Indian films generally lack cultural specificity, narrative
complexity and ambiguity. These things are seen as obstacles by many Indian
film-makers who’d like to impart an ‘appealing’ homogenized atmosphere. The
irony is that Indian movie audiences are gradually pulling themselves out of
the so-called lagging ‘mainstream’. Shubhashish Bhutiani’s sublime debut
feature Mukti Bhawan (aka ‘Hotel Salvation’, 2017) is the latest in a string of
independent Indian productions that fascinatingly pays sharp attention to the
nation’s social and cultural idiosyncrasies. Moreover, it’s always bewitching when
a young film-maker takes on the themes of death and emancipation in his first
feature. Hotel Salvation is an emotionally resounding yet a very culturally
specific tale. It’s set in the holy city Varanasi where everything from its architecture to the inhabitants is multi-layered. Like many other modern
Indian cities, Varanasi couldn’t be imprisoned within single definition. This
paradoxical city is the very important piece in this gently probing
character-driven cinema.
It isn’t possible to strictly categorize Hotel Salvation.
Yes it’s about death but the color palette is bright and vivid which evokes
warmth and pays tribute to life. It has brilliant low-key comic
situations but it’s definitely not a comedy. The impulse to categorize could
actually work against experiencing this film. Mr. Bhutiani’s chronicle on the
journey towards salvation or enlightenment insists on the art of learning to
let go. It may also be the better advice to encompass ourselves within the
narrative.
Daya (Lalit Behl), the healthy 77 year old patriarch of a
middle class Indian family, declares to his family that he is ready to die. He
takes a recurring nightmare as the valid sign for his imminent death. The
workaholic, stressed middle-aged son Rajiv (Adil Hussain) is naturally puzzled.
Abiding by the traditional path, Daya plans to go to Varanasi and spend his
final days on the banks of holy river Ganges (its Hindu faith that people who
die there would achieve salvation, escaping the endless cycle of life). Rajiv
complies with his father’s wishes and decides to accompany him to Varanasi
after hurriedly organizing things at the office. The father and son check into
‘Mukti Bhawan’, run by priest/proprietor Mishraji who sets them up in a room
after conveying string of rules, including the strict stay limit of 15 days
("If you die, good for you. If you don't, go back home”). As days go by
Rajiv learns that the place and its people don’t exist within a rigid framework. Moreover,
since the father and son are freed from usual burdens they get moments to
reflect on their relationship. While Mr. Daya finds kindred spirits before
setting on his final journey, Rajiv is driven restless by job obligations and
family troubles -- his daughter Sunita’s (Palomi Ghosh) betrothal is breaking
apart. And, all these conflicts in relationships and emotions subtly take root
and stumbles upon organic, unforced resolution.
Spoilers Ahead..............
Using inter-generational differences as a narrative device was recently done in Raam Reddy’s Thithi (2015). Mukti Bhawan, however, inculcates different shades to this familiar theme using carefully calibrated characterizations. Writer/director Bhutiani also adds an interesting dimension to the inter-generational relationship through Ghosh’s granddaughter character. Bhutiani talked in an interview about how the word ‘mukti’ means freedom or liberation which is different from its otherwise strictly religious meaning of ‘salvation’. Seen from that perspective, the film broods on the question of ‘what constitutes liberation?’ in the life of a girl in 20s, a man in his 50s and another man in late 70s. For Sunita and Rajiv the freedom reflects the need to restructure their life (or ‘following the heart’), whereas for Daya the liberation is of ethereal nature. Death is an important theme that’s added into this mix, but doesn't work as the predominantly gloomy theme. The whole exploration of Varanasi showcases how life and human warmth flows in a place where death isn’t just an opposite force but just a constant companion. Such heavy-lifting themes of redemption, familial relationships and death usually make a film-maker to entangle himself in philosophical drudgery, although Bhutiani only focuses on the tangible human emotions. Simple gestures of empathy and thoughtful silence replace extravagant words.
Mr. Bhutiani was 21 when he wrote and directed the 25 minute
short film Kush (set against the backdrop of 1984 anti-Sikh riots) which won
various laurels including Orizzonti Award at the Venice Film Festival. He was
23 when he embarked on this project (produced as part of Venice Film Festival's
Biennale College programme). What’s astounding about him is the way he instills
emotional sensitivity without forsaking his nuanced craftsmanship. As I
mentioned Mukti Bhawan is culturally specific. But the emotions can impact
humans beyond geographical boundaries. The cultural specificity in the
narrative doesn’t restrict itself to the Hindu faith on death and salvation.
It’s intertwined amongst the character dilemmas and beliefs. While there’s
hefty cultural tribute paid to the city of Varansi, Bhutiani also probes at some of
the culturally out-dated elements (for example, Rajiv deciding on his daughter's life). The narrative’s comedy
elements mostly arise from awkward silences and the general inefficiency which
we constitute as one definition of Indian-ness. That’s excellently portrayed in
the scene when furious Rajiv communicates with his daughter and wife through
Skype (after the daughter breaks up her engagement) in a poorly-linked cyber
cafe. In the scene, Rajiv’s feelings aren’t belittled but the confusion that
develops from the relatable situation derives some laughs. Furthermore, the
low-key comedy works as a means to understand the character’s different shades
rather than being used as a mere distraction.
Right from the opening scene, Bhutiani delivers the palpable
sense of existing in cramped conditions; the limited space within which we
can’t escape from fellow humans and their display of emotions (impressive cinematography by David Huwiler and Michael McSweeney). Yet within such chaotic, disorganized
space there’s possibility of peacefulness and sense of gratification as we come
to terms with people in our immediate surroundings. The director is aware of
when to push the scene for emotions and when to drench it with silence. All the
actors from Lalit Behl, Adil Hussain to Navnindra Behl (Vimla) give superb
performances because they have very much aligned themselves with the ebb and flow
of Bhutiani’s vision. After a mild altercation with daughter Sunita, Rajiv
seems to have stumbled upon a realization. But he doesn’t express it in melodramatic
words or melt with tears. There’s just a wordless shot of Rajiv watching his
daughter going to job in his father’s old scooter. He helps her start the
vehicle and for a moment they look at each other and it’s understood the
conflict is somehow resolved. Then there’s one of my favorite scene towards the
end that happens after Daya’s death. Rajiv and other men walk through cramped
space carrying his father’s corpse. It’s a very tight shot and when he
uncontrollably cries we shed tears alongside him. But then his daughter and
wife chip into the frame and the shot goes wide, the daughter gently
encouraging her dad to clap and sing hymns. And suddenly the tightness of
the situation dissipates to makes us see death as the beautiful journey of a
satiated soul. It’s in these uncommunicative yet strongly impactful scenes
thrives the brilliance of Mukti Bhawan; just like how simple words doesn’t have
provide the sensation of attaining ‘mukti’.
Trailer
Mukti Bhawan (100 minutes) evidently showcases how refined visual storytelling can get to the depth of human emotions without resorting to high
drama. Director Bhutiani’s impressive maturity in tackling heavy themes with a
positively infectious tone of optimism doubles up our faith in humanity as well
as in contemporary Indian cinema.
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