Siddharth: The Prisoner

The inflow of serious, experimental, low budget films although a trickle right now, could be portentous of a ‘meaningful’ shift in Bollywood film productions. They may not all be money spinners but they can surely show a broader picture to the trade pundits who limit Indian audience’s taste to big budget, song-n-dance capers.

Prayas Gupta’s Siddharth: The Prisoner is essentially a short story told on a feature film length format. It starts with a vedic prayer that asks to be delivered from all desires and passions. Entangled in this fight against desire are Siddharth Roy – a once famous writer, now down in the dumps – and an an employee in an internet café (Sachin Nayak). Siddharth, once shortlisted for the Booker, has spent some time in jail (reason not specified) and is now out. The life that awaits him outside is no less tortuous. His wife has left him and he is not allowed to meet his son. The one thing that can save him is also the only good thing that came out of his stay in the prison. He has written a book – The Prisoner – and hopes to get it published. As luck would have it, he loses his manuscript. He can get it back, but for that he’ll have to let go of 20 lakhs Rupees that he has found. The money offers him a short and easy way to a better life, perhaps even a reunion with his son. The lure is strong. On the other hand, for Nayak, life is limited to computer games and an occasional prank on the paanwala. He has not yet learnt to dream big and he can resist the temptation of big money for much longer. Under different compulsions they both give in and what awaits them in the end is poetic justice.

Siddharth’s strength lies in its visual grammar. A very first-rate cinematography (Mrinal Desai) ensures that the protagonist moves through the entire story with no more than half-a-dozen lines to say. You can actually watch the film with earplugs without missing much. However, one wonders if that is the reason why the dialogues that there are, are poorly written clichés. Also, the lack of spoken words and a languorous visuals give the film both a ‘short-film’ feel as well as slows down its pace. The pace is reminiscent of some of the self-indulgent parallel films of the seventies and eighties. Serious cinema allows a lack of visible pace. But it works only when it is either the need of the story, or a stylistic device. In Siddharth, it is neither and creates uncomfortably long sequences that don’t really add anything to the film.

The other problem is that the narrator is always busy telling what happened to the characters that there is no opportunity for the characters to reveal themselves, nor showcase depths in other characters or subplots (the film could have surely done with more humour). As a result the film has no other layers than the obvious one – the one visible to you.

Rajat Kapoor’s act is the mainstay of the film and he does ample justice to his role. The deubutante, Sachin Nayak comes with a look that petitions attention, but his acting is often theatre-like. This film has its shortcomings but it is still watchable for the likeable short story it tells using small resources preciously well.