The Journey From Brokenness To Resilience In 'I Want To Talk'

Parents never stop providing comfort to their children. When you’re young and learning about the reality of death, they assure you that they will be around for as long as you need them. As you transition into adulthood, they devise creative ways to show that they are doing well. This is particularly true for parents who struggle with chronic health problems. Whether through their constant reminders or emotional outbursts, Asian parents have an innate desire to stay updated about their lives, regardless of how they manage their own. It’s uncommon to see the ordinary struggles we face in our lives portrayed authentically in movies. Still, Shoojit Sircar consistently takes us on a journey to reflect on our own experiences through the lens of his films.

With his guidance, one can find a unique hope embodied in Abhishek Bachchan's health-focused tactics in Shoojit Sircar's film, I Want to Talk. 

The brilliant portrayal of true resilience 

Having dedicated his life to making products appealing to an indistinct, unknown audience, he is determined to avoid becoming another statistic. I Want to Talk unfolds a narrative filled with suffering and sorrow, yet it refrains from indulging in the despair that envelops Arjun.

Even when his divorce looms over his future with his only daughter Reya (played by Pearle Day as a child and Ahilya Bamroo as a teenager), hope remains by his side. His fears and anxieties do not plunge him into a state of frozen terror. He frequently visits the hospital, dragging along his trusted trolley bag, endures countless surgeries, and receives numerous grim forecasts regarding his very limited chances of survival.

The pain Arjun experiences encompasses both physical and emotional suffering, yet he remains committed to concealing both from his daughter and those who support him—like a candid doctor (Jayant Kripalani), a compassionate nurse and a friend (Kristin Goddard) who always steps in when Arjun is in need, and a handyman (Johnny Lever, who excels in a minor role).

Similar to Piku (which focused on the anticipation of death after a full life) and October (which explored a life that halts in its prime), I Want to Talk is marked by a characteristic detachment in its storytelling. Emotions reveal themselves through silence and unspoken words. The approach of director Sircar and lead actor Abhishek Bachchan utilizes quietness to express feelings best left unarticulated.

Where would I Want to Talk rank within Shoojit Sircar's body of work? Perhaps not at the very top, but this film stands apart from many others that tackle the theme of confronting mortality. It honours resilience and strength. Arjun's calmness drives the emotional weight of the struggle for life he faces. The character and the actor portraying him are perfectly aligned. Neither, like the film they inhabit, seeks unwarranted sympathy. Their sole desire is to ensure the enormity of the crisis does not overshadow everything else.

Dysfunctionality and brokenness of bonds through the lens of a father-daughter dynamic 

Fitting the stereotype of a typical NRI, Arjun is an IIT alumnus who relocates to California for his MBA, chasing the elusive American dream. His arrogant ideals boldly declare, "Marketing is nonsense; I just embellish it and rake in the money." Unsurprisingly, this extreme practicality has cost Arjun his relationships, leading to shared custody of his daughter, Reya. However, for Arjun, it’s all about accepting the inevitability of suffering. We observe the various stages of his reserved relationship with Reya as he transitions from the outskirts of her life to the father she will eventually admire. Portrayed with a poignant curiosity by Pearle Dey in Reya's early years and a compelling Ahilya Bamroo as the young woman gradually recognises her father's commitment to remain present, the father-daughter scenes could benefit from greater focus.

Set in Los Angeles, the film often underscores Arjun’s isolation; he mainly forms friendships during his recovery process—both in hospitals and with a handyman who comes to his home. Reya, a child moving back and forth between her father’s and mother’s homes, finds herself caught between wanting to bond with her father and believing what others say about him. Sen isn't a sympathetic character right from the start; one can imagine the whispers exchanged about him behind closed doors. Yet, Sircar chooses not to dwell on that, instead highlighting its impact on Reya. She evolves from an inquisitive and impressionable little girl into a confident, somewhat self-absorbed teenager, showcasing how this transformation influences her bond with her father.

Her father is determined not to add to the pain of a daughter already dealing with the repercussions of a fractured family. The invisible scars on Reya's heart matter to Arjun just as much as the visible ones on his own body. The film beautifully encapsulates the fleeting nature of a dysfunctional family, illustrating the emotional turmoil a child endures while growing up in a chaotic setting and a parent's unwavering desire to earn moments of affection from their daughter, all portrayed with genuine authenticity.

Conclusion

The film dedicates much of the first half to following Arjun and his lucky bag through various appointments, cycling through one surgery after another. While this aspect is certainly crucial to the narrative – emphasizing the repetitiveness and the feeling of ‘waiting’ – there was ample opportunity to incorporate more into these subdued moments. Shoojit Sircar successfully derives compelling drama from small yet pivotal moments of life and death, where shadows blend with resolve and our yearning for hope, ultimately diminishing their ability to frighten or humiliate. I Want to Talk revolves around the traits that drive narratives involving the 'terminally' ill, yet it employs the genre's typical elements with restraint, sensitivity, and a quietly impactful touch.