A rabbi lived in a
tiny room with no stools to sit on & a desk
that served as a
bed at night. Anybody who came to visit,
had to sit on the
ground or stand to talk. A visitor said,
‘Rabbi, where is
your furniture?’ The rabbi said, ‘Where is
yours?’ The
visitor replied, ‘I am only passing through.’
The rabbi replied,
‘So am I.’
The above story came to mind when I saw the last scene in
the film Redha by Tunku Mona Riza.
But, unfortunately, I cannot reveal what the scene is about as it would be a
major spoiler! So go & see this great movie to catch what it is. It is a
scene with a powerful ‘message’ that is extremely relevant to all of us, no
matter what religion or creed we may belong to.
It is said that the word Islam
means nothing less than the ‘true and complete surrender to the manifest will of
the Divine Creator of us all’. ‘Redha’
is an Arabic word that can be translated as acceptance or surrender. To the
ordinary Muslim, this means accepting & surrendering oneself to God’s
decrees. However, for the Sufis (& other mystics), the first step on the
path to self-realisation is to go beyond surrendering oneself to His decrees.
It is surrendering oneself - only to Him. The short story of the rabbi
is an Illustration of this form of acceptance of the nature of things by
someone who has been ordained with - the Understanding - the kind that mystics
of all religions try to attain to in their search for meaning in their lives.
The true mystic listens to the voice of the Self within that unveils & not
to the voice of the Ego that besmirches.
More than 2,500 years ago, the
philosopher Aristotle opined that stories ‘are all about how men should live
their lives.’ And throughout the centuries, every community in the world has had
its own stories to tell. Good stories – then & now – always had something
profound to impart. And most of the time, it was aimed at telling men to look
deeper & discover within themselves, their (true & one) purpose in
life. This is articulated in Iranian & Japanese films, albeit very
obliquely. This is because the main intent of the filmmaker is to tell a story
that entertains, not to teach. Iranian films are not like Hollywood films that
are made with the intention to make money. Instead, it is to contribute
positively to society & in this, can be seen the echoes of Aristotle’s
words. One of the remarkable films that I have seen where the discovery of the
inner self is being imparted is in Majid Majidi’s The Song of Sparrows (2009). The milieu of this film, like that of
Yasujiro Ozu’s Tokyo Story (1953), is
the city. But while Ozu speaks of the city bringing about the degeneration of
human values, Sparrows shows that
spiritual realization can also be found in the city. Majidi raises the kind of
questions visually that a Sufi master would pose orally to a student who is on
the path to self-realisation.
In Sparrows, a hard-working father, Kareem, does everything possible
for the welfare of his family. The loss of an ostrich at his working place
results in him being fired from his job. A trip to the city to get a hearing
aid for his daughter results in him discovering unexpected ways of making
money. He, however, does not forget his religious obligations & performs
the noon prayer outside the gate of a rich man. The rich man, about to leave
his house in his car, is nonplussed & waits for him to finish his prayers. Not
only that, he goes back to the house, returns with a glass of water &
places it near the praying man with respect. (Perhaps, in his mind, Kareem
could be a saint who has manifested himself.) In this scene, Majidi provides a
signifier – that Kareem is not your ordinary man (even though he doesn’t know
it himself. In Arabic, ‘kareem’ means generous or noble). Kareem has been
chosen for self-discovery. The final scene of the film confirms this. Through
editing & in separate shots, it is as if he is looking at the lost ostrich,
which performs a strange dance in front of him, almost as if it was paying
homage to him. It is as if it is saying to him: “Did you think I was just an
ostrich, you silly man?”
If not for the ostrich
disappearing, Kareem would not have been fired; he would not have gone to the city
& fallen into a lucrative new line of work. The allure of the city begins
to take its hold on Kareem & he starts to lose sight of what matters most. Another
important signifier of his destiny for self-disclosure is the sight of the tears
of his young son & his friends when the fish they were lovingly carrying,
splatter onto the road & then are carried away by the waters of a drain
that they fall into. The words of Jesus
come to mind: “Suffer, little children. Forbid them not to come unto me: for of
such is the kingdom of heaven.” It points not to children but to adults whose
hearts need to be like those of children. Only then can there be a salvation
for them. All of Majid Majidi’s films invariably feature children. But that is
only the foreground story (the text). For his background story (subtext), Majidi
uses dramatic irony by the depiction of children & their innocence & he
contrasts them with adults who are estranged from the world of the children.
Majidi guides the audience to see children as being pure in heart & single-minded.
In the process, he poses a question as to how, when we grow up to be adults, we
lose all that innocence & naivete which were already innate in all of us.
By facing up to & discovering these things in one’s trials & tribulations,
we could live our life a lot easier & especially in today’s chaotic world.
At the same time (as for Kareem), it would lead us to attain an understanding
of our higher, spiritual state.
A parallel can be seen in the
story, characters & intent of Majidi’s The
Song of Sparrows & Tunku Mona’s Redha.
In Sparrows, children are totally
captivated by their desire to rear fish while the father of one of them is too
absorbed with his working life. In Redha,
an autistic son is immersed in his own (mental) world while his father is too
preoccupied with managing a resort. At the close of the story, both fathers are
seen to have been given divine guidance. For such fathers, whose hearts have
now come to the level of that of (their) children, the reward will, undoubtedly,
be Paradise:
“Your wealth
and your children are only a trial. And Allah – with Him
is a great reward.”
(Al-Qur’an, 64:15).
