A Night of Knowing Nothing (2021) - Kapadia
Payal Kapadia's debut film, A Night of Knowing Nothing is a tapestry of grainy 16mm, archival and surveillance cam footage, beautifully capturing the spirit of youth and their undying idealism in chaotic, uncertain times we live in.
A woman reading wistful letters written by L, a lovelorn student at The Film and Television Institute of India, narrates the film. Her belongings were found in the dormitory where she stayed as a student. These letters, addressed to her boyfriend who is no longer in school, were written on a notebook and never sent. From that, we gather that her love is not reciprocated because of India's rigid caste system: his parents don't approve of their relationship and have taken him away. Kapadia and her team use her letters as a springboard for an essayistic examination of contemporary India.
A Night of Knowing Nothing starts and ends with black and white footage of young people dancing. These silent images of undeterminable time period, is joyous, energetic, and emblematic of college life. They are dancing in front of a movie projected on a big screen. Cinema or visual image here is already tied to the past, invoking nostalgia. There are images of young people in their rooms- some laying in bed half naked, some watching Godard's Breathless on a small TV.
There are empty darkened alleys and billowing curtains, sound of rain and birds chirping accompany these images. Then there's a home movie shot in color, of a wedding, which seems like from the 70s. (judging by their clothes)
As L writes to her lover about their mutual friends, we get the glimpse of 2015 strike at the FTII, a public college, protesting the appointment of a Hindu Nationalist actor to the chair by the right-wing Modi Government. Their strike spreads to college campuses across India, protesting not only the government's assault on public education system but also the violent crackdown of the minority Muslim population. The footage of protests and sloganeering is cheerful at times. But the baton wielding police in the streets and the surveillance footage of masked right-wing militia thugs breaking down the barricaded doors of a university building full of students and corralling them and beating them mercilessly are truly terrifying.
These issues are explained with the voices of newscasters and leaders of the demonstrators with or without visuals, always shot on grainy film. The mood and energy is same as that of May 1968, when universities across Europe exploded in protest against the governments and its policies and war in Vietnam. And just like back then, students question if their movement could be truly successful without the support of the country's working class. This is especially true with a country like India where the deep-rooted social tradition of the caste system make things a lot more complex and difficult. Justice for Dalit (the lowest in the caste system) become the theme of the protests. And L's love affair with a boy from another caste comes up again, tying the narrative threads.
As the film plays out, L in her later letters, isn't sure if she was writing to her unresponsive lover or the ideal version of him, whom she can confide in her thoughts and feelings. Memories fade, but nostalgia remains. From Godard and May 68', Mythical Hindu God films, to Chris Marker, A Night of Knowing Nothing weaves intoxicating visual, textural contemplation of our relationship with cinema as an unintentional but nevertheless undeniably nostalgic medium, even if the image is from only few years ago. It ends in a hopeful tone. As one leader of the protesters addresses the crowds that it doesn't matter what came before them or what's handed down to them and no matter what today's circumstances are, the moment right now is theirs for them to seize it. Keep on dancing.
Thursday, February 10, 2022
Swept Up in Chaos
Fabian: Going to the Dogs (2021) - Graf
Veteran German filmmaker/TV director Dominik Graf's Fabian: Going to the Dogs (last year's multiple Lola Award winner), based on Erich Kästner's book Fabian, Die Geschichte eines Moralisten (Fabian, the Story of Moralist), chronicles madness and decadence during the last years of the Weimar era Germany just as Nazism was rising to power through the eyes of a young advertising executive. With multiple voice overs crisscrossing and energetic camera movement and editing, Fabian plays out like a visualized jazz improv session, taking you back to the hubbub of 1930s Berlin.
We observe Jacob Fabian (Tom Schilling), originally a country boy from Dresden, as he precariously balances his hectic life as a cigarette company adman and pulling all-nighters at the anything goes nightclubs with booze and women with his well-to-do friend Labude (Albrecht Schuch), neglecting his writing career.
