All We Imagine as Light is a film that resonates as a work of art, flowing like the waters of Mumbai, exploring themes of sisterhood, loneliness, women’s desire, feminism, class, and religious divides in India.
This review contains spoilers for the movie ‘All We Imagine as Light.’
Cannes’ Grand Prix winner All We Imagine as Light had its Canadian premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF) on Sept. 11 at TIFF Bellbox.
Directed by Indian filmmaker Payal Kapadia, the film explores the lives of two Malayali nurses, Prabha and Anu, in the bustling metropolitan of Mumbai.
The movie opens with a series of montages that capture the city’s hectic pace, interspersed with voices sharing their perspectives on Mumbai, leading us to our central characters.
Prabha (Kani Kusruti), a seasoned nurse, lives with Anu (Divya Prabha), a trainee nurse in a tiny apartment in the city.
Despite her husband’s absence in Germany and their long-standing silence, Prabha maintains her independence while grappling with loneliness and a yearning for affection.
Meanwhile, Anu, secretly seeing a Muslim boy, faces her own struggles as she navigates the pressures of an arranged marriage.
Kapadia introduces a striking comment on Mumbai’s “city of dreams” label, suggesting it’s more a “city of illusions,” reflecting the stark class divide seen throughout the city. This divide is embodied in the story of Parvaty (Chhaya Kadam), Prabha’s friend, who faces losing her home to a wealthy builder due to lack of documentation.
For those unfamiliar with the city, the contrast between five-star hotels right next to slums starkly illustrates the deep divide between the wealthy and the poor.
Since the film predominantly features scenes in Malayalam, it highlights the language barriers faced by non-Hindi speakers in India. Kapadia depicts this through a scene where Prabha speaks with a doctor who expresses his frustrations about the difficulties of learning Hindi while practicing medicine in the city.
In this scene, Dr. Manoj’s (Azees Nedumangad) affection for Prabha is evident as they interact outside work, though Prabha keeps her distance despite her own loneliness, as she remains hopeful for her husband’s return.
While Prabha navigates her loneliness with quiet strength, Anu’s free-spirited approach to relationships contrasts sharply with Prabha’s more traditional outlook.
Anu’s relationship with Shiaz, a Muslim man, and her struggle against familial pressure for an arranged marriage exposes the deep-seated religious divides, especially under the current political climate in India.
Kapadia illustrates this divide through the interreligious couple, showing how societal and religious norms continue to shape and restrict personal relationships. A pivotal scene in a cave in Ratnagiri, a port town in Southern India, where Anu and Shiaz discuss their fears about their love being deemed unnatural due to their different religions, underscores this theme.
The film also challenges conventional portrayals of women in Indian cinema by depicting Anu’s openness about her sexual desires and her defiance of societal expectations, presenting characters that break from traditional Bollywood norms.
On the other hand, Prabha’s storyline involves her growing connection with Dr. Manoj, who proposes staying in Mumbai if their relationship has a future. Prabha declines and channels her energy into helping Parvaty seek compensation and build a case against the builders by taking her to a reputable lawyer.
When their efforts fail and Parvaty decides to return to her village in Ratnagiri, the three women embark on the journey together where their sisterhood flourishes as they share moments of camaraderie on the beach, sipping alcohol and dancing to an old Bollywood song.
Parvaty’s character, portrayed with remarkable strength and conviction by Chhaya Kadam, emerges as a standout, embodying a form of carefree feminism and resilience that is both rare and compelling.
The film’s cinematography captures every frame with a postcard-like quality, employing a grainy and often dark aesthetic that mirrors the characters’ internal struggles.
In the film’s concluding scenes, Prabha becomes more open, symbolically letting go of her emotional burdens. She also witnesses Anu and Shiaz together in the forest and has a poignant, almost imaginary conversation with her husband through a man she helps in the village, declaring that she has had enough.
The film closes with the three women at the beach, where Prabha’s gesture of inviting Shiaz to join them signifies a maternal role she adopts for Anu, offering her a sense of freedom in her relationship.
I really enjoyed this film because it was a refreshing and bold piece of art that explores the power of womanhood, and the deep cultural, class and religious divisions that continue to haunt the country till now.
