Can there be anything more loathsome for the censor board than a ‘prolonged’ onscreen kiss between two men? Probably not! So, when members of the film-certification body were invited to watch a young director’s new movie at a bygone era theatre in the city, their first responses fell to the tune of ‘yeh kissing scene bohot lamba nahi tha?’; ‘kya, kya banate ho, yaar?’. That said, lyricist-comedian Varun Grover’s award-winning directorial debut, Kiss, isn’t just about taking a dig at ‘content control’. Streaming on MUBI, this genre-defying short film leapfrogs into repressed trauma and how they regulate our perception of art and human relations – all within a runtime of 15 minutes.
Despite the timecodes being already submitted, the disgruntled board members felt the lovemaking scene goes on for way too long. ‘Dekho jo bhi hai, aadha kaat doh,’ Ramesh Chauhan (Shubhrajyoti Barat) told director Sam (Adarsh Gourav). Adding to which, another censor Salil Aabid (Swanand Kirkire) said, ‘Better remove the entire scene.’ But what’s the duration of that problematic sequence anyway? To find out, the two of them enter the auditorium once again. This time, Sam also accompanies them. All three of them time their watches. Sam’s digital watch clocks the scene at fifty seconds. On Ramesh’s analogue wristwatch, it’s three minutes eleven seconds. Meanwhile, according to Salil’s smartphone, the duration is two minutes twenty-five seconds. Jittery and anxious, the contradictory nature of the timestamps reminds him of the Rashomon effect. Nonetheless, they watch the film yet again, and exit the screen with different timecodes.
At this point, the projectionist (Ashwath Bhatt) – who had been patiently operating the 35mm film projector all this while – steps in to decipher the mystery behind the disparate stamps. Has it got something to do with the nostalgic velvety ambience of the single-screen cinema? Or are these different timecodes in-sync with their own psyche and suppressed emotions instead? Does the speed of time dictate the intensity of our hidden feelings or is it the other way round? The answer to these questions form the crux of the story.
Varun Grover’s genre-defying short is precise and layered, but never overlapping. While the film is established on the premise of artistic freedom and the question of censorship, the narrative dives deeper into what shapes and regulates our mental faculty. The themes of ‘shame’, ‘anger’, ‘fear’ and ‘loneliness’ juxtapose as plot devices to show how they influence our power of perception. Nitin Baid’s crisp editing deserves a special mention.
Kiss – produced by Newton Cinema, Odd & Even and Anurag Kashyap, is nuanced and unflinching, with a brilliant cast to support the narrative. Shubhrajyoti Barat and Swanand Kirkire’s characters typify the regulating lot, who are so burdened by the cause of maintaining neutrality that they sometimes find the art itself to be enduring. The two actors’ expressions and dialogues are some of the best in the movie. As filmmaker Sam, Adarsh Gourav splendidly portrays the uncertainties that an artist never ceases to face. Ashwath Bhatt’s role is interesting and rather cleverly carved out. He stands out as the decoder and the very conscience of the narrative. Don’t miss the Seiko and HMT timepieces!
Kiss
Writer and director: Varun Grover
Cast: Adarsh Gourav, Shubhrajyoti Barat, Swanand Kirkire and Ashwath Bhatt
Producers: Newton Cinema, Odd & Even and Anurag Kashyap
Cinematographer: Sylvester Fonseca
Editor: Nitin Baid
Music directors: Mayukh-Mainak
Rating: 3½ stars
