NYICFF: Sita Sings the Blues

Dumping someone over e-mail—how lame is that is? Self-taught animator Nina Paley found out first-hand, when her jerk of a partner ended their relationship after accepting a supposedly temp gig in India. At least the experience provided the seeds of inspiration for her debut feature, Sita Sings the Blues (trailer here), which screens this weekend as part of the New York International Children’s Film Festival.

The life of Rama deeply inspired the Muslim-born Hindi poet Kabir, whose work has been stirringly set to music by the ecstatic Sufi Qawwal singers. To tell the story of Rama’s long-suffering wife Sita, Paley enlists the voice of Annette Hanshaw, the popular vocalist of the 1920’s and early 1930’s, who was backed by most of the top jazzmen allowable in her era (meaning white), which even included Benny Goodman and the Dorsey Brothers. Though she retired early, her playful, bluesy style and her impish sign-off, “that’s all,” have maintained Hanshaw’s cult-following over the decades. Her songs of heartache now give voice to Sita, who despite being the Earthly incarnation of the goddess Lakshmi, was still done grievously wrong by her man.

Blues retells the parts of the Ramayana (the great Sanskrit epic), which pertain to Sita, from her perspective. She follows her husband into exile when his father is forced to banish him. Their time in the literal wilderness is actually quite happy, until the fateful day King Ravana of Lanka is manipulated into kidnapping her. As we see Ram and Sita devastated by their rough separation, we also witness the contemporary parallel story of Nina and her husband Dave. She is also distressed by the considerable distance between them, but for him—not so much. The stressful time spent apart would ultimately undo both couples.

Paley frequently switches gears visually, employing a wide variety of animation styles for each portion of her narrative. Sita and Rama come to life both as ornate figures inspired by Indian classical painting and more whimsical cartoon figures for Hanshaw’s musical interludes. Nina and Dave are simpler—not quite Terrance and Phillip of South Park, but nowhere near as sophisticated as the various Sitas and Ramas. Giving it all structure and context for western audiences are Paley’s narrator friends, represented in stylized profiles. While their improvised commentary might confuse as much as it illuminates, Paley’s accompanying animation is frequently hilarious, even approaching brilliance.

Paley’s film is chocked full of clever bits of business and some sharp dialogue. However, its finest moments come when marrying the music of Hanshaw with the ancient, exotic tragedy of Sita, with her rendition of “Mean to Me” being a particular standout. Indeed, the blues are truly universal. Though it has a very grown-up sensibility, aside from the occasional cursing, it is by-and-large appropriate for audiences of all ages. Enormously entertaining and consistently inventive, Blues is the best animated film produced in recent years—far superior to anything released by Disney or Pixar this decade. A highlight of the festival, it screens again Sunday (3/15) at the DGA Theater.

MIAAC: Bound, Unbound

The existence of religious tension in India will not exactly come as headline news. It probably will not come as a surprise either that its voices of moderation and tolerance often come from musicians. Such is the case in Shabnam Virmani’s documentary Bound, Unbound: Journeys with Ram & Kabir, which screened at this year’s MIAAC Film Festival.

Virmani begins her filmmaking journey in Ayodhya, the legendary birthplace of the Hindu God Ram (Rama), which would become particularly emblematic of religious strife. In the Sixteenth Century, a Hindu temple was demolished on Ram’s Fort Hill, by the Mughals to erect the Babri Mosque, widely celebrated for its ornate architecture. In 1992 throngs of Hindu nationalists returned the favor, demolishing the Mosque for the sake of Ram’s honor. Virmani interviews unrepentant street vendors hawking videos of the destruction, who clearly leave her discouraged. Can she find contemporary manifestations of Ram, besides such intolerance porn?

As it turns out, yes, thanks to musicians interpreting the work of Fifteenth Century poet Kabir. Thought to have been raised by a Muslim family, but taught by a Hindu master, the exact details of Kabir’s life are shrouded in mystery. Inspired by Ram, his own work seemed to draw from both traditions, leading many to think he deliberately conflated differences between the two. As a result, Virmani finds both Indian Hindus and Pakistani Sufi Muslims who take inspiration from his words.

When watching Unbound, prepare yourself for some serious harmonium. A close relative of the accordion, the hand-pumped keyboard is perfectly suited for the drone-like, ecstatic music of Kabir’s followers. Intended to induce a trancelike state, their groove really is hypnotic. The MIAAC also screened an entertaining documentary about one of Bollywood’s greatest composers, but the music of Unbound totally overshadows it.

Traveling in a Northwestern direction, Virmani introduces the audience to Prahlad Tipaniya of the Ujjain province (West Central India) and Mukhtiar Ali from Bikaner, Rajasthan (Northwest India). Their music is certainly compelling, but the most dramatic sounds probably come from Sufi Qawwal performer Fariduddin (Fareed) Ayaz and his ensemble. Hugely charismatic, Ayaz’s personality and his humanist philosophy dominates the final third of the film.

Part of Virmani’s four film Kabir documentary project, Unbound combines ecstatic music with a truly humanistic spirit. Even if its message of tolerance proves chimeric, the transcendent appeal of the music remains. It was perfect programming choice for this year’s MIAAC Film Festival.