अंकुर

Very moving and powerful look at both the caste system and the treatment of women as objects in rural India, in the early 1950s.

A young woman from the serf class is taken in and slowly seduced by her arrogant, handsome young "master" whose house she keeps. But when she becomes pregnant, and his promised child bride finally becomes old enough to join him in the house, our heroine is slowly, painfully pushed aside and locked out.

The film is occasionally heavy handed in its politics, but the truth behind the story makes the slightly agit-prop nature forgivable.

This has none of the singing, dancing and theatrics we have come to associate with modern Indian cinema. This hearkens back to the stark, quiet realism of Satyajit Ray, with complex characters and surprising subtlety.

Ankur is literally one the best Indian movies I have ever seen – actually, it ranks as one of my most favorite films of all time. There is something to be said about the Indian Film Industry – while it has altogether crumbled and become wildly glamorous and crass, many of the Indian movies since the advent of cinema and up until the early eighties were stupendous, thought provoking, and wholly a testament to the power of film.

Ankur takes place in rural Andhra Pradesh, where a young man fights his father's wishes to run the family farm. He loses the battle, as all good boys would, gets married, and takes up agrarian life. His switch to that lifestyle is jarring, and he becomes rapidly bitter and enraged – essentially greed takes a hold of him, and he is unable to control himself in many respects. The story continues, largely focused on his housekeeper, Lakshmi (Azmi), and his relationship with her and the surrounding townspeople. His seemingly consistent life of exerting semi-torture and quasi-love for those he encounters is turned upside down when his wife finally arrives.

The character of Lakshmi – an young, largely oppressed by still happy worker is not at all unlike the realities of life in India (especially at that time). Benegal uses her exceptional beauty as a sort of scaffold for the viewer – not only are we sympathetic to her social predicament, but we are because of who she is, her kind words and fidelity.

The most powerful aspect of the film is the director's play on family dynamic, caste, and power. These themes are so interwoven and densely packed into the film, that it is hard to imagine it all coalescing so beautifully in just under two hours. Benegal's films, sometimes noted in the Indian 'New Wave' movement, are generally as such. There is no doubt that this movie has many aspects that are far ahead of its own time – and far too advanced for the people who watched it when it was released.

Benegal's ability to deal with such vital themes makes the movie all the more amazing. Of course, from a simple entertainment standpoint, the movie is rife with short humor and phenomenal close up shots. In fact, there are many off screen elements to the movie that throw hints at the viewer about what is happening; Benegal almost emulates the great Thomas Hardy, except in film.

RATING: 10/10

Review By Kamal K

Ankur is a layered film and deals with issues of caste, sexism, patriarchy, privilege, hypocrisy, the ironies and vagaries of human nature, in an extremely nuances manner.

The fact that Lakshmi is a Dalit is starkly present in every scene. She is shunned by the villagers and even herself. When Surya asks her to make tea and cook for him, she refuses, saying he can't touch anything she has made.

Surya's privilege as an upper-caste, educated, rich man is equally apparent, as he brushes away the issue of discrimination easily and orders people around to do work he has very little knowledge of.

Benegal's talent lay in bringing out the subtleties of Lakshmi's character and Surya's slow maturity. He also deftly depicts the various issues plaguing this part of India, especially in the contrast between Azmi and Nag's roles and how well each is played.

Ankur may not be an easy watch, but it is a necessary one. The language of patriarchy still pervades every aspect of our lives, women are still treated as property.

Ankur is very complex film in it's portrayal. Cinematographer Govind Nihalani captured the village beautifully. It was the first released film of Shabana Azmi for which she got the National Award.

Ankur also showed several social issues like poverty, ugliness of Indian caste system, religious differences of that time, which are equally relevant to today's world.

Ankur is to my mind one of the very best Hindi films ever made. Unusually for Hindi cinema, it is an entirely realistic film without singing and dancing. Since music is of huge commercial importance to Indian cinema, the pressure on directors to include it tends to be impossible to resist and is a constant problem facing 'serious' Indian film-makers. The late seventies was a very special moment with a concerted attempt by some directors ('New Cinema") to buck the commercial trend, of whom the most important were Shyam Benegal and Govind Nihalani (who is responsible for the cinematography in Ankur). Ankur was the first and most strikingly successful films of the "New India" movement (which only lasted some five or six years), Nihalani's Aakrosh (1980) being amongst the last. Working with a young cast (who formed a virtual repertory company for the "New Cinema" films and a committed team, Benegal was able to produce one of the freshest and most compelling of films. Without being in the least pretentious or even belonging to that nebulous category 'the art film', Ankur is a realistic drama without concession that managed also to be a significant commercial success. The acting is superb. Shabana Azmi has had a long and glorious career but has, in my view, never been better than in this, her first important role. Anant Nag (an actor who has never entirely received his due) is also as good here as I have ever seen him. Sadhu Meher (as the deaf and dumb husband) very deservedly won a national award for his performance and Priya Tedulkar is chilling as the narrow-minded malicious young wife. Nihalani's camera-work is also exceptional. In all it is one of those rare occasions when brilliant teamwork around a clearly thought-out project results in a near-perfect film.

For the anecdote: There is a nice moment towards the end of the film where Surya (Anant Nag) is playing records and his wife requests something by Nimmi. Before playing the record, he corrects her by pointing out that the record is in fact by Lata. This is a very typical Benegal touch. Not only does it fix the date of the events (c. 1950) but is at once a comment on Hindi cinema history and on the character of the young wife. 1949 was the key year in establishing the absolute domination of 'playback' singers, notably Lata Mangeshkar whose annus mirabilis this was with massive hit-scores in three films, Barsaat, Mahal and Andaaz. In those days, playback singers were often uncredited and many (like the wife in the film) believed the songs to be sung by the actors and actresses themselves. The reference is particularly sardonic in a film that is itself songless. Nimmi made her début as an actress in Barsaat where she plays a simple mountain girl seduced by a cynical young man from the city and this became her typical role in subsequent films. The wife's preference for Nimmi is therefore a comment on the hypocrisy of her harsh attitude towards Lakshmi in the film.