I Reject The Invitation From God (Abdul Rahman) Film review
I Reject The Invitation From God | Missed Movies (YouTube) 45'35"
(Missed Movies) 12 March 2020
Written - Directed - Edited by Abdul Rahman
Tamil (subtitled in English)
My review:
I Reject The Invitation From God (2019/Abdul Rahman/India) 45’
One widower patiently awakes from a comatose sleep on the unmade bed, at the insistent sound of an old fashioned ringtone. His body lies face up and stretched out like a corpse. Slowly, very slowly, he sits up and rubs his bearded face, like the weight of the years bearing on his shoulders, numbing his whole body, his every joint. He speaks no words, since he lives on his own and sees no one all day. The film title reveals everything from the start. But when will it happen? What are we looking at? A dream? A miracle? Or just another day?
Abdul Rahman’s fourth short film opens slowly and without speech (the first word uttered comes out right before 7’ 30”). The shots are long and almost always static, but we enjoy partaking in the protagonist’s small whereabouts. He cleans up his garden, he showers, he polishes his sleepers, he fixes up the door hinge, he washes the dishes, he drinks tea. We are meant to pick up from the consecutive moments of his life the necessary indications that characterise his behaviour. He spends most of the time sitting on a plastic chair at the threshold of his house, gazing outside. And we conclude: he’s old, he’s lonely, he’s not impatient, but he’s full of calm wisdom.
Several people will distract his age-old routine that day. A child. A film crew. A cab driver. The child, who lost his ball in the garden, will remind him of his own grandchild whose birthday is the next day (which we’ll learn from the film crew’s interview). The interaction is awkward, both don’t seem to know what to say. Few words are spoken. The eyelines can’t meet. It’s just the beauty of this moment. We understand there is a subtle transfer at work: the pseudo family tie one way, the respectful fear for the elderly the other way.
The point of view remains exterior to the protagonist until the penultimate scene. The two film students, who arrived from Chennai, are there to interrogate about their life elderly people living alone. “Don’t worry, they say, you don’t have to act. Stay relaxed and casual.” Fine. Finally somebody is taking interest in him… “Talk about your life. Share some details.” He answers the questions and reveals to the spectator what images alone couldn’t portray. His one joy in life is his grandson, even though he’s a bit naughty. And that’s about all we get from this taciturn old man…
The film crew (incidentally played by Abdul Rahman himself and his brother) is a stand-in for the filmmaker of this short film, who assumes the spectators' concern and probes into his protagonist’s secret purpose. Who is he? What did he do before retiring? Why is he living alone? What is his greatest joy in life? Questions the audience feels anxious about for the past 15 minutes. But that’ll be all he concedes. Not much more will filter out from the old man’s impenetrable husk. The filmmaker gives in an inch, but lets the spectator do all the rest of the way.
The cab driver is also very quiet. He takes him to a toy shop for the birthday present. On the way back, the old man requests assistance to set the alarm clock on his phone. The driver is affable. They exchange a few insignificant words. But they fill his evening with peace. What will happen that night is unspeakable. The portrait of this grandfather has been brushed in subtle touches and we are prepared for the impossible.
This short films the silent treatment of a lonesome elderly like Michelangelo Frammartino in Le Quattro Volte/Four Times (2010), or Los Muertos (2004) by Lisandro Alonso, or Two Years At Sea (2011) of Ben Rivers, or Aleksandr Sokurov’s A Humble Life (1997)... Each of these films, like I Reject The Invitation From God, take the contemplative mode because the protagonists are opaque but vibrant, laconic but impressionistic, alienated but open-minded.
See also from the same director:
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