Redha was inspired by Tunku Mona’s close friend’s child, who has
autism. After being introduced to other parents of kids with autism, she went
into production on the film. All the scenes are authentic because they are
based on true experiences. The story is about Danial (Harith Haziq), a
6-year-old boy with autism & the resulting challenges he faces with his
father, Razlan (Nam Ron) who works at an island resort & mother, Alina (Jun
Lojong). Involved with them are Alina’s sister, Shasha (Nadiya Nisaa), Mak Jah
(Ruminah Sidek), who also works at the resort, Katrina (Susan Lankaster),
Alina’s friend from the city & Azim (Remy Ishak), a swimming instructor who
comes to holiday at the resort & goes on to play a key role in training
Danial.
Redha will obviously be an inspiration for parents who have
autistic children but filmgoers need to look beyond the subject of autism to
discover what the story is really about. In the Bible, it is said: “Not
only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering
produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.” (Romans
5:3-4). Inspirational writer & author, Lailah Gifty Akita says of herself
that in deep suffering, “I got to know divinity within my soul.” The key words
here are ‘hope’ & ‘divinity’. For Razlan, there was anxiety, tension &
desperation at first at the way the world looked upon his son & his
affliction. There was hope but he did not see it due to his stifled anger. Mak
Jah was gentle with Danial; so was Azim, who instead of enjoying his holiday at
the resort, took it upon himself to play with Danial. Even the female cleaner
at the petrol station was sympathetic with Alina when Danial wet himself in the
office floor. The situation made Alina understand that she was not alone when
the cleaner said that she, too, had an autistic child. Shasha became a
confidante & helper even though she had her own life to lead. Katrina &
her city friends, though apprehensive at first, also became sympathetic &
helpful. And when Razlan makes the
momentous decision to go to the city to help Danial cope with his autism, the
resort owner offers any help possible. Like Kareem in Sparrows, Razlan has no problems with those around him. And like
Kareem, his biggest obstacle was - his attitude. But this failure to come to
terms with the problem of Danial – that it had to be confronted; that it should
not drag him down – has instead, help him to discover who he really was inside.
This is what the final scene of
the film tells us. In this scene, Tunku Mona makes us relook at ourselves. If
we were in Razlan’s shoes, how would we have reacted? Living in today’s world
is problematic enough, but an autistic son creates more problems as he needs
constant supervision. It would be beyond an ordinary person’s capabilities. The
film philosopher, Andre Bazin said that the cinema screen was like a window
through which we spy upon the lives of others that reflects our own lives. The
Indonesian director, Teguh Karya, said that to him, cinema was about putting
the audience onto the screen. If any of the characters reflected our own selves,
he as a director, would have done his job well. Which character, then, would we
identify with among those in Redha?
Would it be Razlan - or his wife, Alina? Or would we see ourselves among the
negative characters who were upset with Danial’s behavior & thought that he
was ‘crazy’? Or would we be among some of the nameless people in the audience
at the end of the film who harmonise with Danial in the swimming competition
& connect with his problem?
For a film like this with its
subject of autism, above average performances from the actors is a sine qua non. And, remarkably, every one
of the actors succeed in delivering some of the finest performances I have seen
in Malaysian cinema. In particular, there were outstanding performances from
two fine, young actors, Harith Haziq (Danial as a child) & Izzyreef (Danial
as a teenager). Film is about make-believe but there is no make-believe about
their ‘autistic’ acting. They were indeed autistic. Tunku Mona has shown that she is not just a
director but she is also an actors’ director. Her sure hand in all aspects of
production is also obvious. Production design, art direction, cinematography,
editing & sound all come together effortlessly to create a cinematic work
that is of international stature. The resulting gestalt (form) is what makes Redha
a satisfying watch.
Tunku Mona’s debut as a feature
film director is truly impressive but more than that, she can rest assured that
with the story of Redha, she has
joined the company of the group of people who are contributing to
society by “inviting to all that is good, enjoining what is right &
forbidding what is wrong (Al-Qur’an, 104:3). As a creative storyteller, she has
created an entertaining story for the masses, one that is easy to comprehend. Redha resonates with an archetypal story
(family), with archetypal images (the sea as the origin of life) & of unavoidable,
modern living (the city). Archetypal stories are about the physical or
emotional journeys that we all take in our lives. In the words of the
psychologist, Carl Jung:
“The creative process…..consists
in the unconscious activation of an archetypal
image….. By giving it shape, the
artist translates it into the language of the present
& so makes it possible for
us to find our way back to the deepest springs of life.”
If the audience is able to see
this - that in the sacrifices of Razlan & his wife ultimately bring about
hope & the realization that life must go on no matter what - then Tunku
Mona’s personal sacrifice & years of hard work in realising this film would
have been worth it. And in the process, like Kareem & Razlan, she, too,
would have discovered herself because she has put all her heart into it. It is
something that we should learn from her efforts. In the words of the Buddha: “Your
work is to discover your work & then with all your heart give yourself to
it.” After all, in this life, we are just passing through (again with reference
to the final scene in the film). And in the short time we have in this world,
we should strive to be of benefit to family, friends, community & nation - &
whoever needs our help, bringing hope & hopefully, divinity.
We need more filmmakers like Tunku
Mona Riza. She is among the new breed of cinematic storytellers who are formulating
a new direction for Malaysian cinema, which itself, is slowly coming out of its
own ‘autism’.
(POSTSCRIPT: For those who are on the path to self-disclosure,
both films will help you to reach what is known as - the Understanding. All
Majid Majidi’s films are like a modern version of Jalaludin Rumi’s Mathnavi, becoming entertaining stories
but being very cryptic in their meaning. The
Song of Sparrows itself is like a Sufi treatise with many indexes scattered
throughout the film that offer a guide to comprehend the Self through simple,
everyday occurrences. Truly, cinema is spiritual. And Majid Majidi is
delivering it to us!).
Written by: Hassan Abd. Muthalib, Film Critics.
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