Pyre

Pyre is the kind of film that comes along once in a while and completely changes your sense of storytelling. Watching it at the BIFF, I was struck by the haunting beauty of the visuals and the sheer emotional weight of Padam and Tulsi's story. It is a quiet film, but it speaks volumes about aging, loneliness, and enduring love. The mountain setting is both a metaphor and a reality, majestic, isolating, and deeply moving. Easily one of the most unforgettable films I have seen in years. If you love films that touch the soul, this is a must watch. It will stay for very long after it ends and leaves you changed.

Pyre broke me in the quietest, most graceful way. The story may sound simple an elderly couple living alone in a remote village but the emotional complexity is immense. What do we owe our elders? What happens to the people who never leave, who stay behind while the world rushes ahead? Padam and Tulsi's daily life is mundane on the surface, but every moment is loaded with longing, history, and heartbreak. The performances are astonishingly real. Their chemistry is not polished or performative, it is lived-in. The cinematography enhances the storytelling instead of distracting from it. I found myself completely pulled into their world, feeling the cold, the quiet, the emptiness. This is a rare kind of film-one that requires patience, but rewards you with genuine emotion. I walked out of the theatre with tears in my eyes and a heart full of empathy.

I caught Pyre at Bengaluru, and it was hands down one of the most emotionally affecting films I have ever experienced. It does not rely on dramatic moments or plot twists. It relies on truth-the truth of what happens to people when their lives slow down, when their world empties out, and when they are left to carry the weight of memory alone. Padam and Tulsi's chemistry is breathtaking because it is so ordinary so filled with love disguised as frustration, concern hidden behind sarcasm. Watching this film felt like sitting next to someone and listening to a story they have never told out loud.

What Pyre does so well is present a story that feels painfully close to reality while using cinematic language that is hauntingly beautiful. I saw it at BIFF and was moved beyond words. The story is simple on the surface-a couple navigating old age and loneliness in an abandoned village-but it holds within it layers of emotion, cultural shifts, and human truth. The way they argue and care for each other reminded me of my grandparents. The pace is slow but necessary, it allows you to feel the weight of time, silence, and absence. The film does not force drama; it reveals emotion in glances, pauses, and quiet routines. The visuals are beautiful, especially the wide mountain shots that contrast with the suffocating stillness of their lives.

I saw Pyre at BIFF and was completely unprepared for how deeply it would affect me. It is a raw and honest portrayal of aging, of lives that become invisible as the world moves on. Padam and Tulsi are not perfect-they argue, complain, joke, and endure-but that is what makes them so real. Their relationship is one of the most authentic I have seen onscreen. The camera work is stunning, but never distracts from the emotional weight of the story. This film is not for those seeking action or fast edits-it is for those who are willing to sit, observe, and feel. Watching it in a packed theater at BIFF made the experience even more powerful.