Gandu

Q wanted to be noticed with his first independent venture and this film accomplishes it, especially the nothing-but-shock-value sex.

Q has an uncanny ear for local dialogue and some of the exchanges are wry, ironic and sometimes hilarious. He's sketch of the flirty cybercafe Bengali girl is possibly one of the truest sketches I have seen. Also the street talk of lowlifes is bang on.

But then - what? Where does this all lead to? Gandu builds up great expectations, then does not deliver. I felt as frustrated as the main character - empty and wasted.

As is typical of many those who are attracted to film via the superficials - pithy dialogue or "the look" or sensationalism, that only works on the underlying framework of a solidly good story. You cannot erect a memorable film without a solid foundation of plot, character arc or a satisfying ending.

I feel sad that this potentially great talent will only swim on the surface and end up being forgotten unless he goes deeper to see what makes good stories work.

Bengali cinema desperately needs a new voice, a new testament and my fear is that unless Q respects STORY and CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT, it will be all downhill for him from here.

Why is that the ancient spiritual Indian culture only produces talent incapable of true introspection? Who destroyed our image of ourselves? Why must everything we do be a copy of a copy of a copy?