Brick Lane

It’s 1980s London, and “Nazmeen” (Tannishtha Chatterjee) has been married to “Chanu” (Satish Kaushik) for most of her adult life. It was a marriage arranged by family, and it has seen her bring up two... It’s 1980s London, and “Nazmeen” (Tannishtha Chatterjee) has been married to “Chanu” (Satish Kaushik) for most of her adult life. It was a marriage arranged by family, and it has seen her bring up two daughters whilst largely living within the confines of their flat, where she tailors some jeans that are sold in the local market. To say she isn’t exactly fulfilled would be an understatement, but nor is she the victim of brutality or wilful neglect. Her husband is a traditionalist, sure, but he’s also an avuncular and jolly sort of man who rather enthusiastically bumbles his way through life with a positively glass half full approach and who does care about his family. Things begin to change for her, though, when the lad who delivers the cloth to be stitched turns her head a little. “Karim” (Christopher Simpson) is a charming, good looking, young man who gradually takes the time to get to know “Nazmeen”. Of course, there are strict rules on her having unaccompanied men in her home, but each time he visits they manage to eke out a little more time with each other until… Meantime, with anti-Muslim attitudes seemingly hardening around their community, her husband is becoming keen on the idea of returning home to Bangladesh - despite the somewhat forthright views of their elder daughter (and the daftest scene of the film when he chases her round the living room wielding an half-eaten banana). Decisions are focussed by 9/11 and the resultant increase in hostility, and with this closely knit family now at a crossroads, what will they do next? It’s light-heartedness is one of it’s more redeeming features as it combines the poignancy of her loneliness with a persistently venal debt collector, an increasing zealousness pretty much across the board and her own desires for a life of her own. It’s not that she would not now choose “Chumu”, or that she would even chose “Karim” - it’s that she wants to have that choice and that her children should be able to have it too. I haven’t read the book, but I expect that as with most adaptations, the characterisations have had to suffer a little at the altar of simplicity, but as a general observation of this woman’s existence and aspirations, it delivers quite engagingly with just the odd thought-provoking element there too.