Anand Gandhi’s Ship of Theseus is the closest we’ve gotten in a while to cinéma vérité. The close-up of an impaired cornea. A snatch of circumstance, that there’s no one back home in the Middle East to donate eyes. A voice-enabled computer. Cigarette butts on an ashtray balanced on a copy machine. Aliya (Aida Elkashef), a photographer and the owner of that eye, roams about a bazaar, climbs stairs, spends time with a Gujarati family, goes home. A gallery. An exhibition. An interview that reveals how Aliya lost her vision. Ambling on the road, she hears sounds and enters the backyard of a modest home – she takes pictures of ducks. At home, she mocks her boyfriend – Vinay (Faraz Khan) – when he describes the photograph to her, referring to the “gable” in the sloping roof of that modest home. She heads someplace in a taxi, hears an argument on the roadside, asks the driver to stop, and takes pictures of the sound that captivated her. She slices vegetables, listens to Vinay describe this image, rejects it, and gets into an argument – spectacularly written and enacted – that may be one of the points of this film.
Vinay dismisses Aliya’s rejection of the photograph, saying that you don’t have to be conscious about your art, you can be intuitive. This, of course, isn’t just a statement about photography but about all art, including cinema, and the suspicion that Gandhi is plumbing his feelings, his experiences, his doubts, is deepened when this question comes up: Is Aliya’s work being celebrated because it’s intrinsically good, or because she’s blind? Or, to extrapolate this to Gandhi, are we celebrating Ship of Theseus, the film, or the fact that something like this got made in the first place in our cultural climate? In the second story – the film is a triptych – a monk named Maitreya (Neeraj Kabi) says, “We are all blind men trying to perceive the elephant.” Isn’t that the philosophy that drives the art-film audience? And talking about a poster that protests animal killing, a cause to which he is much committed, Maitreya suggests that they cut down on sentimentality and focus on people’s reason. Is that Gandhi talking about what needs to be done in Indian filmmaking? He even seems to anticipate reactions from a section of the audience, when a youngster labels Maitreya’s ramblings as “intellectual masturbation.”
The latter phrase certainly describes some of Ship of Theseus, particularly that title, that clanging proclamation of deep significance. It’s easily the worst thing about the film, and one can only hope that filmmakers, henceforth, will not feel compelled to impress on us the weight of their accomplishment by reducing their films to Grecian metaphors. I, for one, have no wish to see The Sword of Damocles (the thriller with imminent danger at every turn), Scylla and Charybdis (the love triangle where our hero falls for the daughters of rival gangsters), or The Augean Stables (aka the inevitable remake of Inquilaab). When Krzysztof Kieślowski could sum up the human condition with just the names of colours, and when Ingmar Bergman, that most solipsistic of storytellers, could condense a lifetime of frustration with the Big Guy up there into, simply, The Silence, there’s something profoundly annoying with a title that needs to be explained at the beginning of the film, like a sacred key handed to us so we can unlock the ensuing mysteries.
Then again, who can fault the overreaching of a filmmaker who got his start with saas-bahu soaps? That title may well be a grenade tossed on his past – though seeing Ship of Theseus, it’s hard to believe he had that past in the first place. This is a genuinely challenging film, a genuinely rewarding film – not least because it makes us question the nature of film itself. The title refers to the paradox that questions whether an object that has had its components replaced remains the same object, but the bigger paradox may be this: Is it still cinéma vérité – whose techniques are geared towards observing, being a fly on the wall – if you’re staging events through a meticulously scripted narrative, whose off-handedness only seems unscripted? Gandhi achieves an exquisite balance between a teeming external world (Alia being taken aback, at an intersection, by Mumbai’s swarms of people and traffic) and the quiet interiors of life (Maitreya eating an orange, carefully depositing pips into the rind), but it’s impossible not to wonder, as we always do in a certain kind of film, how much detail is too much detail. How many tracking shots of Maitreya’s purposeful strides do we really need to sit through?
The three segments transpose the titular paradox to human beings who need (or have undergone) organ replacements – an eye, a liver, a kidney – and the resulting transformations, both external (in the case of Alia and Maitreya) and internal (in the case of a stockbroker named Navin, whose story forms the third episode), are best brought out in Alia’s story. After surgery, she comes home and finally sees her work. She finally sees those pictures of ducks, that home with the “gable,” the men arguing by the roadside, and we sense her confusion without a word being said. Having had a “component” replaced, is she still the same person? The shot that closes her story is quietly epiphanic. As she sits on a makeshift bridge, crippled by indecision (and perhaps more of a “cripple” than she was earlier), Gandhi mounts her picturesque surroundings – a gushing river beneath her feet, snowy mountains in the distance – on a frame. We get closure, even if she doesn’t.
