Escaping the Heat and Getting in a Good Cry
What better way to spend a hot Kolkata afternoon than in a (relatively) cool movie theater, crying my eyes out? While Josh went to bond with a sarod player over some South Indian yumminess of dosas and uttapam, my friend Bridget and I sat with about 100 Indians, most of whom were crying along with us, as we watched "The Namesake."
Some of you may have read The Namesake by Ms. Jhumpa "I won a Pulitzer at a ridiculously young age" Lahiri. I decided to read it while we were living in California--a little pre-India warm-up--but wasn't a fan (and many of the Indians I've met here who've read her work also didn't dig it). It was as though she took one of her short stories and steeeeettttcched it for more than 400 pages. I just couldn't get into it.
But the movie? Ah, kya bhat hai. What a thing...It made me alternately homesick for the U.S. and completely at home here in India, particularly Kolkata. The family at the center of "The Namesake" is Bengali, and some of the scenes take place in this wild and passionate metropolis. For those of you who can't make the trip halfway around the world, go see this movie and you'll catch some true glimpses of Kolkata. Even though some of the scenes are ostensibly in the 1970s and 80s, the Kolkata of today still has the same careening buses, the same raucous markets, the same strangely appealing cacophony of sounds.
It was a real treat sharing the move experience with a theater full of Bengalis who appreciated every little nuance and turn of phrase and tilt of the head that are so classically Bengali. The characters made liberal use of my favorite Bengali utterance, "Oh Baba" (or sometimes "Eh Baba"), and every time they said it, you could see dozens and dozens of heads in the audience move their heads side-to-side in gentle affirmation. Moments of cultural dissonance or misunderstanding were greeted by the audience with their own chorus of "Oh Baba," and the scenes of Kolkata were vocally approved and proudly appreciated. And the actors who played Gogol's parents...khub bhalo. So good. The small gestures they used to express their deepening love for one another were beautifully and truly Indian, and were what brought most of us to tears.
Perhaps what I enjoyed most about the movie was its decision to let those nuances and turns of phrase and slight movements of the hands stand on their own. It didn't over-interpret or over-translate. There was no "exposition girl" to spell everything out. The actors infused the gestures with so much emotion, you couldn't help but know what they meant. And if you didn't entirely understand the reference to Bata shoes or recognize one of the main streets of Kolkata, you wouldn't be lost to the strength of the story. But if you did, as the theater full of Bengalis did, then you could share a knowing smile with the Bengali or American sitting next to you.
Paz y Amor,
J&J
Some of you may have read The Namesake by Ms. Jhumpa "I won a Pulitzer at a ridiculously young age" Lahiri. I decided to read it while we were living in California--a little pre-India warm-up--but wasn't a fan (and many of the Indians I've met here who've read her work also didn't dig it). It was as though she took one of her short stories and steeeeettttcched it for more than 400 pages. I just couldn't get into it.
But the movie? Ah, kya bhat hai. What a thing...It made me alternately homesick for the U.S. and completely at home here in India, particularly Kolkata. The family at the center of "The Namesake" is Bengali, and some of the scenes take place in this wild and passionate metropolis. For those of you who can't make the trip halfway around the world, go see this movie and you'll catch some true glimpses of Kolkata. Even though some of the scenes are ostensibly in the 1970s and 80s, the Kolkata of today still has the same careening buses, the same raucous markets, the same strangely appealing cacophony of sounds.
It was a real treat sharing the move experience with a theater full of Bengalis who appreciated every little nuance and turn of phrase and tilt of the head that are so classically Bengali. The characters made liberal use of my favorite Bengali utterance, "Oh Baba" (or sometimes "Eh Baba"), and every time they said it, you could see dozens and dozens of heads in the audience move their heads side-to-side in gentle affirmation. Moments of cultural dissonance or misunderstanding were greeted by the audience with their own chorus of "Oh Baba," and the scenes of Kolkata were vocally approved and proudly appreciated. And the actors who played Gogol's parents...khub bhalo. So good. The small gestures they used to express their deepening love for one another were beautifully and truly Indian, and were what brought most of us to tears.
Perhaps what I enjoyed most about the movie was its decision to let those nuances and turns of phrase and slight movements of the hands stand on their own. It didn't over-interpret or over-translate. There was no "exposition girl" to spell everything out. The actors infused the gestures with so much emotion, you couldn't help but know what they meant. And if you didn't entirely understand the reference to Bata shoes or recognize one of the main streets of Kolkata, you wouldn't be lost to the strength of the story. But if you did, as the theater full of Bengalis did, then you could share a knowing smile with the Bengali or American sitting next to you.
Paz y Amor,
J&J
posted by Jessica Pierce at 7:51 PM
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