Love at First Moonlight

The Moonlight Black Boys Look Blue adaption is a queer trauma in a straight drama. Emerging from the distressed boroughs of Miami, Moonlight shines bright as a coming-of-age story and highlights emotions and identity issues within inverted commas. A violent meditation breathing life through childhood, adolescence and adulthood of the protagonist, the movie unravels like a quasi-Brutalist work of art. So severe but so brilliant.

            “Am I a Faggot?”

If a pregnant pause could be more pregnant then this moment would be it. When the innocent Little asks the Cuban drug dealer Juan, the whole world comes to a full stop. Perhaps it is not the waning Little who cannot play football, fight back against bullies or being a nobody but Juan teaching him how to swim, go back to his abusive crack-addict mother and an advice to go on a path of self-discovery that makes Little big.

“Who is you, Chiron?”

The repeated daggers thrown by everyone only adds 50 shades of grey into Little’s adolescent avatar. Ashton Sanders has inquisitive eyes that takes you into 120 Days of Sodom where the sons and daughters of libertines only seem to see every surviving hope in defeat. It is perhaps the kiss with Kevin that spews moonlight over a breath of weed. Immersive yet momentary.

“Who is you, man?”

Punctuating tough moments with tougher moments of silence, Chiron’s metamorphosis into hip-hop grunge seems softcore with the occasional visit to his mother weaved by Nicholas Britell’s pieces of orchestral music. If Mozart could appear like Hotline Bling then Vesperae Solennes de Confessore does the complementing trick. Maybe worthy of B J Thomas’ I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry during the anarchic scene of Black coming to meet a remorseful Kevin and rekindling love to moonlight and back. 

          If your love fell into the mists of Moonlight then which song would be playing? Write in the comments below:

Morals of A Bengali Fakir Story

Women who give birth to Muslims are not circumcised themselves,
Women who give birth to Brahmins do not wear the sacred thread.

Pic courtesy: https://i.ytimg.com/vi/JkNgeFKkHUM/maxresdefault.jpg

   A rhyme of Islamic learning, a poem going beyond mosques and spiritual teaching and a musical celebrating the journey of reaching divinity forms the essence of Bishar Blues documentary. Resonating on to the beats of Bengali homeland, Amitabh Chakraborty showcases the life of Bengali Fakirs in reelity. 

   Recording amidst the rhythm of ignored boroughs of West Bengal, these fakirs echo the universal knowledge of Marfat that is a Muslim community far from the mainstream practices of Shariat. The very essence goes back to the age-old baritones of Islam which by-passes the materialistic route between man and The Almighty.  Unlike the powerful Muslims, the simplistic living of the Prophet and succeeding Khalifas was the reason they could strike a connection with Allah.

   Mansoor Fakir who is one of the spiritual stars of this Partha Barman's discography reminisces the times when his devout Muslim father threw away the veil system within his Pathan rooted family. Further to this, his father created an ashram and would sing the songs of enlightenment with his fellow Hindu brothers.

People who have knowledge of the self know how God's workshop functions.

   Expanding the thread of knowing the inner you can lead to reaching God, this Best Non-Feature National Film Award recipient highlights the tales of brotherhood and building a link with the Almighty. With minimal Amit Debnath and Amitabh's edits, the film showcases the ethnic and geographical mix of Islam through Marfat's songs brilliantly. 

-siddheshgarg