THE DISCIPLE

Directing: B
Acting: B
Writing: B+
Cinematography: B+
Editing: B
Music: B+

The Disciple was only released a little over a week ago on Netflix, and it’s already one of the most critically acclaimed films of the year—ranked #20 for the year 2021 (so far) on MetaCritic—which, I will admit, was a big reason I decided to check it out. Knowing nothing else about it, aside from it being the story of a failed artist struggling to make it as a classical Indian music singer, I probably would have otherwise gleaned right over it.

The sad irony here is how much more easily accessible this film is on Netflix, ostensibly with a global audience, and yet it seems likely to have gained more media attention, and even more revenue, with a traditional theatrical release, even a limited one. Or rather, it would have before a pandemic happened, anyway. In spite of its impressively prestigious pedigree and history of accolades (executive produced by Alfonso Cuarón, Best Screenplay award winner at last year’s Venice Film Festival), its release on Neflix just throws it into a gigantic ocean of content, destined to disappear under the mass of it all. This movie isn’t even in the Netflix Top 10 in India right now.

That said, who would I recommend this movie to personally? No one, really. The Disciple is clearly constructed with measured skill and care, arguably to an almost Kubrickian degree, but I don’t know how much overlap there is in the Venn diagram of people interested in cerebral cinema and people interested in Indian classical music history. I’m sure they’re out there . . . I’m just also sure they do not make a very large group.

This movie moves at an almost glacial pace, which isn’t inherently bad, except that, again, it’s only available on Netflix. This does not feel like the kind of movie that benefits from at-home viewing. It’s the kind of film that requires immersion, which means it would be a lot easier to stay connected to in a darkened theater on a big screen. Which no one, at least no one in the United States (and that’s where I am and thus who I am writing for), is going to have access to with this film.

Which is to say: The Disciple is indeed a good movie. Writer-director Chaitanya Tamhayne has created a uniquely specific portrait of an Indian artist as a young man, and there is no question this is one of the best non-Bollywood films to come out of India and break into international markets in ages. Furthermore, Indian classical music is unlike any other kind of music you are ever likely to hear in film, particularly in America, and it is quite beautiful. The protagonist, Sharad Nerulkar (Aditya Modak), is meant to be struggling with mastering the form, and thus imperfect. But to any untrained ear, he sounds great.

As with youth in any context, this story also qualifies as a portrait of . . . just a young man. We meet him in his mid-twenties, with his guru asserting that he needs to be patient: focus only on practicing, until at least the age of forty. There is no sense in being frustrated with imperfection before then. Except this perspective ignores the realities of modern life, things like paying bills and debts, which are struggles even the guru contends with while being asked to travel long distances for performances in his twilight years.

There were moments of The Disciple that, for me, brought to mind Stanley Kubrick’s Barry Lyndon. Not in either form or content, but rather, more in tone: each scene exquisitely designed, staged, and framed, with an almost frustratingly quiet pacing. Except in this case there’s a lot more music, in particular that of the tanpura instrument, which is similar to a sitar. Sitting through The Disciple, it’s easy to imagine someone calling it a “masterpiece.” It’s just that sometimes a “masterpiece” is so lacking in excitement it struggles to maintain our focus and attention. I kept nodding off. Would that have happened in a movie theater? I suspect it would be less likely, but we’ll never know.

Reverence doesn’t pay the bills, Sharad.

Overall: B