Indian filmmaker Chaitanya Tamhane‘s second feature to return to the London Film Festival, The Disciple, opens with a classical vocal chorus inter-cutting between two men – one young, one old. A melodic echo of what’s to come, The Disciple is a kind of education in itself. Beyond the casual knowledge of Raag or Bandish, for instance, the creative structure of a certain type of music and it’s composition, the determination of human efforts and that sour whiff of failure are prominent.
Our young protagonist is Sharad (Aditya Modak). Whose name we actually discover as he practices alone, mimicking the discourse of the typical TV talent show. There’s little showbiz to this man’s musical journey, which soon appears to be a lifelong conduct. Not to say Sharad’s heart is not in it.
In fact, the dignity of that personal investment, and the dour strain on the senses and the soul, largely forms the film’s central stepping stones. One scene to attribute such dynamics comes as Sharad is critiqued during a live performance with his mentor, Guruji (Arun Dravid). Remember the morale squishing of being told to speak up as you nervously talk in front of a group of other kids?
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And much like the strolling legs of this two hour plus film, Tamhane’s camera holds on such candid moments. The way we’ve all chosen to dwell on some of our more awkward little events. It’s not exactly public shaming for Sharad, but as the camera begins to push in on his disappointment, it’s as if making his claustrophobic confidence even more prevalent.
The obvious comparisons to Scott Hicks’ 1996 also beautifully crafted drama, Shine, are eminent as we jump back into parts of Sharad’s childhood. The way many children struggle to concentrate with overbearing, pushy, parental figures. As different and similar as The Discipline and Shine are, though, that expansive music endeavor from child to adult is key to both stories.
Gradually, the continuous flow of this traditional Indian music fine-tunes your own ears. As well as perceptions of the country’s renowned melodies. Somehow teaching us about the intricate differences in the notes and the tones. In some ways we are given a new found appreciation of this genre of music. The kind we’ve heard casually – in other films likely – many times before and yet just let it play in the background of our minds.
An older woman’s voice, in a kind of sporadic narration, explains the path many like Sharad might take. That the lifeblood of music creation is also a state of mind, where there is room for little else. You strive for that truly authentic music without any of the blemishes.
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And often these meditative sentences are spoken over stunningly serene visuals. Like Sharad riding his motorcycle in near silence on the tranquil night streets of Mumbai. Not particularly in the use of ever-so-slight slower motion in that case, it occurs to you the incredible poise for space director Tamhane has.
Director of Photography, Michal Sobocinski, captures so much space in the confines of the surroundings. Fully expressing the wider settings and providing seamless depth to many of the static shots. If the genius, Conrad L. Hall, were alive today he’d have both thumbs up. And yet, without offense to Mr Hall and Mr Mendes, the picture before us is realized over stylized.
The Disciple is soothing and thought-provoking in pretty much each of its drawn-out scenes. You’re given time to breathe. The musical performances are allowed to linger and flourish, often in single, static takes. When he doesn’t place in a local contest, Sharad can’t hide his disappointed face in the small crowd of applauders. And the camera waits on him.
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It is apparent as the story moves on forward that Sharad is neglecting a social life or extra curricular activities while devoting himself to his native classical music. It’s a rigorous journey, a noble one, but aiming to reach out and touch the stars leaves time or dedication to little else. A sense of all or nothing, become a musical genius or else forget it.
The Disciple fills in some of the cultural gaps we may have too. We subconsciously question how important and traditional the music of India really is. And in that there are scenes that honor the music, but also speak solemnly about the struggles to even find such perfection.
The film examples the general social trend and pressures of seeking out what they recognise, over the ‘risk’ of being introduced to new artists. Like Sharad. And that’s a chore in itself. There are explorations of generational relations too. How we treat each other, or how or what we tell each other about how we must succeed in life.
Sharad is questioned about his lack of a paying job, another sacrifice he is chosen to add. Not even a love life can he give his full attention. Demonstrated when Sharad takes a break, temporarily replacing the music with porn as he sits in front of his computer for release.
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By no means is Sharad a victim of the kind of Whiplash-esque, Drill Sargent treatment. There’s empathy from his teacher. We witness the vocal leniency in places, as Guruji knows of the isolation and failures himself. So much of The Disciple harnesses an intimate approach, Chaitanya Tamhane conducts his players and scenes with openness and finesse.
It is likely no coincidence that The Disciple is executive produced by Alfonso Cuarón, whose recent Oscar-winning triumph had leisurely legs. And like Roma, as the audience, our own devotion to the subject and the characters is pushed, given the two hour plus running time. The arduous journey seems deliberate, though, offered by many angles of the film’s storytelling. That long, prosperous road to a high level of accomplishment is central to the theme of the picture, and our very appreciation of it.