‘All We Imagine as Light’ - Review
Crowned as the winner of the esteemed Grand Prix at the Cannes Film Festival last year and met with extraordinary success in the US, Payal Kapadia’s All We Imagine as Light is a haunting mosaic of the human condition, a picturesque of broken dreams on the tumultuous paths of loneliness, displacement, the struggle for love, and finding one’s light amid a darkened labyrinth.
Cinematographer Ranabir Das beautifully captures the essence of Mumbai, the big city, of what it means to be a thread within the fabric of something — someplace, that is much bigger than who you are. Adorned in elusive bluish hues and taking time mainly during the nighttime, the film begins by inviting you as a wandering spectator, a speck in a vast universe, and much like its citizens, you’re blinded by the bursting colors and vibrant streets of fast-paced interactions, and a towering and ever-changing cityscape that’s fervently and stealthily changing by politics and capitalism. Against the backdrop of the distractions the city offers, Kapadia’s creation indulges in the journeys of three nurses who work at the same hospital: Prabha (Kani Kusruti), Anu (Divya Prabha) and Parvaty (Chhaya Kadam).
Prabha’s personality is quite the opposite of Anu’s despite them sharing the same living space as roommates — Prabha is reliant, strict and responsible, while the younger is impulsive and hot-headed. While Prabha’s arranged marriage has gone stale after her husband’s departure to Germany over a year ago, Anu’s passionate and secret rendezvouses with her Muslim boyfriend Shiaz provoke the other nurses to gossip, the film's a subtle nod to the current nationalistic landscape in India. The selflessness, kindness and care these two women provide in abundance for their patients is the invisible string that ties them together. Prabha’s old friend and confidante Parvaty navigates the challenges the city thrusts upon her as a widowed working woman, in a series of events that shape the later parts of their collective fate.
Kapadia’s visual artistry is rooted in her ability to heighten the banal details of the daily life of these characters and transform them into poetically weaved sceneries, transfixing on how these women interact with their surrounding environment, and how their pasts are in a constant state of intertwining with their present, each representing a profound universal experience.
Their narrative begins to expand, when a mysterious expensive looking rice cooker arrives at Prabha and Anu’s flat, and they suspect Prabha’s absentee husband sent it as Anu recognizes the country of origin as Germany. All the while, Prabha finds
herself to be the center of attention of a doctor that works with her, who recites poetry and admits his love for her despite knowing she’s married.Anu plans plans to meet up with Shiaz at his parents’ house (an elaborate plan for which she purchases a burqa as a disguise) gets cancelled last minute. Meanwhile, Parvaty’s realization that her late husband didn’t leave her any papers that prove his ownership of the house, and so she considers fleeing the city to return to her rural hometown. Knowing her house will be replaced by another soulless luxury compound that’s catered to the rich, Parvaty tells Prabha, “They think that by building their towers taller and taller, one day they will replace God.” Later these two form a deeper connection when they throw rocks at a billboard announcing the opening of one of these compounds while giggling.
In the final act of the film, Prabha and Anu offer to help Parvaty in her move back to her village by the sea. While Prabha is fully there to support her friend (and maybe partially escape Mumbai), Anu’s ulterior plan to meet with her lover away from the scrutiny of the city is successful. A quiet and romantic mood descends upon our characters, the chance to exist in the peaceful countryside allows them to contemplate and reflect on each of their lives, yet the intensity of their unresolved struggles hangs heavy in the silences of each frame. Parvaty has to adjust after being evicted, Prabha’s strained marriage still weighs upon her heart, and while Anu’s secret relationship is allowed to grow in this setting, the question of her parents’ and society’s acceptance still hangs near. Kapadia doesn’t outrightly solve our characters’ issues, but she gives us a glimpse of relief and comfort in a magical, dream-like final scene.
The shared experiences of these women, all of whom which have been affected by the men in their lives and the socio-political climate of the city they inhabit, and the unexpected friendship and understanding that bloomed between them despite their differences, translated by Kapadia’s powerful lens, have easily found their way into my heart. And if you’ve lived in a big city at some point in your life, whether we want to admit it to ourselves or not, our experiences as women are heavily molded by our surroundings. The political, religious and social narratives that invade our cities are key factors in how we perceive ourselves and others, and interact with them. I’ve seen these characters in women I’ve met along the way since I started living in Alexandria, Egypt eight years ago. As Alexandria’s landmarks changed throughout those years, with its deteriorating facades and new heartless compounds similar to those that Prabha and Parvaty protested against, these friendships I’ve cultivated, whether they lasted or not, were a lifeline, and the city felt less like a towering stranger. All We Imagine as Light tells you that the city takes from us and deems us insignificant, but in that darkness there’s a light that helps us resist and perhaps make us feel rooted more than anything; the friendships we stumble upon.