Schirkoa-In Lies We Trust Film Review

Dystopian stories set in a sprawling but oppressive metropolis has become one of the most recognizable pop culture staples, thus ironically falling into the very capitalist traps that it criticizes. Hence, any film that is set in such a world has an uphill task to accomplish in order to stand out. One way to do that is to create a visually-rich world, something the audience has never seen before. Director Ishan Shukla is fully aware of the saturation present in this genre. But he also realizes that to stand out in terms of visuals, they have to compete with big studios with deep wallets. For an independently produced animated film, that is practically financial suicide.

Hence, Schirkoa borrows heavily from pre-existing works, like the neon-lit cityscapes in Blade Runner to the dreary bureaucratic office setting in Brazil, to create its world while tweaking minor narrative details to create a distinct identity. But the little touches that the film adds are the paper bags that every citizen is legally required to wear. Each bag holds an alphanumeric text, like 197A or 242B, that is essentially the wearer’s name and hence their identity. While goal behind this was to promote equality, it just ends up masking every person’s individuality, reducing them to a forgettable cog in an ever-growing machine. The city itself is a blend of cultures, reflecting the homogenized globalization that is increasingly becoming a reality in today’s world.

But the most crucial way in which the film sets itself apart is with its dual narrative. The first half explores a dystopia, Schirkoa, and the second half explores a utopia, Konthaqa. In Schirkoa, our protagonist, 197A, is literally a nameless and faceless individual, navigating an oppressive regime. However, in Konthaqa, 197A finds himself in a world of colourful harmony and celebration where he quickly becomes a Paul Atreides-like figure. Because both halves explore polar opposite worlds, it feels like two completely different films. The first half ends with 197A confronting the Intellectuals and realizing that both them and him are Anomalies, a class of minorities that these Intellectuals themselves demonize. This effectively brings an end to 197A’s major driving conflict, as he breaks free from this system to escape to Konthaqa, where the out-casted Anomalies reside. Konthaqa is a place that seems too perfect to be true – every person’s physical anomalies are gladly accepted resulting in an equitable world. But they have nothing to fight against. They crave conflict, which is the one thing that’s missing in their world. Their void is filled when 197A is crowned as their messiah and leads them in a revolution against Schirkoa. All this is what makes the second half so fascinating as it highlights the fickleness of human nature to inevitably regress back to their primal ways, despite achieving an ideal society.

⚠ SPOILER ALERT: The next section contains major spoilers

The film comes full circle when 197A realizes that he neither seeks oppression, nor perfection. All he wants are moments like the crazy scooter ride he and 33F had embarked on after having sex. Or the quiet and intimate time he had spent with 242B on the balcony of the Blue District. He only wants these little moments of beauty that make life worth living in an imperfect world. The catalyst that brings about this profound realization is his meeting with Baghead Zero, the creator of Schirkoa. I love the idea of Baghead Zero hiding in plain sight as a newspaper delivery man, a character who, at the start of the film, feels like just another mundane addition to the world of the film. This wise man archetype is there for the explicit purpose for giving, both us and 197A, answers to Schirkoa’s conundrums. Baghead Zero suggests that the bags came into being only after Anomalies started popping up, presumably to ensure an equal society. But this effort failed with classifications popping up even amongst the baghead citizens such as wardens being listed with W’s and police officials having a completely different bag design. In a sense, the bags themselves have lost their symbolic meaning and have become another accessory. The fact that the Intellectuals had also turned out to be Anomalies, without themselves knowing they were one, makes it all the more “higgledy-piggledy”. Ofcourse, Baghead Zero’s last few lines regarding suppression and freedom feel deliberately confusing, as if trying to obfuscate the meaning hidden within them. Yet, the point that, all one needs in this confused and muddled world is that small sense of security, is driven home quite well.

Surprisingly, the film ends with a post-credit scene where Baghead Zero removes his bag to reveal himself as an older version of 197A. This scene sticks out like a sore thumb. First, it dissolves all the mystery behind the identity of this “creator” whose purpose was to give answers, never to inject himself into the narrative. Secondly, the implications of such a reveal are massive. If its meant to be taken metaphorically, it lacks sufficient setup to suggest that people see their own reflection in their Gods. If its meant to be taken literally, then it implies some form of time manipulation, a concept that has never been touched upon in the film. This is the one place where the film stumbles. But then again, this is perhaps a unforeseen side-effect of aiming to explore such heavy themes in the limited timespan of a feature film. Perhaps the world of Schirkoa deserves a much longer format to fully stretch its legs and run amok.

By Vashist Thakwani