Matir Moina

"The bird's trapped in the body's cage. Its feet bound by worldly chains, it tries to fly but fails." 'The Clay Bird' opens a door into Bangladesh's fight for independence in the late 1960s when the soon-to-be nation state was a far-flung region of Pakistan, following the partitioning of India in 1947. Increasingly disenchanted with the distant central government due to racial, cultural and economic discrimination, Bangladeshis began taking to the streets in protest, demanding a general election as the springboard for autonomous rule. The election was cancelled and the Pakistani military were sent in to quell the uprising, murdering thousands and destroying population centres. A civil war ensued, eventually leading to independence in 1971. The film is set just prior to the prolonged and bloody uprising, as citizens find themselves galvanized along religious and political lines, with tempers beginning to fray. Rather than depict events at the heart of the capital, the story centres around the lives of a rural family in a remote village, bearing witness to the way in which the winds of change blew across the ordinary citizen. While the intent of this is sound, the end result is something of a mixed bag.

The plight of the family proves an effective allegory for the various Bangladeshi attitudes to the turmoil their world is in. Kazi, the father, a born-again Muslim, reflects the ultra-conservative stand that faith and discipline will unite the people under Allah, and is unable or unwilling to accept that the deeply fractured society around him faces problems that cannot be solved through prayer. Milon, his brother, a young political extremist, stands ready to fight for the nation with the unwavering confidence of the just. Ayesha, Kazi's apolitical wife meanwhile, is interested simply in getting through the ordinary day to day struggles of life. Asma, the daughter, is too young to be constrained by the petty concerns of adults, while Anu, the young son, is propelled unwillingly by conflicting forces and ideologies he doesn't understand. It is the nation in miniature, about to burst at the seams.

Yet there is a somewhat meandering quality to the pacing, perhaps in part because the writer has not entirely decided upon the story he wants to tell. It could very easily simply be the story of a young boy forced to attend a madrasa (Islamic boarding school) by a father terrified his son's mind will be polluted by non-Islamic ideas and therein be a commentary on Islamic extremism itself. Indeed, a large chunk of the film is just that: there is a very telling scene where the young Anu and his uncle watch a Hindu boat race, clearly enjoying themselves, only to be reprimanded for celebrating diversity. Kazi's religious fervour has him at odds with the rest of his family, incapable of being the father and husband they so desperately need. The dogma strangles the family to the point of dysfunction. Equally telling is the character of Milon, whose more secular and open-minded world view is the foundation for the forthcoming nation-state. Religious dogma is equated with denial, while the activist is the realist.

Fortunately, the Islamic discourse eventually digs deeper and there is a nice scene where two of the madrasa teachers make the point that the religion spread so successfully across Bangladesh precisely because it was a peaceful ideology. Whatever one's beliefs, there can be no denying that this sort of discourse on Islam is rarely found outside of Islamic countries. The very idea that it must be spread by force and violence is just such a question pondered with dismay by one teacher struggling to understand how religion became part of the rising civil war in the first place. That the Muslim extremists involved in acts of terrorism rivaling the invading Pakistani army might be missing the point is one of the many tragedies of that war, though it is important to remember that many factors came into play, not least cultural and economic destitution. However, director Tarique Masud does not adequately explore these factors, which if the aim is to give a snapshot of society during that time is quite remiss, suggesting that he is more interested on religious commentary. Yet the film goes beyond the madrasa, so that those set up as the main characters then disappear for long stretches like the inhabitants of a Tolkien novel. This unravels the sequences designed to build up character story lines, with the disjointed result leading to the uneven pacing. This leaves the conflicts faced by some to be either insufficiently built up or not satisfyingly followed through. Masud ultimately needed to choose one storyline and stay with it.

Nonetheless, the cast perform with the conviction and skill necessary to draw the viewer into their characters' worlds – when we are able. However, standouts for me include Russell Farazi as Rokon, Anu's one true friend at the madrasa - a likable, yet misunderstood loner, and the young Farazi is more than able to imbue the character with the complexities that reside in such a part. Soaeb Islam, meanwhile, brings to the wannabe revolutionary a warmth often without any dialogue whatsoever. And while Kazi, the stiff-necked Islamic convert, gives Jayanto Chattopadhyay not a lot of range, this does allow for a meaningful scene at the end where the horrors of war force the character to face his religious convictions. And while Nurul Islam Bablu is no Marina Golhabari, he gives Anu the profound innocence that the script requires of the character.