The subject is heavy, but Gandhi’s treatment (except in the second segment) is surprisingly light – it’s as if all the ponderousness went into that title and the film, therefore, was freed from having to keep a straight face all the time. Some moments make you laugh out loud, like the one about a beleaguered labourer who, first, just wants his kidney back – it was stolen when he was admitted for an unrelated surgery – but changes his mind when he receives a financial windfall. And when a suffering Maitreya is asked if the soul exists, he says curtly, “Pata nahin,” that he doesn’t know. But his story, which follows Alia’s, is a comedown. (The paradox, here, rises from the monk’s dilemma: if he is to live, he needs medication that’s obviously been tested on animals.) A predominantly visual film now turns verbal, with a series of compelling (and entertaining) philosophical arguments between the monk and a young lawyer named – cough, cough – Charvaka (Vinay Shukla), and I could never shake off the feelings that I was listening to a series of missives from the director’s brain, which seems to have regressed to flashbacks from the college days, when the question of whether or not it’s a worm’s destiny to be crushed could sustain several rounds of rum. (This worm, incidentally, makes an appearance in Alia’s story as well – but if a worm has its narrative purpose refashioned, is it still the same worm?) The actors, here as elsewhere, are wonderful, but they never convince us that they aren’t mouthpieces for someone else’s ideology. When Woody Allen, playing a part in one of his heavier films, stammers through existential questions, we sense the character – here, we sense the director.
The wordless portions work far better, like the shot by of Maitreya by the sea, staring into the vast unknown. (A shot of that worm being surrounded by hustling shoe-clad feet is another beauty.) Gandhi finds his footing again in the third segment, with superbly staged silent comedy, most notably during a search for someone’s house which seems to be in the midst of a labyrinth, as real as it is metaphorical, mirroring this film’s questions which loop back on themselves. (This time, too, there’s a central argument, between Navin and his activist grandmother, that provides a bit of perspective.) The last shot is a gem. We don’t see it coming, but when it does, it seems inevitable. A film sprung from the idea of organ donation – someone dies, another person lives; it’s, in a sense, a rebirth – closes with images of a womb-like cave. What would Ship of Theseus have been if Gandhi had trusted his visuals more? But then, he probably wouldn’t be the same filmmaker.
Copyright ©2013 Baradwaj Rangan. This article may not be reproduced in its entirety without permission. A link to this URL, instead, would be appreciated.
brangan
August 2, 2013
Kutty’s comment from an earlier post:
While we await your Ship of Theseus review, have put down some of my thoughts on the movie. It is one of those rare movies which make you want to sit down, think and write about it! Would like your thoughts on it.
http://itsscrapped.blogspot.in/2013/07/ship-of-theses.html
P.S : Would appreciate it if you could post it on the correct thread, as and when you publish your review.
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Sirish Aditya
August 2, 2013
This is probably the most apt piece that I’ve read about the film, and that for a film that’s being talked about so much. I think the question you raised, if we are praising the film for its artistic genius or simply because we want to jump the bandwagon to applaud it when so many of our stalwarts, Kashyap, Benegal, Shekhar Kapoor, are doing so, is very valid. Personally, I loved watching the film, and from the laughter and applause at the end, a lot of people in the theatre did so too. But it in no way is comparable to the works of Kieslowski or Bergman. It is populist and wears its intellect on its sleeve but it is accessible. The philosophy is too blatant to leave a mark, or ignite conversations, but it is definitely a lovingly crafted film. All we can hope that this creates audience for truly nuanced and brilliant cinema.
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Josh
August 2, 2013
This movie gave me further confirmation that I am somebody who is just looking for more sensible but mainstream cinema. I seem to like and enjoy some of the ‘art’ cinema but I’m much happier watching DB and AK (in spite of their own insecurities with respect to their work).
“This worm, incidentally, makes an appearance in Alia’s story as well – but if a worm has its narrative purpose refashioned, is it still the same worm?” Haha! That tickled me 😀
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Anurag
August 2, 2013
As always an awesome perspective. Btw, this movie is in its third week still in cinemas at bangalore. Brangan, Did u feel any hint of it making decent money?
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VamshiM
August 2, 2013
“you don’t have to be conscious about your art, you can be intuitive” this is a clincher
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Jabberwock
August 2, 2013
Glad you got around to seeing it at last.
