I am not a film critic and normally do not watch films about India and Indians that receive international acclaim, as they often tend to follow a certain formula. However, since All We Imagine As Light has been talked about so much and is directed by a woman with a prominent female cast, I eventually watched it and felt compelled to share my thoughts.
To me, All We Imagine As Light is not convincing, and the important issues it tries to address are handled superficially. One possible reason the film—despite its many international awards—did not resonate with me as an Indian viewer, could be that with foreign producers involved, the film may have been created with a global audience in mind.
As a woman who has lived for extended periods in both rural and urban India, I found the portrayal of village life in the film unconvincing. The film uses various techniques to depict Mumbai as cramped, stifling, and gloomy. In contrast, it attempts to present rural India as spacious, liberating, and bright. This message is conveyed through multiple frames, particularly a noticeable scene in which a young couple is unable to find a private place to be intimate in Mumbai, but manages to do so in a village.
However, this portrayal is problematic. I couldn’t understand why the couple couldn’t spend private time in the shared accommodation of the young nurse in Mumbai. Moreover, suggesting that lovemaking is easier in rural areas overlooks the reality that villages are often less accepting of relationships outside marriage, especially in public spaces and particularly when it involves women. Similarly, drinking alcohol is socially difficult for women in many rural—not tribal—areas.
I was reminded of Ashapurna Devi’s novel Pratham Pratishruti, in which moving from a village to Kolkata is portrayed as a form of liberation for a woman. Although the book is set in the 1960s, the situation in many Indian villages hasn’t changed much. Most Indian villages remain deeply patriarchal and feudal. Metropolitan cities like Mumbai and Bengaluru, despite their chaos, offer a degree of anonymity and freedom that can be less constraining for women—even without wide open spaces.
Job opportunities for women in villages, particularly those without land or who work as agricultural laborers, are also limited. These real challenges are barely touched upon in the film. A scene on open defecation felt out of place—seeming more intended to shock than to convey a deeper message. There are only fleeting references to lack of jobs, power cuts, and absence of medical facilities.
An important omission in the film is the role caste discrimination plays in villages. Cities like Mumbai tend to have less overt caste discrimination compared to rural India, which can make urban life somewhat less oppressive for women from marginalized communities. As Dr. B.R. Ambedkar famously said, “The village is the den of casteism.” For many women, moving to cities offers better infrastructure, education, jobs, anonymity, and freedom.
I have been part of one of the most significant people’s movements in the Narmada valley against forcible displacement. Based on that experience, I found the film’s depiction of eviction and resistance lacking in depth and sensitivity. A few lines of dialogue, a brief lawyer meeting, a protest scene, a quick shot of stone-pelting on a builder’s poster, and the issue seems to be resolved almost like a fairy tale ending. In reality, forced evictions and the fight against them—whether in cities, rural, or tribal areas—are long, painful, and deeply scarring struggles. The film fails to give this topic the attention it deserves.
The issues related to the nursing profession are similarly handled superficially. There was significant potential to explore the many challenges faced by nurses, especially single women navigating both demanding jobs and displacement. But the film, in attempting to cover too many issues at once, doesn’t do justice to this theme either. Similarly, themes of sexuality and bisexuality are touched upon hurriedly and without enough depth.
The film’s major flaw lies in trying to address too many sensitive issues at once. As a result, most are treated only on the surface. The comparison between the lives of three women in the city and in the village feels sketchy and, at times, appears crafted to shock and awe a foreign audience rather than genuinely explore these experiences.
In terms of performances, I found Kani Kusruti and Chhaya Kadam not entirely convincing in their roles. Divya Prabha, however, delivered a commendable performance.
I also casually asked several of my friends in India if they liked the film, and most responded with a “no.” While the film has garnered international accolades, for many of us in India, the issues women face across caste and class in tribal, rural, peri-urban, and urban contexts are very real. We encounter them daily and see them portrayed in more powerful, subtle, and authentic ways in other Indian films and documentaries.
To conclude, All We Imagine As Light feels like a formula film. For Indian audiences—including rural viewers—there are many films that address women's issues with much more sensitivity and nuance. As an Indian viewer, I continue to value subtlety over clichéd attempts to provoke and impress.
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*A version of this blog was first published here
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