CineM Review: Bella Martha (2001)

Spontaneity meets Precision…

 There’s a moment in this film where a painfully young girl confides in her aunt that she’s already starting to forget her mother – a realisation which is all the more saddening and inexplicable to someone so young who has just lost her parent. This scene is in essence what ‘Bella Martha’ seeks to explore – the uneasy initiation into stuff beyond one’s comfort zone. This film is centered around a fastidiously efficient head chef (Martha) and her young niece (Lina) who comes into her care after her single mother dies in an accident. Both aunt and niece are indulgently riveted on their individual fixations (Martha with her kitchen and Lina with the trials of living with a woman who is not her mother) to the exclusion of their mutual realities. Things change with the entry of a free-spirited Italian sous-chef (Mario) into Martha’s kitchen and into the sequestered lives of aunt and niece. The impulsive boisterousness of the Mediterranean spirit collides with stoic Germanic reserve, resulting in a battle of wills starting with the kitchen and spilling over outside too.

'Bella Martha’ is German filmmaker Sandra Nettelbeck’s first full-length feature and she does a remarkable job of confining the escalating tug-of-war within a limited conventional scope without resorting to overt drama and generalisations. ‘Bella Martha’ translates into ‘beautiful Martha’; both Sandra and Martina Gedeck in the titular role infuse a level of strength and vulnerability into Martha which is aesthetically very sensual. There is a definite flow from start to finish; the introduction of Martha’s perfectionist, inhibited character, her guardianship of her young niece, the entry of the naturally demonstrative Mario and their accompanying battles to discover life beyond.

Martina who would go on to personify a similarly gifted and troubled artist (actress) later in ‘The Lives of Others’ (2006), pulls off a great performance facing difficult situations in a muted, true-to-life fashion. For a romantic comedy drama, the tender love story progresses along in a muted, true-to-life manner too. The ‘big’ moment where Martha and Mario recognise and tentatively submit to their mutual attraction with an almost-stolen kiss is delicately played out among spices, flavours and aromas - all parts of a delightfully created blindfold taste session. The niece Lina like so many young kids tossed into an incomprehensible situation, acts out her anger until it is spent or won over by love. The evolving relationship between Martha and Lina lies at the core of the story, with Mario acting as the catalyst which brings together all the elements to realise that perfect concoction. There is a wonderfully crafted comic vignette between Martha and her psychiatrist before the end credits roll out.

The narrative may feel at times, to be running along in its fairly predictable course. And cold and gray Germany is shot in tones which are ... well, cold and gray. 'Bella Martha' is not a ground-breaking story but it is well-told. 

Ultimately, love unlike a food recipe rarely arrives accompanied with its own checklist; it is oftentimes hard but when it all comes together, it is magical.

This is a well-mounted and well-acted film; so if anyone wants a flashier version, check out the blatant ‘copy and paste’ job that is Catherine Zeta-Jones’ ‘No Reservations’.

CineM's Verdict

Armour of Love: From Nippon to Assam

Weaving is deeply rooted in Assamese culture; in fact, it was customary for every Assamese household at one time to possess atleast one spinning wheel and a loom. Elaborate silk panels woven in Assam depicting typical cultural motifs and religious symbolisms have ended up in museums and monasteries worldwide. Weaving was not restricted to a particular caste nor was it restricted to household with means – every woman and girl irrespective of caste or economic standing spun and wove their own cloth. Dexterity in weaving was one of the prime sought-after qualities in girls of marriageable age in earlier days.

One of the customs among Assamese womenfolk was the preparation of armour made out of – you could never guess it – Cotton! During times of war, diligent wives would gin, card, spin and weave cotton to fashion a piece of cloth (all within a single night) and present it to their menfolk in the morning as they set out for the battlefield. This piece of cloth was known as a ‘kobos kapur’ literally translating into ‘armour cloth’; the men proudly wearing it as a belief that it granted invincibility to the wearer. This custom is all the more heart-affecting cos the Assamese army in the days of the Ahom rulers was hardly composed of warriors. Instead, the Assamese soldier was actually a ‘paik’ – a civilian beholden to the local feudal lord or the Ahom king called up to military duty in times of war. So, when these farmers or woodcutters or fishermen or otherwise peaceable folk went out to war clad in homespun armour made out of just cotton, their courage and sense of duty becomes all the more admirable.