And this – I could never shake off the feelings that I was listening to a series of missives from the director’s brain… – reminded me of something a friend said during an email conversation about the film: “The second story would have been better if the young follower of Maitreya – the frizzly-haired wisdom-spouting kid, a dead ringer for Anand Gandhi – was not present.”
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Deepauk M
August 2, 2013
I believe the universally positive reviews of the film have prompted in you a need to cut the film (and the filmmaker) down to size a little. 🙂
Suffice to say I had much less of a problem with the title and each of the parts because my thoughts on the film quickly became couched in this framework for understanding the film – that majority of people progress from childhood to adulthood much the way the film progresses; Emotional childhood, an (armchair?) intellectual youth (those rum fueled college discussions you mentioned) to a more fiscally driven adulthood. In my opinion the choice to become less visual, less personal was a conscious choice as the film progressed.
This reading elevated the film quite a bit for me because the whole organ donation angle became incredibly apparent to me minutes after the title explanation and that shot of Aaliya getting her eyes tested unfolded (that last shot was not that much of a surprise for me). So much so, I’ve almost dismissed organ donation as the central point of the movie.
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Nidhi
August 2, 2013
With Woody Allen, I’m never sure if I’m listening to the actor or the director, since they both happen to be the same guy. That’s a big part of his charm. But I agree, some of the dialogue felt forced. In contrast to the second segment, the desi-ness of Navin’s tongue was such a breath of fresh air in the third segment. I think he was the only character that didn’t feel like a director’s mouthpiece until he went and got himself involved in the kidney theft racket.
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Abhirup.
August 2, 2013
Very well-written, as always. However, for me, the second story worked better; indeed, I think it was the best of the three, while the first made the least impression. But that’s just me. I would like to ask this, however: what did you make of Maitreya’s final decision? Do you see it as a compromise of his ideals, or something else? I have been trying to wrap my head around it for a while now, but it seems there’s no definite answer. Maybe that’s how Anand Gandhi intended it to be. But I would like to hear your take on it.
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Kutty
August 2, 2013
Thanks for sharing the link here! Wanted to pen down my thoughts before you wrote something which would shape the thoughts.
One point of disagreement I have is with regards to the title. I agree that it is a little too fancy, but then I was pleasantly surprised when he put the explanation up front. So, he sort of de-intellectualizes the intellectual, and that sets the tone for the movie. At each point he takes on something which is philosophically heavier and breaks it down to make a simpler point.
And therefore the second part worked best for me. Call it spoon feeding (simplification) or force feeding (the philosophy), it sparked a lot of thinking which then helped understand the movie better.
This movie is as at once a hat tip to how advanced Hindu philosophy was (Ship of Theseus is just another way of talking about the mortality of the body and the immortality of the soul ) and a critique (how advancement in science threatens to make the body in itself immortal). It talks about the generosity and kindness of the human spirit and also mocks us for taking our role in the universe a little too seriously.
As you mentioned, the transplant is like a re-birth for the organ. Any wonder then that there are exactly 7 transplants from a single body as there are supposed to 7 re-births for the human soul?
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MLN
August 3, 2013
Enjoyed the first and the last segments of the films, but was deeply disappointed with the end of the second one.
“The mark of the immature man is that he wants to die nobly for a cause while the mark of the mature man is that he wants to live humbly for one” – Is this what happens to Maitreya?
I think the movie would have worked better if Maitreya had stuck to his will and lived on through his organs to Navin and Aliya, but hey I wasn’t the writer 🙂
So I want back home and had this urge to watch 21 grams again, and I did.
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brangan
August 3, 2013
Sirish Aditya: The philosophy is too blatant…
Are you saying that it was verbalised too much? If yes, I agree. But if you’re saying that it wasn’t abstruse enough, then I part ways. I think the philosophy was very interesting, and I just wish he’d found a better way to go through with it than all the speechifying in the second segment.
Abhirup: It is a compromise on his ideals (held so far) — but he’s now a changed man. I think that speaks highly of his convictions. Because you’re either fully committed to a cause or you aren’t. There’s no such thing as “just this once I’ll compromise.” And having gone down that route, you might as well go all the way.
Kutty: This movie is as at once a hat tip to how advanced Hindu philosophy was (Ship of Theseus is just another way of talking about the mortality of the body and the immortality of the soul ) and a critique (how advancement in science threatens to make the body in itself immortal).
