Brick Lane

My sister, one of my best sources for literature that doesn't disappoint, told me that Brick Lane was one of her all time favorite books. I didn't get to it, but I did get to the movie.

After cinematically traveling to India via "Before the Rains" a couple of weeks ago, Brick Lane took me to Bangledesh. With continuous flashbacks to her home country, I followed Nazneem,a young Bangladeshi woman to the London ghetto in the early 1980's.

As was common in her culture, Nazneem left home at age sixteen to pursue an arranged marriage She has two daughters, who we meet as young teens, one of whom is as rebellious and difficult as any American teenager we've known (or been). Nazneem is dreadfully unhappy in her new life partly because she misses her sister back home. The other reasons have something to do with never having lived life on her own terms, losing her first born and a touch of early mother loss, too.

Let's just say that the different manifestations of love are examined in Brick Lane through the experience of Nazneem. How her heart opens and how she matures is unexpected. Without giving too much away, there is a drop dead gorgeous character named Karim who has something to do with it. Like a good book, and I suspect this is one, there are delicious surprises. Characters endear us in the end that we couldn't stand at first and others we admire, fall from grace. The story is rich.

So, I'll be getting my copy of Brick Lane by Monica Ali and will let you know how it measures up to this beautiful movie.

Weeks can go by without a worthwhile movie to see, but to have Before the Rains and Brick Lane in the same month. Now, that's a gift.

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.

This adaptation of Monica Ali's best-selling novel follows the conflicts in the little world of Nazneen, a Bangladeshi girl who leaves behind happy days playing with her sister round their village for an arranged marriage in 1980s London. At first she is almost living a life of purda within the walls of her East London council flat with her oafish middle-aged husband, fearing her life is over. Director Gavron balances intimate moments against the increasingly tense atmosphere in Brick Lane as the tightly knit community reacts to the events of 11 September 2001, and public attitudes towards Moslems or anyone who just looks 'different' afterwards. To emphasise the smallness of this community and of the family within it, many of the shots are close-up or taken through gauze, hanging clothes or glass; the camera-work is practically all steadycam, sharing rooms, balconies and stairwells with the protagonists. Struggling to play the 'good wife', Nazneen one day discovers a measure of independence in a borrowed sewing machine, which allows her to fill some of the gaps made by her husband's erratic employment; through this she collides with life again, as the clothing delivery lad Karim knocks at her door. One night, husband and wife are in front of the TV as 'Brief Encounter' is showing. On the other hand, we could just be seeing into Nazneen's head as she struggles to cope with her dilemma. As time passes, it becomes obvious that no decision she makes will be simple and easy, especially as her well-meaning but foolish husband gradually reveals himself to be a philosopher, and a man who feels pain. It's a closely observed film about closely observed lives, and probably will repay repeat viewings.

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.