Maharshi Tuhin Kashyap’s debut film, “Kok Kok Kookook” (2025), is a thought-provoking piece that explores the tension between humanity and machinery. At its core, it asks what it truly means to be human in our rapidly changing world.
The film’s narrative kicks off with a hit-and-run investigation involving a motorcycle. This plot sets the stage for a deeper exploration of social alienation and the evolving relationship between people and objects in an urban environment.
The story follows Nur, played by Raju Roy, a timid chicken seller in a bustling city. He lives on the edge, shaped by his labor and the constant demands of those around him. His Yamaha RX100 motorcycle isn’t just transportation; it defines his relationships and obligations. He often finds himself giving it to others to meet their needs, and when he declines, the pressure mounts.
Things escalate when the police connect a motorcycle to a high-profile accident. Nur, despite not being involved, becomes increasingly anxious as he feels the weight of scrutiny. He attempts to hide his bike, showing how a sense of impending doom can crush an already fragile sense of self. This reflects a growing concern for many in marginalized communities, who experience daily pressures from authority figures.
One intriguing subplot involves Abebe, a woman from South Sudan (played by Esther Jama Paulino Kenyi), who seeks to become a mother to Nur’s child. This complicates his identity and further emphasizes themes of love, desire, and societal expectation.
Kashyap’s direction draws comparisons to filmmakers like Aki Kaurismäki and Kafka, exploring how invisible pressures shape individual lives. Nur, often compliant and fearful of those in power, mirrors the challenges faced by many in contemporary society, especially among minority groups.
In a twist, Nur ultimately transforms into a motorcycle, illustrating the stark reality that many people become defined not by their humanity but by the objects they possess. This transformation symbolizes how the state can impose conditional citizenship, where individuals risk losing their identity.
This film operates within a post-humanist framework, merging human and material identities. It challenges viewers to reconsider the lines between personhood and objecthood in our consumer-driven world. As Nur’s identity dissolves into his bike, the unsettling message resonates: we are often seen as tools rather than individuals.
“Kok Kok Kookook” has garnered attention, screening at significant festivals like the 30th Busan International Film Festival and the 30th International Film Festival of Kerala. Its experimental nature may generate discomfort among mainstream audiences, but it also invites them to engage with bold cinematic expressions.
This film is not just a story; it is a commentary on modern life and the dynamics of power. As it challenges viewers to rethink their perceptions, it stands as a hopeful precursor to the broader discussions about identity and autonomy in our increasingly mechanized world.
For those interested, you can find more about “Kok Kok Kookook” on IMDb, Letterboxd, and MUBI.
