'Mahanagar @ Kolkata': A review

The six protagonists of Suman Mukhopadhyay’s Mahanagar@Kolkata portray fear that lurks behind the cacophony of a metro life.

One wonders which kind of fear is more terrible. The kind where there is a clearly defined bad guy (or group) that can be assigned the blame, or the other kind that pervades everyday life and is caused directly or indirectly by our own actions, or worse - by our inaction and indifference?

The film is a tiered approach, spotting linkages that define a city's sociology. Indranil Mukherjee's cinematography is edgy but not enduring, as is the Bengali rap score by Rupam Islam. The film is loosely based on three short stories by Nabarun Bhattacharya — Ek Tukro Nyloner Dori, Amar Kono Bhoy Nei To? and Aangshik Chandragrahan.

Predictably, all characters in Mahanagar@Kolkata are inter-connected, both by fate and the sequence of events. As the film progresses, each thread of narration weaves itself into the inglorious existence of the other. It starts with the lead male character, a product of American education and Bengali upbringing.

Rohit (Chandan Roy Sanyal of Vishal Bhardwaj’s Kaminey fame) is not sure of himself or of what he wants. Caught between the stability of a married life and the distractions of a westernized lifestyle, he becomes suicide prone. His elitist facade crumbles when faced with real-life choices. He can neither become a father, nor remain a husband. He fails miserably at an attempted love-affair. Feeling sorry for himself, he withdraws into his flat, surrounds himself with trappings of his financial and social affluence and succumbs to the world of hallucination that merges the conscious and subconscious mindscapes of the urbane.

Not yuppie enough, hence more stable and ordinary, Manmatha (Anjan Dutt) hails from the upper-middle class of Kolkata and is related to Rohit. A steady government job and its associated luxuries lend an air of security around him. Marking his social position by the kind of tobacco he consumes, the minivan he drives, the lower-level staff he pays to keep an eye on his relative's condition at the hospital, as well as his silent departure from the scene of a murder he witnessed – Manmatha is the representative of the metro middle class, a part 75 percent of city dwellers are used to playing day in and day out.

Jagadish (Biplab Chatterjee), a fellow city inhabitant who befriends Manmatha during his night out at the hospital, inhabits the next strata of life in a metropolis – the lower-middle class. Here one's existence is marked by a greater degree of vulnerability to life's quirks and hence enter the talisman. Faced with the possibility of losing his son, Jagadish, an aging man with neither the money nor influence that Manmatha commands, desensitizes himself from the terrible possibility of his son's death due to a fatal injury. The strength of his conviction in a piece of suicidal rope is a necessary antidote to surviving Kolkata.

Still lower on the social rung and barely surviving is Biren (Arun Mukhopadhyay). Having lost his income and his respect in society, he lives on charity and in disgrace. Shorn of basic human dignity, he has nothing left to fear, nothing more to lose. Yet, he is consumed by fear. The comfort of a home-cooked meal, a family with wife and son, a roof over his head and recognition from the local doctor and political goons alike, are his priceless possessions that add up to something in the face of nothing. His death by mistake is a careless joke, as careless and insignificant as personal tragedies can get in a city.

The two female leads in the movie, Rohit's wife Rangili (Rituparna Sengupta) and his friend-cum-philosopher Kamalini (Sreelekha Mitra), serve as benchmarks, evaluating the gradual degradation of morality and character in the main protagonist.

The pace of the movie sometimes suffers dreadfully as in the case of Biren's saga leading to his death. Also, the hallucination episode involving the medieval ritual of burning widows alive – very dramatic, but too long. In essence, the directorial approach is more theatrical and less celluloid-ish. Mukhopadhyay's attempt to capture the details of contemporary life in and around the year 2009 with reference to news events and FMCG products is worthy of note. His attention to detail is also commendable.

However, Mukhopadhyay would do well to lose a bit of his academic bent in case of filmmaking. From (Ernst Ingmar) Bergman to (Satyajit) Ray, the influences are evident. Given the success of Herbert and Chaturanga, he is poised to create his own language on screen should he dare to be himself and not his father's son.

Also, a few things to lose in his next movie: Leave Kabir Suman to the realms of his new-found love of politics and old love of music. Kabir Suman as a corrupt cop is as much a spoiler as producer Pawan Kanodia as the shady developer. Second, the on-screen chemistry between Sengupta and Sanyal is very unconvincing, it's a loveless episode from the beginning. By contrast, the tension between Sanyal and Mitra is more realistic.

Overall, although not a box office record breaker, the movie is a one-time must-see. Made under the banner of A.V.A. Film Productions Pvt. Ltd., Mukhopadhyay's attempt is sure to please the packaged-nostalgia-hungry non-resident Bengali community as it is likely to secure another shot at MoMA. It is likely to become a staple of film and gender studies departments around the world.

(Read: 'M@K' goes to Munich)


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