Manto on Netflix

Nandita Das’s film, Manto, based on the life of famous Urdu writer, Saadat Hasan Manto, is an  impressive account of the maverick writer's short-lived, but eventful life. His controversial writing during the turbulent times of Independence, certainly deserved a cinematic adaptation, and this film successfully captures the essence of what Manto stood for both in his personal and professional life.

The film deftly captures the angst and beliefs of this fearless and unhinged writer, who didn’t mince  words while addressing the menaces of his society which often landed him in trouble, and court cases remained his lifelong companion. Hence, it is not surprising that even in his short-lived life (he died at the age of 42), he leaves behind a legacy of work so inspiring that, as students of literature when we read them, we all wanted to be Mantos. 

Toba Tek Singh, his short story that ridicules partition like no other, finds a special place towards the end of this film. While his long struggle with finding acceptance for his most notorious story, ‘Thanda Gosht’, as chilling as the title, is given just enough presence in the film to show the grit and determination with which he pursued his beliefs and stuck to his principles. This is also largely reflective of the times in which he was writing, where social issues were brushed aside to celebrate the newly found status of two independent nations of the sub-continent - India and Pakistan. And one cannot miss the irony of the battle against censorship on free speech and expression then, and the fact that, very little has changed even today. 

For a film that is based on the life of a courageous writer of possibly the most significant years of our country, it was essential that the dialogues were as hard hitting as the man in question. And the film delivers on that count too, staying away from any unnecessary gimmick, and striking the right balance of drama and content. 

For an artist as controversial as Manto, it is easy to pick any aspect of his life, either professional or personal, and create a feature film out of it. But this film picks just the right elements to highlight those areas that represent the fire-brand writer best. 

His forced move from Bombay to Lahore post partition had a huge impact on Manto and his writing. And the latter half of his professional and personal life was spent mourning over the loss of a city he was deeply in love with. And when he couldn’t find the Bombay of his love in Lahore, the disillusionment started to creep into his writing. And unfortunately, it took a toll on his personal life too. But with each new turn of events, he found new inspiration to write and create. 

This film not only brings alive Manto, the progressive thinker and writer, but the loving partner and father that he was to his family. There are many endearing scenes in the film that captivate his family life which reveal his gentler side, showing the sensitive human being that gets easily affected by an unjust society. He is particularly sensitive with issues relating to women, whether it is about the plight of women forced into prostitution, or his treatment of women as equals. In this regard, his contemporary and another controversial writer of those times, Ismat Chugtai, best known for her short story, Lihaaf, finds special screen presence in Manto’s life story. 

While on the one hand Manto is shown to hob-nob with the biggies of Bombay Talkies, on the other hand, he is shown to find creative inspiration  in places far removed from the bright lights of the  studio. This aspect of his life encapsulates what he truly represented as an artist. 

And at the end, it is the man who played Manto, Nawazuddin Siddiqui, about whom anything said would sound repetitive. Here he not only plays the titular role, but he becomes Manto. The fierceness in his dialogues, the sharp piercing grip of his eyes, and the fragility of his body, capture the very essence of who Manto might have been for as long as he lived. And I doubt there could be any better actor to take on this mammoth task and mouth those gritty dialogues with the same conviction. 

Some of the most engaging sequences in the film are heightened in effect by the melancholic music that runs in the background, handled with utmost care by none other than legendary tabla player, Zakir Hussain. And the film also boasts of dragging lyricist Javed Akhtar to mouth few dialogue in his chaste Urdu, besides getting some of the best talents of the industry to play relatively insignificant roles. 

I had watched Das’s directorial debut Firaaq few years back, and remember complaining about many things that didn’t quite sit well with me. But with Manto, she hits many right notes. The film's relevance in the current political climate of our country is an unfortunate reality we are living with. In that sense, Manto lives on amongst us, as an inspiration for generations to come. And hence, this film, I feel was long overdue. Glad it came at the right time, and from the right people. 

The post that happens after every vanishing act. Yah, that one.

Those of you for whom nightly retreats mean rummaging through  Netflix ( and the likes...) for few moments of escape, and shutting the world behind you for few precious hours (if you are lucky), you have arrived at the right place. As much I hate the fact that my before-sleep hours are trapped in this unending loop of online movie prowls, another part, the one that gets satiated by the good watches, cannot thank this luxury enough. I call it a luxury, because I am not bound by the rhythms of life that an average mortal is obliged to fall into. With nowhere to head first thing in the morning, or no particular rush to pack a sleepy kid to a real school( just yet), my mornings follow a rhythm of its own. And the late the nights, the longer the morning sleep. 

