The queues were getting longer as the excitement was growing amongst the crowd at the Bengaluru International Film Festival 2020 edition last week. This was not only because acclaimed movies from the rest of the world were being screened, but also because, after a gap of nine years, the master filmmaker Girish Kasaravalli’s new film Illiralaare Allige Hogalaare (Confined Hither... Can't go Thither) was premiering. The Kannada new wave champion was present to greet the audience and introduce the cast and crew of the film at the screenings. When asked about the unusual time gap in a conversation over phone, Kasaravalli says, “I was disappointed with the way my last film (Koormavatara) was treated. Despite winning awards at many film festivals across the world, it did not receive much support in Karnataka. So, although I had many interesting stories, I was not ready to make a film. But now that digital platforms are there, it seems like there are new avenues for my kind of cinema. And I really liked Jayant Kaikini’s short story Haalina Meese. So, when producer Shivakumar proposed to make a film together, I said yes”. Although he is not credited, the first half of the film is written by Kasaravalli himself and the second half of the film is based on Kaikini’s story. The narrative begins with the story of a teenage lower caste boy Naaga who is yearning to escape from the humiliating life in a Malnad village, egged on by the recently migrated Pabbu. In similar circumstances is Seeta, who lives with disability, and is the daughter-in-law of the Brahmin priest where Naaga’s mother is employed as a domestic worker. Her husband has left the village years ago – there are hints that he has joined a rebel outfit and taken up arms for a cause – and she is tired of waiting for him to return. The village school master is courting Seeta through letters delivered via Naaga. Both Seeta and Naaga are contemplating an escape from the trappings of caste and patriarchy of the village. For Naaga, the brief visit of the pants-shirt wearing, camera-owning Pabbu from the city becomes a ray of hope. Pabbu reveals his plan of starting a new hotel business in the city and invites Naaga to be a part of it. When Naaga has questions about the barrier of caste, Pabbu laughingly declares, “We can fake a sacred thread if required”. The narrative of the first half, brilliantly constructed with impactful scenes, builds to a climax as both Seeta and Naaga plan to run away to the city via the only bus which plies between the village and the city. The setting of a quiet village with a brahmin household at the centre and rampant casteism, is not new to Kasaravalli. His first film Ghatshraddha, which many consider to be his best, has a similar storyline with a young Brahmin widow Yamunakka secretively attempting a new life by having an affair with the schoolteacher. While Ghatshraddha is set in pre-independence India, the first half of Illiralaare Allige Hogalaare is set in late 1960s, which we learn through a young child reading out the news of the moon landing in classroom. Unlike in the case of Yamunakka, Seeta’s bravado helps her cross the rigid village waters. Kasaravalli says “Not only Ghatashraddha, the characters in the first half are from many of my earlier films like Kraurya and Naayi Neralu”. The idea of the city as the land of equal opportunities devoid of discrimination based on caste, class, marital status etc., in the hopeful eyes of Seeta and Naaga is wonderfully portrayed. Kasaravalli says the migration from villages to the cities had begun in the 1970s, and for people like Naaga and Seeta this was the only alternative. In typical Kasaravalli finesse, more is shown visually than verbally described. His meditative style, full of restraint, allows the viewer to absorb the details in the mise-en-scène and interpret the complex ideas in the storyline. “Those times were like that. Village life in Malnad was set amongst verdant landscapes and followed a very meditative rhythm. People spoke less and hence the filmmaking style should also reflect aesthetics of the period,” says Kasaravalli. Strangely, the background score in the first half is western and at times does not seem to perform the role of building an ambience to the 1960s setting of the village nor does it help mark the emotional highs. Post-interval, the film opens with a montage of the busy streets of the big city. The IT boom is here with its promises of prosperity and cosmopolitanism. But has it fulfilled the dreams of people like Seeta and Naaga? Kasaravalli tells the story of the city in the second half through the life of Pundalika aka Punda, a young village boy, working in the house of a family consisting of a couple and their darling daughter. Punda does every chore, from cooking and cleaning to dropping off and picking up the daughter from the school. In what is a genius narrative choice, the couple in question are none other than Naaga and his wife. Both represent the new affluent middle class working in the multi-national companies in the mega city. Although the second half is a bit weak in terms of the camera work, performances, production design and the overall pacing and the rhythm, the screenplay stands out with its acute observations of human behaviour. In one scene, the wife gives Punda Naaga’s hand-me-down clothes which immediately reminds us of Naaga’s humiliating experience in the village because of his torn knickers and the subsequent kindness of Seeta who salvages his pride by giving him her husband’s half pants. In another, when Naaga’s wife proposes that moving back to the village might be better than facing everyday challenges in the city, Naaga says, “If I go back to the village, I will become the old Naaga. All the respect I gained because of the job in the city will be gone.” Jayant Kaikini’s ability to say the profound using the minutiae comes out in Punda’s cravings for paan, the shop owner’s revelation that many times people do not pick up the photo frames they ordered and the game of flying which goes wrong. The main conflict in the second half is the dependency of Naaga’s family on Punda and how, despite his father being unwell in the village, the couple use every possible tactic to stop him from going home. Soon, his father’s condition deteriorates, and his sister is also sent to work as a domestic worker in Naaga’s friend’s home. Alas! the city, which we were told is devoid of discrimination, we learn, has its own class system thus creating new trappings for the disenfranchised. The film indicts both the village and the city equally and asks the critical question – where should the disadvantaged go? Is there no place for them on our planet where they can live with dignity? Kasaravalli also makes a profound statement that it does not take long for a Naaga to become a perpetrator and this journey - from a victim to a perpetrator - is probably a definition of success in the new order of the world. Although Naaga’s wife is sympathetic towards Punda’s situation, she seems helpless and does not take any decisive action. “Many of us knowingly or unknowingly do what Naaga does in the film. The demands of life in the city are such that many times, there is no choice but to be perpetrators. I had many of our political leaders in my mind while writing this part of the film. Although they come from very humble backgrounds, once they attain power, they start looting their own people,” says Kasaravalli when asked about Naaga’s lack of remorse. The clever division of the narrative into two time periods separated by more than 30 years seems to question if the neo-liberal ideas have brought in any fundamental change at all. Like many of the acclaimed films in recent past, the ending does not leave us with any hope. It is as if the greatest artists of our times are telling us that there is no solution in sight for the problems plaguing our society. When asked about this, Kasaravalli says he does not believe in explicitly depicting a ray of hope. Instead, he believes that a good film’s narrative should make the audience introspect their choices and behaviour in their day to day lives. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say Illiralaare Allige Hogalaare is our very own Parasite. Although it fails to achieve the cinematic heights of Kasaravalli’s earlier films or of Bong Joon-ho’s acclaimed modern Korean classic, the commentary on class differences and on the hypocrisy of the new middle class is on point and provokes the audience to examine their lives. Unfortunately, such nuanced and rooted narratives sans any binaries are rare in Kannada cinema and it always seems to take a Kasaravalli film to remind us the monumental possibilities in Kannada cinema. When asked about the audience feedback in the festival, Kasaravalli, in his simple, unassuming manner, says that the reception to the film was very positive, especially from the foreign delegates in the festival. He adds that the film has already received a couple of invitations from festivals abroad. The theatrical release dates for Illiralaare Allige Hogalaare are yet to be announced. Basav Biradar is a freelance writer and documentary filmmaker based in Bengaluru.
