Alternative Ending to A Dance of the Forests by Wole Soyinka

Hello Everyone !

This blog is part of the Thinking Activity assigned by Megha Trivedi Ma’am. It explores an alternative ending to A Dance of the Forests by Wole Soyinka, focusing on the themes of responsibility, memory, and moral renewal. The discussion examines how the past influences the present and how awareness and accountability can shape a better future. Through this interpretation, the assignment reflects on the play’s central message that true independence requires self-examination and conscious transformation.

Question : 1

Write a proposed alternative end of the play 'A Dance of the Forest' by Wole Soyinka: 

Introduction :

A Dance of the Forests is a dramatic exploration of memory, responsibility, and the moral relationship between past, present, and future. Instead of presenting national independence as a simple triumph, the play challenges individuals and communities to confront the consequences of their actions across time. The living encounter the dead and the unborn, revealing that history is not something left behind but something continually shaping identity.

The following is a proposed alternative ending in which the characters move beyond fear and denial toward conscious renewal. The forest remains a place of judgment, but it also becomes a space of transformation where responsibility is accepted rather than avoided.

The Alternative Ending: The Trial of the Totem

The Setting:

The scene remains the same: a clearing in the forest, deep in the night of the Gathering of the Tribes. Aroni (the Lame One) and Forest Head (disguised as Obaneji) stand by as the forest dwellers begin the final dance. However, instead of the chaotic "Dance of the Half-Child," the atmosphere shifts into a cold, judicial silence.

The Shift in Action:

In the original text, Demoke saves the Half-Child but remains a haunted man. In this version, the Totem—the massive wood carving Demoke created by sacrilegiously carving the top of the Araba tree—begins to bleed.

Forest Head: "You carved a monument to your pride, Demoke. You reached for the sky by standing on the severed head of a god. Now, the wood speaks."

The Three Reckonings:

1. Adenebi’s Trial (The Corruption of the Word) Adenebi, the Council Orator, has spent the play denying his role in the bribery that led to the death of sixty people in an overloaded lorry. In this alternative ending, Aroni forces Adenebi to hold the "Book of the Dead." As he touches it, his voice physically leaves him. He tries to speak his usual flowery rhetoric, but only the sound of a crashing engine and the screams of the dying come out of his mouth.

Instead of being allowed to hide behind his suit and title, Adenebi is transformed. His clothes rot away, replaced by the tattered remains of the victims' clothing. He is forced to become the "Conductor of the Damned," tasked with leading the ghosts of the sixty victims back to the city to haunt the council chambers forever.

2. Rola’s Trial (The Madame Tortoise Paradox) Rola (the modern incarnation of the legendary seductress Madame Tortoise) is confronted by the "Dead Man," the Captain who was castrated and enslaved because of her whim centuries ago.

In this version, Rola does not just feel shame; she is granted a terrifying clarity. The Forest Head grants her the "Vision of the Mirror." She sees that her beauty is not a weapon she wields, but a cage built by the men she destroyed. The Dead Man approaches her, not to kill her, but to hand her his rusted sword.

The Dead Man: "The cycle breaks not when you die, but when you refuse to be the prize for which men kill."

Rola breaks the sword. By rejecting the role of the "Devourer of Men," she collapses the spiritual tether that links her to Madame Tortoise. She becomes the first character to achieve a "New Consciousness," standing naked of her past crimes.

3. Demoke’s Sacrifice (The Artist’s Blood) The climax focuses on Demoke, the carver. Eshuoro (the wayward spirit) demands Demoke’s life for the insult to the Araba tree. Ogun (Demoke’s patron god) steps in to defend him, leading to a celestial clash.

In this version, Demoke realizes that as long as the gods fight over him, humanity remains a pawn. He climbs his own Totem as it begins to burn with a spiritual fire.

Demoke: "If I carved this in blood, let it be quenched in mine. Not as a victim, but as a Master of the Craft."

Instead of falling and being caught by Ogun (as in the original), Demoke reaches the summit and pulls the "Half-Child" up with him. He doesn't just hand the child back to the Dead Woman; he breathes his own life-force into the child.

The Resolution: The Forest Reclaims the City:

The Half-Child, previously a symbol of a "doomed future" and a "stillborn generation," finally speaks. His voice is not a cry, but a song that harmonizes the discord of the forest.

The Forest Head watches as the spirits of the ancestors (the Dead Man and Dead Woman) dissolve into the soil. They are no longer "restless" because the living have finally acknowledged the debt.

Forest Head (Final Monologue): "The incense of the Gathering has cleared. You asked for your ancestors, and you found them in your own mirrors. The forest returns to the seed, and the city returns to the dust. But look—the Carver has left a mark that even the termites cannot eat."

The Final Image:

The sun rises, but it is a pale, green sun. Demoke is found at the base of the scorched Totem. He is alive, but his hands are now turned to wood—a permanent merging of the artist and his medium. Rola sits beside him, guarding the now-silent Half-Child, who has finally begun to grow. Adenebi is gone, wandering toward the city to tell a truth that will burn down the corrupt government.

And for more information on this play watch this vedio:

The forest clearing grows unnaturally still after the restless spirits reveal themselves at the Gathering of the Tribes. The celebratory mood that once filled the space collapses into uneasy silence. No drums sound. No voices rise. Even the wind seems to hesitate among the trees.

