"Some memories define us, others consume us"
(inspired from horror-poet CK Williams)
I was scared of "Aamis", much before I even saw it. I was scared by all the intrigue, the reviews about the "genre-defying" cinema and above all, its surprisingly humble precinct. After rounds of some of the most coveted film festivals, there is still so little known about this one. Perhaps, that's how "intrigue" works - in a curious, silent imaginative sense of fear.
Sumon, a young research student, has a field of study cum leisure pursuit in the form of a self-proclaimed "Meat Club". The members prepare the freshest, self-sourced and self-cooked delicacies of diverse meats from North-East India. So when a vegetarian friend falls sick after gobbling up one of such pursuits, it's caused less of the meat itself but, its gluttony. At this time, the young student crosses paths with Dr Nirmali, a married middle-aged paediatrician sharing a similar curiosity for those delicacies. Needless to mention, this was the beginning of a friendship - unusual nonetheless.
Nirmali, missing the presence of a man in her life, and Sumon, expecting a matured romance in his, end up falling for each other; but they never cross boundaries or even so much as touch. Their lack of any physical contact was only catalyzing their simmering desires. They do satiate them, of course with mouth-watering food. However, as they leave their taste buds unchecked to a point that unearths the most shocking of cravings.
Aamis ("Ravening; or "non-vegetarian" literally) is a text-book work in smart storytelling, but not the slightest of it is clichéd. It has all the right circumstances to make it seem natural amidst the natural locales of Assam (cinematography by Riju Das) with constant allusions for the friendship to bud into a forbidden romance - be it a bat-eaten apple, the sensual visuals of stomach or just food itself.
Writer-Director Bhaskar Hazarika has a rich, simplistic style of narrating a benign-seeming story which by ACT-III grew claws and canines, piercing through my mind and sinking it well within my imagination. As Dr Nirmali says, "a beautiful amalgamation of food and hallucinogenic". Aided by a fine background score (Toronto-based composers Quan Bay) and 2 fine debutants - Arghadeep Baruah and especially, Lima Das whose eyes spoke incessantly even when she wasn't in focus. As, I was wishing that the inevitable doesn't happen the film leaves on such a tender note - nearly poetic - that it's hard not to think about it even after days of viewing it.
As spoken the best by American film-critic, Owen Gleiberman, "...(it) doesn't rub our noses in the horror... It shows us just enough, keeping the horror where it belongs, in the recesses of our imagination, where it remains what it should be: dark as midnight, and altogether too much to fathom."
Triumphant gastronomic terror, in the offing and please do not miss this one even on an empty stomach (pun intended). 9/10
I was scared of "Aamis", much before I even saw it. I was scared by all the intrigue, the reviews about the "genre-defying" cinema and above all, its surprisingly humble precinct. After rounds of some of the most coveted film festivals, there is still so little known about this one. Perhaps, that's how "intrigue" works - in a curious, silent imaginative sense of fear.
Sumon, a young research student, has a field of study cum leisure pursuit in the form of a self-proclaimed "Meat Club". The members prepare the freshest, self-sourced and self-cooked delicacies of diverse meats from North-East India. So when a vegetarian friend falls sick after gobbling up one of such pursuits, it's caused less of the meat itself but, its gluttony. At this time, the young student crosses paths with Dr Nirmali, a married middle-aged paediatrician sharing a similar curiosity for those delicacies. Needless to mention, this was the beginning of a friendship - unusual nonetheless.
Nirmali, missing the presence of a man in her life, and Sumon, expecting a matured romance in his, end up falling for each other; but they never cross boundaries or even so much as touch. Their lack of any physical contact was only catalyzing their simmering desires. They do satiate them, of course with mouth-watering food. However, as they leave their taste buds unchecked to a point that unearths the most shocking of cravings.
Aamis ("Ravening; or "non-vegetarian" literally) is a text-book work in smart storytelling, but not the slightest of it is clichéd. It has all the right circumstances to make it seem natural amidst the natural locales of Assam (cinematography by Riju Das) with constant allusions for the friendship to bud into a forbidden romance - be it a bat-eaten apple, the sensual visuals of stomach or just food itself.
Writer-Director Bhaskar Hazarika has a rich, simplistic style of narrating a benign-seeming story which by ACT-III grew claws and canines, piercing through my mind and sinking it well within my imagination. As Dr Nirmali says, "a beautiful amalgamation of food and hallucinogenic". Aided by a fine background score (Toronto-based composers Quan Bay) and 2 fine debutants - Arghadeep Baruah and especially, Lima Das whose eyes spoke incessantly even when she wasn't in focus. As, I was wishing that the inevitable doesn't happen the film leaves on such a tender note - nearly poetic - that it's hard not to think about it even after days of viewing it.
As spoken the best by American film-critic, Owen Gleiberman, "...(it) doesn't rub our noses in the horror... It shows us just enough, keeping the horror where it belongs, in the recesses of our imagination, where it remains what it should be: dark as midnight, and altogether too much to fathom."
Triumphant gastronomic terror, in the offing and please do not miss this one even on an empty stomach (pun intended). 9/10