After my explosion while looking at one of the worst made films in the history of the medium, I figure I’d just get right into today’s
film and try and get back to the good stuff. Whether or not this film will
actually deliver said good stuff, though, is another matter.
The plot: Under the “guidance” of British official Cyril
Radcliffe, a line was drawn down the middle of India in 1947, separating what
the West now refers to as India and Pakistan. On a point where this line is about
to be erected is a brothel run by Begum Jaan (Vidya Balan), who rules over it as
its own pseudo-micronation. However, when government officials demand that she
and her workers vacate the premises, Begum Jaan makes it perfectly clear that
they aren’t going to leave without a fight.
Let’s get the fundamentals out of the way first because,
wow, this film has some seriously amateur mistakes peppered throughout. DOP
Gopi Bhagat came up with some very strange camera ideas which all manage to
bring their own unique flavours of “Um, is it supposed to look this awkward?”
From the bizarre framing of the two government officials talking to each other
with half of their faces cut off by the camera frame to the shockingly cheap
Photoshop filter used when depicting the stories that Aunty tells the little
girl who also lives at the brothel, this thing keeps taking the audience out of
the moment because said moment is shot so weirdly. Oh, and let’s not forget one
of the most nauseating fight scenes I’ve seen outside of a Zack Snyder film
where two of the women fight in a bedroom amidst some truly painful zoom-ins.
Not that Bhagat shoulders all of the blame, though, as the sound mixing is also
pretty dire in places. While the playback singing has its odd moment of
disconnect between the music and the person mouthing along to it, that pales in
comparison to points where people are clearly talking… and literally nothing is
being said. And while I’m bitching about bad ADR, the volume levels from
character to character in a single scene can get pretty ridiculous, making it
sound like two people in a conversation are standing about a mile away from
each other even though they are sitting on the same bed.
Since the technical side of things is this off-kilter, the
story better be damn good to make up for it. Thankfully, this is a narrative
that has some genuine weight behind it. Framed against the beginnings of Indian
independence from the British, and the ill-advised Partition, this film aims
squarely at the government that would let such an action be enforced. With my
not-even-novice amount of learning when it comes to Indian culture, I won’t
pretend to know the finer workings of the Partition but the story sounds a
little too familiar by this point. I mean, it’s not like the British are the
only people to quite literally split a country down the middle.
Through the
depiction of ordinary citizens who are being affected by the decision, the
rioting that ensued and the generally underhanded methods of the officials at
play, the picture of a society in chaos echoes through even as an outsider in
the audience. Add to that the religious backing to the more violent actions,
highlighting the conflict between the Hindus and the Muslims along with the
Pakistanis and the Indians, and you have a hefty melting pot of a premise to
work with. This is especially true when put into context with the brothel, a
place with no real standing in either side of the conflict and that essentially
exists as its own domain with Begum as its monarch.
As for what goes on within the brothel, I can’t help but be
reminded of the protectors of Old Town from Sin City in how willing and able
these women are to defend themselves and their liberties. Of course, since I
already made this sort of comparison back with Kaabil, I could start sounding
like a broken record… well, more than usual at least. Aside from that, between
the “home” under siege and the massive gunfight that the film climaxes with,
this is probably closer to an old-school Western than something from the desk
of Frank Miller. Probably has something to do with Vidya Balan’s performance,
as she exudes such raw power and authority that, even considering she spends a
lot of on-screen time with a hookah in her mouth, I would be legitimately
frightened of on the other side of the screen.
Now, the depiction of sex
workers is rarely if ever done with the idea of power in mind; hell, last time
I saw this was in The Man With The Iron Fists and I can count the people I know
who remember that on Captain Hook’s bad hand. However, here it’s shown with
that kind of second-wave feminist spark that makes for some pretty liberating
moments. There’s a lot of in-fighting that goes on and some pretty deep-seated
conflicts do spring up but, in the face of the frequently shifty and two-faced
men that try to get in their way, there’s definite strength to be found in all
of them.
In addition to the film’s stance of sex-positivity when it
comes to the working girls, there’s also something to be said of how this and
the larger geographical conflict come together. The country (or, rather, countries thanks to the Partition) is on the
brink of anarchy, riots pour through the streets and the men behind all of it
show themselves of being more than capable of excusing their own awful, awful deeds. Meanwhile, stuck in many
ways between two opposing forces, the brothel is all that these women have. Throughout
the film, as mentioned above, the old Aunty tells stories of heroic and
historic Indian women who defied the wiles of men and carved out their own
place in history. While I maintain that they aren’t presented in the most
visually literate of ways, the stories end up wrapping around Begum and those
under her care to distill this story of national upheaval and bureaucratic
malice into one of pure feminine strength. Considering how the story itself
feels like it’s being stretched to hit the usual Bollywood running time
requirements (and bear in mind that this is a remake that is shorter than the Bengali original), it
can often feel like little is going on between the cracks.
This isn’t helped by
the general shoddy nature of the production itself. But even still, the imagery
that bursts onto the screen in the final reel is among the most powerful I’ve
seen so far this year. It may be a bit cheesy and not exactly the sort of
sentiment that I would advise elsewhere, but in showing true independence of
will in a conflict meant to split cultures, families and even individuals
apart, this is simply gorgeous.
All in all, this has some very clear and definite problems,
most of which stem from the frankly confounding creative decisions made behind
the camera. However, in the words of my biggest critical influence: “Even a
badly-worded statement can inspire.” And true enough, through Vidya Balan’s uber-dominant
presence and some truly striking imagery connecting to feminine resilience,
this wonky production does indeed inspire. Considering this is a remake to a
film that’s not even three years old yet, I’m willing to chalk up this film’s
faults to diminishing returns, but all the same, this is a worthy watch.
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