Film Impressions

PROFILE: Deepti Naval

ART FOR HEART'S SAKE

Deepti Naval unexpectedly stormed into my life earlier this year through a film called Memories In March. It’s not as if one wasn’t already an admirer of her work in Ankahee, Main Zinda Hoon, Panchvati and Mirch Masala—and her more popular films Chashme Baddoor, Katha and Saath Saath. But this performance was unsettling because of its poise and calmness in a situation that warranted a far more overt display of emotion. The restrain was disturbing and moving at once.

A middle-aged woman grieving the death of an only son in a drunken accident, Aarti travels to Kolkata to collect his remains and stumbles upon a secret that shatters her—that he was gay and in a relationship with an older colleague (Rituparno Ghosh). As she tries to make sense of this revelation and cope with her grief, she conducts herself with remarkable grace and maturity; even when she has an angry outburst, she’s impassioned without being hysterical.

ESSAY: Mid Year Best of 2011

THE INDIE SOUL OF BOLLYWOOD

Before the onslaught of out-sized holiday blockbusters, it's always quieter in the first half of the year. The first six months of 2011 has been privy to films that aren't usually the kind of fare that our cinema is associated with (and we’ll be back to overblown gaudiness soon enough). After last year's middling mid-year harvest, this year has been a revelation, with some truly worthy efforts, very often by first-time film-makers, who represent a new brat pack of upstarts and rule-changers. Here's a look at the very best of the lot.

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REVIEW: Memories In March

IN THE SHADOW OF A DEATH

Grief unfolds at a pace and manner of its own choosing. It's expression is unique to each individual and often, defies generalised perceptions. In Sanjoy Nag's trilingual film Memories in March, grief is the defining feature of Deepti Naval's face -- even when it looks outwardly composed, when it smiles, when it undertakes a mundane conversation with the building chowkidar. Or when it lashes out in rage against a shocking discovery -- even more shattering perhaps (at least momentarily so), than the news of her son Siddharth's death.