Director: Chaitanya Tamhane
Author: Chaitanya Tamhane
Edited by: Chaitanya Tamhane
Cinematography: Michal Sobocinski
Starring: Aditya Modak, Arun Dravid, Sumitra Bhave
Music: Aneesh Pradhan
Streaming on: Netflix
The magical land is hidden away within the mountains. Its sky-high partitions shelter an historic temple of immortal lecturers. These divine women and men maintain religious secrets and techniques and treasured information – the important thing to unlock the intimidating, cast-iron doorways of Musical Fight. They’re the Chosen Ones: the Grand Grasp Oogways and Grasp Shifus of a fading universe. However no one has seen them in a long time. Legend goes that their soul remains to be doing the work of their our bodies, blessing solely the courageous few who dare to do the perilous trek throughout infinite valleys and forests and shark-infested rivers up into their cloudy kingdom. There aren’t any shortcuts.
The Disciple opens with this look of fantastical devotion on a younger man’s face. Sharad Nerulkar (Aditya Modak) is on stage as a Hindustani classical musician, however performs in palpable awe of the vocalist, his beloved guruji. The efficiency is at a modest Mumbai auditorium in 2006, however Sharad might as effectively be on the trek again in time by way of these magical forests. The digicam closes in from a large establishing shot, as if the earthly setting – the ceiling followers, the curious onlookers, the cheesy banners, the distracted air – is slowly ceasing to exist for Sharad. He’s each participant and viewers, unable to cover his rapturous reverence for the immortal instructor’s craft.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wt-gAOw230ok
Quickly we see Sharad in a store, deliberating on a crisp kurta and scarf to put on for an upcoming contest. “When you’re on stage, every little thing is a part of the efficiency,” he says, quoting his late father. Quickly we see Sharad mourning the crass commercialism of a singer he as soon as admired (“this live performance racket has corrupted him”) – he mocks the weekend fans that may’t inform one raga from one other. Quickly we see Sharad making ready to practise at night time, rigorously organising the area of a sparse lounge. When his grandmother interrupts his diligence, he will get irritated. However as an alternative of restarting his riyaz, he snatches the keys to his motorcycle. On these nocturnal rides by way of a metropolis that by no means sleeps, Sharad is plugged in to uncommon tape recordings of lectures by a fabled grasp. He swears by her phrases. In his head, that is what he’s: a lone crusader galloping by way of the darkish in sluggish movement. His wrestle is dignified by the heritage of historical past. And shortly we additionally sense that Sharad, the honest striver, suffers from a well-known sickness: he’s a dreamer within the guise of a doer. A theorist sporting the cloak of a thinker. His coronary heart is greater than his expertise – he’s unable to inform the romance of legacy from the love of artwork. He’s unable to inform the scholarly subservience of studenthood from the intuitive management of sainthood. Consequently, Sharad’s perseverance is a symptom of his purism – he treats greatness like a illness that may be cured by way of medicinal accuracy. He’s all methodology and no insanity.
In that sense, The Disciple is a deeply private and unflinching portrait of artistic idealism. It’s nearly as if the movie itself – with its dry and quasi-bureaucratic type – is at fixed odds with its protagonist’s lofty thought of studying. The distant filming of the music, bereft of enhancing thrives and sensory movement, is designed to dispel the picture and reiterate the image. It refuses to succumb to the placing individualism of the tortured artist. By eschewing the visible gimmickry of ardour, The Disciple is outlined by the curiosity of a soul-searching expedition. Its memoir-like construction straddles the border between catharsis and closure. Director Chaitanya Tamhane’s personal profession arc – from teenage author of Balaji soaps to maybe India’s most acclaimed unbiased filmmaker – has been effectively documented through the years. One may think Tamhane himself was the Sharad of this story earlier than his alliance with producer-actor-enabler Vivek Gomber.
Most cinephiles undergo the proverbial ceremony of passage – a part of being torn between idolising and creating, worshipping and wanting, deriving and driving. The thirst for information usually consumes the starvation to precise. Tamhane presumably crossed over with the award-winning Court, however The Disciple is a disarming confession of the truth that he, in contrast to a lot of his predecessors, might have profited from a transitory panorama. Resilience and expertise quantity to little with out the company of time. One may argue that staying the course with out caving to the vagaries of commerce is credible sufficient – and it’s. However there’s additionally no denying that the 34-year-old director’s iconic rise is rooted within the digital growth, the relative democratisation of Indian filmmaking by way of each entry and visibility.
