Brick Lane

Before I go any further - I have not read the book. I might now do so, however, as I believe with books and movies, it's usually best to see the film first. So much has to be lost when one transfers a story to screen, that the book is almost always an enriching experience.

I fell over this almost in error at my local DVD store, so I did not see it on a big screen, which I would have liked. quite apart from the scenery and photography, it might have helped to be able to see the sub titles! There weren't that many of those, not enough to spoil the story.

I felt that the early childhood scenes, in their innocence and sudden suicide of the mother, then leading to the point where the father could not keep both daughters at home and so arranged the marriage (my interpretation) to this "educated man" in England, were heartbreaking in retrospect, and there was quite a bit of yearning and retrospection for the poor bride. We met her some astonishing 17 years later, with her teenage daughter and younger child, not sure how old she was. They were not afraid of life, whereas their mother seemed to be virtually housebound from terror. When she met the neighbour who lent/gave the sewing machine to her, it was an enormously liberating experience for her and she began to think and act differently. The young man who was the catalyst in the change for the family, could have had two heads, she was so desperate for the fun and affection that she believed her sister to be experiencing. Her husband, a bumbling poor soul, whom life constantly overlooked was unable to cope with his daughter's puberty let alone the mounting reaction to 9/11. He became more lovable as the film progressed, obviously to both Nazeem and myself.

The usurer who tried to blackmail Nazeem into extra payments, the neighbour and the others with small parts in the story were all as exquisitely drawn as the main characters. Nazeem began to understand that her life was her reality and when she held her husband's hand on the way home from the Bengal Tigers' meeting, one had a real sense of her maturity. There is so much more to this story than the top layer. I loved so many aspects of it - the acting, the photography, the story. Maybe it was simplified almost beyond belief, but that is normal. I found it moving, educational and hugely enjoyable. I shall recommend it.

As I started watching Brick Lane my heart soared. The beauty of its appreciation of nature (Bangladeshi scenes from the lead character's memory) reminded me of the masterpieces of Deepa Mehta if not of Satyajit Ray. It tells of a young girl whose father marries her off to an educated Bangladeshi back in London. Displaced from her homeland, her heart is full of secret sorrow until she finds herself attracted to a man younger than her husband and much closer to her own age. From that point she begins much soul searching, examining her own identity and place in the world.

"For us," says director Sarah Gavron, "'Brick Lane' as a title symbolises a sanctuary to successive waves of immigrants searching for home. That search, rather than the bricks and mortar of the street, is at the heart of the story." I admit that her description helps me to have a better view of the film but I wish it had been more apparent in the footage.

A beautiful love story develops, with a subplot about resisting Islamic extremism. Yet I soon felt as if I were watching a kind of updated Jane Austen novel where the Brick Lane (East London) Bangladeshi community were used simply to provide a fresh plot device.

I read some of the adverse comments from Brick Lane spokespeople that plagued the film's opening. I didn't feel I could relate to them. I found nothing offensive in the film. Except it seemed to me somehow a curiously British portrayal of Bangladeshis. There is plenty of reference to Bangladeshi or Muslim issues but authenticity seems a little uneven. Translation of a prayer is touching. But a reference to the Muslims that died in Partition (at the end of colonial rule) seems less heartfelt. The young daughter, who has only ever known British ways, is a very convincing character on the other hand. I am tempted to wish that the original prize-winning writer had focused her efforts more on the daughter, someone much closer to her own diaspora experience.

As a film it succeeds. Exquisite photography and bundles of unarticulated emotion sweep us along at a heady pace. As a glimpse of another culture it is on less secure ground. The people claiming it misrepresented them may not have been statistically significant but why did it stir up so much trouble? Consider this. When Gurinder Chadha made Bride and Prejudice, she focused on the positive qualities of the two protagonists and cultures (India and America). When Deepa Meetha made Water, she focused on the positive strengths of the women on whose behalf the film was (in part) a protest. Sarah Gavron's heroine in Brick Lane, on the other hand, is almost an entirely a passive recipient of circumstance. We suspect she is a lovely person, but it needs more than some idyllic childhood memories of running through paddy fields to pinpoint the beauty within her. Much as the director's comment gives a higher purpose and reading to the film, it is not so obvious from viewing alone. Her comment about a sanctuary is a very spiritual one - perhaps even capable of uniting Muslims and Jews one day. But although her protagonist's husband does make reference to it at a Muslim meeting it could too easily be missed. Sadly, but not surprisingly, some audiences have reacted to the extremely personal (but more negative) images of her trapped and isolated woman.

