By this point, the concept of films about young filmmakers has become a legitimate sub-genre in itself, with many directors telling stories of their early childhood and how they came to appreciate the beauty and magnificence of cinema, intertwining elements of the coming-of-age drama with a more specific look at the process of falling in love with the medium of filmmaking. It is a surprisingly common occurrence to find directors using their own experiences and insights to explore the art form, including some of the most famous filmmakers of their generation, from anywhere in the world. However, I’m reluctant to say they are unnecessary or cliched, since each one is very personal, and while not all of them are capable of being particularly great, they all possess a very distinct value that is foolish to overlook, especially when the biggest problems with many of these films are in the execution rather than their conception. They’re all very interesting to some degree, just differing in the impact made during their realisation. This specifically brings us to Last Film Show (Gujarati: છેલ્લો શો), in which director Pan Nalin creates a wonderfully riveting and endearing story of a young boy trying to escape his strict parents in his working-class Indian neighbourhood to satiate his love for cinema, which was inadvertently instilled in him by his father, who views the world of art as one of debauchery and excess, entirely contradictory to the moral values which he has tried to force his family to follow, which only makes our main character’s journey to rebellion all the more satisfying. A simple but effective drama that has as many moments of traditional filmmaking as it does some inspired sequences, Last Film Show is a charming film that was clearly borne out of the intention to showcase the power of artistic expression and how a single moment spent with a few flickering images can change one’s life rapidly and permanently.

Pan Nalin is a veteran director and has been working in Indian cinema for over three decades, making a name for himself as one of their most reliable filmmakers, especially in Gujarati cinema, which has often struggled to find a place at the table in the way of some other native groups. Last Film Show is clearly a very personal film to the director, and while it may not make much sense in terms of time period to be considered a directly autobiographical film (although it never claims to be, an important distinction), he is clearly inserting his own experiences as someone who had his passion for cinema instilled in him from a very young age, which is often the case for many great directors. The concept of the “love letter to cinema” has become almost shorthand for this kind of sentimental, coming-of-age narrative that looks at the growth from ignorance to experience someone undergoes when they realise the true scope of the moving picture, and how it can change lives. Cinema about cinema is extraordinarily popular, and so many filmmakers have done their best to establish a solid grounding in which they can explore the origins and inspirations of their love for the craft, trying to hone in on that specific moment that sparked not only their passion, but the realisation that this is what they wanted to do with their lives. Nalin’s film is very much aligned with these conventions, and he makes very little effort to make Last Film Show any different, choosing instead to maintain that familiar formula, in the hopes that the impact of his own personal adoration will carry over into the rest of the film. In many ways, he was correct – this film is very charming and has some genuinely charming moments, even when it is deeply heavy-handed, but it makes up for a few of its weaknesses with its genial, agreeable tone that makes it a very entertaining film that may not be challenging, but has enough heart and humour to maintain our attention.

One aspect of Last Film Show that might be divisive comes in the form of the director’s very clear admiration for filmmaking, since some of the choices he makes throughout the film can feel almost questionable. Nalin is not afraid to go over the top and resort to excess, and while this may be charming for some (especially those who enjoy a slight bit of excess in these stories), it can feel overwrought in a way that grows tiring. This film is clearly made by someone who adores cinema, and refuses to rest until he has made it abundantly clear – whether bookending the film by directly mentioning the directors who inspired him (the entire final scene being a lengthy list of notable directors, perhaps the most arbitrary list of two dozen filmmakers pulled from every corner of the industry), or having the main character literally dive into an enormous pile of film stock, there’s an almost cartoonish sense of forcing the viewer to know that the director adores cinema and everything it represents. Its intentions are very pure, and it never feels like it has ulterior motives, which is why these choices can be easily excused, because there is a genuine love at the heart of this film, enough to look beyond some of the more peculiar choices Nalin makes when constructing the story. It’s easily justifiable to make such strange decisions when there is actually something valuable simmering beneath the surface. There’s an endearing aspect of the boldness that defines this film and makes it so extraordinarily entertaining, perhaps even when it didn’t intend to be as such. There’s so much charm in how Nalin looks at the process of falling in love with cinema, and while it may feel deeply unappealing to those who don’t like sentimental cinema, it does work exceptionally well in the context of this film, where the collision of bold visual choices and a story that we have seen many times before creates something memorable.

However, it wouldn’t be correct to just look at Last Film Show from a distance, taking into account the surface-level premise, since there is something deeper simmering beneath the story. In as much as Nalin is telling a story about a boy falling in love with cinema, he’s also exploring the social and cultural aspects of the country. Indian cinema is sometimes inaccessible to those outside the country, whether in terms of availability or facilitating the process of allowing outsiders into these stories, many of them being designed and marketed to a specific demographic. Whether intentional or not, Last Film Show is a film that embraces a much wider audience, allowing us to step into the world in which these characters inhabit, and giving us the opportunity to see their lives in vivid detail. This makes the film-based aspects so endearing, but also becomes quite effective in showing the social structure. It isn’t clear when the film is set (but it is near-contemporary, based on the technology we see used throughout the film), but it uses this timeless quality to show the many details that exist within the life of the main character, who is an amalgamation of a group of people whose dreams and aspirations far outweigh their social status, leading them to want to escape, the idea of running away from life being extremely appealing to all of them, even thought very few of them manage to achieve it. It can sometimes feel like it is circling around overly emotional social realism in which the viewer is forced to feel certain sensations that are spoon-fed to us by the director, but it serves a purpose, and it’s difficult to imagine this film doing anything differently and still achieving the same effect. There is an argument to be made around excess being useful in some instances, and Last Film Show is a perfect example of this in practice.

Last Film Show is unfortunately always going to be a film that pales in comparison to the other films that traverse similar territory (especially in a year where Steven Spielberg is telling an almost identical story), but it has its unique elements that make the comparisons between this and Cinema Paradiso slightly inappropriate, since the director here was clearly trying to approach the material in his own way. It is far from revolutionary, and we’ve seen this same narrative woven on countless occasions, often with more technical prowess and creativity – but there is often nothing that comes close to pure passion and admiration for the material, to the point where just having the audacity to tell the story with truthfulness and dedication can help overcome some of the trickier artistic boundaries that would restrict other filmmakers, but which Nalin embraces in a way that may see him resort to excess, but at least it is the kind that feels earned and interesting, rather than just being a meandering, heartless affair. There is enough pure emotion in Last Film Show to sustain the entire production, and it may be deeply obtuse and never even close to subtle – but taken for what it is, based on the intentions in telling this story, it’s difficult not to be thoroughly charmed by this film and its approach to celebrating the art of cinema. It has its imperfections, and it often feels overly dependent on a set of ideas that are outdated and unconvincing – but it all becomes part of the film’s identity, which is very much a matter of just appreciating those formative moments that turn someone into an artist, which many directors have implied is an almost magical moment, a light switch turning on after encountering a single film that places that deep love for the medium in the mind of impressionable youths. It’s compelling and heartfelt, and feels like it earns our time, which about right for a film of this nature, which simply needs to be seen to understand its impact, which may be small at first, but does linger in a way that is quite endearing, even if it isn’t particularly original nor something we haven’t seen done with more nuance and detail countless times before.