A Poetic Thriller..
The art of of telling a tale of thrill has been christened with a new name – Baishe Srabon. The name of the film, which in itself boasts of a remarkable significance due to its association of the demise of one of the world’s greatest poets. This time – it encapsulates the self demolition of a serial killer. The stark contrast in the name is one of the many nuances that the film unfolds in due course of the blooming thrill. The final outburst reaches the thrilling crescendo with the bullet piercing through the brain of the criminal – much to the befuddlement of the poet. The aftermath making a loud and clear comment that, quite exceptionally for once, the sword is mightier than the pen, as the latter failed alarmingly to agonize the societal cerebrality.
Poetry has always been awarded the throne of being the greatest form of literary crown;only to be proved that it is the clichéd, power monger class of expressionists who were able to make it to the summit. There is no place yet for the lesser knowns, the creations of those have been thrown away to the bilge waters of elitist drain pipes! Is this what we call an orchestrated genocide of creativity?
All the serial killings which took place in physical terms just coincide with the death of some of these lesser grown poets’ death. Accident took to coincidence. The thrill sought refuge in verse. Dark fantasy tasted the brutality of a state-declared psycho patient.
A movie of queer subtlety, surrealistic at times like a rare made Nazarin, ends quite contrastingly as Mrinal Sen’s classic – from the depiction of mortal death with a hanging frame oscillation to a bullet’s numbing silence. Long live “Baishe Srabon” with its darkly romantic immortality.