That’s a great point.
MLN: (SPOILERS AHEAD) – I think Maitreya’s change of mind is the thing that makes that episode work. Had he “lived on” through his organs, it would have be been a case of too many rebirths, as there’s already the main dead person who donated all his organs.
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Abhirup.
August 3, 2013
I am afraid I didn’t get that, Mr. Rangan. Could you explain the “speaks highly of his convictions” bit more clearly?
Sorry for bugging you, but the end of the second story has been making me think a lot, and some input would really be of help.
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Venky
August 4, 2013
Very balanced perspective on the movie. I am eager to delve more onto your points of criticism, with my limited knowledge and understanding. When you say, there was too much of “speechifying”, could you elaborate more? What is your discomfort when ” A predominantly visual film now turns verbal”? My understanding is that (and it may be limited) , given the narrative of an erudite jain( and such monks are not a rarity, having come across many Ph.D. monks) monk filing a PIL, these conversations with the young lawyer seemed organic within the narrative flow. Given the dichotomous nature of the conversations between the monk and the lawyer, I couldn’t think of them as “missives from director’s brain”. Talking of other movies, how would you describe then the magic that happened with “Before Sunset/Sunrise/Midnight movies”? I enjoyed those movies mostly because of the “real” conversations that were playing out like jazz performances. How does one draw the golden mean between good visuals and verbals?. If we had to rely on only visuals, we might have as well stopped our evolution at silent movies, right?
While discussing this movie with some of my friends, few of them pointed out the glaring omission of any real conversations the Arab photographer could have had with her subjects? Was it because of the class-divide that seemed to exist between the artist and the subjects?
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Aditya Acharya
August 4, 2013
Agreed that the second segment teeters dangerously close to inundating itself with its verbosity on the one hand, and its overreaching visuals on the other. i thought the director did an amazing job of walking a fine line. The court proceedings, the verbal duel over a long and hurried walk, the chiding of a disciple for not living up to her promise, allusions to Pastafarianism, among others lent a much needed levity to the scenes. Infact it seems like Anand Gandhi was a little too conscious of the segment’s sobriety, and it felt like the most worked upon.
I have a feeling the long shot of the monks walking across anil ambani’s wind farms were added to leave the audience with a sense of continuity, across the forced Interval.
As a sidenote, i was pleasantly shocked to see the audience response. The movie’s relegation to the smallest auditorium and a single night show notwithstanding, it was heartening to see most of them applauding and clapping as the credits rolled. I guess Anand Gandhi’s greteast achievement was keeping this piece of ‘cinema verite’ as relatable and mainstream as it gets.
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Vishak Bharadwaj
August 4, 2013
Well I’ll probably get lynched for this but I find Bergman’s work extremely boring and too self conscious
Dave Kehr nails these points in his tablet reviews of Persona and The seventh seal. I’m afraid I’m not so articulate so here are the links
http://www.chicagoreader.com/chicago/persona/Film?oid=1054155
http://www.chicagoreader.com/chicago/the-seventh-seal/Film?oid=1071921
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brangan
August 5, 2013
And… the inevitable backlash begins…
http://www.firstpost.com/bollywood/why-is-anand-gandhi-so-defensive-about-the-similarities-between-a-student-film-and-ship-of-theseus-1008795.html
Abhirup: SPOILER ALERTS AGAIN: No, what I meant was he didn’t stay a monk after that decision, and that speaks highly of his convictions. He didn’t say “oh I’ll just get better and then I’ll be back to my anti-animal-testing stand.” He made a stand and he stood by it all through. That, in a way, is very admirable.
Venky: When you say, there was too much of “speechifying”, could you elaborate more? What is your discomfort when ” A predominantly visual film now turns verbal”?
To use the example you have given, my discomfort is that the conversations didn’t flow like jazz. They may have been organic within the narrative — in the sense that they certainly aren’t out of place — but I didn’t buy these two as characters. They seemed to me stand-ins for the director. I love talk in the movies as much as anyone, and I don’t believe all that much in the “show don’t tell” dictum that’s often bandied about as a criterion for good filmmaking — like everything else, the decision to just “show” or just “tell” or to “show and tell” is based on the film — but here, I didn’t get the easy flow that was there in the “Before…” movies or even in talky films like “Hannah and her Sisters” or “Crimes and Misdemeanors.”
Or look at this clip from “Winter Light” here — another man of faith who won’t take medicines. See how their conversation is interspersed with pauses, silences, and sudden starts/stops (as when he begins to say something and she says “Don’t bother contradicting me.”)
