Entertainment Desk :Cast: Mithun Chakraborty, Shweta Basu Prasad, Jisshu Sengupta, Krishna Kishore Mukherjee, Nirmal Kumar, Anjan Srivastav and othersDirection: Late Samir ChandaGenre: DramaDuration: 2 hours 5 minutesStory: It’s a heartbreaking tale of a village postmaster, Darakeshwar (Mithun), who dedicates his sunset years to getting the Keleghai river named after his only daughter, Anjana (Shweta), after her sudden death. Review: Ek Nodir Galpo is a visual masterpiece. The use of light, or the lack of it, to such spectacular effect creates an ultra-real template for the actors to add the dynamics. And they shine. Each character is as real as it gets, not one actor faltering or straying while portraying their simple village life and that touching emotional bonding. Samir Chanda has truly lived up to his reputation as a meticulous art director, be it through his attention to the most trivial of details or through the play of light and shadow that leaves no room for any make-believe. From body language and mannerisms of the characters to their apparel, ornaments and even toys – everything is taken care of. Not one character is out of place, not one gesture loud or meaningless. The whole film seems to have been shot in natural light, though a few night scenes employ really subtle use of artificial lighting. For instance, a scene where Darakeshwar reads by the light of a lamp, or the next scene, in which he interacts with Anu in the light of two lamps. Though the light doesn’t flicker, as it should, the texture and the ambience are almost perfect. One can imagine the amount of thought that has gone into creating this poignant yet beautiful masterpiece. Then, the twist that snatches happiness away not only from Darakeshwar, but the entire village – Anu’s death – is sudden and unexpected. Nothing can be closer to reality than that suddenness – no warning, no telltale signs, just an abrupt turn of events. It’s this masterstroke that shows Chanda’s calibre as a director. He makes it quite difficult to separate cinema from reality. And it holds you, glued not only to your seat, but also to the screen, wondering what could possibly happen after the interval. What’s left to happen?
