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Brick Lane
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Editorial Reviews
Product Description
A young Bangladeshi woman, Nazneen, arrives in 1980s London, leaving behind her beloved sister and home for an arranged marriage and a new life. Trapped within the four walls of her flat in East London, and in a loveless marriage with the middle-aged Chanu, she fears her soul is quietly dying. Her sister Hasina, meanwhile, continues to live a carefree life back in Bangladesh, stumbling from one adventure to the next. Nazneen struggles to accept her new lifestyle, and keeps her head down in spite of her predicament, but she's soon forced to confront her dreams when the hotheaded young Karim comes knocking at her door.
Amazon.com
The dazzling Bollywood superstar Tannishtha Chatterjee shines in the British film Brick Lane, based on the best-selling novel by Monica Ali. The film is true to the delicately nuanced novel, which tells the story of a young Bangladeshi girl's being married off to a young man living in England--sight unseen. The heroine, Nazneen, as played by Chatterjee, is humble and obedient, and if mildly unhappy in her new life, she's loath to be vocal about it. In a voiceover, Nazneen, recalling her mother's death, says, "I remembered her saying, 'If Allah wanted us to ask questions, he would have made us men.'" And yet: Nazneen finds that the free-thinking society surrounding her penetrates the traditions she holds dear, and slowly realizes she's awakening to her own ideas, her own choices, her own sensuality, long tamped down by her loveless marriage. Chatterjee is utterly believable as Nazneen, a young lady of deep moral conviction who nevertheless is slowly, surely shaped by the forces in society. The film echoes strains from other recent, delicate British immigrant tales, most notably "Bhaji on the Beach" and "Bend It Like Beckham," with a stellar central character who dares to allow herself to open her soul, just a bit. --A.T. Hurley
Product details
- Aspect Ratio : 2.35:1
- Is Discontinued By Manufacturer : No
- MPAA rating : PG-13 (Parents Strongly Cautioned)
- Product Dimensions : 7.5 x 5.5 x 0.5 inches; 2.85 Ounces
- Item model number : 4649523
- Director : Sarah Gavron
- Media Format : Multiple Formats, AC-3, Color, Dolby, NTSC, Subtitled, Widescreen
- Run time : 1 hour and 42 minutes
- Release date : January 13, 2009
- Actors : Tannishtha Chatterjee, Satish Kaushik, Christopher Simpson, Naeema Begum, Lana Rahman
- Subtitles: : French
- Producers : Chris Collins, Alison Owen, Christopher Collins
- Language : Unqualified
- Studio : Sony Pictures Home Entertainment
- ASIN : B001JIL93O
- Number of discs : 1
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Best Sellers Rank:
#31,418 in Movies & TV (See Top 100 in Movies & TV)
- #6,648 in Drama DVDs
- Customer Reviews:
Customer reviews
Top reviews from the United States
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Although her husband was not mean to her or their two daughters, how sad their relationship was because she had no voice in their marriage until the very end. The husband had to always be the dominant person in their household. There was no passionate love between them either.
Having been married to a total stranger myself at nineteen because he was a prominent physician, I could relate to the woman and her feelings of inferiority so well. Some of the scenes brought back long-forgotten memories of how sad my life was back then. How drab and boring married life can be when there is no real love, equality or shared interests.
How happy she was to have found love with a younger man. Even though their relationship was fleeting, it was the first time she had experienced passionate love and was loved in return with desire. In the end, she realized that she did love her husband although it was quite a different kind of love than the love she had felt with her lover.
This poignant story helped me to, also, understand the tribulations faced by immigrants when they have lived in another country for a long time, had children there, and feel it is their home, only to be ostracized and told to leave and go back to the country they originally came from. What sadness many of them must feel.
This is a powerful story that will linger with me for a long time. The movie and its music is sad and yet, hauntingly beautiful. It will touch your heart and I highly recommend it!
Her middle-aged husband Chanu certainly expects her to be subservient in many ways, yet he is not unkind, just traditional and always in need of an audience. His education was obviously in the humanities, and he obviously could not find work to match it. When he resigns from his job, Nazneen starts taking in sewing, and meets a younger man who will soon awaken her from her subservient sleep. While life gets much more exciting for her, it also gets much more complicated. The ending was not what I expected, but I can see how there could be no other way to move forward. I guess the problem was my feelings at the end didn’t match the mood of Nazneen at the end, for some reason or another.
My feelings seemed to carry along with the story...so easy it was to blend into the plot and experience all the ups and downs. Lots of unseen twists and turns...Just like real life.
Hope this team continues to work together...they have clearly hit gold and the ability to make movie magic! Thank you all again.
Top reviews from other countries
Our lives aren’t really stories but we turn them into tales because we’re born storytellers. That’s how we make sense of the world and of our place in it, imposing a narrative on it, one with a beginning, middle and end we don’t want to think about. The mind, too, whatever it is (some manifestation of brain) is selective in what it stores and chooses to remember. The narrative that emerges is fragmented like a mosaic or even a kaleidoscope, a mixture of truths, half-truths and fictions. The brain is nothing like a hard drive that stores computer information. It’s more like some sort of soupy dream filled with half-remembered bits of existence. We become the stories we create that make up our identity.
