‘Glossary of Non-Human Love’: Ashish Avikunthak and Infra-realist sci-fi
Most fans of the genre divide the contemporary landscape of sci-fi cinema into two broad sectors – the ever-expanding, engineered and manufactured franchises and the increasingly commodified arthouse projects. If that’s the case, Ashish Avikunthak exists outside that landscape. Although he has made his first proper foray into the world of sci-fi with his latest feature Glossary of Non-Human Love, Avikunthak’s singular cinematic vision resists the usual categorisations of genre filmmaking.
Since he operates outside the usual modes of film production, Avikunthak’s films are usually screened at international festivals and art gallery exhibitions. After our insightful conversation last year, I was enthusiastic about watching the missing parts of his filmography that weren’t available in the MUBI retrospective on his cinema, but I was also cautious about my chances of actually getting to see some of those rarer works on a big screen. Luckily, that’s just what happened.
Earlier this year, the Satyajit Ray Film & Television Institute hosted an Ashish Avikunthak double bill which included his 2018 feature Vrindavani Vairagya (Dispassionate Love) as well as Glossary of Non-Human Love. Although I was already more than familiar with the uniqueness of Avikunthak’s oeuvre, nothing could prepare me for Glossary of Non-Human Love, and my little brown notebook is proof of that. While I took copious notes during the screening of Dispassionate Love for our interview, I watched the second film almost motionless.
Due to his innovative approach, Avikunthak is often labelled as an experimental filmmaker, but it’s a term he hates: “I think experimental filmmaking means you don’t know what you’re doing. I know exactly what I’m doing.” For those who are already acquainted with Avikunthak’s body of work, Dispassionate Love and Glossary of Non-Human Love will definitely come across as fascinating additions to a consistent artistic statement.
Philosophically radical and structurally complex, Glossary of Non-Human Love is set in a parallel universe where artificial intelligence has usurped humanity’s reign over the planet. If that description brings forth multiple associations with a slew of other sci-fi flicks, don’t worry because that’s where the similarities stop. Incorporating elements from the non-narrative genre, the film is designed like a glossary (as the title suggests) and is divided into 64 sections – titled Affection, Perfection, Aether, etc. – with their own vignettes.
While most new entries to the sci-fi genre (even Indian ones) are defined by a specific Western perception of human civilisation and its trajectory, Glossary of Non-Human Love is refreshingly Indocentric. The AI entities who populate this desolate and empty world are firmly embedded within a framework of Hindu religiosity, Indian history and philosophy, as well as the contemporary sociopolitical sphere of India. Stuck in disintegration loops, the listless automatons attempt the impossible – trying to understand the human condition.
When it comes to the history of sci-fi and its current state, the genre has elicited polarised opinions for a long time. Some have viewed it as an antithesis to realism, while others have described it as the “realism of the 21st century”. For a filmmaker like Avikunthak, who isn’t as interested in the future as he is in the past (especially due to his academic background in archaeology), creating an infra-realist vision of science fiction is a logical extension of the genre.
Infra-realism was the name given to a radical movement that gathered momentum in Mexico City during the 1970s, spearheaded by literary pioneers such as Roberto Bolaño. In an attempt to break free from the dominant cultural establishment and all its associated restrictions, the infra-realists dreamed of creating an alternate form of poetry that was anti-hegemonic. With an artistic focus on the margins of society, they wanted to redefine the relationship between the poet and the reader.
Interestingly, the term “infra-realism” has its origins in sci-fi – a novella called Infra Dragonis written by Russian author Georgy Gurevich. Cited by Bolaño in the first manifesto for the movement, the aforementioned book contained a particular term called “infrasoles” (black suns) which failed to pop up on maps of the sky because they did not emit sufficient light despite possessing heat. The Chilean novelist was convinced that the infra-realists were the infrasoles of the contemporary cultural sphere.
Of course, the same analogy can be used for Avikunthak as well. Although he is one of the most prominent cinematic practitioners associated with the Cinema of Prayoga movement in India, Avikunthak’s cinema is rarely mentioned during discourses concerning modern Indian cinema. Wary of the sinister mechanisms of the giant Hindutva (a right-wing Hindu nationalist movement) media apparatus, the director is more than happy to be an infrasole. “When I look at my works today, in this time of Modi, I don’t even want to be a part of the semi-marginal because even that is co-opted and corrupted,” Avikunthak tells me. “I’d rather be unknown.”
