Reviewing Goutam Ghosh's Kaalbela review
Reviewing Goutam Ghosh's Kaalbela(2009) becomes an excruciating effort for a young man from Kolkata even with a fleeting connection to Bengali literature; who grew up with the novel through his late teens - buoyed by the spirit of rebellion, swayed by the resilience called Madhabilata (the lead female protagonist) and crushed by the disillusionment that always follows. How can you possibly imbibe the essence of film and literature as separate art forms with your entire upbringing so swayed by one? Yet, the effort. Simply because Kaalbela is a name you cannot afford to miss. Even if you realize that you assign a pre-ordained hierarchical supremacy to one of the forms thus diluting your appreciation for the other.
Thus it draws you to the theatres, to be thwarted the first time with the tickets sold out. Undeterred, you follow up the next day. And the film opens with a bang; a wonderful rendition of "the turbulent 70s" through a collage revisiting scenes from Pratidwandi (Satyajit Ray, 1972), Interview (Mrinal Sen, 1970) and Calcutta 71 (Mrinal Sen, 1971) which brings forward not only the essence of the 1970s in Calcutta but also places a fitting tribute to the masters whose journey Goutam Ghosh tries to commence. The narrative embedded with newspaper clippings, footage of the era and the nostalgia of Bengali poetry from Rabindranath to Jibananda and Tushar Ray moves towards a wonderful depiction of not only the sensationalism of armed revolution or an epitomization of a culture that marked the era, but also re-instates Goutam Ghosh's position as one of the last remnants of the cinematically conscious filmmakers that Calcutta used to boast of.
And then it falls flat. What becomes fore-grounded is a strangely ruptured aesthetics vacillating from slender and oh-so-short moments of cinematographic brilliance to the prosaic set and camera angles symbolizing an archaic tele-serial mode, an aesthetic deeply embedded within the corridors of Kolkata Doordarshan and the co-producers, and pointing towards a hurried production schedule which cares to script the right cultural rendition yet neglects the streaked hair of a 70s rebel leader or the plucked eyebrows and eyeliners of an anxious Madhabilata who vows to stand by her rebel fiancée against her own family and the society in general.
Incidentally, one learns that the decision to make a film was an afterthought as the producers and director initially worked towards a television serial, a theory quickly corroborated by the shoddy sets and make-ups, the long undulating sequences of nothingness and weak acting from the majority of the cast. Parambrata as the protagonist carries his cerebral presence well but fails to elicit the fire of conviction of the disillusioned 70's youth, a facet that is conspicuous by its absence within the entire cast. Even Rudranil, who brilliantly lives up to his avatar of the drunken poet friend, fails though one feels that his character is unnecessarily drawn into the fires of the revolution. Only Bratya Basu as the communist party leader and Soumitra Chatterjee as the grandfather live up to their parts; obviously their cultural backgrounds help them fit into the 70s better.
And then there is Madhabilata; she, who leaves her home to be by her partner, accompanies him through the bitter-sweet romance of Coffee-House and Basanta Cabin into the armed struggle at Shantiniketan, is physically tortured by the police on Animesh's capture, takes up home at a slum and works as a schoolteacher only to await an invalid Animesh's release to present him with their only son Arko (The Sun) who has been brought up out of wedlock; she for whom Animesh returns the lines that epitomize the novel, "Biplober arek naam Madhabilata" (Madhabilata, another name for the Revolution) as she lives through the social revolution of her own as a counterpoint to Animesh's emotional, impractical tryst with political struggle; and what a waste ! Pauli Dam, except for her large soulful eyes, fails every inch of the way in her diction, mannerisms, dialogues and reactions. And obviously the director fails miserably as well with the focal point of the novel being so grievously undermined.
Yet, the film narrative remains watchable through its trueness to the novel as through all the faults, ensues a strange dialogue that runs through the entire two and half years; the dialogue between the seen and the imagined, as each sequence sends you reeling back to the moment of your first encounter with the novel in the teens, a moment steeped in ideology, social commitment, rebellion, literature, poetry and love. An emotional tryst with not only a past era in history but also a few forgotten megabytes of personal consciousness which sends you running back home and pick up the book - maybe to relive Kaalbela one last time.
Comments( 2 )
"And obviously the director fails
"And obviously the director fails miserably as well with the focal point of the novel being so grievously undermined."
What is the focal point of the novel? It is Kalbela -- the Evil hours-- no?
The film was entirely shot as a ten episode serial. It was only as an afterthought that it was edited and presented as a film, in a theatre. There is no chance one can avoid the serial look or style that way.
Doordarshan should be blamed for such a useless production. They made it on an experimental basis. As per ticket sale, I think the experiment has not failed. So, in future, we'll probably witness the birth of many such monsters.
Of course "the evil hours" is one of
Of course "the evil hours" is one of its focal points. but as far as my interpretation of the novel goes, it is not really a comprehensive documentation of the failed Naxalite movement. Instead, it is a love story set on aforesaid period with its two strands of revolutions, the direct one being Animesh's which fails. But the other carried out silently by Madhabilata, the social rebellion of a Bengali middle-class girl, is the one which comes to the fore.