FilmiBoi

Movie poster (Image source: Amazon.com ) Bombay has become Mumbai but the underworld scene still garners the fright of the teeming million denizens. Far from the elite drawing-room ideological clashes, lies a sad and I daresay, a dirty product of poverty. Radicalised poverty, helpless poverty, poverty this, poverty that.  Film and documentary makers have capitalised on this poverty since ages. Satya puts forth a mirror. A mirror which does not thrive on bankable videography of the slums, but engages the audience with the souls which inhabit the hovels. We know Satya is about Satya. Indeed in its "truest" sense. As the camera pans from a busy Bombay street to a lanky ragamuffin, it speaks to the audience in poetic cinematography. That man in tatters, that orphan vagabond, that life is our protagonist. Miscible in a mould, yet faltering at the edges due to its prismatic nature. He is truth, he is Satya, he is J. D. Chakravarthy.  Chakravarthy reminds me of Kamal Hassan: sta