Bäckstage Redaktion
Two Women Searching for Meaning in Kolkata
Two women live in two cities and two different eras, yet an imaginary thread connects them. Mother Teresa & Me achieves this with remarkable fluidity and a poetic visual language.
One woman is Mother Teresa – world‑famous nun, tireless champion of the poor, and Nobel Peace Prize laureate. The second is Kavita, a violinist in her mid‑twenties living in London, who has just been ghosted by her boyfriend because she’s pregnant and he can’t handle it. To figure out what to do next, Kavita travels to her roots in Kolkata.
Mother Teresa’s story unfolds during a pivotal period between 1946 and 1991; Kavita’s story is set in the present. Both are facing an existential crisis. In that period, Mother Teresa built infrastructure for the poor, yet also lost her faith because of the terrible things she witnessed in the streets – a fact revealed only posthumously when her personal letters became public. By contrast, Kavita, a young woman in modern‑day London, has the ground pulled from under her by an unexpected pregnancy. Both Teresa and Kavita struggle with their situations but refuse the easy way out. This is what first links them early in the film. We follow Mother Teresa’s self‑sacrificing fight for people and against the suffering on Kolkata’s streets, just as we later follow Kavita through those same streets as she faces a crucial life decision. Though separated by decades, the two women are not so different after all.
«Separated by decades, yet not so far apart.»
Kavita is played by Banita Sandhu. Born in London with Indian roots, she fits the role perfectly and fully inhabits the character of a violinist standing before an immensely important decision. Mother Teresa is portrayed by Swiss actor Jacqueline Fritschi‑Cornaz with striking authenticity and devotion. Fritschi‑Cornaz is not only an actress with over 30 years of experience. She initiated the film project after a trip to India and was actively involved in its development. Fittingly, the film is a non‑profit project: all proceeds go to institutions that provide education and healthcare for the poor, disabled, or orphaned children in India. The film was financed entirely through donations, organized via the Zariya Foundation, which was also founded by Jacqueline Fritschi‑Cornaz. The goal of the film – and of the broader project – is to carry forward Mother Teresa’s ideas and vision.
The noteworthy film is directed by the award‑winning Swiss‑Indian filmmaker Kamal Musale, who studied directing and screenwriting at the National Film and Television School in England. He was driven by the question of what motivates a woman who has lost her faith – especially since Teresa kept that loss meticulously secret while never abandoning her fight for the poorest of the poor. But how do you bring two such different women together on a narrative level? Musale says in the press kit: “To give Teresa relevance today, I chose to place her life story in a contemporary context and to have it rediscovered by a modern young woman living in today’s Western society, a woman who embodies a younger generation’s search for meaning. That’s how the character of Kavita came about.”
The film’s big themes are personal faith and the still‑controversial subject of abortion. The sensitive handling of these topics is one of the film’s great strengths. At no point does Mother Teresa & Me try to take sides or proselytize. On the contrary, especially regarding abortion, different perspectives surface through natural dialogue, inviting viewers to form their own thoughts. It’s similar with faith: the film never places Mother Teresa on a pedestal because of her beliefs; rather, it tells, with clear‑eyed restraint, the story of a woman who gives herself completely to do good. Teresa never distinguishes between faith traditions and of course helps even men who would have fought her because of her religion. In the face of death, faith ultimately plays no role.
«Wonderful, poetic images.»
At first, Kavita is likely drawn intentionally out of focus. She appears like millions of other women in the world’s big cities and only gradually takes on a clearer profile. Like a butterfly, she seems to blossom through her journey to India. In the hospice, she’s asked: “Are you here to save people—or just yourself?” For a moment, the question catches her off guard, because it crystallizes many things that have been left hanging.
Beyond the film’s thematic and directorial strengths, it’s the poetic images of India and the stark shots of harsh realities of life in poverty that merge elegantly into a harmonious whole. The film’s ability to cast a spell so quickly stems from such artfully composed sequences. The visual language is stunning. When snow falls on London’s night streets and brightens the darkness, it also works perfectly as a counterpoint to Mother Teresa’s life in the convent in 1946. The scenes with Teresa are rendered in heavy black‑and‑white with a hint of sepia, like a historical document. Poverty in the slums is captured in calm images that amplify the intensity. By contrast, the Kolkata that Kavita encounters is vivid and full of color. None of these poetically composed images are accidental; they deepen the story and complete the film experience with graceful cohesion.
Kavita’s emotional odyssey and Mother Teresa’s unshakable struggle blend organically into a powerful cinematic experience – thanks not least to the film’s poetic visual language.
