Pyre

After watching this I just could not stop thinking about my own grandparents afterward. The film is about an old couple who live all alone in a mountain village. Their children have left, and now they only have each other. It is sad, but also very touching. The way they argue over small things, remember their past, and wait for a letter from their son-it all feels so personal. The film moves slowly, but that's what makes it feel real. It is not trying to be dramatic. It just shows what life is like for people who get left behind. The camera work is beautiful and calm, and the setting makes everything feel even more lonely. I am really glad I saw this film. It made me want to call home and check in with people I have not talked to in a while. That says a lot.

Pyre is the kind of film that comes along once in a while and completely shifts your idea of what meaningful cinema looks like. I watched it at Biff, and from the very first frame, I was completely immersed. The story of Padam and Tulsi is heartbreakingly human. Their bickering, their silence, and their slow fading into the forgotten corners of a changing world all felt incredibly real. The mountains, silent and majestic, seem to echo their emotional state-vast, cold, and hauntingly beautiful. The film is slow, but it is not boring at all. It forces you to feel every beat, every breath, every moment of stillness. It is not often a film stays with you for days after watching, but this one did. It made me think about the people we leave behind, the lives that go unnoticed, and the quiet tragedies unfolding in places we rarely look. A powerful, intimate, and unforgettable film. I hope more people get to experience this kind of cinema.

This is not just a film, it is a meditation on time, memory, and the invisible pain of being left behind. The story revolves around Padam and Tulsi, two elderly people living in near-total isolation. The film captures the tragic beauty of their lives with such restraint and grace that it never feels forced. Their relationship is layered, filled with sarcasm, tenderness, frustration, and quiet loyalty. The cinematography, with its long still shots of the mountains and their crumbling home, mirrors the slow erosion of their world. You feel their fatigue, their hope, and their silent despair. This film doesn't try to entertain, it asks you to witness. And that witnessing becomes an emotional experience in itself. For those who appreciate subtle, slow-burning stories, Pyre is something you will not forget.

Pyre broke me in the quietest, most graceful way. The story may sound simple an elderly couple living alone in a remote village but the emotional complexity is immense. What do we owe our elders? What happens to the people who never leave, who stay behind while the world rushes ahead? Padam and Tulsi's daily life is mundane on the surface, but every moment is loaded with longing, history, and heartbreak. The performances are astonishingly real. Their chemistry is not polished or performative, it is lived-in. The cinematography enhances the storytelling instead of distracting from it. I found myself completely pulled into their world, feeling the cold, the quiet, the emptiness. This is a rare kind of film-one that requires patience, but rewards you with genuine emotion. I walked out of the theatre with tears in my eyes and a heart full of empathy.

I saw Pyre at BIFF and was completely unprepared for how deeply it would affect me. It is a raw and honest portrayal of aging, of lives that become invisible as the world moves on. Padam and Tulsi are not perfect-they argue, complain, joke, and endure-but that is what makes them so real. Their relationship is one of the most authentic I have seen onscreen. The camera work is stunning, but never distracts from the emotional weight of the story. This film is not for those seeking action or fast edits-it is for those who are willing to sit, observe, and feel. Watching it in a packed theater at BIFF made the experience even more powerful.