For a film with a serious intent, Brick Lane stops short at quality entertainment. Compare Mira Nair's epic The Namesake, which asks questions about identity and answers them. Or the way Satyajit Ray looks at home and identity through simple observation If Sarah Gavron had wanted to accomplish anything as grand as the search for sanctuary in a foreign land, her scope needed to be more ambitious.

I'm sure Brick Lane will strike some kind of chord with those depicted within, namely British based immigrants from the sub-continent, as everything from the struggling to adjust to a new life and culture right the way through to having to face discrimination from the locals, is detailed. For the rest of us, the film is nicely effective enough in its dramatic qualities to somewhat enthusiastically recommend, as the plight of a frustrated middle aged woman of Bangladeshi descent, whom strives to work things out with her husband; maintain the mothering of two daughters and just generally get by, is explored. The film revolves around this family and a handful of characters whom live in London's Brick Lane Muslim community, but there is no reason Sarah Gavron's film should be a film limited to representing just the British Muslims living there, more-so representative of those throughout the United Kingdom as a collective whole. An additional sense of refreshment arrives in the form of the film revolving around a woman, detailing the tribulations of a female living under British conditions but not enjoying this apparent promised land and suffering similar hardships at the hands of her husband as she might indeed go through back home anyway.

This lead is Nazneen (Chatterjee), a woman we observe walks down the titular Brick Lane amidst the bricked up walls; market stalls and generally cramped, enclosed locale after having previously dreamt of her home land in Bangladesh as this tranquil, beautiful and apparently elusive paradise she strives to be at one with. The dreams of being back at home stem from the letters she receives from her sister, detailing a free and spirited life away from arranged marriages and enclosed living; the montages and sequences of Bangladesh in stark comparison to how Gavron shoots Nazneen in London, as her face fills the frame and she keeps a look out on all sides of the screen suggesting awareness; paranoia and disdain. Nanzeen lives with husband Chanu (Kaushik), someone much elder than she is and a suitor whom was the result of an arranged marriage, and the two aforementioned daughters in Bibi and Rukshana. Nazneen is additionally haunted by the memory of her own mother taking her life many years ago.

One would assume the point Gavron is trying to make through Brick Lane, and I'd additionally assume a similar idea filters through in the novel on which this is based, is that the idea of sub-Continent immigration to the British Isles brings about the antithesis of what glories and riches the Western world appear to promise. In living in Britain, few can doubt husband Chanu's success story in owning an apartment; earning much in the way of money and possessing a decent job in computing, but what about the women whom are forced to tag along? The film's view on their stance has us believe it leads them to longing for a life back where they were; that the temptation to commit infidelity arises and that this life does nothing but spur on the woman of the relationship to garner her own job, all under this canopy of individualism and independence – the trouble being that, highlighted through Chanu, it tears the family apart as the cracks in the plan to arrange marriages and ship on out of places like Bangladesh to the First World as soon as possible for as long as possible begin to dramatically appear.

If Chanu means well, then it is a meaning well that rejects British, indeed Western, attitudes. A crucial scene sees Chenu bring home a computer and attempt to hook up to the Internet, something one of the daughters rejects in her turning away of modernity; embracing of independence and continuous talk of wishing, like her mother, to be back home in Bangladesh instead of dwelling in London. Nazneen's venturing astray from her husband and the world in which she finds herself sees her land a romantic relationship in the form of an affair with a young fabric salesman named Karim (Simpson), whom visits her during the day when Chenu is at work. He is unlike Chenu, he stands in in stark binary-opposition to him in that he's younger, slimmer and much more enthusiastic about Nazneen's idea of being a tailor and thus engaging in a profession; something it appeared Chenu saw as a threat to his masculinity as an apparent bread-bringer. One such scene sees Gavron shoot one of their more intimate scenes amidst a cluster of wine bottles colouring the screen in a blood red as the other half of it retains a clearer, whiter hue; thus highlighting the clashing senses of both danger in the illegality of the event juxtaposed with the supposed liberation she feels in being with Karim. Film aficionados will have already picked up on the inclusion of David Lean's mid 1940s melodrama Brief Encounter, a film Nazneen glares at as it plays on television as the item of an extra marital affair emerges.

