The other day I saw two films during a film festival in Kolkata. One was 'Perfume-The story of a murderer' by Tom Tykwer(I guess the spelling's correct) and the other entitled 'Song of Sparrows' by Iranian film-maker Majid Majidi.

Now let me clarify before begining this paragraph that I am not interpreting these films from a critic's point of view. I was just a spectator at various occasions where I had experienced two moving pictures which had opened some knots of my mind. My friends and friends's of friends, who thought of themselves as gods regarding interpreting films; they came out of the auditorium with airs inexplicable to me. Mind you I am not spreading sarcasm; I am just adding some humor to this otherwise bland article of mine.

Friend A came out of the hall seeing Perfume and gave such a meaningful smile as if Freud had spoken of a certain idea to Lacan who for his part had passed it on to the only intellectual man living on earth-my friend himself. While watching the film, he had once had an occasion to visit the loo, I assume that he had got ample time to rehearse the exact expression that he needed in order to emphasize... emphasize what?? I asked him with a perplexed face, "Why did you like it?" My friend A smiled again and went away.

One of my friends commented that it was a sickening film. Before I can explain much. let me tell you the story of the film. A fisher-woman gives birth to a child in a dingy market place of 19th century Europe. She leaves the child, but is caught and persecuted. The child grows up in an oprphanage only to be sold by the incharge to a certain tannery. There after long hours of work throughout endless years, he get a chance to go to the city. All the while, he is born with a gift; a gift to have a nose that can smell almost anything. While in the city, he smells a woman, follows her and watches her; he is aroused by her essence, her smell to be exact. The girl afraid of the unknown man tries to shout but is mistakenly killed by the man. His first love dies without giving him the scent of inspiration. Later on, he learns to make perfumes mixing essential oils and other stuffs. The whole film is his search to find the ultimate perfume, the human essence that evokes respect and love. He finds it only to realize that he was unable to love and loved by anybody; he didnt have a smell of himself. During the end of the film, he melts with the essence of all the women tht he has killed and vanishes into light of love itself. Heterosexuality or homosexuality wasn't an issue here. Form was not important. What was important was the content and Mr.Tom Tykwer was successful in portraying that.(According to me of course, anyone can differ) The lighting of the film was like that of a film-noir, the sets were dirty looking, the main character's hands were always soiled. The form wasted even the last penny to let the film an uncouth atmosphere, a sickening feel. But its my ernest request to my friend to please consider its content.

I think I am done with the humor. More, when I can come up with something else.