On Me, and The Marvellous BBC Show Juice.
An introduction to the filmy kida in me
Before I begin with this week’s cinema commentary, let me introduce myself. I am Subash Rethina Kumar. I am currently pursuing a Bachelor’s in English Language & Literature. I also cook and sometimes dabble with some creative writing on the side. The kind folks at Mahogany Journal have published a couple of my” poetic pieces” in their online literary journal, and if you want to read them, I’ll attach some links below! Mahogany Journal is a dope initiative that highlights Singaporean writers of South Asian descent. If you’ve not checked them out already, what are you waiting for?!
Me Doin Some Speech and Drama at 9, Cakefaced.
In other news, I am starting this because I adore films. I watch a lot of films, and if I’m not schooling or cooking or reading or writing or cooking, I am watching films. Most recently my gorgeous friend Gayathrii gave me a sturdy lecture on how much money I am wasting on rewatching films in the theatre, and she is right. I am working on that, but while I’m working on it, I thought why not put this wastage to better use?
The intent of this newsletter is to introduce you guys to not-so-common films and shows, specifically cinema from South Asia because so little of it is talked about on a global scale. What you guys might not know is that South Asia produces a lot of films, with India being the country that produces the greatest number of films every year. With that kind of output, it would be a big disservice to cinema itself if we don’t talk about some of the films that come from this part of the world. And let me just assure you that you are in for a wondrous ride! The craft and (joy) you’d be getting from these cinematic marvels is ….
Speaking of marvellous things, I chanced upon this new BBC miniseries called Juice a few days back. This was not the initial idea- to talk about a new British-Pakistani-Gay-Comedy on my first newsletter outing. I wanted to go for something more classic, more minimal, something more “Oscar-worthy”; but on second thought, I’ve come to realise that this is the perfect show to begin with, as it sets the tone for all that you can expect from my newsletters, on filmmaking that is maximalist, unapologetically brown and queer.
You can watch Juice’s trailer by clicking this!
Juice is an otherworldly (and sometimes quite literally so) comedy headlined by Mawaan Rizwan, a queer artist we should be talking about more. In short, the series is somewhat autobiographical, following Jamma, a gay Pakistani man (much like Rizwan himself) In London as he juggles family, romance, and his immigrant self. It isn’t just that though. Behind its slapstick-sitcom-like front, the “easy show” is grounded with so much depth and a whole lot of magic realism. Characters are also deliciously flawed, something I’ve not seen since… idk Fleabag?
Juice (2023) © BBC Three.
It would be very easy to dismiss this show as another comedy on the Brown Queer Immigrant Experience (Like Sort Of- another wondrous show dismissed as just comedy when it deserved way more attention and accolades), but what you should take away from this show besides its politics is that it’s made with insane craft and artistry. For one, very few films or shows take advantage of the visual form, and that too in such a bold, brazen fashion. The shot transitions are so swift, so smooth, and just so sharp. To see filmmakers, respect the visual nature of cinema and then capitalise on it is rare; many just stay on chartered terrains, keeping the visual form in service of the words. Only a few recognise the ability of the visual form to replace words entirely, which is something Juice excels in. The way the scenes shift seamlessly from reality to magic realism is equally bonkers as it is brilliant. It’s an unusual sight for sure, but one that is insanely original and effective.
This is not to say that the writing is any less. The plots and subplots are deep, and they explore new terrains within the same (brown) space. Every character is written (and cast) so well that even the extras prove to be indispensable. The dialogues in the series sparkle. Take the conversation between Jamma and his mother Farida (A phenomenally eccentric Shahnaz Rizwan whose character should have a spinoff on her own), or even the conversation between Jamma and a rat (Yes, a rat). These scenes are written with so much freshness, so much zest. You’ve probably seen a scene where a brown family grapples with their gay son, but you’ve not seen something quite like this, where the writing flips this very idea on its head. There’s a newness imbued into every frame, different from the few brown intergenerational trauma shows that came before. The arcs are hella fresh, and so so so moving. There is Guy, Jamma’s white boyfriend who has issues, but not quite like how you expect it (The charming Russel Tovey plays this character with a warm tenderness). There is also a brother who gets jealous, but not for reasons you first think he does. (Nabhaan Rizwan plays this socialist-cum-idealist space cake like a dream). There is then a jobless dad, with unexpected melancholic touches to his persona (Played by a delightfully amiable Jeff Mirza). We also see Raheem B. Payne-Mir playing Multiple roles. Their stoic demeanor is a riot, but also a thing of beauty. The background score is also everything- a delicious concoction of old-school Pakistani, opera, synth-pop and so much more… It holds the many multitudes the series is trying to capture and house.
And then comes Mawaan Rizwan, who is simply spectacular as Jamma. Just the hairdo calls for a piece by itself, and Rizwan rocks it like an absolute trooper. Almost every frame has him in it, and sometimes that can get real exhausting, especially when you’re playing such an exhausting character. But the reason why we can’t take our eyes off Jamma is because of the Mawaan who plays it. His screen-holding ability is insane- it’s probably because he has lived this exact role in his real life, which is why the reel version comes off so convincing, so real. This isn’t hamming; it’s a perfectly measured execution of a certain kind of maximalist-OTT performance, something very few can do, and that to this well (I was also not ready for how fluent his Urdu was on the show!). Watch out for the scene where Jamma has an explosive Freudian slip at a dinner table (his eyes beautifully capture the tension) or the scene where he squats in a toilet with Guy (the desperation is palpable), or even the scene where his butt cheeks dance. It’s a sight to behold.
Juice (2023) © BBC Three.
These are noteworthy moments of a supremely talented artist. To know that this is the same person who hosted a documentary about gay rights in Pakistan, or is the writer of several episodes of (my fav) Sex Education makes this cinematic undertaking even more of a remarkable feat. I can’t wait for Mawaan Rizwan to create more things. He has one more fan now.
Very well then, get down to watching this special show, and don’t forget to get back to me once you’re done with it. Another thing I forgot to mention- this show is a great examination of projection (i.e., the psychological idea). Okay, that is all. Till next week! Toodles!
Links for some of my published pieces: