(Editor's note: To highlight the absurdity of Mr. McCloone's situation, we have decided to dispense with the standard format of our interviews.)
Until recently, I thought MIT students were socially awkward, self-absorbed and hyper-academic. But now, having spent a morning with one girl in particular, I have come to know that MIT students are socially awkward, self-absorbed and hyper-academic. Well, at least this one girl was.
Early last week, I went into Boston to interview cult favorite Deepa Mehta, the famed writer and director who recently debuted her controversial new movie, "Water." As the last installment of her "elemental trilogy" - the other two movies were "Fire" (1996) and "Earth" (1998) - "Water" certainly delivers; Mehta's characters are engaging, her cinematography is beautiful, and her talent is obvious.
Set in 1930s India, "Water" completes Mehta's three-part analysis of Indian culture with an intense dissection of Hindu religious customs juxtaposed against the backdrop of the rising movement for Indian independence from Britain. In particular, "Water" tells the story of a widowed eight-year-old bride who is forced to live in an ashram or "widows' house" to atone for the bad karma that caused her husband's premature death.
When I arrived at her ad agency, the receptionist told me that Ms. Mehta was in another interview and that I could sit down and she'd be ready to see me shortly. I needed to go over my questions anyway, so no big deal.
Then, in came an MIT movie critic, who took a seat next to me and abruptly asked if I was nervous. I said I wasn't, that I'd done this before, and that there was really nothing to be scared about anyway. She proceeded to ask me what my major is (hers is a double concentration in electrical engineering and biopsychology); then she asked me what IR majors actually do, then she asked me what Tufts is like, then she asked me where I would have gone to school if I hadn't gone to Tufts, and so on and so forth.
At one point she asked me how these interviews work, and I told her that, since we would be in there together, it would be better if we took turns asking Mehta our questions. She told me I was wrong and that the interview should be more conversational, as though it were one-on-one. She cited how the ratio of people in the room would justify this and made an allusion to her psychology major. It was painful.
But it was also a blessing compared to the complete awkwardness of the interview itself. I told this other interviewer that she could ask Mehta the first question, which actually turned out to not be a question at all, simply a congratulatory remark about how she loved the "story" of "Water," delivered in an inimitable childlike falsetto: "Like, I guess... So you seem to... Like, I guess what I really like about your movies is that you craft the story... like... like... I guess the movie is about, like, how you tell the story..."
Mehta was kind enough to cut the "question" off here and force out some type of response, saying that there are only three stories in the world and that what matters is how you tell them. But this moment of charity turned out to be a futile gesture anyway, because this other reporter had forgotten to take her tape recorder out of her purse.
"What is the matter?" Mehta scolded her. "Write it down."
Then, interestingly, the MIT critic repeated Mehta's command. "Write it down," the biopsychology/EE major quietly mumbled, as though she had to give the order to herself for it to actually come to fruition.
Mehta then disparagingly asked, "Do you have a recorder?" The girl responded to Mehta by saying (again, in a tone reminiscent of the one you use when talking to a small, furry animal), "Yeah...yes."
By this point, I had had enough; I jumped in and asked my question before the MIT critic could go any further.
Brian McLoone: Obviously, the movie has a lot of religious themes, [so] do you think it is anti-religious, or anti-fundamentalism, or none of those?
Deepa Mehta: For me, it's definitely not anti-religion, because...this [practice of forcing widows into ashrams] is a form of distortion of religion, which is what worries me. Which is always used for personal benefit. Religion is distorted and used for personal benefit: what is the fallout of that? For me, "Water" is not anti-religion; it questions the distortion of the religion.
[There were then a few seconds of silence as the MIT reporter was figuring out what to say. Since she had, by this time, successfully gotten her recorder out of her purse, what she decided to ask turned out to be a hidden plea for Mehta to repeat her response to the first question.]
MIT Critic: I cut you off with the three stories. So, um...
DM: No, I'm saying that they say - there might be more, [but] at least my English teacher, my literature teacher in school, used to say - 'There are only three stories in the world, and the way you tell them is what makes one story different from the other.'
BM: Is it difficult as a writer and a director for people to appreciate the beauty of your movie without instead focusing on the controversy and the issues of the movie itself? Do you feel like it's frustrating?
DM: Usually, it's not... It limits one - it limits me; it doesn't limit the film, because people who see the film will either like it or not, will be moved by it or not, or will see it and forget that there's any controversy, or [that], if there was, it's irrelevant, because they'll see it as a whole film.
Any form of art that has been limited or destroyed by fundamentalists who have their own take on what Hinduism is - This is not Hinduism, the destruction of anything. When you have fundamentalists do this, what they do is label the film, and to get out of that label is difficult. But once you do, people who actually see "Water," many of them aren't even aware that there was a controversy.
BM: Is "Water" a hopeful movie in the sense that, despite ... what the "humans" are doing to each other, there is this transcendent beauty in India itself?
DM: That's definitely a part of it, and also [that] India is a beautiful country. It is partly about hope. Within a beautiful environment, humanity does a lot of harm to itself, so to have that contrast is very important.
But thematically, ultimately, the film is about hope. Everybody takes different things out of it, but that basis is Shakuntala [a widow who is torn between her piety and her desire to escape the ashram]...because it's her conflict between her conscience and her faith. And her conscience triumphs, and I think that is very hopeful. If we all did that in all cultures, we would be a better society.
Before I asked Mehta this question, I told her it would be my last, since we were running out of time and I didn't want to keep her. Of course, most of that time was occupied by the MIT student asking meandering, endless questions about intangible themes.
At one point, since I was done asking questions and the MIT student couldn't think of any more, there were - I'm not kidding - 12 seconds of total silence.
I broke it by saying, again, "Well, those are all the questions for me," after which Mehta looked deeply into my eyes and asked me what my name was. By this point, even the MIT critic could sense the awkwardness, and she started going into a speech about how she loved Mehta's movies.
"My mom is so excited I'm meeting you. Yeah, I don't know, I really love your movies, so...I'm so happy I got to see 'Water.'"
Mehta said, "Tell your mom to see it; she'll get it."
The ad representative came in after this time and broke it up. Mehta turned to the two of us and asked, "Any more questions?"
Not from me.
