A subject called Cinema

Namesake Mira Nair's "Namesake" portrays an incredibly still image of people, who are strangely non-partisan and extremely motion-less. This cinematic theater picks up the vibes of "episodic formless-ness" (as described by one of the critics) fairly well, only to get lost in it’s own shapelessness. The quintessential broom-stick-engine that of "Goglol" sometimes work as a mere appellation (just in case you have forgotten which movie you were watching), sometimes as a bridge between the disconnected parties, sometimes as a metaphorical identity, but mostly it works as a mirror. The problem is not so much with the story as much it is with the cinematic treatment of characters. The spatial silence imparted on each of the elements is utterly cold and disconnected. The tremendous urge of the filmmaker to show rituals, singing boatmen, singing vagabonds (Bauls), montages of people sleeping on the streets, the long traffic queues … on and on and on, somehow reflects that she's trying to sell the movie to the west as an easily digestible bolus. This can at the best be a good commercial decision and not a good cinematic choice. ok ... maybe a good cinematic choice as well ... but has nothing to do with the story. "Namesake" is yet another affirmation of the cold fact that the era of honest art has ended. Film makers all over the world are time and again making financially intelligent choices, heavily neglecting art part of affairs. The movie bears the burden of shallow portrayal of characters. Moushumi for example the enigmatic born-again intellectual (somehow there's always a french connection with the word intellectual) seems like a floating anecdote, only the joke is on her. Neither she ends up saying anything worth a thought or does anything thought provoking. But then again none of the characters have anything to say and do thought provoking throughout the movie. The only good dialogue of the movie "We have all come from Gogol's overcoat" may sound quasi-thoughtful but at the end of the day is no more than a lyrical realization of a connection that's desperately trying find a different meaning at every point but hopelessly getting lost in the vagueness of disconnected events.

Where does Ashok Ganguly end and Gogol Ganguly begin? Maybe the answer is central to the puzzle/point put forth by the film-maker but honestly by the end of the movie I had forgotten the question. The ocean of loneliness in which Ashima swam throughout the movie seemed even more micro-cosmic than Gogol's attempt at finding himself.

You want to do something better with the time ... ? go and read Gogol's "Overcoat".

-Partho