All We Imagine as Light Filters Life in Modern Mumbai Through the Eyes of Three Women

The torrential waters of monsoon season and the right-wing policies of Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi both indelibly color All We Imagine as Light, the second feature from rising filmmaker Payal Kapadia. As the deep purple-blue hues of summer storms wash over the largely nocturnal Mumbai cityscape, three women find themselves in various states of anxious limbo in Kapadia’s Cannes Grand Prix-winner. Touching upon (but never proselytizing about) matters of misogyny, religion, caste and gentrification, All We Imagine as Light exudes unwavering naturalism, undoubtedly influenced by the filmmaker’s documentary background. Yet Kapadia also demonstrates a narrative tact that echoes the slow cinema stylings of filmmakers like Apichatpong Weeresthakul and Tsai Ming-Liang, complete with scenes of the mundane that eventually reveal an underlying mysticism.

All We Imagine as Light opens with Mumbai’s late-night bustle of packed night markets, metro cars and sidewalks, featuring narration from citizens about their relationship to the locale. They recount anecdotes involving strong odors, economic promise and residential impermanence, rooting the viewer in the excitement and trepidation that arrests city-dwellers old and new. Kapadia then homes in on three women who work at a small hospital, each grappling with the consequences of their partnerships with men. Prabha (Kani Kusruti) throws herself into her nursing duties to distract from the loneliness of an absentee husband who emigrated for work in Germany shortly after their arranged marriage; 20-something receptionist Anu (Divya Prabha) has nightly trysts with Muslim boyfriend Shiaz (Hridhu Haroon), a taboo considering her own Hindu background; older widow Parvaty (Chhaya Kadam) risks losing her longtime apartment when she cannot locate the papers that prove her husband’s previous ownership and developers swoop in. While their individual struggles speak to widespread discrimination across several of India’s social sectors, their womanhood alone deems them second-class citizens.

As opposed to flat-out decrying this harsh reality, Kapadia relishes in the way these characters orchestrate small rebellions. When Prabha receives an unmarked package in the mail, she unboxes a German-made rice cooker and quickly deduces that it serves as an unceremonious parting gift from her husband. Offensive in its sheer lack of decorum—coldly cumbersome despite its candy apple red coating and tethered to domestic notions of gender—Prabha immediately stashes it in a remote corner of the apartment, barely acknowledging its presence and the message it bears. Upon hearing that Shiaz’s relatives will be out of town for a wedding, Anu purchases a burqa in order to sneak into his largely Muslim neighborhood undetected. When Parvaty crosses paths with a sign for the developers that threaten to displace her, she chucks stones through the banner. While none of these actions radically push back against their material circumstances, they nonetheless demonstrate how these women seize control whenever they can; these are not victims or doormats.

Kapadia’s political sensibilities are woven into the narrative with confident intelligence. One such scene involves a union meeting unfolding with fervor and enthusiasm from participants, yet it has no overarching effect on the storyline. Some may find its inclusion superfluous, but it showcases the rising power of collective action in the country at a time when protest could potentially cost one their life. The filmmaker is all too familiar with the price of dissent, though on a much less dangerous scale. In 2015, Kapadia was a student at the Film and Television Institute of India when she led a 139-day protest against the hiring of Gajendra Chauhan—an actor-turned-politician with prominent Hindu nationalist leanings—as the institute’s new chairman. As a result, her scholarship was revoked and she faced broader disciplinary action. Ironically, FTII supported Kapadia when her 2017 short, Afternoon Clouds, was selected to compete at Cannes (notably, she was the only Indian director in attendance; All We Imagine as Light, in turn, is the first Indian film to compete in the festival’s main competition since 1994).

Apart from a concerted activist perspective, All We Imagine as Light showcases Kapadia’s formal rigor and keen aesthetic eye. The film utilizes practical light sources whenever possible, illuminating each shot with the saturated glow of urban Mumbai. It is a wonderful mechanism for embedding viewers in a world that hasn’t been depicted on film in its gritty minutiae the same way that other cities have. Even when the story’s setting suddenly relocates to the soft glow of the seaside, the filmmaker opts for actors to be cast in dramatic rays of sunset or the stray light emanating from a beachfront bar. Cinematographer Ranabir Das adapts exceptionally to these constraints—asserting his own finesse for shooting movement, landscape and physical intimacy in the process—undoubtedly aided by his previous collaboration with Kapadia on her 2021 hybrid documentary feature A Night of Knowing Nothing, set during the aforementioned FTII protest.

Perhaps most telling about this stunning portrait of modern India is the fact that it was made possible by the support of several other countries. All We Imagine as Light is a co-production between India, France, Luxemburg, Italy and the Netherlands. Though Kapadia found some support from her home country, the hodgepodge of European production companies that cobbled together the film’s financing speaks to one of the film’s most pointed themes: India’s current climate is one that does not value the unvarnished perspectives of women, least of all those that do not adhere to patriarchal doctrine. If Kapadia’s own experience—as well as those she crafts for the screen—represents anything, it’s that no amount of suppression can quash the desire to live and create for oneself.

Director: Payal Kapadia
Writer: Payal Kapadia
Stars: Kani Kusruti, Divya Prabha, Chhaya Kadam, Hridhu Haroon, Azees Nedumangad
Release Date: September 11, 2024 (TIFF)

Natalia Keogan is a freelance writer and editor with a concerted focus on independent film. Her interviews and criticism have appeared in Filmmaker Magazine, Reverse Shot, Backstage Magazine, SlashFilm, Blood Knife and Daily Grindhouse, among others. She lives in Queens, New York with her large orange cat. Find her on Twitter @nataliakeogan