Sadly enough, falling into this routine has me let go off my late night readings. I see my last purchase, Cynthia’s good looking, and exciting ( from what I recollect from where I left) book, ‘The Nest’, lying unattended on my bedside table, and my heart aches every single time my eyes are drawn to its beautiful egg shell blue cover. Because coax and coax I may, but I cannot even come close to lifting the book, forget reading few lines from it. Let’s just say, I need some time off from everything, some recovery time, from the onslaught of taking off to places. Packing bags, waiting in security queues, marinating my back on car seats, doing the touristy things, eating out, and wiping arse of tiny human in car seats too, if you please. Did that for a month. Non-stop. I want to say I am done, so I can get back to my normal life. Discipline myself to finish the half-done, half-baked drafts, one at a time. That demands time, and focus. But I am afraid, that would have to wait its turn. Because another bout  of Marry-go-round is lurking  round the corner. I am hardly complaining though. I mean who wouldn't like  to be whisked away to exciting places every second or third month? But there is this searing feeling of guilt and worry that’s growing within me - a part that seems to be dissing the 'plan.'  With an increasing fear of losing sight of my goal, I am flirting  with the idea of a writing retreat, from where I can operate as I wish - watch life in  technicolors, dream, create, and dream some more, while remaining invisible to the world - a 'hideout.' Although right at this moment,  my girl’s red and white stripped tent filled with odds and ends, seems like my best bet. Then sometimes, I dream of teleporting to some faraway land, cancelling the noise with ear phones plugged deep into my eardrums, and not caring about thoughts that keep colliding with each other in my mind. But then again, I am a homebody. These four walls that surround me, make me, me! This is who I am. I love this space. I love the snug welcome it treats me with every time I am back from somewhere. 

You wouldn’t believe, but this is what I had set out to do here. To talk about homes, decor, movies, things I have been treating myself to, things that transport me to a world of dreams. Netflix - the friend and the foe. I hadn’t thought of this as the title, but I was headed on that direction I must admit. So, Netflix, Lust Stories, Home decor shows. There. I listed them. This way I will remain more focused. I think. 

What I had set out to say earlier (just before the digression) was that, I am again in that phase, that huge part of me that is a home decor enthusiast. Lately, with all of my writing plans thrown out of the window, I have been binging on one show on home decor after the other and like always, my head is amassed with my own decor plans for my rooms. TLC is what I have been hearing a lot lately, and DIY is music to my ear. It is almost a cuss word in my household though, with a husband who is severely allergic to anything DIY. I however, am all for throwing in your own creativity wherever I see a possibility. So there, next thing you know is, I have ordered a bunch of wall decals for a particular sore wall in my girl’s room that badly needed some...another favorite word...'treatment.’ ‘Home Doctor’ should thank me for coming up with all the right words in this post. Alright alright I won’t push it. Okay just one more, ‘I am feeling ‘emulsional’ right now!!’ Heck! 

Then comes Lust Stories - four short films by four leading directors of Bollywood under one banner made for Netflix.  Fortunately, I grabbed it on the very day it was released. God knows how much I hate to wake up late to anything film-related! Particularly when it becomes the talk of the town and I am yet to find out about it. This timely consumption however got me sitting on top of it. Being the selfless person that I am, I instantly spread the word around over WhatsApp groups, barring the family and 'family-like' ones for obvious reasons. These films wiped off most of my frustrations with never finding the right movie to watch over Netflix! Sounds like a familiar scenario? Well, now you know what to watch. Impressed with the great execution of the films, I took to Twitter, well, almost took to Twitter. But turned out, I was probably the last one amongst the early birds. Twitter was already rioting with ‘hashtag lust story’ so bad that after a while my mind got attuned to seeing the two words strung tightly together at all times. ‘Luststories’ is what remained of it. But the good news is, either way, these films will entertain you, engage you, tickle you, embarrass you, try you. But one thing they will never do is - waste your time. 

Interestingly, the stories  have incited curiosity even within the movie-novice circles ( Dear God, how do they live!). They seem to be asking funny, but relevant questions, and so am I. I read a quote by writer Arundhati Roy today in the passing that says, ‘The point of a writer is to be unpopular,’ and I didn’t have to look too far to realize what she meant. Do treat yourself with Lust Stories. They are the forerunners in the unpopular category because they ask the difficult  questions. They throw flood light in places we conveniently choose to overlook. They are worth it because they urge you to think and arrive at your own conclusions. 

'The Gift' -Netflix watch - why I want to talk about it

I watched a movie called ‘The Gift’ yesterday. And ever since I have been itching to talk about it. Without going into the details about who plays what and how, and all the things that seem less important to me right now, I would dive straight into the heart of the story. Here is how the film begins. And excuse me if my biases show a little, since the sight of a beautiful property on screen (and otherwise too), makes me go slightly weak on my knees. So needless to say, the film got me hooked from the very first scene.

A married couple, I would assume, in their mid-thirties, is being shown an impressive property in the suburbs of California by a seasoned broker. The little information she throws here and there about the house, the polite conversation she makes while walking them through the rooms, how she points out the important features of the house, is revealing of the director’s attention to detail which is evident throughout the film.

