Thoughts on a film: Praying with Anger (1992)
A film of moments; not quite coalescing, as a cohesive
narrative, but nonetheless expressive of the emotions of the film; its meditations on race, violence, cultural dislocation, anger, love, tradition. A film that begins like something from
Apocalypse Now (1979); all amber-lit scenes of ordinary life made exotic and
fantastical by the slow-motion cinematography, the iridescent glow of the
lighting, the richness of the colours, the fluidity of the compositions; our
first glimpse of Shyamalan, the impressionist, which will flourish in later features,
such as The Village (2004), Lady in the Water (2006), even his weakest film, The
Last Airbender (2010).
The voice on the soundtrack then establishes the central
character as a visitor to this place; a young man with a troubled past trying
to find himself in a world that seems beyond any understanding; more a fever-dream
- shimmering and intoxicating - than a place to provide stability or the
comfort of the everyday. Throughout this
opening montage and the early scenes, Shyamalan works hard to make the world
of the film seem as strange and startling and enticing for the audience as it
is for his own protagonist, so that even the recognizable - a middle-class family sitting down to get to know
their new guest - is exaggerated through the inter-cutting of flat, objectifying
wide-shots, with more intrusive close-ups; the tone of the scene, like that of
an American sitcom, but again, somewhat off-key.
Praying with Anger [M. Night Shyamalan, 1992]:
From here the film settles into a more conventional narrative,
as the central character, Dev Raman, bonds with his two cousins (the affable
Sanjay in particular) and tries to conform to life at a new school. The preoccupations here are the stuff of any
daytime soap-opera, as the character tenaciously struggles to maintain his
identity amid rumours of early hell-raising and a violent temper; both
exaggerated by idle gossip and the rivalries of school bullies, who enforce the
establishment's strict codes of honour and tradition with the eager brutality
of hoodlums in an old Hollywood gangster movie.
The feeling of TV sentimentality is not helped by the faux-orchestral
score of Edmund K. Choi, which - while serviceable enough for a low-budget film
- tends to overwhelm scenes with a heavy melodrama; illustrating just how
significant the influence of James Newton Howard has been on the growing
development of Shyamalan's work.
However, the look and style of the film, the emotional sincerity
and the intensity of certain scenes, more than compensates for this naiveté, or
the film's rough-around-the-edges approach. For instance, the way in which Shyamalan uses
the camera, not just as a tool to tell the story, but as something that
expresses the emotions of his characters, or the dilemmas they face, highlights
a clear understanding of how the conventions of cinema work to bring the
audience into the drama; allowing us
to share moments of passion, fear, anger and confusion, subjectively, alongside
the characters on-screen.
Praying with Anger [M. Night Shyamalan, 1992]:
The first instance of what will soon develop into an
iconic image in Shyamalan's cinema; two hands
meeting in an embrace; a
show of commitment and solidarity...
The Village [M. Night Shyamalan, 2004]:
...it eventually becomes an unspoken promise between characters;
a declaration of love and perseverance...
The Happening [M. Night Shyamalan, 2008]:
...until it transcends its humble origins, becoming a statement
powerful enough to save the world.
Throughout the film, Shyamalan finds images that speak directly
to the implicit yearnings and uncertainties of his central characters;
communicating ideas, emotions and beliefs visually,
through framing, colour, or the use of space.
In an early scene, as Dev approaches the beautiful Sabita - who will
become his secret love during the course of the film - the young woman first
turns in horror, appalled by the character's reputation and offended by his
lack of respect for the generally accepted traditions of the way courtship in
their culture should work. As she
retreats with friends, the camera draws back, isolating Dev in this moment of
painful humiliation and cultural confusion; refining the presentation of the
character as alone, as "different" and as such unable to understand
the rules of this world; to assimilate, or to fit in.
Praying with Anger [M. Night Shyamalan, 1992]:
At first, Shyamalan uses the blocking of the actors to illustrate
the rejection and alienation of Dev by the other students...
...but with the subsequent dolly-shot, it's as if even the
camera
is trying to distance itself from his social faux-pas.
Already we're beginning to see the formation of Shyamalan's approach. The use of the camera as both objective and subjective spectator; the camera as something that records, as
witness to an event, the resulting drama, or the journey of these characters
on-screen, but in a way that it makes us conscious of their inner feelings,
their moods and state of mind. It's a
lesson learned from Hitchcock; the use of the image as both the surface - the
actions of the character; the way they move and perform - and the emotional subtext
- their attitudes and the way they're perceived - and how the use of cutting,
for instance, from a wide-shot into a close-up, isn't simply a method of
relaying visual information in a narrative sense, but an attempt to draw our attention
to the small details as the characters see them; bringing the audience not only
into the head of this character, psychologically, but also into the heart of their
culture; its practices and routines.