Scientifically, there is a basis to armour spun out of soft fibres like cotton. The soft body armour functions just like a very strong net. The interwoven strands of greatly slender and elongated cotton disperse the energy emanating from the point of impact over a wide area, thus reducing injury from abrasions.

One can see a striking parallel in a far-more warlike land like erstwhile Imperial Nippon governed by the strict Bushido code of war. When Japanese warriors of the Imperial army set out to war, it was the custom of their womenfolk to present them with pieces of cotton cloth to be worn as vests, belts, headbands or caps. This cloth was called the ‘Senninbari’ (or 'the thousand person stitches') – a strip of cloth with a thousand stitches, each sewed by a different woman and lovingly presented to the warrior to protect him. During the Second World War, mothers and sisters and wives would stand near the local train station or temple or store and hold out their senninbari to passing-by women so that they could sew in that one stitch. Oftentimes the senninbari was lined with a few strand of hair of the woman or studded with coins as additional amulets.

Whether it is Nippon or Assam or anyplace else, it is the devotion and love of the women of the land manifested in heartfelt simple ways, sometimes even in fragile homemade pieces of cloth which I am sure in ways unfathomable, somehow lend a different spirit to the wearer.

CineM Review: To Have and Have Not (1944)

Bogie and Bacall had it all

Country singer Bertie Higgins’ song titled ‘Key Largo’ has that well-known ditty “We had it all / Just like Bogie and Bacall”. To develop just an itsy inkling of what Bogie and Bacall ‘had’, a viewing of ‘To Have and Have Not’ comes highly recommended. A film directed by Howard Hawks, launching the sultry Lauren Bacall, with a story originally written by Hemingway and a screenplay developed by Faulkner and Furthman and not least, starring that emerging icon Bogart with the gritty ‘The Maltese Falcon’ and a masterful ‘Casablanca’ just behind him – you have reasons galore for catching this movie!

Hemingway’s story was based on liquor-running between Florida  and Cuba, and contained marked classist overtones, hence the story title. Hawks adapted the setting to the island of Martinique under the puppet Vichy regime, the protagonist no longer ran booze up and down the Gulf, the hero Harry Morgan (Bogie) and his alcoholic sidekick Eddie (Walter Brennan) simply offered their boat and services for the more plain thrill of game fishing. One of the early scenes has Hemingway’s mark all over it, when the duo and a client grapple with a feisty marlin - the author's fav sporting fish. Bacall is cast as ‘Slim’ – a magnetic beauty with fire in her eyes, smoke on her lips and smouldering embers in her walk, just the sort of female wheeler-dealer who asks for a light first and then oh-so-slowly, singes your heart with it.

The politics is superficial, back-stories are dispensed with, motivations are simple and introductions are curt – the free-flowing film serving as a canvas to showcase the electric chemistry between Bogie and Bacall. One of the hallmarks of a Hawks’ film is the exchange of rapid-fire dialogues; here the repartees between the two flow thick and furious, the words lie deliciously scattered around to the point of being non sequiturs.

Sample this dialogue between ‘Slim’ and Morgan when the first on-screen kiss is tentatively shared between the two who would eventually become the future off-screen Mr. and Mrs. Bogart.

 

[Slim kisses Morgan]

Morgan: What did you do that for?

Slim: I've been wondering if I'd like it.

Morgan: What's the decision?

Slim: I don't know yet.

[They kiss again]

Slim: It's even better when you help.

The word-play, the scene, the agony and the ecstasy come together in that perfect wispy breath of cinematic brilliance so much so that Hawks would play out the exact scene 15 years later in ‘Rio Bravo’ between the blustery John Wayne and the languorous Angie Dickinson.

Of course, Bogie and Bacall do it infinitely better.

This scorching chemistry is the most substantial reason why anyone should fit in ‘To Have and Have Not’ in their viewing record. That, and the delight of a superlative Walter Brennan comic turn as the hero’s sidekick whose loping gait makes it look as if he is perpetually attempting to step over a puddle in his way.

CineM's Verdict