Robyn and Simon, the couple, move base to California from Chicago to start over a new life. We are not told the why of it yet. Simon tells the broker he found a job in this new city and that he is excited about it. And, that, he had lived in these parts of the country before. While we are told Robyn’s roots are in Chicago, her credentials are revealed only when she is introduced to Simon’s colleagues over an office party. And Simon’s over-the-top validation of Robyn’s freelance home design projects come off sounding more like a pep talk, which leaves Robyn mostly embarrassed. The hours when Simon is in office, Robyn jogs, plays with her dog, and cooks dinner, and on few occasions, visits her friendly neighbor. In one of her solitary moments at home, she fishes out a crib mobile from one of the unpacked cartons lying around the house. About which we get to learn more when she tells her neighbor that, she was pregnant a year back, but that ‘did not have a happy ending.’ And leaves it at that, saying, ‘will bore you with the details some other time.’

While out shopping, an old friend of Simon, Gordo, walks up to them, and introduces himself, and Simon, after straining his mind for a clue, recognizes him as his old buddy from school. They exchange numbers and promise to catch up. The next thing the couple knows is, Gordo has sent them a card and Champaign as a welcome gesture, and quite unexpectedly, one afternoon, he shows up himself at their doorsteps. Out of courtesy, and probably for company, Robyn invites him and asks him to stay over for dinner, while they wait for Simon to get back from work. At dinner table, Gordo gets carried away in his slightly drunken stupor, and blabbers a great deal about Simon’s reputation of being some sort of a hero back in school. ‘Because Simon says so’, is his chosen phrase to prove him point. And the animated conversation remains mostly one sided, with Robyn, who seems to be the only other person enjoying it. While it leaves Simon awkward, and slightly irked, which he expresses by indicating Robyn to stop filling Gordo’s glass with more wine. Once Gordo leaves, Simon shares that the dinner had been a very ‘awkward’ one for him. And that, Gordo used to be known for being odd, and was often referred to as a ‘weirdo.’ And Robyn, counters him by saying she can be like that sometimes socially, and suggests that this was a one off and that, they don’t have to do it again.

Simon’s confidence at work and how he scales great heights in his new job suggest how successful he is at whatever he does, if their house in a posh neighborhood doesn’t speak of it already. Robyn, on the other hand, seems to be struggling with something. An irrevocable past that took her child from her, a low self-esteem, despite her elegant physical attributes and an above average IQ. A loving husband, but a busy one. These could very well be the reasons why she finds it easy to empathize with Gordo, who, as it turns out, did not make a great life for himself. And the film cleverly plays with Robyn’s arc, by making her somewhat melancholic and having a propensity for the odd and the neglected. And on one instance, when she sneaks out pills from her neighbor’s restroom, we are introduced to another aspect of her past she is trying to get rid of.

As Gordo’s visits, cards, and gifts start to pick up, and he starts making himself useful around the house in Simon’s absence, Robyn seems to be surprised at his generosity, but doesn’t doubt his intentions for once. While Simon is steadfast in his belief that they should be concerned about Gordo walking into their property whenever he fancies. In a particularly odd but funny setting, Simon suggests that Gordo has his eyes set on Robyn, and that he has enough reasons to believe he is completely smitten by her and wants to take Simon’s place.  And Robyn laughs it off hard enough to indicate the absurdity of his accusations and his hilarious impersonation of Gordo. 

So far, through various events and situations, the film gives its viewers enough fodder to arrive at some conclusions of their own. But still manages to leave things beautifully sketchy and the secrets are safely intact. As the mystery of Gordo’s intentions, Simon’s concerns, and Robyn’s position are revealed, we are in for some unexpected turns in the story, which mostly leave us at the edge of our seats. Calling it a revenge drama will be over-simplifying the film. Because at its core, the film asks some pertinent questions. Questions such as - how much of what the eyes meet is true, or, what might appear ‘normal’ can be unusual. And what is often termed as ‘mad’, can be sane. In that sense, the film lends a voice to those people who stand on the periphery and are often silenced. And most importantly, ‘how an idea can hold ground’, if it is powerful enough, and can make or ruin people’s lives. It can also be a commentary on how an irresponsible act done in the past, can have disastrous consequences. And what happens when a bad attitude, if not curbed at the right time, can become detrimental to oneself and to others. And that, how a heartfelt plea for forgiveness could sometimes be one’s last shot at setting everything right.

‘The Gift’ was a riveting watch not just for the important messages it sends out, but for the impressive way in which that is achieved. The director doesn’t lose sight of his goal at any point, yet never hurries us though any of the scenes. Whether the eeriness created though the rustle of keys, dead fish in the artificial pond, or the couple’s pet dog going missing, the film excels in keeping a sense of foreboding running till the end. The end was particularly appealing to me. By denying a closure to its characters, the film achieves the poetic justice anticipated in a story like this one. The end left me feeling oddly satisfied.