'My Melbourne' Review: Ideas of Home & Identity Merge in a Mixed Bag Anthology
'My Melbourne' is an anthology with four stories directed by Onir, Kabir Khan, Rima Das, and Arif Ali.
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“A building for habitation and habit. Or. Headquarters of a domicile. A dwelling place of a family. Or. A structure that serves as shelter. As. A burrow or nest or cave…This is your corner of the world. Thick with suspicious walls.” This is how Sandy Florian defines a ‘house’ in her poem of the same name.
The concept of a ‘home’ has, in perhaps all its iterations, been a recurring theme in cinema – from the four walls that make up a house to the sense of belonging that makes it a ‘home’ to the way resentment can fester within those very structures.
And My Melbourne, comprising of four short films directed by Onir, Kabir Khan, Rima Das, and Arif Ali, exists in that space. The films are all set in the Australian city of Melbourne (no points for guessing correctly) and explore the lives of four people trying to find a place to ‘belong’.
The first segment Nandini, directed by Onir, tells the story of Indraneel, an author who lives in the city with his boyfriend. The entire narrative is structured around one visit – Indraneel’s father comes to the city with his mother’s ashes for her last rites in a bid to fulfill her last wish.
While the short, as a whole, is well-conceptualised, it falls short in execution. Some of the dialogue is clunky, some of it unnecessary. There is a clear hesitation to trust the audience with subtext. When Neel’s father comments, “This is normal for your people,” the intent is clear – Neel’s frustration is palpable in the way the actor reacts. The dialogues that follow dilute the impact.
The short is best in its silences – in the way Neel grieves privately, in the way a silent understanding passes between Neel and his boyfriend, and in the way Neel’s father observes him in his space. If there is a conversation that leaves an impact, it’s the one that passes between Neel’s partner and his father – there is no real imminent solution, there is only acceptance.
It’s restraint. And it works. The cast, Arka Das, Mouli Ganguly, and Jackson Gallagher give their best and the effort shows in the palpable tension throughout the story.
The short is followed by Jules, directed by Arif Ali (written by Ali with Monique Nair and Shivangi Bhowmick). This short, much like its predecessor isn’t named after its protagonist. But as the story progresses, you find yourself asking a simple question. What makes Sakshi (Arushi Sharma) a protagonist and why should the title not be shared by Jules (Kat Stewart)?
That is the beauty of Jules’ writing – it constantly shifts between and connects the two women, all while dissecting the same idea of a ‘home’. Of how the ideas of freedom and privilege intersect with it.
Jules is an unhoused woman who Sakshi often sees on her way to work in a restaurant kitchen. For a woman trying to find her footing in a new job while dealing with the isolation of living in a new city, only magnified by an abusive and absent husband, Jules is just another person to be afraid of.
But as Sakshi’s frustrations boil over, she connects more deeply with herself as an individual; she sees things for what they are, a product of their circumstances. There’s a deeper emotional connect that’s missing in some parts – especially in the way Jules’ life is portrayed on screen. It isn’t as moving as it could’ve been but only marginally so.
Jules is one of the most memorable shorts in the anthology, especially because of how well Melbourne itself gets reflected in the story. The suffocation of returning to a hostile work environment while navigating a new workplace is all captured in relation to a ‘city’. Couple that with some delightfully understated performances and you get an effective short story that stays true to its narrative roots.
This reflection of geographical setting returns to screen with the last story Setara. A young Setara (played by Setara Amiri) immigrates to Australia with her mother and her sister from Afghanistan. While her knack for cricket gives her a way to assimilate into her new school, her mother and sister find the shift harder to deal with.
Her mother, who offhandedly mentions that she used to be a Supreme Court justice back home, perfectly embodies the struggles of immigrant families. She’s expected to learn a new language – a learning that will seemingly protect her from law enforcement’s racial bias – while dealing with the tragic loss of leaving her whole life behind.
The sequences of Setara playing cricket pass by in an adrenaline rush and she’s a firecracker on screen. Perhaps the short’s biggest flaw is that the narrative feels a little repetitive. The flashbacks, while necessary at first, only add to it. Setara, however, would’ve benefitted from a longer runtime – there’s just not enough time to explore all the themes the film sets up.
And that’s a pity because of how every scene bristles with the potential of something far bigger. In the absence of that exploration, the story feels predictable – the adrenaline rush wears off when the tension doesn’t build like one would expect it to.
Sepideh Fallah, who plays Setara’s mother, delivers one of the entire anthology’s most arresting performances.
The only entrant left now is Rima Das’ Emma about a hearing impaired dancer in her 20s who is struggling to come to terms with her impending loss of vision. For Emma, dance is an outlet but even the art form comes with its trials. In Emma, the idea of a ‘home’ is the least ‘physical’, focused instead on the sense of safety and community we all crave while trying to carve out a safe space for ourselves.
The sound design in Emma is impeccable, using the audience’s own spatial awareness to its benefit. When the story focuses on Emma’s cochlear implants, the sound crackles with an artificial quality and sometimes the film is completely silent. This balance is crucial to a story like this, always prioritising Emma’s experience over the audience’s.
The pacing is this film’s undoing – some sequences cut off into others too quick to leave the intended impact. Ryanna Skye Lawson is the short’s star – she does an incredible job with bringing Emma to live on screen. Most of her scenes focus on the actor’s ability to react to her surroundings and it’s a difficult task but Lawson is up for the challenge.
Most of the stories’ flaws would perhaps have been fixed with a stronger sense of purpose and more finesse. And as with most anthologies, My Melbourne, is a mixed bag but it’s not without its wins.