The infra-realism of Glossary of Non-Human Love, however, is more concerned with the cinematic traditions outlined by visionaries like Robert Bresson and Mani Kaul. The primary trajectories of Indian cinema have largely been predicated on the development of two separate forms of expression: the stark portraits of social realism and the manipulative fantasies of Bollywood melodrama. Infra-realism presents a disruption to these established forms, creating an elusive representation of reality that is unsettlingly unique.
Citing the influence of Kaul, who was also inspired by Bresson and Ritwik Ghatak (in addition, Kaul’s production company was called Infra Kino), Avikunthak explains: “I am trying to make a distinction between realistic form and melodramatic form.” According to the director, “infra-realism constructs a vacuum in its form which forces the audience to pour in their interpretive frameworks.” In the case of Glossary of Non-Human Love, the audience’s willingness to engage with the complex material in their own ways is imperative for a meaningful cinematic experience.
What does infra-realist sci-fi look like? Well, it’s liberated from the commercial conceits of the genre. As Avikunthak admits, Glossary of Non-Human Love possesses a “science-fiction framework, but it is not science-fiction in any sense”. Although the director doesn’t agree with most of the extended associations with sci-fi, it’s important to categorise the film as such because it represents a crucial reconfiguration of the genre – especially for Indian cinema.
Instead of the western sci-fi gimmicks that most mainstream Indian productions rely on, Glossary of Non-Human Love depends upon the highly complex, poetic conversations held by the entities on screen (almost as if the AI is talking to itself and negotiating with its own consciousness). The inclusion of an Indian wardrobe also stands out since most additions to the sparse tradition of cinematic Indo-futurism that currently exists are unable to move beyond a specific paradigm that is dictated by foreign frameworks and market logic.
Avikunthak is quick to point out that he doesn’t specifically associate Glossary of Non-Human Love with the future, let alone Indo-futurism. While talking about Dispassionate Love (which was being edited during the production of Glossary of Non-Human Love), the director commented: “Both the films are thinking through an idea which is highly complex, the idea of affect, love, desire, sexuality and this is something that has preoccupied all the cultures all over the world. It is not specifically Indian, neither is it specifically contemporary.”
Dispassionate Love, like Avikunthak’s 2007 feature Nirakar Chhaya (Shadows Formless), deals with a Beckettian sense of longing and loss. However, this loss is fascinatingly layered in Glossary of Non-Human Love. The AI entities try to understand the concept of love through memory, but this act of remembrance and the consequential nostalgia is artificial too, generating an unresolvable paradox for the ones who have inherited this world.
Due to the discourse around AI in popular culture, associating the term with computer software is an obvious connection for many, but that isn’t exactly what Avikunthak had in mind. “I think of gods and goddesses as AIs,” he notes, alluding to his cinema of religiosity and the religious psychosphere of the film. Even the usage of the term “non-human” instead of “post-human” was a conscious attempt to move away from the rigid anthropocentrism of science fiction.
“I think non-human is a much more encompassing category than post-human because I think what non-human does is that it de-centres the anthropocentric framework,” Avikunthak elaborates, indicating that the “non-human” tag is applicable for non-living things as well. When viewed through the lens of Indian history and its religio-philosophical traditions, Glossary of Non-Human Love does seem like it’s in “conversation with a future yet to arrive which is located in the past.”
On the other hand, many audiences – especially non-Indian ones – will not be familiar with the immense cultural foundation beneath Glossary of Non-Human Love. That’s why the multiplicity generated by Avikunthak’s infra-realism becomes so important, inviting viewers to shape the constructed images according to their respective cultural backgrounds. That’s also why Glossary of Non-Human Love is an essential addition to modern sci-fi.
Although the film is ambiguous about its location in time, Glossary of Non-Human Love can also be viewed as an ecocritical commentary on technological evolution. Due to the fragmented glossary structure and its exploration of AI, it almost feels like code is being parsed while the film itself becomes a dynamic entity. The seemingly disconnected entries in the glossary are consumed by the body of the film as if the cinematic medium is mimicking the learning and processing mechanisms of AI.
One philosophical undercurrent that haunts both Dispassionate Love and Glossary of Non-Human Love is the search for a consistent formal logic system which can contain all the aspects of a human condition. The irony of understanding something as irrational and abstract as love through a finite, 64-term glossary is not lost, acting like a cinematic representation of Gödel’s incompleteness theorems. The subjects and ideas presented by the majority of sci-fi films are undoubtedly concerned with the progress of technology. Glossary of Non-Human Love goes one step further since its narrative form appears to engage with technological epistemology directly.
Despite Avikunthak’s hesitation to categorise Glossary of Non-Human Love as an outrightly sci-fi work (which is understandable since it doesn’t have any genre trappings), it should undoubtedly be viewed as one of the most important additions to the genre in recent memory.
