By Palak Malik
Do you find a story to tell, or does the story find you? This question has stayed with me for the past few days as I binge-watched over 20 movies across languages and genres in one week at the Bengaluru International Film Festival this month.
I began thinking along the lines of how the hero’s journey takes place. How is the protagonist established? How do their dreams and aspirations take centre-stage? And how the plot twists and story moves.
The main character is usually portrayed as the hero (heroine) and then there is a sidekick, or an ally, who is either smitten by the hero or the hero’s dream. Often, they go on a journey together. They meet people who obstruct their course or others who accelerate it.
More often than not, escape is the underlying theme. There is a compelling reason to escape a place, a relationship, or a version of life. It is gamified in a manner that going through the course and achieving the hero’s goal will unlock the new reality.
In the French movie Shepherds, the protagonist escapes the corporate world and plans to retreat to farm life – only to be taken aback by the violence he witnesses. “Maybe it is all just a dream… the mountains…” he wonders.
In A Land Unknown, two young men Chatila and Reda plan to escape their miserable life in Athens, Greece, to live their dreams in Germany. It is a story of migration and desperation. Chatila (the hero) puts together a plan; Reda (the sidekick) supports him.
The characters take extreme measures to fight their destiny. In The Shameless, two queer women plan to escape as lovers from the hold of patriarchy and economic rundown. And, then, from the plan to escape is the path of trial. This is when something goes right, but mostly, it all seems to be falling apart.
Some narratives make the ending obvious. For example in the Icelandic film When The Light Breaks, you know from the point the girl tells the boy, “I’m Pan,” that something will happen between them.
In the Oscar winner Anora, the audience knows that the marriage between the millionaire Russian brat and Cinderella sex worker will get annulled. It is about the build-up. It is not a question of what but how and when.
Similarly, the movie From Hilde, With Love is based on the real-life story of an anti-Nazi group, so the build-up points toward the protagonist’s death sentence. We as the viewers feel the unjustness of it all. We come to love the character of this demure rebel girl, Hilde, who wears round glasses, cares for others, and finds friendships in the unexpected space of prison.
The story is about facing the ordeal with bravery – and sometimes that’s where the journey ends. But sometimes, the story is not in the present; it is in the past or the visions of the future. It could be in the time jumps, like in Hilde’s.
So, where is the story? It is often with the ally. The hero decides the course of action, but it is the ally that helps to realise the vision.
In Holy Cow too, it is the younger sister who compels the brother to not give up on his cheese-making dream. And sometimes that vision can be as heartbreaking as the resolve to take one’s own life in The Room Next Door. So, who is the hero really? Is it Martha who decides to go for euthanasia? Or is it Ingrid to lives on to clear (claim) the mess?
The gaze is important too. Whose point of view (POV) is it? Sometimes it is the whole narrative, but sometimes there is a POV scene that stays with you. Just before Martha commits the act of taking her own life, she is seen looking at herself in the mirror, applying scarlet lipstick. It could not have been redder. And, she is dressed in this sunlight yellow, the kind of yellow that burns your eyes when you look at it.
It is through her own gaze – how she wants to be seen as she leaves this universe – that we see her.
But sometimes, the scene spins such a surprise – it becomes all about the gaze of the audience and how you experience it. In Armand, a Norwegian thriller drama, there is this whole suspense about allegations in a parent-teacher meeting with undertones of sexual abuse.
The movie mostly drags slowly and uncomfortably, at a snail’s pace – you’re just trying to piece the story along. It felt like I was stuck in the school compound for ages. Of course, some scenes explode with sexual energy, like when Armand’s mom dances in lust. Or the trance-like situation where several hands and imagery symbolise the touch of ardour.
But sometimes, the hero’s journey ends unexpectedly, and there is defeat. What is interesting is that in art cinema, there is space for this too.
In the movie Moon, martial-arts expert Sarah takes up an unusual assignment of training three sisters in a mansion in Jordan. But she realises the girls are kept like prisoners and are planning an escape. Most secrets of the mansion remain secret even when the film is over, topped up with a failed attempt to escape. The girls are left to their own fate.
I think about what happens in real life, and how these made-up stories are built upon the realities of our times. How much do they mirror? How much do they inspire real life?
I’m always traumatised watching violence on the big screen. An act of violently destroying virginity like in The Shameless. Does it bring upon collective shame or is it a collective defeat? Are there audiences that rejoice in these acts, or does this depiction normalise it in reality?
A report by the Centre for Disease Control and Prevention said that over half of women and almost one in three men experience sexual violence involving physical contact during their lifetimes.
I wonder if the audiences become co-writers of the script. Will they also write the horrors they see? If wrong acts don’t have consequences in stories, what does it do to our individual and collective psyche?
This one film that stands out for me with its “old-world” charm: My Favourite Cake. Seventy-year-old Mahin decides to get back into dating in a country where women’s rights are restricted. From there begins one of the most beautiful romantic comedies (tragicomedy) that you will see on screen. The film is an international co-production between Iran, France, Sweden, and Germany, and is a treat to watch.
There are also films in which nothing happens, such as Little Loves, a Spanish-French summertime drama movie. It just depicts a mother-daughter relationship and the time they spend together. Life as it is. In Glimmers, too, it is about all these small moments that make up family life – but this one is also about death.
And then there are movies where nothing really happens till it happens. You wait for an hour and maybe more. And all you need is that one conversation on the table like in the movie Dying where the family dynamics come to light in an instant. Where the mother cannot recall if she threw or dropped her child. And a mutual admission of feelings between an ageing mom and an adult son – you never really liked me, but then I never really liked you.
It is here in these hard-hitting conversations that you find the soul of the movie. So raw, so honest, the truth so bare and naked that you can see it and feel it. Dying introduces subjects one by one and goes deeper into their stories to make a big story.
What I learnt is that there are many ways to tell a story – it is sometimes in the script, in the music, or in the visuals. But the way it most often goes is that you slowly fall in love with the hero (heroine). You relate to their journey. Even if it leads to something so bizarre that you could not have been imagined in 100 years – like a scene in Dying in which two dentists get drunk, and in the process of one extracting a tooth with a plier from the other’s mouth, they end up making love with blood hot on their faces.
And after consuming close to 20+ films over 7 days, even the storylines become hazy. Some characters have found home in my head and heart while others have left their own tales, merging their narratives to create an unending universe of stories.
All I’m left with is a melting pot of narratives and a flood of infinite emotions.
Palak Malik is a digital and communication specialist, recognised as a LinkedIn Top Video Production Voice for her expertise in video production.
Lead image: Mark Eydelshteyn and Mikey Madison in Anora (2024)
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