‘Some People Call It the City of Dreams, But I Don’t’

As a film enthusiast with over three decades of immersion in cinema, I can confidently say that Payal Kapadia’s “All We Imagine as Light” is a cinematic marvel that transcends conventional boundaries. Having traversed various cultures and cities, I’ve seen my fair share of urban symphonies, but none have resonated quite like this ethereal city nocturne.

In the visuals of Payal Kapadia’s “All We Imagine As Light,” there’s an ethereal, shimmering charm that envelops the scenes of Mumbai. Despite the hustle and bustle of the nighttime presented — the crowd surge, the incessant activity, and disorder — Kapadia captures these moments with a penchant for the dreamlike. The camera moves softly, focus wavers, figures blend; everything onscreen appears delicate and fleeting. Unlike a conventional documentary, we don’t initially hear the cacophony of traffic or crowd roars. Instead, the sound is minimal and hushed, giving the impression of observing a spectral world. Every now and then, voices emerge, unseen and unnamed, each conversing in different languages about Mumbai. One individual confesses to having lived in the city for 23 years yet still not feeling at home. Another admits he came here after arguing with his father. A woman reveals she was pregnant but too afraid to tell anyone because she’d secured a good job caring for someone else’s children. While city symphonies have been depicted in cinema before, Kapadia’s film is more contemplative and personal. You could label it a nocturne or a whisper of the city.

Although it may seem otherwise, “All We Imagine As Light,” which recently won the Grand Prix at Cannes and marked the first Indian feature film to compete in 30 years, is not a documentary. Instead, it focuses on three female characters who work at a hospital, each with their unique struggles. Prabha (Kani Kusruti), a head nurse, shares a cramped apartment with her junior colleague Anu (Divya Prabha). The older cook Parvaty (Chhaya Kadam) is facing eviction from the tenement she has lived in for over two decades. Without artifice or melodrama, Kapadia subtly reveals these characters’ stories, allowing them to seep into our understanding. Prabha’s husband, who left for Germany years ago and hasn’t been heard from, is a source of concern. A doctor at the hospital seems interested in her, but she remains unsure of her place in the world. Anu is secretly in love with a young Muslim man, and their clandestine meetings are fraught with tension. Parvaty, on the other hand, lacks official documentation of her residence. She moved into her small apartment with her late husband, who worked in a nearby mill, but now developers are constructing a luxury condo, forcing her to confront eviction. In numerous ways, these women’s lives are confined by the men in their lives—even when those men are absent.

Despite the intense internal struggles – Prabha’s solitude, Anu’s enthusiasm, Parvaty’s distress – the portrayals maintain a subtle and understated demeanor on the outside. Kusruti, who was equally captivating in Shuchi Talati’s Girls Will Be Girls, possesses eyes that can convey vast amounts, yet her Prabha seems the most serene of these characters. When an unexpected rice cooker from Germany mysteriously arrives via post, they both presume it was sent by Prabha’s husband. In a bizarre scene that would be comical if not for its poignant sadness, she covertly embraces the rice cooker, seeking an emotional connection with this shiny red appliance, which might be all that remains of her marriage.

In this movie, there’s a deep significance that emerges from the contrast between the turbulent events portrayed and the film’s ambiguous mood. The background music, with its melodic arpeggios, seems to hint at something more peaceful and understanding, yet it subtly veers towards dissonance. This city, as one of the many voices in the soundtrack suggests, is often referred to as a city of dreams, but the speaker sees it as a city of illusions instead. Another voice adds that there’s an unwritten rule here: even if you live in poverty, you’re expected to suppress any feelings of resentment. This Mumbai is a place where everyone seeks their fortune, yet none truly feel at home. As a result, no one can claim a superior life.

In the closing act, as our three main characters depart from the city and arrive at a quaint coastal town, they undergo a remarkable change. It’s as if they’ve broken free from a confining barrier, allowing them to reclaim space and, in turn, influence their surroundings – even supernaturally. The reality they once knew, always hovering on the edge of disintegration, transitions into something reminiscent of magical realism. Director Kapadia masterfully crafts a world that initially seems impossible, further emphasizing the dreamlike quality of this newfound locale. While the film concludes with uplifting emotions, it’s the lingering melancholy that truly resonates.

2024-11-15 17:54

‘Some People Call It the City of Dreams, But I Don’t’

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