Aditya Acharya: Hey, the audience applauded for “Bhaag Milkha Bhaag” — so whaddya know? 🙂
Vishak Bharadwaj: I know, but he’s one of the first art filmmakers whose works I saw, sometime in my teens, when I was in a searching and “self conscious” mode myself, so I guess that resonated then, and the imprint from then has carried through. He remains one of my favourite filmmakers.
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Hariharan
August 5, 2013
So, you were watching Bergman and doing ‘soul searching’ in your teens? Phew. That is quite something.
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brangan
August 5, 2013
Hariharan: LOL! I’m only saying I watched it, not that I necessarily understood it 🙂
I say this whenever I can, but my biggest cinematic learning happened with DD. Thanks to its sustained support for art(y) cinema, I got all this exposure to non-mainstream cinema (both Indian and from abroad), and from there it wasn’t too much of a leap to renting Bergman video cassettes.
BTW, aren’t the teen years all about soul searching, at least in a micro way? I mean, isn’t that when you do your Ayn Rand and your Jonathan Livingston Seagull and all the stuff that you laugh at now but were holy writ back then? “Your only obligation in any lifetime is to be true to yourself” and all that — who BUT a teen can be entranced by all that? 🙂
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Vishak Bharadwaj
August 5, 2013
Now our film board will probably send Bhaag Milkha Bhaag to the Oscars instead of ship of Theseus. It probably won’t win but at least the academy will know we’re branching out.
Strange that a path breaking Indian film is barely noticed outside. Its almost like we deserve it.
P.S Even the greatest of modernist art directors, Rosselini seemed to have some kind of sublime flow that Bergman sorely lacked. Then again he’s a heavyweight so I’ll got try his films again later. Fanny and Alexander is his best though and that is fantastic.
P.P.S I don’t think DD shows those anymore. Do they? If so I might try and tune in. Last time I saw DD rowdy rathore was on.
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Pallavi Bhat
August 6, 2013
Brilliant brilliant film. I am wondering why you didn’t go gaga on it ?
He is much much better than Kashyaps and Banerjees. Such sensitivity and layered approach. And such courage. The title itself is quite bold and definitely not presumptuous.
And what a thing ! I liked the second segment the best. And for both the extremely witty and charming banter and also for the stunning cinematography. That scene with the monk by the window with the sun shining through was like poetry.
Here is your high minded movie without compromising on the connect. And so much more ! I watched it second time in the same week; which is a first 🙂
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halan
August 9, 2013
Making fun of Ayn Rand and Jonathan? How dare you Mr? Haven’t they influenced you in some way to quit your software job and pursue what you are doing now?
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Mambazha Manidhan 2.0
August 10, 2013
*raises hand* One question.
Why refer to people by their last names in Indian English? I had a slight problem with the Rangan and Ratnam in your book (apart from the alliterative confusion that is :)). I agree it is a polite and a respectful practice of referring to a person by his surname in the West. But, here in the south, where there are practically no surnames, all glories go the Dad, no?
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brangan
August 10, 2013
Pallavi Bhat: He is much much better than Kashyaps and Banerjees.
Why this comparison with two unrelated filmmakers, in the sense of their films not being comparable at all in terms of how they tell their stories? I think Gandhi is a good filmmaker on his own, without needing to be propped up by comparison to colleagues 🙂
halan: But that doesn’t mean I can’t make fun of them, no? Haven’t you grown out of things you revered in the past? 🙂
Mambazha Manidhan 2.0: I agree completely. It does sound odd at times.
But it would have been odder to call him Mani. That’s like a first-name basis, and sounds too casual. At least, coming from me it would. Similarly, here, using “Anand” instead of “Gandhi” sounds too casual — as if you’re pally with the person. Plus, referring to someone by their surname is quite common in some parts of India too. Like my uncle, in Kanpur, used to be called Rangan, and not by his first name.
Where I feel the oddness is when it’s the name of a woman. Saying “Padukone” instead of “Deepika” or “Kaif” instead of “Katrina” makes it sound really odd to my ears.
This is an interesting topic. Would like to hear other views.
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halan
August 10, 2013
It really riles me when people make sarcastic comments about self help books. I mean you use them when needed and benefit from it and then make fun of it just to sound cool?
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palvib
August 16, 2013
Apologies for context-less comparison. What I meant is the following :
It probably was a reaction to :
“Or, to extrapolate this to Gandhi, are we celebrating Ship of Theseus, the film, or the fact that something like this got made in the first place in our cultural climate?”
