The Little Guy vs The Big Picture

The announcements of the Oscar nominations always spark a few conversations. The actor Riz Ahmed has been in the press a lot recently due to his nomination and being the first Muslim man to be nominated as an actor in a leading role.

When I first heard that he had been nominated, I guessed it was for his performance in

Sound of Metal (SOM) directed by Darius Marder, who wrote it with Abraham Marder. I had hoped it might have been for Mogul Mowgli (MM), a film which he also co-wrote with the film's director Bassam Tariq. Unsurprisingly, The Academy and I are not seeing eye to eye.

I am not an actor, nor am I ever going to be one. When we watch films, we can recognise good or bad performances. However, it can be difficult to put words on what makes a performance good or bad. I wouldn’t class myself as an expert in acting; at least, I am not fully confident in my ability to put forth a good argument solely about acting, so I will be speaking about both films in their entirety, which includes acting.

What's interesting to note before this discussion is firstly how close the film's release dates are. MM came to Ireland in 2020 and SOM in 2021. Second is the similarity of the characters. Riz Ahmed plays two musicians, both suddenly struck down by illness and conditions that will affect their aspiring careers forever. One illness is autoimmune and the other potentially is, although its origins ultimately remain unknown. Both introduced this fascinating idea of the body attacking itself just as your life seems to be getting started.

There must be great difficulty acting when your character is deaf or blind while you can hear and see everything around you, trying to tune out that part of you. We have seen Al Pacino do it in Scent of a Woman and Daniel Day-Lewis do it in My Left Foot. Here Riz Ahmed is portraying the ironic tragedy of a musician losing their hearing. Interestingly, I first saw this narrative in the Creed franchise, where actress Tessa Thompson plays a young rapper gradually losing her hearing. Also in the most recent adaptation of the A Star is Born franchise. In which Bradley Cooper plays an ageing rockstar with hearing loss.

I believe Riz Ahmed performance is worthy of an award, but I think some of this discussion will come back to the piece I wrote on Pieces of a Woman and Milk; are films good or do they rely on wonderful performances?

There is a lot to like about SOM. When Ruben, the protagonist, first discovers he is going deaf, the film doesn’t subtitle what other people say. Ruben doesn’t know, so why should we? There are also beautiful moments of silence or muffled noises, like when you're waiting for your ears to pop on a plane, so you click your jaw and bite your teeth together. We watch Ruben discover his new self. With the filmic and audio techniques combined with Ahmed’s engaging performance, we, too, are learning and discovering what it is to be Ruben at this moment. However, for me, there are not enough moments. It’s almost like the film gives in to what people want, or at least what’s easier, and lets us hear, but this disconnects us from Ruben and his experience. It is Ahmed and his subtle and engaging performance that keeps us engaged with his story.

There is something about the plot that feels cluttered, as though writing about addiction has been done so often that writing only about that is not enough. These two faces of Ruben, the addict and the newly deaf, compete with each other. When this film becomes focused on his addiction, it becomes less quiet, less inward and stops feeling what it's like to be him. Sometimes when I am watching a film and I feel a bit muddled, I ask myself: what is this film trying to say to me or teach me? What does it want me to feel? I know how I felt in certain moments of the film. For example, when Ruben watches his girlfriend sing, it is such an emotive and heartbreaking scene. We feel for him in so many ways. We go back to feeling as Ruben feels as we hear the song as he does. It is a tender and beautiful moment of realisation, superbly portrayed by Ahmed. All the pieces are starting to fall into place for Ruben and things are becoming clear. These moments in the film are truly wonderful. However, apart from being an addict, a musician and deaf, I don’t know anything about Ruben, which is frustrating. We learn more about almost every character’s story but him.

I have made a few comparisons between SOM and Pieces of a Woman (POA). I felt POA gave into the cliche that addicts almost immediately return to their vices as soon as something goes wrong. SOM doesn’t go down this route and shows that many addicts try to safeguard their sobriety. It was refreshing to see another side to this.

What this film got so right, and was so restoring to watch, were relationships in addiction and recovery. When Ruben leaves his haven to see his girl, as a viewer you are annoyed as you can see that he is safe and thriving there. Still, when you are in a relationship with an addict who is lucky enough to reach sobriety, you both can feel like you've saved each other. The thought of separating can be terrifying, but you can see that you can live without each other, even live better with time apart. What this film does beautifully is how it recognises this love and hurt, knowing you each will be a better person because of the gifts you’ve given each other. There is a Portuguese word Saudade which loosely translates as ‘the love that remains’. Ahmed enhances the beauty in this scene. There is stillness and affection. Little can be said, but every line is delivered with so much emotion and all that he wants to say but can’t is expressed in his face and body.