A nod to this emerges within the second half of The Disciple, a full decade after we first see Sharad. By now, the hopeful angst has morphed into silent resignation. A operating backdrop to Sharad’s midlife hunch encompasses a sappy talent-hunt TV present. Sharad watches with dead-eyed envy as a younger woman – a ‘fashionable’ classical vocalist – is packaged in an underdog narrative, earlier than singing her technique to beauty fame. By the tip the woman is performing a well-liked AR Rahman ballad, whereas the nation swoons at her metamorphosis from hidden gem to glowing swan. She might be the face of Indian classical music to hundreds of thousands of uninitiated listeners, as a result of she sounds totally different from the others within the limelight: her competence is irrelevant, her novelty is just not. The nation’s response to her isn’t too totally different from the reception to final yr’s net sequence Bandish Bandits, a shiny exoticisation of the classical oeuvre powered by a fusion with mainstream sensibilities. Which is to say, Sharad’s gaze is probably going Tamhane’s – besides The Disciple can also be introspective sufficient to indict his personal misplaced morality, his personal lack of ability to adapt with the occasions. In any case, the greed of capitalism doesn’t absolve the naivety of socialism.
The interval of the movie (2006 to 2016) is cleverly positioned on the intersection of two eras. The appearance of know-how haunts the narrative. A youthful Sharad nurses a part-time job of changing outdated VHS tapes into Field DVD units. The 2016 portion opens with him getting professionally photographed for his web site. At one level, the 36-year-old Sharad finds himself hurtling down a social media wormhole, his resentment constructing with each subsequent click on. From stalking the profile of a feminine ‘competitor’, he finally ends up scrolling by way of the feedback on his personal YouTube movies. He varieties a bitter response to 1 earlier than resisting – a battle that almost all of us within the new-media system have confronted on this age of unfiltered scrutiny. (If I had a penny for each occasion I’ve semi-responded to an unsavoury touch upon a assessment, I’d be a actuality TV star.) It’s additionally an oddly tragic second, a snapshot of a self-appointed custodian stewing within the loneliness of his destiny. He’s satisfied – as all of us are usually – that it’s not him however the world round him that lacks perspective and endurance.
Sharad’s is a narrative of common resonance, however the medium chosen – Indian classical music – is just not incidental. There’s arguably no different artform at the moment whose traditionalism is so seen and visibly threatened by newness. The guru-shishya bond is inherent to the tradition – the sacrosanctity of which elevates the battle between imitation and originality, nostalgia and evolution. The artwork itself is distant and esoteric, unique in issue and sound, which in flip frames Sharad’s journey as a legendary one for the viewer. He might as effectively be trekking to a holy temple within the clouds. It’s not a typical musical ecosystem, however the issues confronted by its practitioners – of relevance, survival, self-loathing, sustainability – are scarily typical. This tonal paradox, the place a sobering dot underscores an errant query mark, emphasizes the mental duality of The Disciple.
It’s no shock that Sharad’s mode of transport adjustments over time. From a meandering bike rider, he turns into a mean prepare commuter. At one degree, it depicts the “demotion” from artist to commoner. The motorbike knew no path, sampling shady lanes and late-night freeways to nowhere; the prepare merely ferries the physique from one station to a different. However at one other degree, Mumbai’s native prepare is a logo of not simply the spirited but in addition the settler. Constructed from the power of the office-going and the fatigue of the home-going, the area bleeds a way of conformity. The compartment is the one place the place the thoughts dares to meander into misplaced lanes and late-night freeways, and the place wrecked objectives are reminisced about between concrete locations. When penniless singers climb in to entertain a packed prepare, commuters usually keep away from eye-contact with the performers, lest they be reminded of the voices they as soon as deserted.
Singer Aditya Modak’s rendition of Sharad Nerulkar – an uncanny composition of the boy on the bike and the person on the prepare – is deserving of two distinct movies. Bodily transformation apart, the change in gait is exceptional. One can nearly sense the emotional decay of the ten (unseen) years. Modak’s management of the passive implies that the rose-tinted glasses don’t disappear a lot as dissolve. Each time he cares for his ailing grasp, the paranormal land loses just a little extra sheen, and the pedestal cracks below the load of humanised effigies. It’s solely becoming then that a chat with a veteran critic at a bar turns into the spotlight of the movie. An informal trade turns tense, however extra importantly it dismantles the delicate bridge connecting the madness of artwork to the lunacy of faith; the fanatical is barely an alphabetical subset of the fantastical. The scene reveals a disciple who’s nothing if not a diehard pupil. Most of all, it exposes the distinction between ambition and aspiration – one’s the hallmark of an artist, the opposite is the curse of a follower.