‘The Elysian Field’ preview: ‘Paradise can be the people with whom we share our lives’

Pradip Kurbah’s film Iewduh, which explores how the characters in a Shillong market look out for each other, came out six years ago. It has taken Kurbah a while to bash his new project into shape .

Written by Kurbah and Paulami Dutta, The Elysian Field begins with a long take that reveals the film’s setting, theme, characters and magic realist elements all at once. A choir of singers witnesses the arrival of Livingstone at a remote village in the Khasi Hills.

Livingstone is bringing back his wife’s body. He is one of six residents in Laitduh. Every death is deeply felt, every new grave a reminder that the community is shrinking.

It’s the year 2047. The village has been mostly emptied out except for Livingstone (Albert Mawrie), his mother Helen (Helena Duiia), Maia (Baia Marbaniang), her husband Friday (Jeetesh Sharma), Promise (Merlvin Mukhim) and Complete (Richard Kharpuri).

The situation has necessitated minimalistic living and a reliance on each other despite differences. Daily routines are fixed and unwavering. A church is a point of assembly. On occasion, the cemetery is too.

The Elysian Field is in the International Competition section at the International Film Festival of Kerala (December 12-19) in Thiruvanthapuram. The 14 hopefuls in this category include three other Indian films: Shadowbox by Tanushree Das and Saumyananda Sahi, Unnikrishnan Avala’s Life of a Phallus and Sanju Surendran’s If on a Winter’s Night.

Although taking place in the future, The Elysian Field could well be about a present in which development is yet to reach far-away places and rampant migration has left behind ghost villages. A radio announcer chirpily rattles off all the amazing projects that will transform Meghalaya. Meanwhile in Laitduh, the electricity keeps going off.

There is a sense that Laitduh hasn’t just fallen off the map but slid into a parallel universe. Despite the isolation, the characters find ways to co-exist, dream, mourn, love and even hope.

Kurbah’s outstanding film documents the hardships, squabbles and black comedy that constitute daily life in Laitduh. Cinematographer Pradip Daimary, who had also worked on Iewduh, captures the movements of characters trying to keep themselves busy as well as the statis that has set in. The compositions, staging and minimal sound design create a milieu in which humanity exists and occasionally thrives in an elemental state, removed from time and therefore free to reinvent the rules of social engagement.

Kurbah grew up in Shillong, moved away to work in the Hindi and Telugu film industries, and returned to make films in his home state. In between Iewduh and The Elysian Field, 48-year-old Kurbah directed a short film, Path. In an interview with Scroll, Kurbah spoke about the ideas that went into his chronicle of loneliness and community.

When did the idea of making The Elysian Field first come to you?

The idea came to me quietly, almost like a memory trying to find its way back home. During the production of Iewduh, I spent a lot of time listening to people’s stories, stories of migration, of separation, of families slowly thinning out as younger generations left for the cities. Somewhere in those conversations, a simple question struck me. It wasn’t just a sociological curiosity, it was something deeply emotional.

In the Khasi Hills, where I come from, community is everything. It holds people together through joy, hardship and generational change. I began imagining what it would feel like to be among the last few souls in a place once filled with life.

The characters emerged from the lived experiences of people I met, men and women who carry history in their silence, who remain rooted despite the pull of a rapidly changing world. And slowly, The Elysian Field became a story not about what is disappearing, but about what still remains – human connection, memory and the quiet strength of a community that refuses to be forgotten.

How would you describe The Elysian Field’s themes?

The film is rooted in ideas of community, memory and the quiet strength people find in each other. It asks how we continue to live when the world around us slowly empties out, when a village loses its people, when familiar bonds break, and when life feels uncertain.

A big part of the film is also a reminder about the importance of community. We are slowly drifting away from one another, and the story gently warns us about what might happen if we let that continue.

What is the significance of the title?

Ha Lyngkha Bneng, or The Elysian Field, carries both cultural and emotional meaning. In Khasi, Ha Lyngkha Bneng suggests a heavenly field, a peaceful resting place.

In Greek mythology, the Elysian Fields (Elysium) are described as a paradise in the afterlife a place of eternal sunlight, joy and peace, reserved for noble souls. Today, the term is also used to describe any state of perfect happiness or bliss on Earth.

