A letter to the Story-Teller

English title-The Man From Nowhere

“The greatest story commandment-Make me care. Please, emotionally, intellectually, aesthetically… make me care.”
- Andrew Stanton.

 Dear Story-teller,

An additional request would be-Make me care for long enough.
Reveal the meaning, without defining it. Leave some trails for me, do not lead me. I would like to reach there at my pace. And when I do, I shall share the accomplishment with you. For it is indeed yours as much as mine.

When I first meet your ‘man from nowhere’ all I get to see is his bruised and thickened knuckles as he examines a pack of sausages. The injury marks look old and I understand that the suffering is chronic,the past is dark.Thank you for trusting my abilities. He stops by to gaze at a bunch of white flowers. His one eye concealed by a mop of hair, yet the other eye effectively revealing their lost significance. He buys it nevertheless and you got my interest.

The first time I meet the little girl, she emerges from the bottom of a dark staircase upon hearing him call out. A hesitant smile and a glint in the eye. I soon realize that this is not the first time they have met. But it was not very tough to derive their equation. She talked non-stop about her being teased at school, to her dangling teeth woes as he seemed to ignore her,basically driving home the point that they share a lot with and without words.  She pawns her MP3 player at his shop and he gruffly remarks that she has a weird choice of music, but he anyways hears it in solitude later.That was a nice touch and so was this- though I must admit it took me some viewings to get this-in spite of his nonchalance, he gingerly placed the pack of sausages in her field of view, he wanted her to see it!. She missed it at first, but when she did see it a spontaneous ‘I really love sausages’ and a very expectant glance was thrown at him. The next scene we see them having the meal together.

 Dear storyteller, that was awesome. For when I peeled this off, the first layer revealed kindness-that in spite of his brooding and projected indifference, he shared a meal with a girl obviously having a dearth of such luxuries. But then the second layer revealed that he had actually bought this for her. And for some complex hesitation he could not invite her for the meal and hence tricked her for a self-invite. Having a good meal was her gain, having company for a meal was his.

And over the meal we see him loosening up. She mentions her love for doing nail art and displays her colorful nails,even offering to do them for him. She also makes him aware of the suspicions the neighbours and her own drug-addict mother carry for him given his disheaveled and lonely existence. He is slightly taken aback at her-“Are you really a gangster?”. After pondering for a while, he askes “Do you think I am a bad guy too?”for even if he had given up on the world, her opinion mattered. He sought redemption through her eyes as she sought an escape from the harsh realities of her existence.

But how did you manage to convey so much about their relationship in 15 minutes of screen time is what is intriguing? His compassion as he let her sleep the night at his place when her mother was away, his stopping in his trail and trying hard to uphold the fences,as she tugged at it with a casual mention of her nick-name to be ‘garbage’, to returning in the cold of the night to ensure that she is warmly covered. And she in return of the favor drew a smiley on his nails as he slept. And the sponataneous yet strained smile that curled upon his lips when he saw it,conveyed so much more than words.
But of course we knew that things were not going to be smooth for them. We knew that she would be taken and he would embark on a quest to rescue her and in the process heal his own wounds. But you had a challenge. You had to convince me that his motivations for doing so was more that just the fact that this is an action movie. He left a trail of bodies wherever he went in search of her, burnt out the entire cartel of the underworld racket for her, risked his life for her and in the process gave us some outstanding action and fiery confrontations. But your best action piece would have failed if I ever found myself questioning his motivation. If I had to re-run their scenes together to convince me of his love, of her worth, of what exactly was at risk, then you would have failed. And I am guessing you knew this. That is why you had a gem of a sequence planned before their separation.
He saw her getting abused by a lady( rightly) accusing her of stealing her son’s bag in an alley. The police were trying to sort things out and he found his feet to be stopping. Though from afar, he keenly watched the scene with a tinge of concern in his eyes. She saw him watching and suddenly found the situation to be less hostile. She mustered courage to counter the accusations and confidently pointed towards him when asked to call her father to sort the matter out. They shared a brief eye-lock. She gazed at him expectantly. And he walked away. The beauty of the scene was that he was not surprised at her blatant lie, like he always knew his worth in her life. But he had to run away.From her, from his own rekindled affection, from the prospect of love and loss yet again. Yet the guilt and the shimmering tears in his eyes when she confronted him, sealed their fates together. She had an outburst but a one so innocent and heart wrenching that it looked impossible that a storyteller could come up with that. Her lines:

