Normally, when a lady director makes a film, the expectation is that she will primarily deal with feminine concerns, though no such assumption is made when the director is a man. In fact, a number of films highlighting women’s plight, their struggles, or the unfairness of social norms vis-à-vis women have been made with remarkable insight by many male filmmakers.
It was this insight into the male world by a woman that struck this reviewer while watching Pritha Chakraborty’s film Phera. Her inquisitive and discerning eye was so evident in her presentation of typically male problems that, to a man, it might seem scary how well a woman reads them.
This is Pritha’s second film. Her first was Mukherjee Dar Bou, released around seven years ago. That film dealt with a middle-class family where the poor husband was sandwiched between his wife and mother, and it was the women who ultimately worked things out. Phera is different. It deals primarily with a father-son relationship, the ego hassles and misunderstandings that occur, and the misconceptions harboured on both sides. There are no feminine mediators here to smooth things over. Consensus, if any, is reached through trial and error.
In its presentation and packaging, it offers glimpses into the lives of ordinary people who have simple longings rather than grandiose plans. Pritha has infused the film with a pace that gradually draws one in as it ambles along.
The biggest malady faced by the educated middle class is that children, once grown up, leave the city or their ancestral homes for greener and more lucrative pastures. Pritha presents this reality stoically, dramatically, comically and sensitively, avoiding highfalutin sentimental outbursts. There is neither melodrama nor maudlin sentimentality. The film captures the spirit of changing times, mores and values.
The film’s plus point lies in its casting. Ritwick Chakraborty and Sanjay Mishra, as son and father respectively, exude a chemistry that strikes the audience exactly where it should. Mishra is that funny, slightly cantankerous dad who is highly amusing when he belongs to a friend. The same traits in one’s own father, however, can be exasperating, as son Ritwick experiences. Both actors perform with such naturalness that not for a second does it seem as though they are acting out scripted lines.
Subrat Dutta, as the do-gooder friend so typical of Calcutta culture, provides a fresh, modern perspective.
The two women characters in the film make brief but significant contributions. Both Priyanka Sarkar and Sohini Sarkar present two sides of today’s women — one ambitious and career-oriented yet sensitive, the other confused but strong and independent. An anomaly that perhaps only a woman director could achieve and present with such finesse. Pradip Bhattacharya and Biplab Banerjee are both entertaining and play typical everyday characters with elan.
The way Subhankar Bhar handled the camera and used it to capture the spirit of the film is admirable. It is not just about lighting; it is the mood contained within each frame that speaks to the audience. Subhajit Singha, as editor, had a difficult task, but his snips help pace up the film. The background score and foley blend well, and music is used with economy. The song composed by Ranajoy Bhattacharjee provides a melodic backdrop to the father-son bonding.
The film’s locales — the old, decrepit village home with its verdurous open spaces and Calcutta in its modern avatar, a concrete jungle — bring out the contrast that is constantly confronting us in today’s upwardly mobile world. Last but not least, Pradip Kumar Nandy deserves a pat on his back for choosing to place his faith in Phera.