In the Indian context rape usually gets bandied about as stigma. But the book “Why Men Rape” by Tara Kaushal delves deeper into the malaise through critical investigations into nine case studies – of men inclined to commit acts of sexual violence.
The men interviewed belong to all strata: a doctor raping his twelve-year-old patient; an unemployed youth deciding to kill his former lover; a youth in gang-rape and a serial gang rapist among them. The author gives insights from myriad survivors; world-famous experts and a jail inmate who observe and provide us with a commentary on the worldview of rape convicts inside a prison. Filmmaker Aparna Sen appears to be on the cue.
Her 17 th film, The Rapist, in Hindi was declared the joint winner of the Kim Jiseok Award at the 26th Busan International Film Festival (BIFF). Starring Konkona Sen Sharma, it was premiered at the festival’s ‘A Window on Asian Cinema’ section on October 7, 2021. The film drew packed audience at the International Film Festival of Kerala followed by its premiere at the 27 th Kolkata International Film Festival last month.
Rape is not just about irrepressible libidos. It is an expression of men’s need to control women. Their portrayal as rapists in films as psychopaths is misplaced as most of them are “normal” by existing mores. Aparna Sen shuns the issue for
commercial element or mere titillation. Rather, she debates whether a rapist is ‘created’ from a combination of heredity and environment or has that genetic tendency. She leaves it for the audience to decide.
The protagonist Naina, (Konkona Sen) is a criminal psychology professor sexually assaulted in a slum she visits to help the daughter of a school custodian embroiled in a case of domestic violence and infanticide. Upon surviving the attack that leaves her colleague Mallika (Anindita Basu) dead, Naina fights social prejudices and testifies, leading to the rapist- murderer‘s death sentence. Naina later finds she is pregnant and tries to cope with the trauma in her own way.
The outrage reduces Naina’s identity to just a ’rape victim’ but Sen effectively yet subtly introduces issues of caste. (Naina is married to a Muslim – Aftab). Two senior women cops comment on Naina’s ‘shamelessness’ and female infanticide Naina goes to investigate in a slum and the issue whether a ‘rape child’ should be delivered or accepted. Paralelly, it also cogitates about peripheral issues through a series of interviews between Naina and her sentenced-to-death rapist Prasad (Tanmay Dhanania) — the dilemma faced by a couple that opposes death penalty.
The camera doesn’t pan in on rape per se but focuses on the ordeal it brings in its aftermath. Naina grapples with legal
The film poster.
entanglements, police probe and a painful medical treatment and gives up her job as college professor. Her trauma resonates as the very first question the police inspector asks Naina through her scarred and bandaged face is “are you a hooker?”
Most footage centres on Naina’s life, action and nightmares while her husband Aftab (Arjun Rampal) discerns her trials and tribulations. The soundtrack echoes her post traumatic stress disorder without dramatising it. The tincture of surrealism as Naina’s deceased friend Mallika comes to speak to her in her lonely moments, lends an emotional caress. The interactions between Naina and Prasad are rationalised by the law permitting psychologists, doctors and social workers meeting death convicts. They show Prasad reduced to a mere ghost from his earlier brash swag that drives him to rape and murder. He is shown as unbathed, dirty, scraggly in half pants and a banyan, while looking with fear and suspicion at the woman he raped.
The film, apart from its technicalities and sub-plots, is held together by a powerhouse performance by Konkona and Arjun Rampal. Both including director Sen have won National Awards for their work. Neel Dutt’s music complements the visuals. The subdued performance by other characters is remarkable when the story can tempt a melodramatic portrayal.
The cinematography is particularly brilliant on the night of the rape — an empty street with dimming street lights the only sign of life around. The camera is vigorously mobile but doesn’t go for graphic details. Just the comment by one of the rapists who says, “My my! She wears lace panties” is evocative enough. The interview chain in the death cell is equally intense. There is an abundant use of blues, greys and shades in between which invests the film with the understatement it demands. That includes the hospital scenes when Naina is being “repaired” back to life.
For the larger part, Naina is unable to discern whether a rapist is born or made. With the world view that rape results from a patriarchal mindset, it can tantalise any mainstream film maker to use it as a political ploy to provoke audience-voyeurism. The Rapist refuses to make a spectacle Naina’s body. Without pontificating, the film succeeds in demonstrating that rape is triggered by the power a rapist thinks he has and the vulnerability of the victim who gets blamed for “inciting” the rapist because she
belongs to the “wrong” sex.
A powerful film indeed.
Shoma A. Chatterji
Shoma A. Chatterji is a freelance journalist, film scholar and author. She has authored 17 published titles and won the National Award for Best Writing on Cinema, twice. She won the UNFPA-Laadli Media Award, 2010 for ‘commitment to addressing and analysing gender issues’ among many awards.