Riz Ahmed's portrayal of Ruben ranges from elation to devastation. He quickly jumps from raw, violent anger to humour, delivered impeccably. His portrayal of all of the complex emotions a life-changing event brings without it being over the top. It is subtle, real and believable.

As soon as you turn on MM, you can see similarities. It too opens up on stage with the protagonist in his element, giving it all he has. Both rapping and drumming require very physical as well as emotive performances. Rapping, after all, is poetry and must be expressed that way.

At first glance, MM may seem less sophisticated than SOM, particularly when it comes to cinematography. Some scenes are filmed like a portrait phone video or some scenes have a noticeably shaky camera. SOM has some stunning shots, but MM creates beautiful moments with its cinematography. Every cinematic choice in MM makes sense to that moment. There is more reality and less style. It also engages the viewer. When it switches up its style, we become involved again. There are moments when Zed, the film's protagonist, is so small in the frame that, as a viewer we are almost searching for him, again engaging in the plot and trying to understand Zed.

I was frustrated by SOM as I felt I didn't fully know the character of Ruben. MM introduces all of these little threads to its narrative and doesn’t spell everything out for you, but rather guides you with narrative and exciting cinematic choices so you can braid all of the threads together and gain a great understanding. Zed is having a crisis of identity himself. We are more involved with him as a character because neither he nor the viewer has all of the answers, but are being fed information slowly.

In MM, we know that Zed’s illness is an autoimmune condition. The doctor describes it as his own body being unable to recognise itself and attacking him. This is a very medical and scientific way of describing a much more personal issue that Zed starts to face as soon as he comes home from America. He has been away from Britain and his Pakistani heritage for a long time. Zed is attacked as soon as he is home, by illness, by his family and by a man in an alley. He is immediately challenged by the question: who are you? He recognises this world, but is always slightly outside of it. It is these questions of heritage, tradition, identity and generation that the film introduces.

MM introduces an interesting but heavy narrative. It also makes some surreal and unusual cinematic choices. It can do this because, at its core, it is grounded in reality. We watch Zed have those testing lectures/conversations that we all have with our parents, the ones where you agree until it stops. Or even more touching moments of real family life, such as a son watching his father's hand grasp the wall as he makes his way downstairs, probably older and frailer than he remembers, but the hand he’s always known. This is why those surreal and dreamlike sequences work so well. They exist in reality, in Zed's reality. His innermost self is being manifested and expressed through his illness, and what he learns in these states can be brought back to and used in his real life.

There is also humour and charm to this film. In this film, we are really watching a father and son coming closer as they both have a greater understanding of the other. Zed’s illness is hereditary. He knows his father had it and is mad he didn’t warn him, but his father didn’t think his son wanted his heritage passed down. Zed understands his father's struggles more as he himself must watch his dreams be passed onto another generation as he becomes a cog in a greater journey of representation. By the end of the film, you know there is still a journey ahead, but much has been learned and realised, and father and son share a humorous embrace in a toilet.

MM has layers, its story and its protagonist are complex. MM does not try to deeply explore and explains all avenues that make up Zed, his family story and the stories of many families like them. It instead subtly and gradually explores all of these avenues through Zed.

Riz Ahmed’s acting is sublime. His character is complex. He needs to portray an illness with symptoms that are not well known and reflect the internal conflict his character is facing. Often with young men, it can be hard to know what they are thinking and feeling as they can be very inward. Ahmed creates a duality to his character, the one in reality and the one in his dreams. Ahmed creates a genuine and subtle character, which only enhances this stunning film.

Portraying addiction and deafness are difficult in their own right. One can start to outweigh the other. In MM, illness is connected to a greater issue. It is connected by heritage. It is a catalyst for facing inner turmoil. It produces a space to explore such issues. They are connected and remain so.

In summary, Riz Ahmed is s superb actor and gave a stunning performance in both films. He should be recognised. For me, SOM is a good film helped by a wonderful performance. MM, though, is a faultless film, only enhanced by an outstanding performance.