And maybe also one of the comments above, about “jumping on a bandwagon”
To me, such sentences undermine the movie and the directors’ accomplishments. And why ? And from you ? Since your writing makes and breaks opinions to an extent. Ofcourse, its a clever sentence and hence more “dangerous” (for the lack of a better word in my head).
Why not celebrate that it got made and ran 3 whole weeks in major cities.
This movie has substance. its got a backbone. And it really touches you (without being squeamish). And its coherent throughout. Without comparing storytelling methods, if one just compares the content of movies from different directors, one easily finds that Anand is far more original.
Well, I agree the comparison was uncalled for otherwise.
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Radhika
August 18, 2013
One episode is shot before a transplant and hints at post-transplant changes, one episode is shot after a transplant and hints at pre-transplant behaviour and one shows both. When I was watching the movie I also thought of all those stories on cellular memory (que background score from X Files here) where recepients of organs claim to have had the donor’s personality infused in them (like a non-musical patient suddenly starting to play the violin) – the movie didn’t talk of that, of course, but the last shot, where they watched the movie shot by the donor, his shadow, what intrigued him, got me thinking of this, and wondering if Aliya watching the panorama transfixed was about her seeing nature the way her donor used to. Did Navin get more compassionate and sensitive because the donor was like that?
The bits of philo between Maitreya and his adoring chela – yes, they did sound rather expository but they also served to show how Maitreya was able to engage in banter (rather than being a stuffed dhoti monk) and also that he enjoyed hearing other perspectives – true to Jainism’s belief in treating other points of view as also valid. When in the end he says “pata nahin” to the issue of souls I thought of how extreme pain can so alter a person – till then he had been sure of the existence of a soul, and now he was filled with doubt. It could well be that experience as well that changed him, the realization that he was no longer as sure of his beliefs. And from there, to taking the meds, the transplant, was just another step. I agree with you about how his decision at the end shows a man true to his current convictions.
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Radhika
August 18, 2013
Title – was thinking that “Liver Let Die” would be better, without the “or” in the middle, eh, what?
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brangan
August 19, 2013
Radhika: A lovely thought — that the donor’s characteristics are imprinted on the receiver’s. About the title, I thought I was summing up the second episode’s existential dilemma with the “or,” but hey… 🙂
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amusingmuslim
November 20, 2013
Thank you for such a well written analysis and a balanced view. I got to see it recently and while I thought it was a strikingly original film (yes, I did hear about the student film, still his treatment remains his own) I too felt like I was hearing stand ins for the director – this really didn’t help me connect with any of the characters and the lack of emotional resonance was the key missing element for me.
My take here.
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tonks
September 10, 2019
I couldn’t find a review of “Joseph”, the Malayalam hit that builds further paranoia around organ transplants with a plot that does not stand up to scientific scrutiny : the fall out is that all those poor patients on waiting lists awaiting donors are going to be left there.
Here’s a doctor’s take on why unscientifically made movies like “Joseph” are criminal :
By Dr Suma Bala, Amritha Institute, Cochin.
The 2018 Malayalam movie Joseph was acclaimed by most movie reviewers as a great film that tried to highlight the dark side of organ transplantation. Here’s why I think that it was a very flimsy plot and a poorly made film
The film tries to show a cadaveric transplant scam by identifying potential organ donors from people admitted for usual illnesses to a hospital by subjecting them to transplant tests without their knowledge. Then it suggests that they are subject to a fake accident , brought to hospital by a “ Good Samaritan “ and then somehow declared brain dead and discussed with family to proceed with organ donation . The organ donation apparently shows recipients from the Mrithasanjeevani scheme but actual recipients are international patients!
In reality NONE of this is actually possible. The way Mrithasanjeevani is set up involving a wide network of hospitals, the complexity involved in brain death declaration as well as the improbability of doing transplant testing without consent all make this plot significantly unrealistic. The character of Joseph being considered as an organ donor is laughable in that a retired overweight, alcoholic and heavily smoking person as he is shown to be is unlikely to be even considered as a suitable donor for any major organ.
Unfortunately, such a badly written plot and story has only succeeded in further alienating the public to the greatest gift of life – that of donation of an organ to a person in need. The biggest sufferers of the fallback of this movie are the patients on the waiting list themselves- all it has done is to make their wait even longer and chances of survival even bleaker.
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Kay
September 11, 2019
Tonks – This is my problem with Mersal movie too.
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