“All We Imagine As Light” opens as only a film set in Mumbai can— with the gradual unfurling of this massive metropolis at dawn. Its essential workers begin corralling the huge resources needed to maintain its creaking infrastructure and feed the tens of millions of people who will wake up and take public transport to work. The bustling local economy flickers into life as vendors set up shop by the millions to earn an honest living. Director Payal Kapadia relies on her documentary background to capture these images in a striking, hushed fashion as if observing a mammoth getting up and stretching itself awake.
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There are a multitude of faces, people, and stories packed into every frame. Where might the filmmaker lead us? Who might we follow? Kapadia gradually alights on three women to ground her gentle drama about forging human connections and female kinship in an enormous city. Two of them, Prabha (Kani Kusruti) and Anu (Divya Prabha) are roommates and all three work at a local hospital. Prabha and Anu are nurses, and Parvati (Chhaya Kadam) works in the canteen. All three are working-class women very much living the lives of average Indian citizens. India being a developing country, Western audiences will be confronted with living and working conditions beyond what they can imagine. The squalor and clutter are inevitable when you have this many people packed so closely together and not a lot of wealth, national or otherwise.
And yet, the simple lives of these women are exalted to the level of great art through Kapadia’s ennobling gaze. In sculpture and painting, the closer the artist gets to approximating reality, the more miraculous the art seems. Such is the case in filmmaking, too, an art form that is assiduously scripted, performed, staged, and lit. Seeing life in Mumbai, as I know it, was unbearably poignant. Indian cinema can be alienating for Indian viewers, too, as the images in most mainstream fare seem completely fantastical and removed from reality. Watching streets I have walked upon and rooms I have been in, portrayed on-screen just as they are, seemed strangely intimate and revealing, as if a secret were being shared with the world. It is a testament to the power of the artist’s gaze, this unique ability to find beauty and purity in what is banal and commonplace.
There isn’t really a plot to speak of in “All We Imagine As Light.” Prabha has essentially been abandoned by her absent husband, who went to work in a factory in Germany. But her hard-wired repression and conservatism prevent her from making a leap when a coworker expresses interest in her. The younger Anu is carrying out a concealed affair with a Muslim boy, Shiaz (Hridhu Haroon), even as her family tries to set her up in an arranged marriage with an eligible Hindu man. They stealthily steal kisses in empty parking lots and are faced with a quandary that might seem ridiculous to Western viewers but is a real issue confronting young couples in India—no place to consummate their relationship. With most people living with parents or roommates, all public places crowded at all times, and the inability to afford temporary rooms, young couples often have to get creative. Parvati’s eviction from her Mumbai home creates an opportunity for Anu as she and Prabha accompany Parvati to help her relocate to her seaside hometown village.
The coastal environment in the movie’s last act becomes the setting for its beautiful finale. Parvati finds a sense of domicile, and Anu can discover intimacy, but Prabha has the most profound transformation—as she begins to contemplate the possibility of happiness for herself after only serving others. Through languages and accents, Kapadia highlights one of the reasons for alienation in Mumbai—the millions of Indians leaving their home and traveling from all over the country to find a living in the financial capital. Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s immortal “water everywhere but not a drop to drink” might as well be “people everywhere but not a friend to have” for crowded urban centers. Being surrounded by millions is no guarantee against loneliness. The deepening friendship between the three women is Kapadia’s attempt to filter light into the abyss.
Kusruti is exceptional, anchoring the film with immense gravity. She is the most taciturn of the three women, but her enormously expressive face and eyes drive the movie’s emotional throughline without a lot of dialog. Divya Prabha ably highlights the youth and yearning of her character, while Kadam channels resignation but also humor. In an accurate depiction of Indians’ facility for languages, the polyglot actors effortlessly transition from Malayalam to Hindi to English to Marathi as required. Ranabir Das’ cinematography is extraordinary, finding painterly grace amid the drive and bustle of Mumbai. Composer Dhritiman Das, aka Topshe, gently enhances the mood with his vibrant score.
India is the biggest movie producer in the world, primarily because of the numerous mini-film industries that exist within the country to cater to different segments of the population based on language. There are markets for films in Hindi, Tamil, Telugu, Kanada, Malayalam, Bengali, Bhojpuri — just to name a few. And given India’s 1.4 billion populace, even small segments are enormous markets, larger than the markets for most international cinema in say French, German or the like. All told, over 1500 films, on average, are produced in India every year.
Just the law of statistics would dictate that you would routinely see these films at the biggest film festivals in the world. Even if less than 1% of India’s productions broke out internationally, that is over a dozen films every year. And yet you had less than a dozen films across multiple decades in a particularly dry stretch for Indian cinema since the heyday of Satyajit Ray. The last Indian films to compete for the top award at a major festival were Chaitanya Tamhane’s “The Disciple” in 2020 and Mira Nair’s “Monsoon Wedding” in 2001, both at the Venice Film Festival.
Indian films are largely self-released outside India and have almost no crossover with non-Indian diaspora save for a few breakouts hits like S.S. Rajamouli’s “RRR.” Maximalist Indian blockbusters are more often objects of amused gawping due to their exotic, over-the-top nature than vehicles for cultural insight or artistic contemplation. Films like Payal Kapadia’s “All We Imagine As Light” can fill that void. She makes a giant leap onto the world stage with just her second film (and first narrative feature) after the documentary “A Night Of Knowing Nothing.”
Kapadia’s gentle voice disguises her subversive spirit. She lightly peppers her film with hot-button issues that concern India, like the cost-of-living and housing crisis, the rights of workers and unionization, and most pointedly, interreligious relationships between Hindus and Muslims in an increasingly hostile India. There is also the foregrounding of female desire and the casual flashes of nudity, all of which are still anathema to Indian values. Not just Western viewers but Indian viewers would benefit from watching these themes and images explored in this fashion.
A charge of excessive deliberation and aestheticization might be leveled at “All We Imagine As Light,” and it wouldn’t be without merit. But all told, we are watching the blooming of a fantastic new voice in cinema and a seismic breakthrough for the future of filmmaking in India. [B+/A-]