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iVIEW AUTHOR:
Kartick Sitaraman (Bombay, India)

email: kartics [at] gmail.com

I went to this movie purely because I try to follow small films, representative of the independent movement, to whatever extent possible. One good reason being, while we have witnessed a slow but sure change in the industry, to make a film like BBF and put it out there still takes some sort of conviction (read: BALLS) on part of the producer / distributor - and that I respect.

I liked the story, the setting, the world into which I was being taken and had completely surrendered myself to the maker even before the Dawson family moved out of the ‘padha’, which is where the story begins. The film is essentially about a 100 yr old building in Kolkata which is so seriously dilapidated, in its bricks as much as in its inhabitants, its sustenance is under question on a daily basis.

So we enter the building to find every family drinking out of its cup of woes, cursing the city, cursing their own fate, and yet getting on with life with either the false hope of a better tomorrow, or under false promises of a better tomorrow, or the utter desperation to escape this ’shitty’ today. Welcome to BB.

However, that is about all that you get from the film, and that is where it disappoints. The film almost ends right where it starts, which is metaphorical with the lives of those it’s dealing with. BBF is about the little things that life is made of, and those little things never change. Every little promise unkept, every small hope undying, and every dream unrealized is the humdrum of everyday life, which is how BBF keeps it. And suddenly towards the end, things change - because they only will when one’s world is shaken.

However the journey, which is the quintessential of any dramatic film is made far less enjoyable than it could have been by poor scripting and weak editing. The film plays out like a stubborn tautology; in desperate need of a better writer and editor. With every subsequent scene, you are watching a scene that you have already seen, hearing dialogues you have already heard and witnessing events you have already witnessed… the film depicts the grind of everyday life at its most unpretentious, ingenuous and hence artless form.

The cast have their own shortcomings in an already suffering script (which therefore reversely demands more from the cast). None of the performances merit a mention, except that of Lillete Dubey’s for the entire duration of the film. Victor Banerjee (I fail to see the calibre of acting that precedes his reputation, at least in the few films of his that I have seen) has his moments in the film, but can’t say he’s good throughout. Neha Dubey holds your attention for most part, but seems like she was cast because she would be able to pull off what the role needed more than anyone else the director could have thought of. Sabyasachi, does what he can to be a menacing bastard, but while we feel sorry for Anne (Neha Dubey), it stems more from the physicality than any layered characterisation. Clayton Rodgers, is unable to connect us to his character except in the climax scene of an outburst about him being a failure… the rest, well, not convincing, but they are there.

The production design is fantastic. What it achieves, given the claustrophobic framing kept through the film in all its interior shots is brilliant, I could almost smell the place. The camerawork, for the most part remains outside the characters; I presume, from the fear of exposing what has to be called shoddy acting, (and retrospectively, terrible dubbing). The audience’s disconnect is as much the shortcoming of camerawork as it is of the actors.

However, at the end of it all, we’re there to see the lives of these people, and for that, I enjoyed the film. It’s a story of a world I know nothing about, and hence enjoy to watch. I only wish it was told much better.