Parambrata Chatterjee has an accent in Bengali in southern Calcutta. In contrast to specific regions, this is more of an anecdotal indicator. Especially of who you are than where you are from. Plus, it’s straightforward to notice: the mouth barely opens, and the lower lip doesn’t move. The words came out as if trying to breathe. Tangra Blues’ portrayal of actor Supriyo Sen, a former gangster who gathers a group from the Calcutta slum of Tangra. To make music from discarded objects outlines a problem that plagues the film: it’s inconclusive.
In 2010, Mandal and his entourage experienced a fairy tale:
A quick internet search revealed a rough video of them standing. In front of Sonali Bendre, Kirron Herr, and Sajid Khan. You auditioned for India’s Got Talent reality show. A smile played on his lips and signaled his pleasure to be there. Many things change in a matter of moments. Your good looks make people stand up. When the applause died down, Mandal introduced his group of young people, many of whom left for financial reasons. He spoke broken Hindi, and his speech meant not knowing the place. And knowing the hardships he resisted being there.
For a television genre that relies heavily on accumulated sentimentality, the band Mandal makes the perfect story for outsiders. They continued to advance to the final, although only bent from there. These disadvantages did not worsen their popularity. At least not then. They then took on Being Human in the launch of their fashion brand, Salman Khan. That brilliant rainbow, which locks the fabric into a story of a lifetime of fortune. It creates an exciting and inspiring story on its own.
But Sen, a nationally award-winning documentary filmmaker. It is more interested in tracing a reality. He is more concerned with documenting life after the end of the story. In the little world of television. Where reality is traded for a TRP that grows every day. The possessions are quickly destroyed to make way for others like him. The show continued, and they returned to Tangra. In the following years, his group declined, and Mandal worked hard to keep up his motivation. With Waste Band (2019), Sen trains the lens to deal with everyday fates that they believe have escaped. The newest feature is the fictional retelling of people who, despite their moments, remain primarily unforgettable.
As in every capital city of Calcutta:
The slums of Tangra are suddenly open and filled with bright surpluses. A narrow section of a few kilometers opens up a world of differences of caste and class. Tangra Blues has its roots in this land of scarcity, home to people who have created their language for survival. By politicians and brought together by Sanjib Mondal (Chatterjee). For them, music is not a form of expression but a means of asserting their existence. For Mondal, this is a way of seeking refuge from his criminal past. And for Joyee (Madhumita Sarcar), an extraordinary musician. Who wants to revive the band as a personal goal, this is a way to reduce his past failures.
But the central idea of washing redemption through music lost its appeal in the presentation. Written by Saint and Chatterjee, they encounter stereotypes. About heartless coaches and rebellious women (at one point, she dismisses her worried father. Saying she is more insecure than her boyfriend). Mondal’s conflicts with the past and struggles with the present are limited. To conversations that provide simple context and not knowing the characters.
To cover up the lack of personal chaos. A series of external conflicts were introduced. Consisting of friends turned into enemies fighting over a plot of land. The situation wasn’t unreasonable, but its slow handling seemed like a different film. The bizarre additions show the leap weakness of this underdog story.
That same awareness shapes the restrictive resolution:
That film’s envision for the collective redemption of groups: to win other competitions. For those accustomed to the darkness outside of the spotlight, this narrative closure feels easy.