The past is therefore always dreamy. It can’t be solid and coherent. The stuff we remember of it turns out to be the most emotive for us. We remember things that give us meaning, that make the narrative seem logical, coherent, purposeful, etc.
Nazneen is displaced. She was wrenched from her native Bangladesh at age 17 and sent off to Britain to marry a stranger, an older Bangladeshi man who lives in Brick Lane in the East End of London. Her father arranged it. Her husband’s name is Chanu and they’ve been married now for at least 15 years. Chanu’s a sort of Falstaffian character: jovial, gregarious, comical, ridiculous. He tries hard to wear knowledge on his sleeve, a great name dropper of philosophical and literary luminaries such as Hume, Chaucer, Proust and many others. Knowing the names lends him an air of intellectual authority, an air designed for others to breathe in. Learned and wise, he makes himself attractive to others. Or so goes this perception of himself.
Nazneen was a simple village girl. She grew up along a river that flowed through a landscape of rice fields. She played games with her sister in those fields. Water buffalo and cows ambled through those fields as well, while birds and butterflies flew over it. The sun always shone and the air was clear. She remembers the feel of the sun, hot on her brown skin. She sees her sister’s smile and her mother’s bright red sari. And not only red. So many other vivid colours, bright and beautiful, watched over by the blue of the endless sky.
Brick Lane is nothing like this. It’s cold and damp, its bricks brown or ochre, smudged black in places by ancient coal dust. The pavement is hard, the faces of many people too. They seldom look you in the eye, anonymous stick figures in a painting by L.S. Lowry. Community isn’t the English; it’s the Bangladeshis.
She mainly dreams of or remembers her girlhood village when letters from home arrive: “When are you coming to visit? How are you? I miss you. Do you miss me?” She smiles and cries as she reads, tears of joy and sorrow. The letters are from her sister, her dear sister, her only sister, her emotional link to all that was but isn’t any longer.
How does she survive? There are strategies. Without them we perish.
First, she has two daughters, her very own girls. They are not her sister, but something emotionally similar to her, girls to love and cherish.
Second, she has a modest career as a seamstress. Her husband is the big shot, or the man about town who’s the breadwinner. But quietly and steadily she brings in income too. Plus, her tastes are simple and frugal, unlike those of her extravagant husband. Money makes the man, he thinks, so it must be displayed via material goods. No matter that they live in a narrow flat on a housing estate with scores of other Bangladeshi families.
Third, she has some sympathetic neighbours, other Bangladeshi women who are not small minded, who are kind and generous with her emotionally. This bonding and solidarity are essential, otherwise life among the clueless British would be even lonelier and insupportable. How can they know what South India and Bangladesh are? It isn’t their fault. This is what they know, this patch, their own green fields, these bricks called England. They were in India long ago, built part of their Empire there. But of course they were never really there. That too is part of some remembered half-dream. The cold and damp and rain of Britain have reclaimed them now.
The bedroom scenes with her husband are sad and farcical. He lies bloated in bed beside her. Large man, small slim woman. No matter. He grunts on top of her. Her face is placid, featureless. No joy, no pleasure or even displeasure. Just passive acceptance. This is life, her mother always told her, a thing to be endured. Mama was right, apparently. But a great tragedy and irony occurred. Mama did not survive. She began to lose her mental grip on life. One day she walked into the river and kept on going. The villagers later found her body floating there. Nazneen was young then but old enough to understand and remember. She won’t give up as her mother did. She has her own two daughters to love and protect.
Love? Yes — for her daughters, her sister. For her father? We don’t know. For her husband? Unlikely. She cares about him, wants him to be strong and healthy and able. But she doesn’t love him as a woman needs to love a man. He isn’t capable of such love, and thus incapable of inspiring it in her.
Thus the story will become interesting as other men emerge. Most of these are in Bangladesh. From her sister’s letters Nazneen learns that Sister is not so innocent. She has wanted to explore and experiment. Somehow even in Bangladesh she has become a modern woman. This unsettles Nazneen, these veiled intimations of her sister with men. But soon she will be confronted with something similar, and much of the story will relate how she reacts to this, how she sees herself as a woman in this new and unexpected way.
In fact, she sees a lot. She is enraptured, happy for the first time in ages. She is adored, admired, cherished — and made to feel it for the first time.
Much of the drama therefore centres on this interior world of hers. Love overturns many things: conventions, assumptions, expectations. Her mother was wrong. Life isn’t simply to be endured. It’s to be enjoyed in all ways splendid. Nothing makes any sense at all if there isn’t pleasure too to go with so much pain.
The director of the film is female (Sarah Gavron), a wise choice by the producers. Of course there are sensitive male directors too, but this film needed a woman’s touch and thankfully receives it. Nazneen is fully dimensional. By the end of the film we know her, care about her. Her happiness, or her chance for it, means something to us. We wish her well. We want her to continue to grow.
The film is subtle and delicate. There’s much more one could write about it. But I suggest you see it for yourself. And I suggest to myself that I read the Monica Ali novel (same title) on which the film is based.
An honest portrait of a displaced person coming to grips with her situation and identity in an environment that isn’t hostile (or mostly not), just strange, alien and forbidding.


