Review of the 2013 film ‘The Ship of Theseus’, a ‘hinglish’ film directed by Anand Gandhi

Theseus’ ship is a meticulous dialectical observation of the transient human forms that travel in the sphere of reality. Examine the paradoxes in arguments about human beliefs, values, and ideologies, exploring through the cave of space and time to find answers to the arcane light of truth. The film is deep, at times dense enough to throw you into a storm of confusion, yet its mysterious powers to stimulate your mind to question the basis of existence is nonetheless a remarkable feat for writer-director Anand. Gandhi. It’s even more surprising to learn that Ship of Theseus is Gandhi’s first feature film, and wait until you hear the biggest surprise: This work comes from the same man who started the incredibly contrived ‘Evil Mother-in-law vs. holy daughter-in-law’ in Indian soap operas like ‘Kyuunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi (Because Mother-in-law Was Once a Daughter-in-law)’ and ‘Kahaani Ghar Ghar Kii (Story of Every Home)’ over a decade ago.

This man has finally completed his path, his eight-year pilgrimage (he conceived his idea in 2005, after making two short films ‘Right Here Right Now’ in 2003 and ‘Continuum’ in 2005) and has found some answers, which he brings to the world. in the form of the Ship of Theseus. The search for him is probably still going on, but this movie is as good as it gets.

Deconstructing the mighty body of the Ship of Theseus down to its bones would require considerable experience (losing Mr. Ebert) and so please forgive me if my attempt fails. There are three characters who embark on three different journeys, catalyzed by the coaxial theme of organ transplantation. The transplant acts as the physical manifestation of the Plutarchian paradox, which questions that ‘if all the parts of a ship are replaced plank by plank and used to build a new ship, then the new ship will remain the same ship as before. . ?’.

Aliya Kamal, a visually impaired photographer whose perception of beauty and art develops through touch and sounds in the absence of images, seeks perfection in her photographs and often turns down photos that her boyfriend finds great, which leads to arguments between the couple. Her sixth sense of using her sound (plus her boyfriend and ever-reliable editing software) as her guide to capturing luscious visual moments is threatened by her decision to go ahead with a sound transplant. horny to restore her sight. She will realize that there is no such thing as a ‘swan chariot’, an image that she had designed inside her head for God knows what.

Maitreya, the second character, is an English-speaking scholar (and atheist) monk who fights for noble causes like preventing animal cruelty during cosmetic and medicinal tests. He travels to the fast-track court on foot (which is always slow) and lets his Parsi lawyer fight on his behalf (meanwhile, the defense attorney dismisses the case as “a sentimental petition” and begs door to door. When his Chavarka realizes he saves a centipede from being crushed by someone’s foot and lets it go on top of a leaf, joking that “the centipede may have been trying to kill itself and now that it was saved, it would have found its way.” towards nirvana”; there are constant friendly discussions between the two that usually revolve around the idea of ​​moksha or enlightenment.

Soon, Maitreya is found to have cirrhosis of the liver and the ailing monk, whose steadfast refusal to touch any object made at the expense of torturing animals, refuses to undergo a transplant that would also involve taking dozens of such pills. He retires to seclusion and ends up punishing his own body; for someone who believes so much in karma (what goes around comes around), God knows what sin the saint committed to suffer so much pain.

Navin, the third character, is a money-conscious stockbroker who deals in the world of stocks and shares even while admitted to the hospital. Once released, he goes home where his art-loving grandmother (whom he calls ‘ajji’, which means grandmother in Marathi) scolds him for showing little interest in art and social issues. When he is admitted to the hospital after breaking his leg, he hires a Rajasthani musician to sing folk tunes for her and her friends inside the hospital; Meanwhile, Navin frets, trying to find a way to escape. The two have an argument later, where Navin accuses her of being intolerant of her attitude to life, which is to enjoy material comfort and yet have basic human compassion. When he learns that a poor man’s kidney was stolen the day before he had his own kidney, he fears that he may have the man’s kidney and searches for the true owner. God knows what drives him to travel to Stockholm in search of the new owner.

Anand Gandhi captains his Titanic Ship through its course, and is not hindered by any stupid icebergs. The easy way to look at this film is that it’s about organ donation, but if you take a closer look, you’ll see that the theme of the ‘rewiring of the human psyche by external forces’ shines through. The structure of the film is so enormous, its themes so numerous, that sometimes you don’t feel sure if you are moving in the direction the film intends you to move. My advice to those who can’t understand everything would be to leave it in God’s hands and just understand what is easiest for your mind to understand. Subsequent viewings will reveal more answers.

Pankaj Kumar’s cinematography is extremely fluid and Gandhi allows the camera to remain still for long periods of time. That’s where our actors, Aida El-Kashef, Neeraj Kabi and Sohum Shah (also the producer), do all the excellent visual communication, bringing an emotional intensity that gives these philosophical concepts a more humane and easy way of expression. Here are some powerful images that draw our attention to the grand scheme of things. We begin to question ourselves then, asking ourselves “God knows why…?”. Our journey begins.