Tomorrow We Disappear Film Analysis

Three artists represent nearly 3,000 individuals from the New Delhi colony, Kathputli, in Jimmy Goldblum and Adam Weber’s documentary Tomorrow We Disappear, which premiered at the Tribeca and Hot Docs International Documentary Festivals in 2014.

Over the course of three years and through the three protagonists featured, viewers are shown what it’s like living in a poor, yet beloved community fabricated from these artists' very time and hands that is soon to be destroyed when the government sells the land to wealthy developers. As the eviction approaches we are witnesses to the manipulations of powerful intuitions, the struggles that parallel with unconventional and unsupported career paths, but mostly, we see what this community and their art provides—a rarity that remains true and constant throughout: beauty, love, and dedication.

“If something is precious, you shouldn’t let it die,” says protagonist and street magician Rahman Shah in

the beginning of the documentary and his profound insight seems to act like a silent mantra for the Kathputli colony over the course of these three years. Quickly, we see his statement tested when the artists are told their land will be used for luxurious complexes, a highly regarded skyscraper and mall, while they are placed in temporary two-year housing. The future of their art looks grim and uninviting, mostly because much of the materials the magicians, acrobats and especially puppeteers use cannot fit in these temporary homes.

Except it's the internal struggle that places their art in perhaps even more jeopardy. Our three protagonists' frustrations are all revealed in different ways. Puppeteer Puran Bhatt is very instrumental in the meetings involving the colony, the government and the developers. He writes letters, creates blueprints and proposals regarding the two-year housing the government is forcing them into. The results after Bhatt’s requests for a sound water system, studio and storage space is always the same. The government only proves their ignorance regarding what the Kathputli people need in order for their art to survive, which for some means their very own survival. While Puran relays on Rahman for support, his longtime friend decides to no longer participate in the meetings or help with the eager compromises Puran selflessly presents. Instead he nearly hides, avoiding the government and the imminent future. As we continuing watching Puran smoke his cigarettes in dark corners, walking away after being denied a performance spot on the streets, we see the defeat begin to surface but can only hope he will follow his own suggestion about keeping the treasured talents alive.

While Rahman and Puran resist or dread the government’s plans, third protagonist and acrobat Maya Pawar succumbs, in hopes her life will change and a teaching opportunity will arise.

Maya is the only artist represented among the slum that is not angry, but rather curious as to what prospects this will open for her art, as well as the colony’s credibility and representation. But whatever the state of mind may be among the three there seems to be one commonality. They are trying to do the very thing Rahman spoke of: nurture their precious God given gifts and enable them to expand. Except it’s during these meetings, arguments and conversations where we feel the absence of what the film so beautifully opened with. Instead of the slow motion sequence that forced us to watch the art unfold in a new and appreciated way with images of dancing puppets, tight rope performances and acrobats picking needles up with their eyes, we now see the distressed artists sitting in apprehension, waiting to what role their art will play, if any at

all.

The desire from the government to assimilate the street artists in New Delhi so they won't have a choice but have a different lifestyle, reveals itself though the filmmakers’ input of several media clippings of an interview with the head developer. However, the most magical aspect captured in this documentary is when and how the artists’ creativity is fueled by the harshness of this reality. For example, in between the colony meetings with the developers Puran holds a small wooden puppet in front of the camera. Like the audience, the camera becomes a member, watching a soundless performance as the puppet’s hand wipes away invisible tears. These movements continue after the contacts are signed and a young artist places a huge wooden mask over his head, floats across the dirt floor of his slum, silently wiping away similar tears and dances a new dance the Kathputli colony now knows by heart.

These gripping, silent performances tie in with what Puran says halfway through the documentary about their art being half dead and Rahman's comment from the beginning about letting their art live vividly. But despite what Puran claims, we see the creativity continue, especially among the artists' children. Their art comes to represent more than that it possibly ever had. Flying bird costumes are made for protests, standing taller than anyone else, flapping their wings, singing out: “We are the flying birds, here today, gone tomorrow.” And just like the young artist who wore the wooden mask, improvising to express himself, more children follow suite and create larger puppets to dance in front of the developers’ bulldozers. They stand their ground by using their most precious armor. ART.

It again is magician Rahman, after removing himself from the meetings and waiting for the foundation of his art to carry him onward, that he points out one of the films’ most prominent, yet universal messages about poor artists not being insignificant people. It's something all creatively wired intellectuals should remind themselves when inadvertently told by larger establishments that their work means nothing. Because even in the horrible circumstances like those the Kathputli colony faces, their art will live and so will the traditions, inventions, performances and creativity and the first word that probably comes to mind for most after seeing Tomorrow We Disappear is not insignificance. Perhaps it’s power, truth, beauty or formation. As proved, these last longer and offer much more than any other expensive infrastructure.