This is not so much a full-blown movie review as it is a funny story.
Last week I went to dinner with some folks from my Hindi class. When one of my fellow students asked me why I was learning Hindi, I resisted the temptation to reply, "well, that's the language the voices speak to me in," and instead began to tell her about parallel cinema and Ankur. Our Hindi teacher, Naseem jii, a Sanskrit scholar from Uttar Pradesh, overheard me. "You like Shyam Benegal films?" she asked. I nodded enthusiastically. "Send me an email," she said, "and I will see what I can bring you from my own collection."
I thanked her for her kind offer, and a few days later I emailed to remind her of it, mentioning my particular fondness for Shabana Azmi.
Now, as I have mentioned here before, the cable channel AZN shoes an Indian film each weekend, and I often record them to watch when I have a chance. They've shown some good movies lately, and when the week's film happens to feature my beloved Shabana jii, I tend to watch them pretty promptly.
Last Saturday's feature, which I watched the same evening it aired, was Ek Din Achanak (Suddenly One Day), a 1989 film by Mrinal Sen which explores the effects of a professor's mysterious disappearance on his family. Shabana plays Neeta, the professor's eldest daughter. The film is a tight psychological study - not much happens, but we learn a lot about what makes the characters tick - and Neeta is the kind of role in which Shabana shines. She has many silent scenes that take advantage of the eloquent expressiveness of her eyes and mouth, and a few terse, introspective speeches delivered in her best low, resonant voice. All in all, a pretty good film, and I'm glad I got to see it.
Then, on Wednesday, I went off to my Hindi class. Shortly after she arrived, Naseem jii approached my chair and handed me a DVD.
It was Ek Din Achanak.
I thanked Naseem jii effusively, and said apologetically that I'd just seen it a few days before. "You've seen it!" she exclaimed. She went on to add that none of the other films in her collection had subtitles.
"Oh," I said, "I'm not quite ready for that."
"No," she answered, bluntly.
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