[Contains spoilers]
Kanu Behl sure likes a wedding procession.
In “Titli,” his exceptional feature film debut, a wedding procession moves through a dingy lane, lit by men carrying neon green lights. The cavalcade consists of people gyrating energetically but their faces are oddly blank. It’s almost comical, but it helps detail the world Behl wants to create, a world where misery is so rife that people force themselves to be happy, but the despair never leaves their faces. In “Binnu Ka Sapna,” his impressive 32-minute short film now streaming on MUBI, Binnu, our protagonist, buys a bottle of phenyl and moves through a similar wedding procession lit by men carrying neon green tubelights. His glum, inscrutable face stands out as people dance wildly; immediately, we sense his disconnect with the world. Binnu’s family is splintered: his mother and father haven’t seen eye to eye in many years, their marriage broken beyond repair. At home, they barely exchange words. Binnu is lonely, alone. His periodic voiceover furnishes us with a brief history of why it has come to this: his mother, then young and happy, once walked out of a bedroom with her handsome brother-in-law, and his father saw them. When he slaps her publicly, to everyone’s shock, the first crack in the marriage forms. But Binnu empathises with his mother. ‘She just walked out of the bedroom,’ he says with a trace of sadness in his voice. This event is a portent of the film’s deeply unsettling ending.
In various interviews, Behl revealed that he wanted to make a film about the roots of anger. Through Binnu’s eyes, we see the seeds being sown (a dysfunctional, unhappy household) and bloom into a growing disenchantment with the world, with women in particular. We see shots of tea boiling away merrily in a pan and sense a bitterness brewing inside him. Tea is especially important to him: a reminder that, even as their marriage fell into decay, his mother couldn’t resist a cup of tea made by his father. He picked up this strange little ritual between his parents by observing them. He believes tea is a balm of sorts, a balm that heals tattered relationships.
Binnu wants to leave behind his past behind, a past that has shards of violence, but it’s now a part of him. (Whether separable or not we don’t know yet.) A menial job and a wise mentor do little to free him from the clutches of mounting cynicism. As he gets into a sexual relationship with his boss’s daughter, finally getting cheated on, the male chauvinist inside him starts gnawing into his conscience. As with “Titli,” Behl approaches this subject with the deftness of a specialist. Men who have grown up surrounded by violence, and those who end up perpetrating it, have some peculiar rationale explaining their actions. Binnu does, too. Behl, however, doesn’t simply tell us that; employing a 1:1 aspect ratio and a lean narrative, he charts Binnu’s journey from a confused young man to a resentful misogynist by putting us through various snapshots from his life, emphasising on crucial details that help us discern how he sees the world as he ages. Binnu liked a girl from his college, but never spoke to her; his first sexual encounter is awkward and passionless; his last girlfriend was too lovely for him, almost criminally lovely. Binnu chillingly puts this into perspective: ‘There was no need for her to look that beautiful.’ With that thought, Binnu’s cloning, as it were, is complete: he is now the spitting image of his father at the exact moment when he saw his wife emerging out of that room with her brother-in-law in tow. The hereditary nature of hate, and how it is unwittingly passed on from parent to child, is where “Binnu Ka Sapna” finally arrives, springing an ending that is as alarming as it is daring. In lesser hands it would have been blatantly exploitative. But Behl cuts away at just the right moment, allowing us to pull a deep breath and let our thoughts run amok.
[Not For Reproduction]
Kanu Behl sure likes a wedding procession.
In “Titli,” his exceptional feature film debut, a wedding procession moves through a dingy lane, lit by men carrying neon green lights. The cavalcade consists of people gyrating energetically but their faces are oddly blank. It’s almost comical, but it helps detail the world Behl wants to create, a world where misery is so rife that people force themselves to be happy, but the despair never leaves their faces. In “Binnu Ka Sapna,” his impressive 32-minute short film now streaming on MUBI, Binnu, our protagonist, buys a bottle of phenyl and moves through a similar wedding procession lit by men carrying neon green tubelights. His glum, inscrutable face stands out as people dance wildly; immediately, we sense his disconnect with the world. Binnu’s family is splintered: his mother and father haven’t seen eye to eye in many years, their marriage broken beyond repair. At home, they barely exchange words. Binnu is lonely, alone. His periodic voiceover furnishes us with a brief history of why it has come to this: his mother, then young and happy, once walked out of a bedroom with her handsome brother-in-law, and his father saw them. When he slaps her publicly, to everyone’s shock, the first crack in the marriage forms. But Binnu empathises with his mother. ‘She just walked out of the bedroom,’ he says with a trace of sadness in his voice. This event is a portent of the film’s deeply unsettling ending.
In various interviews, Behl revealed that he wanted to make a film about the roots of anger. Through Binnu’s eyes, we see the seeds being sown (a dysfunctional, unhappy household) and bloom into a growing disenchantment with the world, with women in particular. We see shots of tea boiling away merrily in a pan and sense a bitterness brewing inside him. Tea is especially important to him: a reminder that, even as their marriage fell into decay, his mother couldn’t resist a cup of tea made by his father. He picked up this strange little ritual between his parents by observing them. He believes tea is a balm of sorts, a balm that heals tattered relationships.
Binnu wants to leave behind his past behind, a past that has shards of violence, but it’s now a part of him. (Whether separable or not we don’t know yet.) A menial job and a wise mentor do little to free him from the clutches of mounting cynicism. As he gets into a sexual relationship with his boss’s daughter, finally getting cheated on, the male chauvinist inside him starts gnawing into his conscience. As with “Titli,” Behl approaches this subject with the deftness of a specialist. Men who have grown up surrounded by violence, and those who end up perpetrating it, have some peculiar rationale explaining their actions. Binnu does, too. Behl, however, doesn’t simply tell us that; employing a 1:1 aspect ratio and a lean narrative, he charts Binnu’s journey from a confused young man to a resentful misogynist by putting us through various snapshots from his life, emphasising on crucial details that help us discern how he sees the world as he ages. Binnu liked a girl from his college, but never spoke to her; his first sexual encounter is awkward and passionless; his last girlfriend was too lovely for him, almost criminally lovely. Binnu chillingly puts this into perspective: ‘There was no need for her to look that beautiful.’ With that thought, Binnu’s cloning, as it were, is complete: he is now the spitting image of his father at the exact moment when he saw his wife emerging out of that room with her brother-in-law in tow. The hereditary nature of hate, and how it is unwittingly passed on from parent to child, is where “Binnu Ka Sapna” finally arrives, springing an ending that is as alarming as it is daring. In lesser hands it would have been blatantly exploitative. But Behl cuts away at just the right moment, allowing us to pull a deep breath and let our thoughts run amok.
[Not For Reproduction]
