By Thientam Nguyen, Student ContributorI have yet to see a film that presents war in such a relatable way as Partho Sen-Gupta’s Let The Wind Blow. It is sometimes hard for me to empathize with war-life, what with the Iraq war seeming so far away. Yes, the step and sways of the political tango in the Middle East has been rabidly followed by the ever present media, and there is no denying we are paying for the cost with both our wallets and precious lives, but life generally has been business as usual. There is no rationing, no immense posters propagating the monstrosity of the “enemy”, no ducking into bomb shelters in the middle of the night to the cries of sirens.
What makes this film successful is the focus on individual perspective rather than national events. The characters are devastatingly human, their troubles and desires are universally relatable. There is the ever-present tower of globalization, casting a shadow of obscurity rendering them insignificant. They are no longer masters of their own fate, just a speck in a statistical mass. Add to this melee of daily struggles the threat of nuclear attack.
From the start, I found myself drawn into the war-tense world of Arjun and Chabia, both struggling to make their own destinies. In our consumerist world, less developed countries become nothing more than a target audience for marketing. It is heartbreaking, how all of the characters’ attempts to change their futures seem so feeble and become lost among the struggle of thousands of others. There is a sense of urgency: in the belief that there are no second chances, in carpe diem, in the death of karma, in hopeless lethargy and drinking that passes away Arjun’s nights. There is a realism to the film that resounds from the screen into real life. Chabia’s dreams and schemes for obtaining a better life and Arjun’s budding relationship with fellow classmate and drama club member Salma are innately familiar. Who hasn’t wished for an easy-going and worry-free life? Who hasn’t been caught in the throes of adolescent love? And when Arjun and Chabia finally have a means of escaping their poor situation, we can’t help but celebrate with them the end of a lousy stage of their lives.
But fate throws a cruel twist, just as Chabia and Arjun seem to have found a handhold over the tower, just when they are about to hoist themselves off of their barren lives into the new world of possibilities…
I was struck by the simplicity of the film. There is no forced drama, no complicated plot twists. The purpose wasn’t so much to spread a message as to spread awareness. For an hour and a half, I was absorbed into the lives on the screen. I was presented with such an intimate access to their personalities, to their characters, to their very existence, that upon the rolling of the credits, I couldn’t help feeling a bit disoriented. How can two lives captured on film be so different from my own, but essentially the same?
