The concept of a "favorite films" list has always been a weird thing to upkeep. In fact, the very idea of ratings has always struck me as meaningless. Nothing really delineates one ranking from another for me other than a gut feeling at this point; I can't tell you in explicit detail what marks a 6 from a 7. But I've always had the idea that a perfect 10 is a film I can mark as a true favorite, a standout work that I could make the case as one of the greatest films in history (or at least one of its most entertaining). Recently, however, its two most recent additions have started standing out. Duvidha was a completely spur of the moment watching decision chosen by scrolling through MUBI for a piece of world cinema I had no connection to, no expectations for, nothing. And I am in awe. Director Mani Kaul has developed a filmic language unlike anything I have seen before and I don't think like anything that has been developed since, save perhaps for your Color of Pomegranates or your other varieties of avant-garde world cinema unseen by most viewers. Its story is deceptively simple, folklore-like, a tale of a ghost romantically involved with a new bride. Its presentation, however, is staggeringly intimate and sparse. Kaul, likely working from technical limitations but also creating a cinematic dream to explore themes of class and gender, rejects cinematic conventions. There are countless freeze frames in the film that cut the body into pieces, the film jumps narratively in time, the acting remains monotone even in its flowery narration, several shots are blurry or out of focus. Its avant-garde aesthetics are partnered by the fact that at other points Kaul's camera captures rapturous shots of landscapes, of architecture, of intimacy, of colors. I can't admit to understanding everything here, obviously, on my first watch. But Duvidha has expanded my understanding of filmmaking and narrative and its beauty captivated me from the very opening shot to its arresting finish.
The concept of a "favorite films" list has always been a weird thing to upkeep. In fact, the very idea of ratings has always struck me as meaningless. Nothing really delineates one ranking from another for me other than a gut feeling at this point; I can't tell you in explicit detail what marks a 6 from a 7. But I've always had the idea that a perfect 10 is a film I can mark as a true favorite, a standout work that I could make the case as one of the greatest films in history (or at least one of its most entertaining). Recently, however, its two most recent additions have started standing out. Duvidha was a completely spur of the moment watching decision chosen by scrolling through MUBI for a piece of world cinema I had no connection to, no expectations for, nothing. And I am in awe. Director Mani Kaul has developed a filmic language unlike anything I have seen before and I don't think like anything that has been developed since, save perhaps for your Color of Pomegranates or your other varieties of avant-garde world cinema unseen by most viewers. Its story is deceptively simple, folklore-like, a tale of a ghost romantically involved with a new bride. Its presentation, however, is staggeringly intimate and sparse. Kaul, likely working from technical limitations but also creating a cinematic dream to explore themes of class and gender, rejects cinematic conventions. There are countless freeze frames in the film that cut the body into pieces, the film jumps narratively in time, the acting remains monotone even in its flowery narration, several shots are blurry or out of focus. Its avant-garde aesthetics are partnered by the fact that at other points Kaul's camera captures rapturous shots of landscapes, of architecture, of intimacy, of colors. I can't admit to understanding everything here, obviously, on my first watch. But Duvidha has expanded my understanding of filmmaking and narrative and its beauty captivated me from the very opening shot to its arresting finish.
