Winkle Twinkle review: Can communism survive changing times?

What if Rip Van Winkle was born a communist? Is communism a political construct or an ideology? If it is an ideology, can it die out with time? Or does it rise like the phoenix with changing times, warding off skins and adorning newer ones. Every time it vanishes into thin air, does Banquo surmise:

“The earth hath bubbles, as the water has,

And these are of them. Whither are they vanished?” (Macbeth, Act I Scene III)

Bratya Basu, in his timeless play “Winkle Twinkle” had probed us into negotiations that question, endorse and negate such interventions. Performed by ace thespians like Debesh Chattopadhyay, Rajatava Dutta and other luminaries more than a decade ago; this play has been recently adapted into a film by Srijit Mukherjee where he not only contemporises the context but also nudges us further into the political debates of our times. Sabyasachi Sen, the protagonist (played by Ritwik Chakraborty) sublimates into thin air while being chased by the sleuths in the backdrop of 1976 Naxalite movement and is readily considered dead. The story is a revisit of Sabyasachi, who has presumably woken up from his slumber and sees the world through the Rip Van Winkle eye. In 2002, as he himself says: “Ei notun Din notun ‘ism’ er modhye ami misfit. Hoy khap khaiye nebo nahole morey jabo” (I am a misfit amidst this new times, new ‘isms’. Either I shall accommodate or silently pass away). His personality has always been political and his politics has always been very personal. He comes back to a time where he sees his political ideology ailing, a few of his communist friends established in bourgeois careers and the others exhibiting deranged manifestation of political allegiance.

The use of cinematic images is enticing. The metaphor of the lobster that comes as a narrative metacommentary in the film reinstates the idea of regeneration, repair and denying to wither with time that alludes to Sabyasachi. The father – son relationship goes beyond the personal as the cross – generational political and ideological battle is highlighted through the conversations. Indro, as the political doppelganger also holds a mirror in front of the indomitable, obdurate but redundant father. The fight that Srijit portrays is one between political relevance and political reverence. While a few motifs like the mass scale use of Frigidaire in 1976, and Keypad mobile phones, or invigoration pill ‘Shilajit’ in 2002 appear quite anachronistic; the background score of “Ek Akasher Neeche” harps the Bengali nostalgia aptly. The background conversation between Atul and his son in “Ek Akasher Neeche” is an interesting context to the main plot for which the director deserves an applause. The scene where Sabyasachi dumps the landline receiver and talks about the radio station quite simultaneously, is a wonderful juxtaposition that caters to the time travel and the changing modes of communication he is unable to adjust with. The role of Sabyasachi (Ritwik)’s wife played by Sohini Sarkar and Anasuya Majumder in two time zones were apt casting choices in my view. They are brilliant in their resemblance and depth, in kindling and restraining to make their performance credible. Parambrata Chattopadhyay as Indro deserves an applause.

The script and direction leave no stone unturned to establish communism as the most powerful mode of resistance through the changing times from 1976 through 2002 to 2025 and reinstates the eternal relevance of the ideology through the voice of the protagonist:

“Communism uthe jae ki kore, eta ekta motobad. Jotodin daridro ache, boishomyo ache, eta thakbe.” (How can communism lose its relevance! It is an ideology. As long as poverty and class differences prevail, communism shall prevail as well); yet it doesn’t fail to allude to the democracy of free – will and choice:

“Ideology alada hotei pare. Eta thakumar gopal thakur noy je sara jibon boye berate hobe!” (Ideology can be different. It is not a family heirloom being passed on as a burden that you need to carry around forever).

Srijit works wonders with his research and vision, but the USP of the film is definitely the script. While carefully bringing the cynic, the sceptic and the Epicurean into its purview when he makes his character say: “Kichu lok bhalo ache. Jader onyer bhalo thaka niye kichu jae ashe na, tara bhalo ache.” (Some people are happy. The ones who don’t care about others being happy are happy indeed); he also convinces his audience to acknowledge that one needs to adapt to the changing times and for an ideology to not die out, it is important to seep into the skin of the people and adopt, adapt and adeptly succumb to the transformation. The latest acceptance in the lines: “Somoy bodlechhey. Mathay kono chhata nei, songe kono shibir nei, samne kono michhil nei. Tai pokhyo nin.” (Times have changed. There’s no canopy over your head, no political camp beside you, no political rally in front of you. So, you must choose a side); also offers a proposal to the audience and insinuates at the need to be politically aware and risk a choice.

The ending of the film opens up avenues to further internal negotiations with an undying ideology that refuses to be annihilated yet denies accepting the pace at which the world changes. Besides being an answer to the magic real conundrum that the director successfully sustains through the film, the ending aptly proposes a political debate within communism and its wings and also between communism and various other political precepts that struggle hard to pass off an indispensable ideology.