Rezwan Shahriar Sumit’s presentation include, which finds a weak fishing local area at the focal point of a tussle between environmental change effect and strict traditionalism, won NETPAC Best Film grant at Kolkata International Film Festival and is designated for the Ingmar Bergman grant
Nonajoler Kabbo, in a real sense, the sonnet of the ocean, sprinkles you. A lot after its waters have retreated, the dregs stay stuck on your mind, similar to sodden sand in your pockets, burdening your step. The 106-minute film opens with Bangladeshi artist Arnob’s folksy woodwind notes as a day to day existence propelled model of a lady with a casting rod is washed aground. Workmanship accomplishes the unimaginable, in actuality, Tuni (Tasnova Tamanna) is informed that “fishing isn’t for ladies”.
In her waterfront town shows up Rudro (Titas Zia), a Dhaka craftsman, looking for motivation, away from the city racket, bringing along his “universe” (figures, draws) in a lodge measured wooden box. He’s welcome, until he causes some serious problems. He’s a whirlwind that erupts fires: brain’s freedom (youngsters to make craftsmanship or Tuni’s craving for an alternate life) or imprisonment. The Muslim priest battles, the figures (“likened to Hindu symbols”) have reviled the town. The men can’t obtain ilish (hilsa). Rising ocean levels causing low catch is to be rubbished.
The townspeople are at the operational hub, at two finishes stand two perspectives: oneself serving imam Chairman (Fazlur Rahman Babu) and the benevolent Rudro, man and nature, life’s proclamation and craftsmanship’s rebellion, custom and advancement, traditionalism and reformist liberal reasoning, dazzle confidence and science, self and local area. The twain shan’t meet, for “even waters have limits, the red and dark don’t blend”.
These two are not Marvel-like back-and-white saint and scoundrel. The sublime visuals make the grays stick out: the cloudy sky, the sand, the muddied waters in elevated tide, and human conduct. The dynamically dressed ladies and kids like lively tones are to be held under tight restraints. At the point when the tempests come, and individuals leave, it is in workmanship/craftsman’s “universe”, that the careful Tuni and Rudro take cover in.
At the point when Cyclone Amphan hammered into southern Bangladesh coastline, in May, in the pandemic/lockdown, Sumit was stressed over his fisherfolk companions in the Gangetic delta of Kuakata in Patuakhali area, where he shot his introduction highlight. He’d seen what a tornado leaves afterward.
In 2007, he visited Kuakata, 11-13 hours from the capital Dhaka, a quarter of a year after Cyclone Sidr had crushed it. “Strolling along the coastline, you begin seeing external the vacationer bubble. You see small anglers bunches.
You see their exceptional method of fishing. They put a shallow motor on a wooden dinghy boat and go straight into the sea. The boats cross three waves and the third wave is generally huge to such an extent that the boat goes just about 90 degrees up. It looks so risky from the shore. You feel the boats would bring down, yet these men are specialists.” That solitary picture prompted his NYU graduate film The Salt…
“The manner in which they make something happen after a twister isn’t anything not exactly brave,” says Sumit, whose first film, a short guerrilla-style docu-fiction City Life (2007) landed him at the 2008 Berlinale Talents. The nautical people are basic however strong, honest yet vulnerable to strict notion.
“These weak networks endure the worst part of environmental change, feel the impact each day, yet don’t have the 10,000 foot view, its study, and, in this way, resort to odd notion. It gets simpler for individuals like Chairman – instructed, lived in city, very much associated – to control them,” he adds. However, “without incitement, the anglers could never assault the craftsman. In spite of the fact that there are individuals like Chairman in the public eye who, when business as usual is shaken, feel shaky and may prompt honest people,” he says.