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Baggage Claimed!



I found out about Baggage Claim’s existence in the most fitting way possible — by stumbling across a shoot. I watched from the pathway near the Library Cafe, astounded, as Sanah, played by Naintara Roy (UG'29), and Abhay, played by Arjun Dogra (UG'29) approached a cartoonishly formidable Joshua Gupta, played by Vishwa Aditya Krishnan (UG'28), insisting that the bag in his hands wasn’t actually his at all. It was only later that I realised that the object is the actual star of the film, a half-hour long chronicle about the “wild goose chase” that occurs after an accidental bag swap.


Baggage Claim’s warped, intentionally pixelated poster, depicts Aakash Shanmugam KR (UG'29) as Ritvik and Vatsal Kumar (UG'27) as Adit Biju Chhabra, both looking into a zipper. And what we’re given as viewers of this subtle piece of marketing material is the bag’s point of view. It’s fun with jagged edges, much like the film itself. 


I’ve always appreciated how large the classrooms on the ground floor of Academic Block 04 are. They’re apt for Foundation Courses, speed dating events, and of course, movie screenings. Spurred by the suspiciously late “pull up NOW!!!” email, a first-year friend and I raced to classroom AC 04 005 right as the clock hit 7 P.M. on Friday, 28th November. A playlist blares odd music: Tyga, and then a song I haven’t heard in years — Liam Payne’s Strip That Down. It’s a strange, welcoming vibe despite my best efforts to belittle it. 


By the time the feature starts, the room is packed to the brim. Friends, passing acquaintances, and lovers have even created a haphazard row on the floor, craning their necks up at the projector. Right from the start, the film has the classic “made in college” iMovie look — I’m particularly fascinated by how yellow the colour grading is. But these stylistic choices were to be expected, given that director Adesh David Naidu (UG'28) is an offshoot of BAD (Banerjee-Ahlawat-David) Productions, last year’s freshman trio whose short films were characterised by snappy, early Internet aesthetics. Naidu and producer Sareena Jiwani (UG'28) realised during the pre-production process that the comedy would land better if it had a more unconventional aspect ratio, as opposed to the regular 16:9. “We wanted to fool even the best filmmakers into thinking it was shot on a DSLR, and not a phone,” confessed Naidu. Ultimately, the team had an admirable goal: they wanted to prove that anyone can make a film. I think I’d have a very different reaction to the film if the video covered the screen entirely. After all, isn’t the medium the message? 


“15 Step” by Radiohead plays as the opening sequence, a jaunt down some RH hallway, greets us. The camera zooms in on Abhay, comfortably asleep as his phone buzzes with notification after notification. It’s a finals week horror story, although sleeping through a Discrete Maths exam isn’t his biggest nightmare. Sanah bursts through his door. Two identical grey duffel bags sit atop the shoe rack. One belongs to Joshua (Abhay’s roommate), and the other to Ritvik, our friendly neighbourhood drug dealer. But Sanah mixes up the two, and picks up Ritvik’s bag thinking it is Joshua’s. This is the story of what happens afterward. 


Ritvik arrives soon after, and takes the remaining bag without a second thought. The lift scene is both a director’s cameo as well as a nod to the 6-7 trend. Shanmugam seamlessly steps into this role with wired earphones, a charming smile, and copious amounts of ‘type shi?’ in his arsenal. We are then introduced to Ritvik’s client Biju, the domineering campus don, waiting in the 8th floor reading room. The bag opens and Biju realises its contents are far from the magical edibles he was promised. The expected seamless handover of goods slowly morphs into a dramatic confrontation which involves Biju holding Ritvik by the collar, staring into his eyes as he threatens his subordinate.


And so the hunt begins. Roy and Dogra plot, scheme, and catfight as they grapple with the secrets of what the bag actually hides. They’re an impossibly fun duo whose excellent chemistry and comic timing I first glimpsed during The Comic Relief’s (Ashoka’s comedy club) variety sketch comedy show, Thursday Night Live 3.0 which was also staged in November. The camera switches quickly from interlocutor to interlocutor, thanks to the film’s tight editing. The movie felt much like a choose your own adventure story; we don’t know what to expect, or who’s going to take us along for the ride. 


My favourite series of events were those that took place after Joshua consumed a brownie. The warden and her loyal assistant enter the picture, with the duo trying desperately to conceal their errant friend from the admin’s gaze. Ruhi Kabra (UG'26), clad in a salwar suit, is an uncannily effective Warden Manasvi. There’s a point where her voice on a phone call sounds exactly like one of her kooky, real life counterparts. Avi Shukla (UG'29) is a fabulous, second-in-command Sonu Bhaiya that serves as a double agent to aid the two friends. A particularly amusing moment occurs when Joshua’s attention is diverted by the appearance of “Jesus,” an uber-cool Mudit Ahlawat (UG'29), complete with a Mercedes cap and shoulder-length locks. Forgive me, he pleads, for I have sinned. The last line was a tongue-in-cheek reference to a recent The Green Room (Ashoka’s theatre club) horror comedy of the same name, one in which Krishnan unsurprisingly adopted a main role. The subtitles also have their time in the spotlight as he plops onto a table in RH 2 commons, eliciting a quaint noise as his head falls on the glass. Did it hurt? Our actor seems entirely unfazed, ensconced as he is, in the moment. 


It’s tricky shooting anything on a campus that’s always buzzing with people, sights, and music. Particularly tough to navigate when you have one week to make a whole movie from scratch. The locations of Baggage Claim seemed to work around this difficulty with interesting results. The sandy patch near Dosai is perfect for another intense back and forth between Sanah and Abhay, as they grapple with the endlessly unfolding consequences of their actions. The road opposite the Hungry Caterpillar is ideal for a chase montage, and even a particularly creative scene involving the two protagonists sprinting while they appear to hold a shaky camera. There’s a masterful shot, from a distance, of Warden Manasvi carefully crossing the RH 3 railing, inciting cheers from the audience. 


The climax of the film takes place on the road near Gate 2. “What’s in the bag?” asks the warden, trying to conceal her pride upon finally catching Biju’s Kasauli goodies. “Just…personal boy stuff!” insists Biju, steadily crumpling under the warden’s undying scrutiny. The admin’s gaze shifts to Ritvik and his client, who are carted away to the favoured venue post disciplinary infraction: the warden’s office. As our two protagonists celebrate their emancipation, we’re left wondering where the bag has actually ended up after it was flung across the gate’s barrier. The movie’s final twist arrives in the form of Professor Natallia Khaniejo’s cameo, as a stock villain in a leather jacket and sunglasses, sitting in the backseat of a cab. Seeing the bag out in the wild, the driver claims it, placing it in the car. The Fuel Zone walnut brownie in her hands glistens like gold in the sunlight as she disappears into the distance. 


Baggage Claim was full of surprises. For the creators themselves — the team revealed that the actors improvised their dialogues instead of following a script. The result is a breezy situational comedy of errors that makes its viewers feel as if they’re all a part of the joke, not simply bearing witness. It’s wonderful to see the renewed confidence of performers now embracing film as comfortably as they have previously embraced the theatre format. I heard, through the grapevine, that the storyline was loosely inspired by real life events. No wonder there was no disclaimer. Perhaps what the Ashoka film scene needs more of is the kind of cinema that doesn't take itself quite so seriously. 




Edited by Teista Dwivedi and Giya Sood.



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