A Kind of English

**A Kind Of English**

**Director Ruhul Amin**

**A Channel 4 corporation production.**

**A KIND OF BENGALI IN ENGLISH**

**A SPIRITUAL HOMAGE TO INGMAR BERGMAN BY RUHUL AMIN**

**Review By: Dr Usman Latif Khawaja**

It is a pleasure to see this soulful rendering of the plight of a Bengali family in the ghetto of London's East End through the eyes of their nine-year-old son, who is witnessing the helplessness of his parents in the face of financial ruin and unemployment due to racial discrimination in the late '80s.

The focus is the child and his silent psychological trauma as he sees his mother \[Lalita Ahmed\] struggling to make ends meet, while his unemployed father takes his frustration out on her and the rest of the family, which comprises his uncle Tariq \[Andews\], who is a minicab driver, symbolising the heroic valour of Asian men who indulge in this hazardous profession worldwide, from Chicago to Sydney, when there is no other option available for financial stability.

Yet add to this the heady wisdom of a withered old granny, who relates the magical fables of the golden rivers of Bangladesh to her grandson, and you have a delightful but thought-provoking concoction which goes straight to your heart.

The stage is set in the redbrick council estates of Hackney, where we see the camera poetically sweep through the lanes and parks of East London like a gentle, caressing breeze. Yet this poignant story doesn't treat its characters as Asian caricatures seen recently in Bollywood and Hollywood presentations, but as individuals that we really are and how we, as a community, have established ourselves worldwide, not without a struggle but with absolute faith in our family structure.

The little boy is the focus of this tale, yet you care for every character, from the mum who stitches for a local garment factory to the proud Muslim Bengali father who is ashamed of his wife supporting the family while he struggles ineptly to find a job. Meanwhile, the son builds a model toy house from his imagination, which symbolises his domestic haven, and the heartbreak intensifies as he sees his parents rowing for financial reasons.

The movie is a true portrayal of Asians living abroad and not the erotic fairy tales I've seen recently from Hollywood and Bollywood. The inspiring finale has to be seen, not revealed, as the solid script and soulful but complete characters proceed with their everyday life and head into a chaotic crisis.

The camera captures the narrow lanes and parks of East London in a poetic manner, yet the colours reflect the grim subject in a natural manner, with reds and blues predominating. The lush green of Victoria Park shown initially as a paradise in the midst of Hackney's nightmarish reality—you will not see an inner city so truly explored anywhere else except in Italian cinema.

I must pay homage to Channel 4 for financing these wonderful ethnic projects, as *My Beautiful Laundrette*, but this is from a total Asian perspective, and no one can refute the sincerity of this project but laud its genuine emotion for its subjects.

The director triumphs in gently and subtly evoking a painful discussion on racial discrimination and individual rights in an ethnic community, as well as social comment on the way Bengali Muslims live, in a very constructive way, without insulting women or men, but showing them as victims of circumstances, which you will all agree we mortals are, whether in Lucknow or London.

Yet I felt like I was walking naked on a moonlit beach with a gentle breeze caressing my body, though I knew there were sharks in the water, but I was chilled by my experience with this enigmatic piece of Anglo-Bengali cinema, which is neither exploitative nor sermonising, but rather an observation of a slice of reality, as true cinema should be, and that is where I will say Ruhul Amin reminds me of INGMAR BERGMAN.

A must-see.

**THANKS FOR READING. Do leave some criticism, please.**

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