Friday, July 7, 2017

Death in the Gunj



Hey, Rama and me enjoyed the 109 minutes of Death in the Gunj by Konkana Sensharma on amazon. In remote McCluskiegunj, Jharkhand (earlier Bihar), a group comes to rest, relax, refresh. Heard and read about McCluskiegunge in the essay, Somewhere to Call Their Own by Ian Jack in his collection Mofussil Junction, Indian Encounters 1997-2012. The word ganj or gunge means a storehouse or market in Hindi. Anglo Indians settled here, died and more or less no more, me presumes; or mixed up with tribals. Which is perfectly okay. 'About 1,500 feet up in the Chota Nagpur hills, in eastern India, there lies a sprawling monument to racial fears and fancies, and to an idea of nationhood that shimmered temptingly in the years between the two world wars and then vanished leaving this as its only trace,' writes Ian Jack. And for Konkana Sensharma it is to play a ghost game. Playing it, sitting around a table, Shutu (Vikrant Massey), is put down for attention; and Vikrant does it well, with minimum chatter; every man and woman in the party is traced, fine mud paths rib forests and Konkana starts cameraing. Please, it is not a ghost or horror film. The film has the pace of a middle-distance runner; being with the crowd and then Shutu breaking away... he and a little girl Tani, become friends; bury a dead insect with prayers; he does not and desires a woman, who else but Kalki; he is a failure, broke and plans to go back to Bardhaman, near Calcutta; including Tani, everyone gives up on him. Om Puri does a mad, rummy role with ease; a scene is enough for the Master; the music of forest dwellers has a zing. We liked it a lot and perhaps breeding backs Konkana. As the camera beams into a moth preserved in a book by Shutu, or the stray puppy wading into the party, and the high tempo when the little girl Tani is lost in the forest and we thought the film is climaxing. No thats left to Om Puri and Vikrant Massey. The telling has grace and some style; there is a sharp drop mid-way; yet, the film kept us in our arm chairs. When is your next film, Konkana. A request: Do one with your mother, Aparna Sen. Thanks for Gunj.  

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