The first thing that would catch the eye of the subcontinental audience about the Kazakh film Madina is the nice, amiable way it brings India and Pakistan together. Co-produced by Abid Aziz Merchant’s Sanat Initiative, it has Apoorva Bakshi of Awedacious Originals as the executive producer. What is also notable is the fact that the life of the film’s distressed titular character, from the Central Asian nation, could well resonate with disadvantaged women in South Asia as well. For that matter in any part of the world.
The film premiered in Tokyo and recently played in India at the Dharamshala International Film Festival. The immediate and obvious on-screen parallel I drew was with the similar struggle for survival of the bar dancers of Mumbai in the popular Hindi film Chandni Bar. Madina is a single mother trying hard to make ends meet by teaching dance to the rich during the day and being a go-go dancer and occasional sex worker by the night.
She doesn’t just have her own self and her little girl to take care of but must also bear the responsibility of her younger brother and aged grandmother. While the former is an under confident introvert, unable to find an anchor in life, and dreaming of migrating to the USA, the latter is temperamental, crotchety and complaining.
The only ray of sunshine for Madina is her two-year-old bundle of joy but, even when it comes to her, there’s an acrimonious ongoing legal battle being fought with her father over his paternal duties and responsibilities. Also vying for Madina’s attention is a suitor and faithful customer, though romance and a future with a man with two wives looks impossible.
Things go from bad to worse when Madina’s brother finds the courage to share a painful secret from the past that threatens to destroy the relationships in the extended family. Should they continue to maintain their silence or find the voice and courage to bring the horror to light, one which has all but ruined a young man’s life?
Filmmaker Aizhana Kassymbek draws her script from the life of her own friend, Madina Akylbekova, who also plays the lead. Not just her, but the grandmother and daughter also appear as themselves on screen. No wonder the performances have a rare transparency and honesty to them and feel life-like. Akylbekova in particular, comes up with a powerful and emotionally charged turn.
The little moments in the company of her daughter are especially delightful and luminous. But it wouldn’t have been an easy decision for her to bare her soul to the world and open herself for scrutiny from strangers, with the chances of old wounds being exacerbated as likely as reliving the trauma being a cathartic and oddly healing experience.
Kassymbek puts the misery of her protagonist in perspective with the metaphor of the sea, the raging waves juxtaposed against her uneasy quietude. They also symbolise her urge to break free of the shackles of duty and destitution.
Dance is the other persuasive and pervasive symbol—her mode of support and survival and her source of strength as joy. Aigul Nurbulatova’s fly-on-the-wall camera only magnifies the indigence visually. It’s the film’s structure that feels a little lopsided. While Kassymbek gives us enough hints about things not being well with Madina’s brother, his revelation comes into the narrative abruptly and gives a sudden dramatic shift to the tone which had till then been all about an indolent telling focused on Madina’s banal daily routine. But then it can well be argued that life does essentially move like that: long uneventful stretches broken by sudden, unexpected jerks.
My takeaway was a line from the grandmother: “Living won’t be happy till the dead rest in peace”. It holds true for the ghosts of the past and skeletons in the cupboards for people in general. There may not be clean closures in life but it is essential to exorcise our demons to find release and relief and move on into the future. Just like Madina does in the film, and for real.