In what is a film that rejects the view of Asian immigrants coming to Britain for a far better existence, particularly in regards to the women, the film is equally stern in its toying with other conventions or 'expectations'; a local loan shark is this elderly, eccentric woman and the love story between Nazneen and Karim seeing the female participant of the relationship objectifying the male and using him for a sexual release rather than the other way around. The film saves its richest example of symbolism for the very end when it uses a train station complete with a number of tracks visibly heading off into a number of different tunnels and directions as emotions and the want for escape, or liberation, reach agonising peaks; suggesting forks in life that break off down dark, looming routes into the unknown. The film balances its ranging content of social, racial and gender commentary studiously; culminating in an interesting drama about an immigrant family coming apart.

From the opening scene of two young sisters chasing one another through a sunny field in Bangladesh (actually shot in India) to the very last poignant shot of the older sister as a mature woman looking back on her life and forward to the rest of it, I was captivated by this film. The performance of Tannishta Chatterjee as the wife is so touching that it is almost embarrassing to watch her, as if one is a Peeping Tom. Trapped in a tiny flat, and in an arranged marriage, with two teenage daughters, silently bearing the loss of her first born, a son, dreaming of her sister and family in Bangladesh and living for her sister's letters, she is detached from the world outside, alone, isolated - despite being in the midst of the Bengali community in Brick Lane, London. I accompanied her as she went out, crossed the concrete yard, did her shopping, straightened her headscarf, avoiding the white tattooed lady next door and the old Bengali widow, a debt-collector. The claustrophobic flat, piled high with daily necessities, the overwhelming presence of her husband, rather charmingly pompous, and brilliantly played by Satish Kaushik, the two depressed and bored daughters, is tangible, as is her husband's corpulent body when he rolls on top of her with wheezing breath in their depressingly small bed. Longing to earn some money so that she can fulfill her dream of returning home to visit her family, she takes on piece-work, sewing up jeans and glitzy tops, and finds herself attracted to and then having an affair with, the young British Muslim who brings the work every week. Sarah Gavron, the young British director, gets beneath the veil, beneath the skin and into the heart of this woman, delivering a portrait, not of a community, but of self-discovery and ultimately of love equalling the work of Satiyajit Ray. We should look forward to her next feature film.

This is a masterpiece of the first rank, as if Satyajit Ray had come back from the dead to do one final great work, and yet the director is a young English girl named Sarah Gavron, who will obviously go from triumph to triumph in the future. The film, the director, the script writer, the cinematographer, the editor, and the superb musical score all deserve Oscars. But most of all, so do Tannishtha Chatterjee as Best Actress and Satish Kaushik who plays her husband as Best Actor. This is one of the most devastatingly tragic and emotional films in years. My wife and I saw it in a private screening tonight, and most people were in tears. Sarah Gavron and Monica Ali the novelist both spoke about the crazy media coverage. The film has been covered by the papers in a dishonest fashion, so alarming that Prince Charles pulled out of attending the premiere. This film is the story of a woman trapped in her life, trapped in her culture, and trapped in an arranged marriage. In the beginning her husband seems to be something of monster, but by the end of the film we see that despite all of his failings, he is a truly noble character. The incredible irony is that Tannishtha Chatterjee, who by her astonishing ability and delicate sensitivity has done more to explain Muslim women to us than anyone I can think of, is herself a Hindu from West Bengal. When I told Monica Ali afterwards that this film would do more for cross-cultural understanding than anything else, she was pleased but looked doubtful. After all, the lives of the people making the film were threatened by a small minority of fanatics ('five men in a sweet shop in Brick Lane' was how it started, growing to seventy malcontents) when they were filming on location in London, and there is a false and hypocritical media storm raging around the film at the moment. It makes a good cheap headline. But we need to forget about all of that and concentrate on what this film really is: a human document of such raw honesty and true feeling that it is like a cry from the hearts of all who have suffered at any time and in any place in our troubled world. People talk about 'understanding', but how are we to achieve it? By making and viewing such films as this, I would suggest. And then there is the endless problem of women being oppressed. If you are not a woman and want to know what that is like, just watch this. The saddest thing of all is the collapse of dreams, and the story is about how the different characters bear the respective collapses of their most cherished ones and try to go on, and do.