangsters hired by Indonesian military regime to kill more than 15 Lakh alleged ‘communists’ in the country revisit their acts with pride and glossy rationalization, I kept swinging between the two extreme emotions. One was the feeling of shock at this bizarre scenario – gangsters were told to re-enact the murders in whatever cinematic genre they want to and they obliged by enthusiastically recounting the methods, madness (sitting on a table placed on victim’s neck and jumping while singing), and ‘reasons’ (“God hates communists”) behind via many genres including musical, war film, crime drama, and comedy. The other was the feeling of familiarity – the feeling of having lived among such people, known them (and we all have known them in India who say ‘Sahi kiya Modi ne!’), and hence feeling no shock at this kind of behavior. It was like looking into the future if we have a Hindu-Military regime someday. The same guys I spoke to on the phone might be calling me   again to write songs for the film they would be making to celebrate their own acts of 2002.

So yes, there was a third feeling too. Feeling of ‘Is it okay if I laugh at this scenario?’ Very few films can put you in that space, that uncomfortable space between humaneness and detachment. I did laugh in a few scenes, in spite of being brain-shocked by it.  It was farce performing cunnilingus on reality.

The story unfolds through Anwar Congo and his sidekick Herman Koto. Anwar was a gangster (he says gangster means a ‘free man’) in 1965 and killed more than 1000 people in his ‘office’ by his own admission. He loved watching movies, looked like Sidney Potier, and ran the ticket business of cinema halls, and hence appears most earnest about this project presented to him by Oppenheimer. His sidekick, a present day gangster, clearly has acting ambitions as he puts his soul and direction skills in this fractured, b-grade production they are making. The film keeps switching between extremely violent and surreal recreations of 1965 killings, present day life of these gangsters (sometimes watching and critiquing their day’s work like big stars would), and moments of serene silence. And the silences are the most uncomfortable, as they should be.

Is there some moral redemption at the end of this “high-fever dream”? I don’t think there is much. Though director in an interview said of Anwar and his friends’ casual justifications for killing while recreating the scenes as their “desperate attempt to justify what they have done,” and thus, we see their ultimate humanity. If they have to cover it, they must know they have something to cover. In the recognition is the humanity. But redemption is not what the film seeks to achieve. Its attempt, in my opinion, is a much simpler one. It just wants to push these bad men into doing something decent (making cinema), and us into doing something bad (watching murder in a lighter vein, almost like they watched when they committed them). A two-way documentary, in a sense.

Not for the faint-hearted, but this is as explosive a mix of documentary, cinema, human condition, and horrors of prejudice as you will ever see. GUT-WRENCHING is an understatement.

– by Varun Grover

We are back to our “movie recco” posts and will try to be regular this time. This recco post is by lyricist and screenwriter Varun Grover. And let me warn you that by the time you will finish reading this post, you will be desperately searching for the film. So please start your search (#youknowwhere) now. And read on.

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Polite Disagreement of the Sugar Man

Weird connections

Most of the times, how powerful a film (or any piece of art) is can be judged by the simple test of what and how many things it reminds you of. Things that you have read, seen, experienced, or heard about. Like this excellent, meditative Russian film The Return reminded me of my mother’s old Buaa whose husband had returned after 30-years of having gone missing and she didn’t know how to deal with it. She had been living the life of a widow at her brother’s (my Nana’s) house for almost all her life and here was this man she had even forgotten the face of too, standing in front of her shocked, crying face, talking in broken English for some reason, and telling her ‘It’s okay. It’s okay.’ (What happened with Buaa and her husband after that is even more surreal, but that’s for another day.)

Similarly, Terrence Malick films remind of the world I imagined as a child, Vihir reminded me of dealing with a recent death in the family, Holy Motors reminded me of Werner Herzog’s Enigma of Kasper Hauser, Kaufman’s Being John Malkovich, Billy Wilder’s Sunset Blvd., and many others, and Anish Kapoor’s recent exhibition in Bombay reminded me of Waltz with Bashir and Mughal-E-Azam.

