Tortoise Under the Earth: A meditative, haunting film

Tortoise Under the Earth is a meditative, haunting film that defies the usual notion of the passage of time, allowing it instead to gently stretch, slow, and almost come to a standstill. Shishir Jha’s use of long takes, static shots, and incredibly detailed imagery forms the foundation of this distinctive fusion of fiction and documentary, which depicts the dynamic but vanishing existence of a tribal community in a uranium-mining region of Jharkhand.

At the story’s centre is a tribal couple (played with quiet power by Jagarnath Baskey and Mugli Baskey) mourning the loss of their young daughter. Their grief is further intensified by the prospect of being uprooted from their ancestral land. Their world—the dense forests and fertile land that have sustained them for generations—is slipping from their grasp as the mining industry encroaches, promising "progress" at the cost of home. As they confront the looming threat of displacement, they find solace in their community and each other's company, sharing stories, songs, and celebrating festivals together. These shared experiences become a source of strength and comfort, helping them confront their cultural identity's slow but relentless erosion.

"If we dig the earth, what will happen to the tortoise beneath, holding up the world?" the female protagonist asks out loud in one of the scenes in the film. Her question, spoken with innocent reverence, echoes throughout the narrative. This image of the earth as a fragile shell supported by a patient tortoise, feels like a quiet plea, a reminder of the delicate balance between land and life, both precariously disturbed by human ambition.

The silence in Tortoise Under the Earth is nearly tactile. Each frame is shrouded in an unsettling calmness, a serenity that conceals the seething tension slowly building. Halfway through the film, the camera lingers on one patch of a farm field in a stunning long take, as cattle gradually emerge into view, their presence almost imperceptible. Near the film's end, a similar scene is repeated, as villagers gather their belongings, preparing to leave their land for good. Like the cattle, they move in a quiet procession, resigned to a fate they have no power to alter. The quiet devastation of this scene perfectly captures the essence of the movie's theme: people treated as though they were little more than livestock, forced from their homes in the name of development.

With patience and restraint, Tortoise Under the Earth, patiently and subtly transports us to a place where time slows, allowing the small moments—the songs, the festivals, the conversations—to resonate. It's a film about transition and loss, portrayed with deep empathy and an almost unbearable beauty. It leaves you with a feeling of quiet devastation, a reminder of the price paid by those who are always asked to give up their ground so that others may stand upon it.