Rich with vibrant contrasts, The Namesake for once doesn't leave you wishing you had read the book first. It's a true testament to a movie's fluency when you find yourself recognizing its faults, accepting them and allowing them to pass so that you can get back to the movie itself.
This is precisely the experience I had with The Namesake, the new movie by Fox Searchlight pictures, directed by Indian-born Mira Nair and based on the novel of the same name. Enchanting and unobtrusively complex, The Namesake is the story of a Bengali couple from Calcutta -- gentle and intelligent Ashoke (Irfan Kahn) and beautiful and quietly perceptive Ashima (Tabu) -- who move to New York in 1977 to raise a family with the promise of the American Dream. The result, one not uncommon in the international landscape of modern storytelling, is one of conflicted identities and cultural and familial conflict.
In a mysterious and haunting opening scene, Ashoke, then a young university student, rides on a crowded and sweaty train at night. The book he's reading -- plays by Russian writer Nikhil Gogol -- sparks the interest of a nearby old man, who speaks of England with stars in his eyes. "Pack a pillow and a blanket and see the world," he tells Ashoke. The train crashes in a dark screeching sequence of screams and flashes of faces.
The development of Ashoke and Ashima's relationship follows, which begins, like many Indian marriages, with a formal meeting orchestrated by the couple's parents. Ashima's first introduction to Ashoke occurs before she lays eyes on him -- in her foyer when she sees his shoes. "Made in the U.S.A," their insides proclaim as evidence of Ashoke's time spent in the U.S. studying fiberoptics.
The quiet voices of her parents come in from the other room as she slips her feet into his shoes, taking a few awkwardly deliberate steps before entering.
Their relationship was surprising (in a good way), considering the formality of their entrance into it. "Arranged marriage" generally conjures images of unhappy partners and greedy families -- but Ashoke and Ashima are portrayed as quite the opposite. In an almost refreshing way, they never claim to love each other; rather what exists is a striking bond strengthened by enormous mutual respect and devotion, the absence of which would have made their move all the more taxing.
In The Namesake America is both the land of opportunity and loneliness, which is portrayed, especially initially, as the polar opposite of Calcutta -- a world of incredible color and masses of people, happy disorder, noise and brightness. India is a land of strong family ties and tradition -- the couple's wedding is a beautiful and joyous affair, and their families wave goodbye together from the airport as an emotional unit, a colorful whole. New York in the winter proves isolating and dirty, despite the wonder of its 24-hour gas stoves and educational promise.
Mira Nair binds these two worlds together expertly, cutting from one corner of the world to the other, accentuating Ashima's quiet struggle to overcome her homesickness and acclimate to such a different culture (by eating Rice Krispies with curry and peanuts and no milk, for instance).
The second half of the story shifts the focus to Gogol, the couple's first son (named after Ashoke's life-altering experience with the Russian writer), played by Harold and Kumar's Kal Penn in an honest and endearing (and decidedly un-Harold and Kumarian) performance. His struggle to accept and understand his heritage despite his American upbringing is approaching the commonplace, but Penn's honest execution can liken it more to the situation of any given international friend of yours than a modern American cliche;.
Gogol goes from a pot-smoking high school genius to an eager Yale student to New York architect in quick, but fluid succession, still never quite figuring out how much of him wants to be Indian and how much wants to be modern American.
His love life begins to take shape, as we grow eager to see him find a companionship as dear as his parents', but his freedom of choice seems to get the best of him, as he goes from one extreme to the other (self-absorbed liberal WASP to Bengali Parisian sexpot), finding substance in neither.
The two girlfriends in fact proved to possess the least substance of all the film's characters -- perhaps, though, due to the simple fact that they were outsiders, trying to pull Gogol away from his fundamental familial values.
This leads us to the heartstrings of The Namesake. Family today in America is becoming more and more about holidays and memories than the kind of close unit portrayed by Nair's film. This closeness is what Gogol finds, goes home to and ultimately appreciates.