“Mister? I embarrass you too, right? That's why you ignored me? It's okay. My teacher and all the kids do that too. Mom said that if I get lost, I should forget our address and phone number. She gets drunk and says we should die. Even though that pig called me a bum... what you did was meaner. But I don't hate you. Because if I do, I won't have anyone I like. Thinking about it hurts me in here. So I won't hate you.”

He stood as if the core of his being had been shaken. He wanted to apologize, he wanted to comfort, he wanted to explain his reluctance, he wanted to pour out things much beyond her age. But she was taken before he could do so. Before he could let her know that she mattered to him more that her imagination. THIS is why the desperate quest for her. 

Of course, you had another ace up your sleeve. A brilliantly designed flashback which apart from letting us know more about his profession as a black-op agent, revealed the appalling cruelty he has suffered at the hands of fate. He lost not just his wife before his eyes, he lost an unborn life too. A life he had cherished. A life he confessed he had been longing to hug. He lost a part of him without ever gaining it. And you made a profound suggestion here. His love for the girl suddenly took a whole new meaning. She was not just his friend, nor a casual intruder into his lonely life. She had filled a vacuum. She had made at least one loss more bearable. And THIS is why we never doubted that losing her would be devastating for him. This is why we became a part of his brutal and violent seeking. For this was not just a tale about revenge,this was about reconciliation. And about something greater-love in its imperfect yet genuine form.

Your hero spoke less. But when he did, one had to replay the scene to attain the depths. Halfway into your story, he was shot. He knew the palpable danger in which the girl was in. He knew the chances of meeting her again was bleak. He had a old friend sitting beside him, eager to know the reason behind his taking up of arms again.

“There is someone I am looking for. It has been only a few days, but I have begun to forget her face. Wish I had taken her picture….” He said with a faraway gaze into nothingness.

This was for me the most poignant moment. A tragedy so subtle. We are used to a display of love by a proclamation of how unforgettable someone is. But here there was an already wrecked man trying to clutch at the last strands of a memory of the loved one, while admitting his failure to do so. And you had an actor who conveyed not just the pain and the regret but the fear of losing her forever without having any remnant of her for solace. He had seen a life cease right before him but possibility of someone just vanishing into oblivion without a memory was enough to choke him and us.

Yes, that was my most understated moment of tears.

And you had another masterstoke saved up for the last. The hero was made to believe that he was defeated,that she was dead. In a display of tranquil fury he finished up the last bit of her captors. An unimaginable grief on his face as he looked at the massacre and the futility of his quest. There was no one left to fight with, none to fight for. He loaded his gun and knelt down in desperation to finally end this life which had anyways lost meaning long ago. Just in time, the girl came out from the shadows and prevented him from giving in to the demons of his pain. So, you turned the tables,didn't you? Who was saving whom,finally?

 Back to the scene,overwhelmed at the thought of him coming to rescue her, she ran towards him. The relief on his face was evident and so was his hesitation. He quickly removed the gun out of her sight, but the blood on his hands prevented him from hugging her back. They just shed quiet tears, together. The police approached to remind him of the inevitability of his end. He knelt down to embrace her, to accept that he had found her only to lose her again. His half scratched but still painted nails could be seen tightly hugging her. He was collecting a memory. An essence of the one who made him vulnerable yet again. Maybe that would be enough to last for a lifetime....

And lastly,you would have to admit that you had an exceptional actor to breathe life and soul into your hero but do you know what you achieved as a story teller at the end?

I wanted to know if he would ever see her again. Look..I cared.