Praying with Anger [M. Night Shyamalan, 1992]:
Above, the seriousness of the man's prayer, the contemplation of
it, is significant to the observations of the central character, both as an
example of how the culture of India differs to his own culture - that of the United
States - and as an act of physical and emotional expression; a way to make
peace. Shyamalan, as filmmaker,
highlights the significance of the act by showing it in both a wide-shot and a
close-up. The wide-shot represents the objective, the observation of the event,
as it occurs, while the close-up goes beyond the surface of the act, presenting
the subjective gaze of the central
character and how this moment, viewed from a distance, is made "closer"
(emotionally, as well as physically) as it develops into an important part of Dev's
own understanding and appreciation of his ability to overcome.
Throughout the film, it is in these smaller moments of human
interaction and character observation that Praying with Anger works best. Allowed to develop at a leisurely (some might
say languorous) pace - as the action wavers between moments of comedy and melodrama,
romance and excursions into a very real and very palpable social violence - the
emphasis always remains on the central characters; their relationships and the
journeys they take.
Praying with Anger [M. Night Shyamalan, 1992]:
In many ways, Praying with Anger is an obvious departure for
Shyamalan, or at least in the context of his recent career. For one, it lacks the emotional consistency
of his breakout feature, The Sixth Sense (1999) - which wrapped its dual
narratives of childhood isolation and the dissolution of a marriage in elements
of conventional genre, but still maintained a tonality of sadness and grief -
nor does it have the "high-concept" preoccupations that many have
come to see as a detriment to the writer/director's work. And yet, the more things change, the more
they stay the same. Beneath the elements
of genre, the twists and the interest in conceptual experimentation/deconstruction
(whether its superhero mythology or the machinations of the thriller), all of
Shyamalan's films are ultimately about characters trying to reconcile a very
sad and tragic loss.
The narrative of any Shyamalan film, whether obfuscated by
ghosts, aliens, secret societies or fictional water creatures, is usually there
to facilitate this reconciliation; becoming an almost metaphorical imagining of
a real-world dilemma, transformed into something more elaborate, more
fantastical; a task or obstacle that the characters must overcome in order to
put their lives back into perspective.
Praying with Anger [M. Night Shyamalan, 1992]:
Dev finds purpose in his cousin, Rupal; offering guidance in her
own tale of unrequited love and in the
difficult relationship that she has with her strict, conservative
mother.
Lady in the Water [M. Night Shyamalan, 2006]:
In nurturing (his) Story, Cleveland finds a new reason to live;
shaking off the pain of his family's murder and
embracing something that brings meaning into a (seemingly)
meaningless world.
After Earth [M. Night Shyamalan, 2013]:
Kitai's journey is not simply one of survival and
self-discovery, but a way to reconcile with his father,
who blames himself for the death of his daughter, Senshi, almost as much as
Kitai.
In this conception, the aliens in a film like Signs (2002) are
less a genuine extra-terrestrial presence than a physical manifestation of the emotional
pain - the bereavement and grief - that is literally tearing apart the family at
the centre of the film. Meanwhile, the hostile
planet of the more recent After Earth (2013) is, on one level, a conventional
setting, but also becomes an on-screen representation of the father and son
relationship that dominates its central conflict. Their emotional disconnection from one
another, the "void" of their relationship, is visible in the
isolation of the planet - of our
planet - and in its self-propagated slide into contamination and disrepair. A planet once vibrant and verdant - a place
of life and feeling - now a place of emptiness, violence and resentment.
The appeal of Praying with Anger is to see these obfuscating
elements removed; to see the drama for what it is, without the need to hide the
emotions beneath layers of genre, metaphor or abstraction. Dev is neither a ghost nor superhero; he's
not in conflict with the world, as a physical force, nor trying to save some
mythical creature from extinction. He's just
a kid struggling to make sense of his own identity. The world of the film, as vivid and
intoxicating, different and strange as it may appear, is still the reality as
it exists. It may be exaggerated in an
effort to make the audience identify with Dev's position as an outsider or his
feeling of being overwhelmed by the clash of cultures, but the dramas and
dilemmas that play out in this world are not the stuff of horror movies, fairy tales
or science-fiction, but of everyday life.