Everything changes when he meets Cornelia (Saskia Rosendahl), an entertainment lawyer in training and aspiring actress at the backstage of a club one night. It's a love at first sight and Fabian can't believe himself as a thirty-something wise-cracking nihilist falling in love with 'another actress wannabe type'. But Cornelia turns out to be a smart modern woman who will not let anything stop her ambitions.
In the meantime, the repercussions of WWI are starting to drag the country down, the bread line keeps getting longer for veterans, people lose their jobs and there are incendiary rhetoric and marches of the Nazi party on the street. And Jacob, loses his job too and hides the fact to Cornelia and his mom.
Things are getting dire - Cornelia leaves him for a powerful movie producer. Then the PTSD suffering Labude first disappears to an underground whorehouse, only to reemerge to kill himself in his father's grand mansion.
Deeply affected by all the happenings, Fabian retreats to his family home in Dresden where idyllic country tranquility rules the day. Still very much in love with each other, he and Cornelia promise to see each other again in Berlin. But the fate would have it the other way.
With dizzying camerawork, breakneck editing and flashbacks sprinkled throughout, Fabian: Going to the Dogs starts with a rhythm of a jazz jam session and finds its narrative rhythm as the main character gets a hold of his own narrative. It's a beautiful directing in Graf's part, orchestrating the chaotic and colorful backdrop serving a long drawn out, sweet love story. Youthful Schilling is perfect as a wise-ass misanthrope, an wily observer of life who gets swept up and falls victim to the tumultuous time in history.
The film shouldn't be regarded as one of those German prestige pictures, depicting the past with period costumes and sets, because it's not a mere nostalgia picture. It's a stark reminder of reemergence of fascism and ultra-right wing nationalism across Europe. Kästner's pacifist stance in the 30s and moralist point of view might come across as naive but should serve as warning to anyone now to be more alert and not fall victim to the collective nationalist fervor.
Fabian: Going to the Dogs opens in theaters on 2/11 in New York and 3/4 in Los Angeles.
We observe Jacob Fabian (Tom Schilling), originally a country boy from Dresden, as he precariously balances his hectic life as a cigarette company adman and pulling all-nighters at the anything goes nightclubs with booze and women with his well-to-do friend Labude (Albrecht Schuch), neglecting his writing career.
Everything changes when he meets Cornelia (Saskia Rosendahl), an entertainment lawyer in training and aspiring actress at the backstage of a club one night. It's a love at first sight and Fabian can't believe himself as a thirty-something wise-cracking nihilist falling in love with 'another actress wannabe type'. But Cornelia turns out to be a smart modern woman who will not let anything stop her ambitions.
In the meantime, the repercussions of WWI are starting to drag the country down, the bread line keeps getting longer for veterans, people lose their jobs and there are incendiary rhetoric and marches of the Nazi party on the street. And Jacob, loses his job too and hides the fact to Cornelia and his mom.
Things are getting dire - Cornelia leaves him for a powerful movie producer. Then the PTSD suffering Labude first disappears to an underground whorehouse, only to reemerge to kill himself in his father's grand mansion.
Deeply affected by all the happenings, Fabian retreats to his family home in Dresden where idyllic country tranquility rules the day. Still very much in love with each other, he and Cornelia promise to see each other again in Berlin. But the fate would have it the other way.
With dizzying camerawork, breakneck editing and flashbacks sprinkled throughout, Fabian: Going to the Dogs starts with a rhythm of a jazz jam session and finds its narrative rhythm as the main character gets a hold of his own narrative. It's a beautiful directing in Graf's part, orchestrating the chaotic and colorful backdrop serving a long drawn out, sweet love story. Youthful Schilling is perfect as a wise-ass misanthrope, an wily observer of life who gets swept up and falls victim to the tumultuous time in history.
The film shouldn't be regarded as one of those German prestige pictures, depicting the past with period costumes and sets, because it's not a mere nostalgia picture. It's a stark reminder of reemergence of fascism and ultra-right wing nationalism across Europe. Kästner's pacifist stance in the 30s and moralist point of view might come across as naive but should serve as warning to anyone now to be more alert and not fall victim to the collective nationalist fervor.
Fabian: Going to the Dogs opens in theaters on 2/11 in New York and 3/4 in Los Angeles.
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