Deepa Mehta's historical account of the bitter upheaval in just post-colonial rule India is like an entry in an encyclopedia for children: simplistic, naive, superficial. If you're totally unaware of the religious environment of the era you'll have worked it out within five minutes. And after the next five minutes you'll get a second chance. Then, five minutes later, just in case you're really slow Mehta will give you one more chance. Only, five minutes later she's at it again. But wait (just five minutes, now), and, oh, yes: Muslims don't like the Hindus taking policital power nor do they think much of their murderous Sikh lackeys (my apologies: how the film puts it, not I).
Mehta fails to treat the issue with the rich complexity it deserves. There is no mention of the past, of why India's folk cannot get along with one another and politics plays an unreasonable second fiddle to the march of the religious solo act. Attenborough did more just with sub-plots in Gandhi. Perhaps even more offensive than this lowly, moronic form of snobbery, Mehta tries to win us over with the idea of sheer beauty being confronted with tragedy. Yes, Earth is often a striking film to look at: the colours of clothes are particularly vibrant, much of the lighting is foggily ethereal. But after a time (like about five minutes) the postcard beauty wears thin. The world is ludicrously pretty: perfect flowers poke into many frames, dirt must glide off all the fabric here, even the sight of butchery is oddly, disturbingly exhilarating to look upon (doubtfully intentional considering this moment is supposed to provide sufficient reason for the climactic act of cruelty). Disgustingly, the heroine falls for a man because he is better looking than another (my interpretation, there is no actual reason given). In a horrid musical interlude, her supposedly diegetic singing voice sounds like it's straight from the studio - equalised to its full potential.
Oh dear, it is so sad such a beautiful group of people, such a wonderful land had to be divided.
Yeah, thanks Deepa, now how about a film with characters who have real emotions involved in a story with dramatic weight so we can take you more seriously, hmm?
Mehta fails to treat the issue with the rich complexity it deserves. There is no mention of the past, of why India's folk cannot get along with one another and politics plays an unreasonable second fiddle to the march of the religious solo act. Attenborough did more just with sub-plots in Gandhi. Perhaps even more offensive than this lowly, moronic form of snobbery, Mehta tries to win us over with the idea of sheer beauty being confronted with tragedy. Yes, Earth is often a striking film to look at: the colours of clothes are particularly vibrant, much of the lighting is foggily ethereal. But after a time (like about five minutes) the postcard beauty wears thin. The world is ludicrously pretty: perfect flowers poke into many frames, dirt must glide off all the fabric here, even the sight of butchery is oddly, disturbingly exhilarating to look upon (doubtfully intentional considering this moment is supposed to provide sufficient reason for the climactic act of cruelty). Disgustingly, the heroine falls for a man because he is better looking than another (my interpretation, there is no actual reason given). In a horrid musical interlude, her supposedly diegetic singing voice sounds like it's straight from the studio - equalised to its full potential.
Oh dear, it is so sad such a beautiful group of people, such a wonderful land had to be divided.
Yeah, thanks Deepa, now how about a film with characters who have real emotions involved in a story with dramatic weight so we can take you more seriously, hmm?