"Diamonds in a Vegetable Market allows you to become a passenger on an Indian bus, full of eloquent quacks and con men, entertainment mongers, sellers of good-for-nothing products, charming cheats and worldlywise philosophers. This faraway world is brought so close that the film viewer becomes a spectator on the bus, accompanying these ingenius dilletantes to their shanty towns, listening to their alluring tales, eating and living with their families, all this without feeling in the least that he has intruded into their lives.
Nilita Vachani and her cameraman show keen curiosity while maintaining a respectful distance from their characters. The life they depict thus remains authentic and intact, never distorted by obtrusiveness or voyeurism. At the same time, the unknown is allowed to retain its mystery, it is never simplified into a convention
The film is at the same time about little things and great things, home-made remedies and the philosophy of life which is also the philosophy of survival."
Leopold Schuwerack, Frankfurter Rundschau
Peter Dreessen, Hamburger Abendblatt
Sudkurier, Konstanz
P.B., Neue Presse
Stuttgarter Zeitung
Laurence Giavarini, Cahiers du Cinéma
"En Inde, la survie est un art" dit Nilita Vachani: l'intelligence de son film est toute entière contenue dans cette phrase. Car si Diamonds in a Vegetable Market est un film de commande, le jeune documentariste indienne a su dépasser la simple chronique d'un milieu sympathique amis par moments un peu anecdotique. Tout son film, comme au théâtre, est construit sur l'idée du double jeu, de la représentation, de la dualité apparence-réalité brute.
La force du film, ce qui le rend universel, touchant, est de montrer comment chacun d'entre nous peut investir, travestir, jouer, au sens plein et théâtral du terme, un métier qu'il exerce pour vivre our pour survivre, un métier qui n'est pas forcément passionnant en lui-même, pour le rendre supportable
Les Vendeurs d'Illusion montre que transformer sa propre vie, sa propre condition, n'est pas un simple tour de passe- passe magique. Face aux difficultés de la vie quotidienne, it ne reste qu'à faire illusion: sur soi-même, et sur les autres."
Fabienne Darge, Le Monde, 28 Juillet, 1994
Nilita Vachani's film Sabzi mandi Ke Heere is not so much about the bus vendors as it is a parable about being and becoming; about the act- and the impossibility of a reality; about the face beneath the mask, which is another mask."
Carefully crafting inter-connections and parallel themes, the film has the quality of a densely textured piece of prose. It is not telling a story; it is only showing how, when we construct ourselves, we make our universes as well."
Kavita Singh, The Economic Times, 26 June, 1993. Read more of this review.
Ultimately Vachani's ability to penetrate beyond the quite innocuous lives of her players and bring home the behind stage realities of their performances reveals her forte. For without expressly stating it, she has managed to place her subjects in a larger frame of society where these fringe elements and their survival instincts come through without compromises."
Sabita Tekkeveetil, The Pioneer, May 18, 1993
Nikhat Kazmi, The Times of India, May 16, 1993
Hashmat the magician comes off as an unforgettable one-in-a-million character He is at once a success and a failure on a grand scale. Unlike the others, he performs street magic and sells a two rupee tricks booklet like hot cakes. But behind this successful front is failure- he is a virtual itenerant, an alcoholic, unable to come to grips with life and love that have passed him by. He is a complex figure given to acting and posture, and at the end of it all, fact and fiction weld inextricably in his superb performance. He plays himself so well that one stops seeing through his act and is simply moved."
The Sunday Statesman, June 13, 1993
The results of post modern technique may appear unheroic- in fact that is the purpose, to break the ground narrative- but the effort is in a sense, heroic. In Eyes of Stone Vachani must have spent months charting her subject's experiences. Here she takes, among others, the lives of two performers- one a surma seller and the other a magician and follows them with marvellous precision and empathy. Shakeel the surma-seller doubles as a quawwali-singer in season It's not great singing; the idea is to catch the "is-ness" of the happening at the lower-middle-class level where religion is the rope of survival. Not so Hashmat, the magician, whose crosses are memory and religion the lives of Shakeel and Hashmat are rendered with prosy integrity. In its genre the film is innovative and breaks fresh ground."
Iqbal Masud, The Independent, 8 September, 1993