Indian filmmaker Payal Kapadia’s new film, All We Imagine as Light, won the prestigious Grand Prix award at the 2024 Cannes Film Festival in May. The film exhibits an Indianness that is distinctive from the one most frequently represented globally.
Within mainstream Hindi cinema, India is often presented as a homogenous Hindu, upper-caste, middle-class Hindi-speaking nation. In western popular imaginations, on the other hand, India is often seen as exotic and over-the-top, or poor and backward.
All We Imagine as Light tells a story of two migrant women from the southern Indian state of Kerala, Prabha (Kani Kusruti) and Anu (Divya Prabha) as they struggle to build a life in Mumbai. The kind of Mumbai shown in the film is one that has almost never been explored in Indian cinema. In the film, we see its characters contend with cultural and social isolation, gender inequalities and the challenges of Hindu-Muslim love in India.
In this sense, the film does not try to appeal to the non-Indian, western gaze. Instead, All We Imagine as Light depicts a nuanced, complex migrant reality that touches on issues of gender, religion, caste, class, language and access. The refreshing portrayal of Mumbai, and largely of India, reveals an aspect of the nation’s cultural identity that has not been explored within the global space.
Disrupting the ‘city of dreams’
All We Imagine as Light premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival in September. It then played at the South Asian Day celebrations at the Forest City Film Festival in London, Ont., where I was a guest speaker for a live Q&A following the screening.
The lyrical, almost lulling pace of the film offers the unfamiliar viewer the time needed to adjust to the foreignness of this world. While it remains foreign to the viewer, it is the politics of the every day — the human yearning for light — that affords the film a humanistic vision, making it cross-culturally accessible.
One of the primary themes in All We Imagine as Light is disrupting the trite romanticism of Mumbai as a city of dreams. Migrants from across India who come to Mumbai to live a better life experience a kind of disillusionment that is rarely, if ever, addressed in Indian popular culture. Instead, it shows Mumbai as what one of the migrant voice-overs in the film calls a “city of illusions.”
All We Imagine as Light starts with disembodied migrant voices in different regional languages such as Tamil, Marathi, Gujarati and Bengali, among others. A montage of the city plays on-screen as viewers hear a voiceover of migrant workers expressing their disenchantment and the “otherness” experienced in Mumbai.
A man says how, after living in Mumbai for 23 years, he still can’t call it his home. This feeling of un-homed in Mumbai is experienced through Prabha and Anu, who work as nurses in a hospital and are also roommates.
The idea of being un-homed is most sharply portrayed when Prabha’s colleague and friend, Parvaty, is evicted from her house. As a widow, Parvaty has no paperwork to prove ownership of the shack she has lived in for years.
In another scene, we see a billboard that promises a “new Mumbai” featuring a light-skinned, hence presumably upper-caste, upper-class, heterosexual couple photographed next to a luxury tower.
Parvaty and Prabha helplessly stare at this billboard, eventually hurling stones at it, thus physically resisting everything that the billboard is representative of. As two women navigating life without husbands or any other male counterpart, this scene is significant. It becomes an active distortion of societal expectations and heteronormative ideals.
Kapadia also uses Mumbai as a site to engage with the challenges of interfaith relationships in India. The panned shots of Mumbai’s busy streets show Muslim Shiaz following Hindu Anu through crowded streets until the couple find a space where they are not at risk of being seen together. The expectations and limitations the couple must navigate showcase the societal surveillance over Hindu-Muslim relationships in India.
The politics of language in Indian cinema
Cinema in India is considered to be one of the most significant political and socio-cultural spaces. While multiple regional cinemas exist within the nation, the most popular domain continues to be mainstream Hindi cinema, or Bollywood, which problematically assumes the universality of Hindi within the nation.
Whenever most Indian films gain international attention, the implicit assumption is that they are a part of Bollywood, the mainstream cinema in Hindi. A recent example of such assumptions that every Indian film is a Bollywood film or in Hindi was seen when Rajamouli’s Telegu-language blockbuster, RRR, won an Oscar in 2023.
The implicit language expectation when watching an Indian film is that it is in Hindi. It is important to note that while Hindi is one of the most widely spoken languages in India, there is no national language.
Mumbai is home to Bollywood cinema, and therefore oftentimes presents Hindi as the chosen language. Kapadia does not conform to these mainstream expectations of language. She instead showcases the politics of speaking different regional languages in Mumbai. Malayalam, which is widely spoken in Kerela, is the film’s foremost language. Prabha, Anu and her boyfriend, Shiaz, speak Malayalam.
Kapadia uses language as an effective tool to further convey the feeling of un-homed in Mumbai. In a conversation with Prabha, a doctor at the hospital, who is also from Kerala, addresses the discomfort that speaking in Hindi causes him; Malayalam, he says, offers him refuge.
Viewers see how most characters are compelled to speak Hindi within the public space, furthering their alienation to the city. Speaking in Malayalam thus becomes a safe harbour for Prabha and Anu in All We Imagine as Light. Kapadia skillfully employs Hindi to denote the characters’ alienation. Malayalam, on the other hand, becomes emblematic of home.
All We Imagine as Light is an example of a different kind of Indian cinema: one that goes beyond mainstream narratives, and offers viewers an insight into an India they often don’t get to see. The film’s success indicates that there is potential for an alternate cinema that tells a variety of stories, in a way that is attentive to cultural nuances, and still able to serve as a cultural ambassador around the world.
Anmol Dutta does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.