For me, this title reflects both the beautiful landscapes of the Khasi Hills and the inner world of the characters. It represents a space where love, memory and human connection continue to exist even when everything else feels fragile. It is a reminder that paradise is not always a place – it can also be the people with whom we share our lives.

Although set in the future, the film seems to be about an intolerant, unequal present. There is a sense that nothing has changed or ever will. And yet, there are subtle shifts and inner revolutions too.

Even though the film is set in 2047, the feelings and tensions in the story come from what we are experiencing today – intolerance, fear, loneliness, and the slow loss of our sense of community. Time may move forward, but certain human struggles remain the same.

At the same time, the film is not only about what is disappearing. Even in a village with only a few people left, the characters survive because they hold on to each other. A big reason I made this film is because I feel we are slowly drifting away from one another in real life. We are forgetting how important community is to us.

Through The Elysian Field, I wanted to make a small attempt to remind our own people if we let this drifting continue, we might truly reach a place like 2047, where almost nothing is left. So yes, the future setting reflects the present, but the message is for today, to not lose what makes us who we are.

How did you shoot in an isolated location, where it must have been challenging to transport people and equipment?

We shot the film in the Sohra division of the East Khasi Hills. The landscape is beautiful, but it also made the shoot quite challenging because we filmed across four different seasons. In summer, the weather kept changing constantly. We had to deal with leeches, snakes and difficult terrain, which made filming tougher.

Before we began, my location sound recordist, Sumir Dewri, and I discussed how important sound would be for this film. Every season in Sohra has its own soundscape, so we wanted the sound to feel alive and become a character on its own just like the location.

In post-production, Saptak Sarkar, Sumir Dewri and Sayantan designed the sound exactly the way I had imagined it. They shaped the natural atmosphere of each season so the audience could feel the place, not just watch it. Their work brought a deeper layer of emotion and realism to the film.

What conversations did you have with your director of photography, Pradip Daimary?

From the very beginning, my DoP and I agreed that the film should breathe through wide frames. We felt that showing the characters within the vast Meghalaya landscape would say more about their emotional state than any close-up could. The hills, the empty spaces, and the mist became an extension of their loneliness.

We discussed how distance itself would become a visual language. By keeping the camera far, the audience would feel the same separation the characters feel from each other, from the world, and sometimes from their own past. It was important for us that the viewer experiences that quiet emptiness.

We also spoke a lot about time and seasons. Shooting across the four seasons wasn’t just a practical choice, it was an emotional one. The changing light, the rain, the winter stillness, and the summer harshness all reflected what the characters were going through. Each season added a layer to their inner journey.

Nature’s beauty in Sohra is overwhelming, but it can also feel indifferent. Through wide, steady frames, we wanted to capture this contrast – the characters standing small in an enormous world. This visual approach became the heart of the film, allowing absence silence, and longing to speak naturally through the images.

You have worked with most of the actors before. How did you get them to create the feeling of belonging to an extended family?

We spent a lot of time in rehearsals, not just to practise scenes, but also let the actors spend time together, talk and build a natural bond. This helped them behave like a true community on screen. Their dedication made a huge difference. They listened closely, supported one another, and brought honesty to every moment.

The sense of family you see in the film comes from that shared trust and the comfort they have with each other after years of working together.

Could the film have been tightened? Some scenes felt repetitive. After long silences, the dialogue arrives suddenly and is plentiful.

The first cut of the film was almost three hours long. Even now, with the current duration, there are moments where I feel I could have trimmed more. But many people who saw the early cuts felt that the film needed time to breathe, and that the pace suited the way the story unfolds.

The repetition was intentional because life in a nearly empty village is repetitive in itself. When only six people are left, their days follow the same pattern, and I wanted the audience to experience that quiet routine.

The sudden burst of dialogue was also a deliberate choice. In rural areas, especially after a trauma or a loss, people often remain silent for long periods. Then, when someone finally speaks, everything comes out at once. I have observed this in real life, and I wanted to capture that natural emotional release.

Did Iewduh get released in Meghalaya? Will you also be releasing The Elysian Field?

Yes, Iewduh was released in Meghalaya just before the pandemic, and it is now available on the Meghalaya government initiated streaming platform, Hello Meghalaya. We do plan to release The Elysian Field as well.

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Shillong’s Iewduh market is the setting for a heartwarming film about love and dreams