That the film ends with something approaching the supernatural
materialization of the character's recently deceased father (and a single act
of faith that will give this character the strength to realise his true
potential) has little to do with the practicalities of mainstream American genre
cinema. It is instead an acknowledgement
of the traditions and beliefs of the Indian culture, which Shyamalan documents,
sincerely. It is this sincerity that provides a greater understanding of the same
cultural attitudes and ideologies as they appear in the author's following
films.
Praying with Anger [M. Night Shyamalan, 1992]:
Lady in the Water [M. Night Shyamalan, 2006]:
To see Praying with Anger is to see the work of a young
filmmaker, not yet fully in command of his talent, and yet seamlessly blending
elements of autobiography with self-aware references to Shakespeare's The
Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, alongside the further influence of filmmakers
like Spike Lee and Wong Kar-Wai.
From Lee, Shyamalan takes the idea of a film about conflict
(both cultural and generational) and gives it a more personal, if not
semi-autobiographical twist. Casting
himself in a pivotal role (as Lee sometimes did), Shyamalan designs the
narrative of Praying with Anger in a way that evokes the development of Lee's landmark
film, Do the Right Thing (1989). Not
just in the combination of broad comedy with more serious concerns regarding
social politics, but in the crescendo of violence that propels the third act. From Wong, there is the emphasis on time and
the suspension of time (moments that seem to linger in the heat and the haze as
characters struggle to make sense of their emotions), as well as the more
significant feeling of repressed romanticism, and the quest for identity (as an
extension of the pursuit of "home"), which each bring to mind the
filmmaker's first masterpiece, Days of Being Wild (1990).
Similarly, the friendship
between Dev and Sanjay - and Dev's own journey of self-discovery (that pain and
frustration of a character who can't seem to place himself, culturally, or even
personally) - is equally redolent of the friendship between Zed and the
troubled Yuddy in Wong's aforementioned film. There is also the aspect of unrequited love,
or the need for love to provide stability and connection as it refers to the
forbidden courtship of Rupal and her fiancé, as well in the
burgeoning but awkward friendship between Sabita and Dev (which recalls aspects
of the relationship between Wong's Policeman 6117 and the pivotal Su Li Zhen).
Days of Being Wild [Wong Kar-Wai, 1990]:
Praying with Anger [M. Night Shyamalan, 1992]:
Days of Being Wild [Wong Kar-Wai, 1990]:
Praying with Anger [M. Night Shyamalan, 1992]:
That the film never quite gels, as a cohesive work, is less a
criticism of the narrative than a testament to the extraordinary power of its
individual scenes. It is only because
these individual scenes are so strong - so vivid and unforgettable in their
imagery and in their documentation of the culture and its beliefs - that they
tend to overwhelm the more conventional or generic moments of the characters
struggling with school and family, or the pangs of first love.
Scenes like the séance at the temple - enlivened, as it is, by early
Soviet cinema techniques - possesses a genuine magic and mysticism; an
intensity that pushes the scene towards that of the metaphysical; an actual happening, sans Marky Mark. The wedding, full of wonder and amazement, speaks
to the theme of love and (again) the need for love as it relates to the predicaments of
both Dev and his cousin Rupal, but also provides a rough template for the markedly
more beautiful wedding sequence that will occur in the director's subsequent work,
his masterpiece, The Village. The scenes
of violence and brutality - which demonstrate how easily the young Shyamalan
could have directed a film like The Proposition (2005) or even Drive (2011) (if
only he'd been more willing to appease the tastes of the contemporary audience for
scenes of designer nihilism) - acquire a feeling of genuine threat, precisely because
we care about these characters and don't want to see them throw their lives
away on something so reckless and ill-advised.
In each of these scenes, we see another side of M. Night
Shyamalan, but one that gives a greater context to his subsequent career. In this respect, the film provides a skeleton
key to unlocking the various secrets and obsessions that define Shyamalan's work;
introducing his themes of displacement and reconciliation, as well as his interest
in mysticism, or symbolism in general, and also his deadpan sense of
humour. Rather than seeing each
subsequent film as a continuation of a thematic narrative that began with The
Sixth Sense (meaning that each film has to be seen, first and foremost, as a
supernatural mystery that builds to a sombre, jack in the box style "twist")
the reclamation of Praying with Anger, as Shyamalan's actual debut, moves the emphasis
back to the personal.
It reminds us that films like Wide Awake (1998), The Sixth Sense,
Unbreakable (2000), Lady in the Water and The Last Airbender, while buried
beneath layers of genre, or mainstream excess, are still part of the same semi-autobiographical
narrative that begins with the film in question. That these films are less an attempt to be
"the next Spielberg" than to personify emotions through narrative;
each film a new examination of Shyamalan's own thoughts, fears, concerns.
