Trishna

Bea says: I was intrigued by the idea of this retelling of the classic Hardy novel Tess of the D’Urbervilles, set in contemporary India, so when Cecil proposed the choice of it or another film for a dreary Monday evening in Glasgow, I went for Trishna.

The Glasgow Film Theatre reminded me very much of our old favourite venue in London, the British Film Institute; hip, diverse clientele, and a short introduction to the film, delivered by someone who was clearly a fan of the director, Michael Winterbottom, and drinks and discussion in the café afterwards.

Despite being a film blogger I am afraid I have not seen any other Winterbottom films, although I remember the stir that 24 Hour Party People caused. It has also been a long, long time since I read Tess, and since I watched the Polanski version starring Nastassia Kinski, which is a fairly faithful period adaptation, but thinking the story over I could see how it might work in contemporary times in India – and indeed it did.

The story follows Trishna, the oldest daughter of a poor rural man living in village in Rajasthan. Her beauty catches the eye of young Anglo-Indian heir, Jay, who arranges for her to work at his father’s hotel empire when her own father is injured in a road accident and the family desperately need money.

When Tess subsequently returns home in trouble, an abortion is arranged, and she is packed off to work in her uncle’s factory and cook and keep house for him and his invalid wife. Jay crosses her path once again, and this time she goes to live with him in Bombay – a life of ease and leisure, and with her family well supplied with cash, but also a life of shame.

However, once Trishna tells Jay about the abortion, their relationship changes. He leaves for some time, and once returned, they leave Bombay for the hotel again, in a chilling reprise of their former roles as master and servant that surely can only end badly.

The end of Tess has fascinated me since I discovered at my local book club that two different versions of the book exist – one with a tragic end and one with a happier outcome. I won’t say any more about which one this is.

But it was a beautifully done, thought-provoking film which shows just how universal and enduring Hardy’s themes are – and how well he wrote about the lives of women.

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Cecil says: I haven’t read Tess of the d’Urbevilles, so I could sit back and enjoy this film just for its storyline and filming on set in India, without needing to make any comparisons with the text of the book.

Actually, the guy who introduced the film on the stage of the GFT almost put me off staying to see the film. As Bea says, he was clearly an old fan of director Winterbottom, but the more he spoke of Winterbottom’s past films, the less I wanted to see this one…

It’s quite a nice touch to have these personal introductions to films, but somehow, rather like professional film reviewers, this kind of intro can tend to try too hard to impress an audience. Even if we’d had time to go to the bar afterwards to talk about the film, I don’t think I’d have dared to go along because I wouldn’t be well enough read or know enough big words to feel at ease in such company.

So, what of the film?

Well, actually, it’s an interesting plot; not often you see films about Anglo-Indians returning to the homes of their ancestors, with all the connections – but also disconnections – that involves. But in fact, we enter much more closely into the heart and mind of Trishna than we do of Jay. Our hearts sink – as probably hers would have – when Jay says, after reading the Kama Sutra, that all women are either ‘maids, courtesans or single ladies’ – “which are you?”

You sense that her big chance of escape from the dependence on others might be through her dancing, but then that way out also closes off. Was that her decision or would she have been doomed whatever she chose?

It all sounds rather depressing and hopeless, I know, but actually the setting of the film in India made it a colourful spectacle that was a pleasure to watch, from the beauty of the rural village to the chaos of Mumbai (though I’m sure someone at some point called it Bombay…).

I have only a vague memory of my brief trip to Bombay when I was 7, but what I’ll never forget is the heat. Colourful and exciting it might be, but I couldn’t help reminding myself at each scene change in Trishna that everything that was taking place, from bus journeys to hotel rooms, from dance studios to desert drives would be happening in intense heat. Not something that would affect the characters in a Thomas Hardy novel. But then I shouldn’t be referring to Hardy: this film is worth seeing whether or not you know his books.

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