I watched Malik Bendjelloul’s 2012 documentary Searching for Sugar Man last night and the list of things it reminded me of is probably the greatest ever. From Gurudutt’s Pyaasa to Charles Bukowski and Shiv Kumar Batalvi’s poetry and persona, to Bob Dylan (“Bob Dylan was mild to this guy” says one character in the film), to Mirza Ghalib, to many of my friends struggling with the whole commerce-vs-art, indie-vs-massy question hanging over their futures – everybody/thing has flashed past my eyes in the last 12-hours. (And one more man, but about him, later.)

There could be a specific reason, not within the film but within me, that it reminded me of so many things. May be I myself am struggling with the questions of immortality or otherwise of art and my place in the creation process.

Synopsis:

(Spoiler free. Though I’d say watch the film without even reading the synopsis.)

Detorit, 1970s. A construction worker called Rodriquez, who writes poetry of the streets and is a struggling musician, cuts an album. Album sells just “6 copies in all of America” and he goes back to a life of obscurity. Word goes around that he killed himself later after singing some iconic, depressing words like “But thanks for your time and then you can thank me for mine.” But soon after him receding back into the shadows, bootlegged copies of his album reach South Africa, to a people locked away from the world due to apartheid. There, in SA, his songs gain a cult following and a couple of fans decide to find the truth behind his death.

The man who walks

One recurring motif in the film, used brilliantly even in animated portions, is that of a man walking relentlessly – through snow and streets, in a city past its prime (or may be a city that never reached its prime like Rodriguez himself). My guess is this motif, of all the brilliant things this film shows, will stay with me for the longest. Rodriguez was a man who poured his suffering and his observations of the city into his music. (His songs and voice alone are the reasons enough to revere him as one of the greatest musicians ever.) This motif captures the slow rhythm, the effort, and imagery of his music just perfectly.

But another reason, as my wife pointed out after the film, this motif captures Rodriguez’s essence is because his was a life of polite disagreements – with the rules of society, norms of success, recognition and copyright. His lyrics were angry but not bitter in a Pyaasa/Sahir Ludhianvi or Bukowski way nor pessimistic like Ghalib/Batalvi – his anger too was like his persona – easy, sweet, and with a dash of hope. I am sure unknowingly, but he lived by the Gandhian principle of सविनय अवज्ञा (Savinay Avagya ­– polite non-cooperation), and hence the walking motif gets another layer of Gandhi connection. (There’s one more, even bigger Gandhi connection but giving that out will be a spoiler.)

The unsaid

Since it’s a reco-post, there are so many things I am tempted to write but not writing. So will give you a quick ‘10-reasons to watch this film ASAP’ and wrap this up.

  1. A musical docu (with some of the best music you’ll hear in a film) narrated like a thriller. The search for Sugar Man (Rodriguez) is as surprising and twisted as any good, genuine thriller.
  2. An underdog story with so many uplifting moments. Better than in any similar-genre fiction film I have seen last year.
  3. Technically top-notch. Animation, frames, footage from the 70s and 80s, all pieced together absolutely seamlessly.
  4. A mysterious central character that may have been lost to the history forever.
  5. Some of the most articulate interviewees in a docu. One man (called Clarence Avant) looks and talks straight out of a Tarantino film.
  6. In spite of being an almost-thriller, the pace is languorous and easy – like Rodriguez’s music. Very difficult to achieve and done very well.
  7. A terrific statement on the real value of art and artist, and the eternal tussle between business and creative.
  8. One real chunk of footage of a Rodriguez concert. If you don’t have a lump in your throat in that portion of the film, please get your species-test done.
  9. Poetry. Both visual and verbal. (One frame with smoke billowing out of a factory chimney across the river and merging into clouds above while Cold Fact plays in the background is cinema at its ethereal best.)
  10. The message it conveys, subtly but powerfully.

Note: It’s out #youknowwhere. And thanks to documentary lover @AuteurMark for recco-ing this to some of us.

The following TRAILER has SPOILERS. So we would suggest that you should AVOID it and watch the film directly.