Skip to main content

Aesthetics of Dislocation

By



Ivan’s woman (2011)

Chilean director Francisca Silva’s feature, Ivan’s Woman, is a dark, chilling portrayal of 40-year-old Ivan and his 15-year-old captive, Natalia. When Natascha Kampusch was kidnapped in Vienna at the age of 10, it wowed the world by the paradoxical relationship that was generated between her and her abductor. Inspired by this story, Director Francisca Silva brings us her opera prima - Ivan's woman.
Since she was a little girl, Natalia lives captive in Ivan’s house. Though Ivan plays a dominant figure over Natalia, she accommodates the present situation of her life in order to live and they live like a family. Everything changes when she has her sexual awakening; the kidnapper’s power begins to weaken. Ivan begins to show his desire for love and a woman’s companionship. The house is transformed into an amoral theatre of war, in which Ivan and Natalia struggle with each other, exchanging love for freedom. With the young woman's coming of age, they find themselves acquiring a new level of intimacy. Spurred on by their isolation from the world, closed limits of captivity and most importantly the extinction of moral values, the movie is a wonderful fusion of love, lust, freedom and companionship.

Filmistaan (2012)



Directed by Nitin Kakkark, Filmistaan succeeds as a movie about the magic of movies, with their power to unite audiences who breathlessly take in the sights and sounds of another world. The movie projects the life of an aspiring Indian actor who has been abducted and a Pakistani who smuggles pirated Hindi movies. The idea of co-existence is undeniable in Filmstaan, where kidnapped Indian production grunt Sunny bonds with his Pakistani captors over their shared love of Bollywood. The movie transcends to the human relationship beyond the borders of geographical and political differences

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Hindolam: S

By
When someone is taken away from you, you realise how much you need that person. The universe took 'him' away from her and she wasn't ready to give up yet. She needed to get back to 'him', to her world. That was the only thought that crossed her mind, it consumed her. Her fear, perplexities and doubts vanished, this was the moment she figured out what she really wanted. She realised that she knew it all along. She loved 'him' so dearly that she wouldn't leave 'him' for anything in the world.  She told him, "I belong to 'him'. No matter how intensely you love me, I will love 'him', not you. Because it was a promise for a lifetime. Even death can't do us apart. Let me go. I have to go back to 'him'. I know I'm hurting you but 'he' needs me. And do you know how ardently I love and admire 'him'? As much as you love me, if not more. And 'he' loves me much more than that also. ” His moist eyes...
Post a Comment
Read more

Rage

By
Rage, rage, rage! Rage unto the roaring skies and rob the mighty waves of light; And sound the clash of Titans. Bring me them in the arc, I shall drink them to the less. Ah, my Angels and Devils,  Rage unto the eternal fire and waters, I shall blow the west wind and chariot unto the Eastern skies. I carry the unquenched fire and sound the trumpet of war. They devoured Prometheus's liver, Defiled Hypatia upon Caesareum's altar, Stripped by oyster shells, Bathed in the blood of Jesus, the Nazarene. I bury them. Yes, I bury them. I see the reversal of the time-  Those who walk on land shall return to their origin. The slave of the past, Bearer of forefathers' sins, Shed your blood, find solace in your shadows, As they demand the return of your sins.           Show me your hands           For, they drop blood            and wipe the stains of sins they p...
2 comments
Read more

Kundera

By
Emerging from the lampshade, a nocturnal butterfly fluttered erratically, startled by the sudden overhead light. As I closed the book, the strains of a distant piano and violin drifted weakly from below. Lost in contemplating the butterfly's flight patterns, I found myself entranced. Kundera, sensing my bewilderment, remarked on the rhythm, the highs and lows of the musical strains below. He spoke of the interconnectedness of each note, emphasizing how even the pauses between them contributed to the symphony's beauty. I was drawn to the profound silence, where a symphony was meticulously orchestrated. Interrupting my reverie, she snatched the book from my chest, exclaiming, "What are you reading?" I could only respond with an "Ah!"
Post a Comment
Read more