Shobdo (Sound)

Tarak (Ritwik) spends a lot of time listening to the subtle nuances of sound around him in his underwear. The soft noise of clothes as they brush aga­inst the skin or catch the air may interfere with precision, this is why he must be unclothed. He knows that the sound of a crackling fire can be repr­oduced by crinkling pie­ces of newspaper in his hand. He discovers that the sound of a teacup being placed on a table changes subtly as it gradually emp­ties. It is Tarak’s job as a ‘foley artist’—a cin­ema technician who recreates sounds that correspond to visuals in the studio. But his obsession to find audio representations consumes him to the point where he subconsciously blocks out any visual. A touching story that delves into the mind of an artist who can’t underst­and why society considers him crazy, Shobdo gives us glimpses into the fascinating world of sound and silence, affording a vicarious peep into Tarak’s psyche. To the director’s cre­dit, explanations about the psychol­ogy of sound, which could have degenerated into pedantry, are engaging. Ritwik has a sense of comic timing, spewing expletives at his neurotic psychiatrist, pla­yed ende­aringly by Chu­rni. Raima gets into the skin of her character as the simple wife who cannot fathom why her ‘normal’ husband acts stra­nge. But most captivating are those sounds—and all that silence. Juxtapo­sed—like lingerng light and shade—mem­orably by sound recordists Anirban Sengupta and Dipankar Chaki.