Earlier this year, when Bong Joon Ho’s Parasite broke out and won a bunch of Oscars (gosh, it really was this year), I had the smug look of a film-snob. I had already discovered Bong’s incandescent talent years ago. That Parasite was incredible, was hardly surprising to me. But, I was pleasantly surprised by how well the film traveled and gained a near-universal appeal. Bong’s probably the best person to break this down. In an interview he said -
“Compared to all my other films, Parasite in particular I think is the most universal story, and no matter where it screens, which country or festival, the audience response has been pretty similar. I think that’s because, while on the surface the film features very Korean characters and details, in the end, it’s as if we’re all living in this one country of capitalism.”
In Parasite, Bong Joon Ho demonstrates class-driven social stratification via the geometry of how living spaces of different families are arranged vertically. It’s a clever construct. As a viewer, we aren’t necessarily conscious of how carefully the film’s architecture is arranged. But, it still heavily informs our final understanding of the film. Bong uses various tricks to establish the concept of a class divide. His characters often occupy opposites sides of an invisible line on-screen and smell is used as a marker for class. This brief but wonderful Guardian piece rightly calls smell the film's ‘emotional core.’ Bong explains -
“By talking about different smells, the film puts the class issue under the microscope. Through smells, the film’s tension and suspense mount, which eventually makes a multi-layered foundation for the upcoming tragedy.”
Bong’s masterful deconstruction of class conflict made me muse about the abject lack of such storytelling in Hindi cinema. The seeds of capitalism have sowed drastic inequality in India too, spawning a class divide that is so deep that it forms a palpable part of society. However, most Hindi films have mostly mined this divide to create conflict for their protagonists to overcome, often sacrificing nuance for blunt spectacle. Rahul Desai puts it succinctly in his review of Sir -
As is the case with interfaith connections, it’s too easy to fetishize the novelty of interclass connections. Most romantic comedies and coming-of-age dramas are satisfied simply with the concept of love blossoming between an employer and a maid. The love itself is rarely of consequence. The rich-poor barrier is seductive enough, irrespective of who they really are. They fall for each other because it makes for interesting cinema; their chemistry is a catchphrase.
Sir, directed by Rohena Gera eschews these tropes completely in favor of turning a keen eye on the dynamic between a live-in house-help Ratna and her employer, Ashwin. Gera’s screenplay is filled with seemingly mundane moments that are commonplace in any such servant-employer dynamic. But, if you look closer you’ll notice subtext. If you wait, you’ll have decoded that Ratna and Ashwin get each other in ways that are anything but common. The specter of class-divide looms large in the film, and on their relationship. For me, it separated my pragmatic realist and hopeful romantic sides into constantly tussling halves.
When I saw Sir for the umpteenth time this week, I marveled yet again at how the movie manages to get under my skin every time I watch it. When done right, cinema has an unrivaled ability to make you reconsider entire thought structures, question their foundations, and confront biases. Sir does that. I also got around to thinking about how Sir managed to speak volumes about caste differences quietly, without any flourish. In this, it lies diametrically opposite to what Bong Joon Ho did in Parasite.
Bong operates like a puppet master and expertly manipulates audience reactions by clever tonal shifts and visual tricks. Parasite is rife with visual metaphors, clever edits, and montages. Every moment in the film is constructed with precision, every frame story-boarded, every camera move and edit planned to the tee. I was wowed by the film and remember having passionate discussions with friends who had watched it about aspects of the film I found cool. Bong hijacks your senses, much like David Fincher often does. Watching Parasite is the movie-watching equivalent of getting a lobotomy.
Then, Sir is like getting slow open-heart surgery. It’s languid pace and setting aren’t demanding, but before you know it, you are deeply invested in Ratna and Ashwin’s relationship. This is not to say that Parasite wasn’t an emotional film, it was. But, I could trace the thoughts I had at the end of the film, to aspects of the film that triggered them. The genius of Bong lies in how helpless you are while watching Parasite. But the trance breaks after the film ends. I had no such luxury after watching Sir. The film and Tillotama Shome’s pitch-perfect Ratna lived rent-free in my mind for a while.
Do watch Sir. It’s a rare film that will likely leave a minuscule footprint on filmdom as a whole, but a deep ever-lasting one in your head and heart, if you’d give it a chance.
Here are some recommendations for the week -
Riz Ahmed stars in Sound of Metal which traces the journey of a drummer as he contends with his sudden deafness. It’s a visceral film powered by a raw and intense performance. Oh and that ending! Uff. Riz Ahmed was excellent in an HBO miniseries called Night Of which is also an incredible watch.
Essential Items by Udayan Mukherjee is a collection of lockdown stories. Most of the fiction draws from situations that feel real, ones that you probably faced or imagined that someone out there did. I found reading these stories to be strangely comforting. Maybe you might too.
This excellent New-Yorker longread highlights the role played by Purdue Pharma in fueling the US opioid crisis. It’s richly detailed and was an eye-opening read - The Family That Built An Empire of Pain. This report by Joshua Sokol outlines how a brief meteorite shower transformed a village in Costa Rica by bombarding it with space rocks that are invaluable to science - An unusual meteorite, more valuable than gold, may hold the building blocks of life. It reads like fiction and is science journalism of the highest order.
The entire soundtrack of Netflix’s The Crown is gorgeous. But the Main Theme along with New Queen really standout. Of course, OST’s of movies and shows get a whole new meaning if you’ve seen the movies/series in question, but I strongly believe that great tracks transcend the larger media that contain them. Take for example the Succession Theme.
Rajeev Masand interviewed Tillotama Shome for a series he calls “Class Act.” Tillotama speaks very candidly about her career and it’s one of the more refreshing interviews I’ve seen an actor give.
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