When the protagonist says, “The memory of daylight seemed like a distant dream,” it evokes a Marquez novel
Illustration/Uday Mohite
Among the glorious array of Indian and South Asian films and talent that was on display –and awarded—at the Cannes Film Festival this year—Payal Kapadia won the Grand Prix for All We Imagine As Light, Anasuya Sengupta won Best Actress in Un Certain Regard at Cannes; Chidananda Naik’s 16-min short Sunflowers Were the First Ones to Know won the first prize in the La Cinef section for film school entries; and Santosh Sivan won the Pierre Angenieux Excel Lens Award for Cinematography. Additionally, Mansi Maheshwari won third prize for Bunnyhood (NFTS, UK).
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There is no doubt that Chidananda Naik is exceptionally gifted. Mark my words. His film, Sunflowers Were the First Ones to Know, in Kannada, produced by the Film and Television Institute of India (FTII, Pune), was one of 18 shorts selected from 2,263 submissions. Previous recent FTII alumni selected at Cannes include Ashmita Guha Neogi’s CatDog in 2020, and Yudhajit Basu’s diploma film Nehemich/Always.
In Sunflowers Were the First Ones to Know, there are rumours in the village, that the protagonist’s grandmother has stolen the village rooster and disappeared. As the rooster is missing, the sun doesn’t rise either, so the village is plunged in darkness for an indefinite period. Villagers stare at the sky for ages, waiting for the sun to appear. When the protagonist says, “The memory of daylight seemed like a distant dream,” it evokes a Marquez novel.
The woman’s adult son curses her, “that old bitch… she has gone to look for her lover,” threatening to break her legs if she returns home. Ah, as usual, men make a lot of horrific comments if a woman is out late and/or missing—things have scarcely changed since Mrinal Sen’s Ek Din Pratidin (And Quiet Rolls the Dawn, 1979). It is only in the second half that we realise why the mother stole the rooster and are deeply moved. It underlines what the adult son feels about his mother, and what she feels about him; it reveals a lot about patriarchal attitudes, misogyny and casual violence against women in India. The film plays on the idea of prophecies and rumours and sleeping with your eyes open.
The direction is absolutely accomplished, and in some scenes, the mise-en-scene takes your breath away. There’s a scene of a woman swinging from a swing under a tree at night in the background—she looks like she could be considering suicide—and in the foreground, a series of villagers move from left to to right with mashaals, fire torches.
There are multiple political metaphors, which the director may or may not have intended—of someone who is arrogant enough, to imagine that because he has a rooster, the world revolves around him, for instance. The film was shot in just four days—nights actually.
The acting is good. The screenplay is marvelous. Suraj Thakur’s cinematography marks him out as a talent to watch for. There is a remarkable pan of wet clothes on the clothesline, with dripping, weeping shirts, that simply don’t dry, but have the “fragrance of water.”
Editor Manoj V does a fine job, as is Abhishek Kadam’s sound design and original music are superb.
Indefinite darkness is challenging to cope with, yet, the climax reveals a contradictory and ironic metaphor. Chidananada Naik dropped out of medical college in Mysuru, to become a filmmaker—glory be! We are richer for it.
Meenakshi Shedde is India and South Asia Delegate to the Berlin International Film Festival, National Award-winning critic, curator to festivals worldwide and journalist.
Reach her at meenakshi.shedde@mid-day.com
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