Before the Rains

Synopsis: Malayalam-speaking T.K. Neelan, Rajat, Manas and his sister, Sajani, live in Kalpetta Township in Kerala, India, during the British Raj. As children they used to play in the woods where Manas and T.K. used to play Bhagwan Shri Ram and Shri Lakshman respectively, and rescue Sita (Sajani) from Lord Ravan's (Rajat) clutches. Now the year is 1937, all are grown up, while Manas is a laborer, Sajani is married to Rajat, and T.K. works for his British employer, Henry Moore, who lives there with his wife, Laura, and their son, Peter. Sajani is also employed as a maidservant in the Moore household. T.K.'s headmaster asks him to join the freedom movement and ask the British to quit India, but T.K. feels that India has made a lot of progress under the British rule and they should continue with this partnership. His headmaster cautions him that partnership is only between equals, but T.K. disregards this, and it is this attitude that will compel him to re-examine his way of thinking when he finds
Director(s): Santosh Sivan
Production: Roadside Attractions
  1 win & 1 nomination.
 
IMDB:
6.6
Metacritic:
47
Rotten Tomatoes:
49%
PG-13
Year:
2007
98 min
Website
182 Views


It's going to rain.

The flies are biting.

Come on, it's time.

It's already raining

down there.

This conversation is too

one-sided, Kiril.

It smells of rain.

Thunder always gives me

a jolt.

I fear they've begun

shooting here, too.

Go, go, Nin ja Turtle!

Kill him!

Take it easy, kid...

Time never dies.

The circle is never round.

I wanted to take a vow

of silence, like you.

But this heavenly beauty

merits words.

Bullets!

Run!

God help us!

Good night, son.

God be with us.

Sshhh!

Don't hit me, please.

'Don't give me away.

Speak to me.

Are you mute?

You don't speak Albanian.

I don't speak Macedonian.

What are you doing here, son?

A midnight stroll?

All right, I need a piss, too.

Come on, Kiril.

What are you doing there?

I haven't got all night.

My name is Zamira.

You are a good person.

Welcome.

Thank you, Father.

Well, Mitre?

We're looking for

an Albanian girl.

- She killed my brother.

- God rest his soul.

The children say

she's hiding here.

We've only had refugees from

Bosnia, Moslems.

We're all equal

in God's eyes.

Remember five centuries

of Moslem rule?

Father, you're one of us.

Give us the Albanian girl.

There's no girl in

my monastery.

- We'll search it.

- No.

We must!

An eye for an eye!

Bad blood.

Turn the other cheek.

We have.

Wait outside.

- Has anyone seen her?

- No, Father.

I just want to know

if she's here.

We would have told

you at once, Father.

Kitty, kitty...

No one?

Father Kiril?

Have you seen a girl here?

We would have told you;

it's a sin.

So, she's not her, right,

Father Kiril?

Welcome.

- God sees everything.

- Forgive us, Father.

Might is right. - We won't

do anything to you.

But when we find her,

she'll be sorry.

Well?

She's not downstairs.

- What's upstairs?

- Father's Kiril cell.

Come on, Father.

You shouldn't do this,

Mitre.

For your own good, Father.

Come on.

Stojan, make sure

no one to leaves.

There's nothing here,

children.

This is a sin.

An eye for an eye.

Albanian whore!

Stojan, under the bed.

We'll find her, even if

she hides in America.

So you're hiding a Moslem

in God's house. Speak.

Kiril hasn't spoken

for two years.

He took a vow of silence.

Mute? Deaf, too?

I'll f*** her Albanian

mother, too.

You, animal!

I'll wait for you outside.

- I win, pay up.

- Give me some brandy.

- Let's get his gun.

- He's crazy, he'll shoot you.

- Can I hold it?

- Here.

Run! Run!

"Yeah, though I walk through the

valley of the shadow of death...

...I will fear no evil:

For thou art with me."

Shame on you!

Deny thy father.

Give up thy name.

Good luck to you both.

Thank you, Father.

Forgive me.

Kitty, kitty...

Shoot, cousin!

Shoot!

We'll go to my brother

in Skopje, he will help us.

Then to my uncle in London.

He's a famous photographer.

I don't understand you.

No one will find you.

No one.

You don't understand me,

do you?

No one.

Grandpa!

Where were you yesterday?

Answer me, you slut!

Where were you yesterday?

Did you go to the sheepfold

again?

Did you kill the shepherd?

Answer me.

Did you kill him?

What the hell were you

doing here?

Blood calls for blood now.

Did you forget what

I told you?

I never hit you. Never.

I locked you up in the house.

I cut your hair.

Should I shave it off?

Who is he?

He saved me, Grandpa.

He saved me.

Did he, you b*tch?

Whore! Slut!

He loves me.

He loves you?

He loves me.

He loves you, eh?

Let's see.

Let him go.

Let him go!

Clear off!

Run!

Don't. Don't!

Sister, no!

Forgive me.

Go f*** yourself.

I love you.

Motherfuckers.

I want to speak to

Alexander Kirkov.

I'm sorry, but

he's gone away.

Would you like to

leave a message?

No message today.

Thank you.

Where are you calling from?

Not bad, and you?

- Killing myself here.

No problem.

Do you need money?

Take this money.

Send it.

What?

Money, money...

I give no sh*t...

Suck it.

Look at our people.

The driver will see you

smoking.

Don't worry, he's my uncle.

Have one.

- I gave up.

- Come on, relax.

- I'm off to a harvest. You?

- To a baptism.

Whose?

- Mine.

- You're joking.

My nephew.

Nice. How long since

you were here?

Sixteen years.

I ran away twenty-four years

ago; I only came back once.

Do you mind?

Your wife?

She died... in a taxi.

Why come back now? Don't you

see what's going on here?

You'll be sorry when someone

chops off your head.

I won't.

It's about time.

Where are you going?

I'll shoot.

You'll hurt yourself.

Oh, you're one of us.

Stop.

- Where to?

- To see Bojan.

Son of Trpe,

the innkeeper.

Anyone at home?

Give it back,

they cost a lot!

Go home,

you little sh*t!

My uncle Mitre will sort

you out. I'll tell him...

Tell him to suck my cock...

gently.

Good afternoon.

Good afternoon.

F***ing hell!

It's him.

Look at his camera,

it's from Germany.

Man of the house!

Quite a gun you've got.

Can I see it?

You little brat.

You can't catch me.

Don't do that, son.

Let the kid go.

Hit me, cousin.

Aco! You old bastard!

I didn't recognize you.

A beard and a half.

- Older, too. When did you get

here? - Last night.

- Where did you sleep?

- In my old bed.

I'll wallop you.

You should have dined

and slept at my house.

Aco, Putziler Prize - winner.

It's been a hundred years,

you donkey.

Only sixteen.

Mitre?

Hi.

You took that from my nephew?

I should have smacked him.

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Cathy Rabin

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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