Ultimately, 'The Clay Bird' is not quite the tale of Bengali struggle it purports to be, due to unfortunate scripting and editing choices that take much of the wind out of its sails as a result. However, it opened up a window into a history with which I was hitherto unfamiliar, with many thought-provoking and sometimes touching sequences that still manage to shine through – even if the sum of the parts is conspicuous by its absence.

This was one of my surprise favourites of the Edinburgh International Film Festival 2002. It painted a rich picture of life in Bangladesh during the revolutionary period of the 1970's with all it's highs and lows. It is filmed in a very documentary style (the director is a seasoned documentary film maker) with all the facts carefully shown to allow the viewer to make up their own mind on things. The visuals are very clean and colourful (again very documentary-esque) with beautiful shots of the fantastic Bangladeshi landscape. The music used in the film seems to be traditional (not that I know much about traditional Bangladeshi music!) and is very touching.

What is truly remarkable about this film is the way all it's points are well balanced, not showing anything to be absolutely right nor wrong. It's portrayal of Islam is fascinating and I learned more about the religion than I'd known before.

Another astonishing point I got from the film was it painted such a good picture of humanity, warts and all. I was watching this pictures of a normal family who's lives are supposed to be so much different than mine, different culture, politics, religion, who live on the other side of the world and yet then seemed so natural and so familiar, not that different at all really.

It's a film I will never forget and I truly recommend that anybody who gets the chance to see it should.

Matir Moina does not only offer a story. Films in general do not need to offer just a story. Any book, play, storyteller, TV series and other media can do that. Being interested in Hindi, Punjabi, Pakistani and Bengali films, music(s), religions and cultures, I was marvelled at Matir Moina for its richness and subtleties on all levels. Bringing forth the complex currents of religious and political movements, showing how each react to one another, and how illusions can be shattered. The beautiful hope of Islam, as being a religion of the heart and not the sword. The post-colonial ebb and flow in cultural identity: people's reactions to British or western thought turns into a sterile regression.

The photography is marvelous, rendering rich textures of age-old village houses, walls and heaven-like gardens in an honest and aesthetic mastery.

The spectator is not taken for granted or for a fool, actors speak Urdu, Hindi, Arabic and Farsi when they have to, and seem more to "be" than to "act". No two-dimensional stereotype is used, as in the classical Hindi "lover", "hater", "gorgeous-bachelor-husband-to-be" and the "beautiful-single-virgin-singer/dancer-lover". Only true faces, true types, true clothes and true singing. The music. If you search for original Hindi/Urdu devotional or not songs and music, this film is packed with it. And unlike other films, you do not feel that actor/singers are faking it, there are not fake instruments that are just there for the looks but don't actually sound on the score. What you see is what you hear. The voices are breathtaking; the lyrics do not revolve around "flat-love" and "depthless-poetry", making it a treasure for the ear as well for the curious eye. This is a gem. The whole film unfolds slowly and steadily around many characters, showing how each develops under harsh social changes and instability.

It is not action-packed and fast-paced. It is not pink-tinted and kitschy love oriented. It is not over the top overdone musical. This is a serious art film, beautiful in its silences and in its screams. Human in its depiction of its characters. Respectful in its dealing with religion. Credible in it acting. A must, for an internal view of what happened to Bangladesh in particular, and to the vast region in general.

Can't wait to see it again.

I don't know why the person from Newcastle UK had a problem in following this wonderful storyline and characters of which there were but a few. Perhaps it was too engaging and not of the Monty Python genre!

I found the film beautifully directed, filmed, and acted. the history of this forsaken country is well known with tribal and governmental conflicts over many centuries. the depiction of the religious conflicts and family matters was masterfully rendered.

the zealotry of the father eventually destroyed everything worthwhile in his life - daughter, son, wife and brother. one could see the demise progress throughout the film. a lesson worth remembering which i believe was the focus and intent of the makers of the film.

Tareq Masud excels as the director of "Matir Moina". His early works on the glorious liberation war "Muktir Gaan" & "Muktir Kotha" - his other masterpieces clearly shows the rise of an world class director.

Here he ables himself to portray the beginning of the revolution before the 1971 war with a cool picture of a village where religious strictness & openness both coexists and puts Anu - the central character with a different view. This is the real picture of a moderate muslim country like Bangladesh - where some people are regularly trying to shatter the image of the nice country. This movie will clear the views of the worldwide viewers about Bangladesh.

It can be said that this should be a tough contender in the Oscars. Good luck Tareq Masud!!!!!!!!!!!!