The Dead Man and the Dead Woman remain present, not fading into shadow as expected. Their continued presence unsettles the living, who begin to understand that the past cannot be dismissed through ceremony alone. The boundary between worlds has not closed because truth has not yet been faced.

Demoke stands near the unfinished totem, staring at its incomplete form. The carving tools lie scattered at his feet. He does not reach for them. His hands hang motionless, as though he no longer trusts them to shape meaning.

For the first time, Demoke does not speak in defense of himself. Instead, he whispers:

“We have carved monuments to forget. Never to remember.”

His words are not addressed to anyone in particular, yet they seem to echo through the clearing. The people who had gathered for celebration shift uneasily. They had hoped for blessing, not confrontation.

Rola watches the Dead Woman from a distance. Her earlier confidence has vanished. She no longer attempts to command attention or control perception. The presence before her is no longer merely a spirit; it is a reflection of consequence. She steps forward slowly, each movement deliberate.

“I have lived as though tomorrow were a stranger,” she says quietly. “Now tomorrow stands before me.”

The Dead Woman does not speak. Yet her silence carries more meaning than accusation. It is not vengeance that defines her presence, but memory.

Adenebi, who once organized the gathering with pride, attempts to restore order. He calls for music, for ritual, for progress. But the forest does not respond. His voice loses strength. He begins to recognize that celebration without truth is hollow.

Aroni enters the clearing, moving with visible effort. Though his body is marked by limitation, his presence is undeniable. He surveys the gathering without judgment. He does not accuse the living. He simply waits.

Obaneji emerges from shadow, calm and watchful. He observes the unfinished totem, the silent spirits, and the uneasy crowd. When he speaks, his voice is neither harsh nor comforting.

“You asked to meet your ancestors,” he says. “But you did not ask to know them.”

The statement unsettles the gathering more deeply than any threat. To know the past is to inherit responsibility for it.

At the edge of the clearing appears the Half-Child. No longer suspended between existence and absence, the figure now stands uncertainly upon the ground. The child looks at the living not with accusation, but with expectation. The future has arrived—but it has not yet chosen whether to remain.

Demoke kneels before the unfinished carving. Slowly, he gathers his tools. The crowd watches, expecting him to complete the monument as originally intended. But instead of shaping a figure of triumph, he alters the form entirely.

He carves a human figure burdened yet upright, marked by struggle but not defeated. The figure’s face is neither joyful nor despairing; it is aware.

“This is not victory,” Demoke says. “It is endurance.”

Rola steps closer to the Dead Woman. This time she does not avert her gaze. She does not seek forgiveness. She simply acknowledges.

“I cannot return what was taken,” she says. “But I will not deny it.”

At these words, the Dead Woman’s form begins to soften. The tension surrounding her presence diminishes. Recognition, though incomplete, has begun.

Adenebi, overcome by the weight of realization, lowers his head. He confesses his failures—not through grand declarations, but through fragmented truth. He admits ambition without accountability, leadership without reflection, action without conscience.

As each confession is spoken, the forest subtly changes. The oppressive stillness gives way to faint movement. Leaves stir. Light begins to filter through dense branches that once blocked the sky.

Obaneji addresses the gathering once more.

“Freedom is not granted,” he says. “It is practiced.”

The meaning of the gathering shifts. It is no longer a celebration of independence but a confrontation with responsibility. The living understand that the past cannot be erased, but it can be acknowledged and transformed through choice.

The Half-Child approaches the newly carved figure and touches it gently. The gesture is fragile yet decisive. The future does not withdraw. It remains—but conditionally.

Aroni gestures toward a narrow path leading out of the clearing. It had been hidden before, obscured by shadow and confusion. Now it is visible, though not inviting. It represents continuation rather than resolution.

Demoke plants the completed carving firmly into the ground. He does not raise it as a monument of pride. Instead, it stands as a reminder: a record of awareness rather than achievement.

Rola turns to the gathering.

“We cannot inherit dignity,” she says. “We must create it.”

No applause follows. The people understand that the work of renewal cannot be performed through ceremony alone. It must be lived.

The restless spirits begin to withdraw—not forced away, but released. Their presence fades without violence. Memory remains, but agitation dissolves.

Adenebi removes the symbols of authority he once displayed proudly. He places them at the base of the carving, not as surrender, but as acknowledgment that leadership must answer to truth.

Obaneji steps back toward the forest’s shadow. He offers no blessing and no condemnation. His withdrawal signals neither approval nor rejection. It signifies autonomy. The living must choose without supervision.

The forest itself seems to breathe. Light deepens. Sound returns gradually: insects, wind, distant movement of branches. Life resumes—not as celebration, but as continuation.

Demoke stands silently before the path. He looks once more at the carving, then at the people, then at the forest. Finally, he sets down his tools beside the monument.

Creation will continue—but not without awareness.

He walks toward the open path.

Rola follows, not beside him, but independently. Adenebi follows after a pause. Others move slowly, uncertain yet willing.

The Half-Child walks among them.

No barrier rises. No voice commands. The forest does not close behind them. It remains open—not as a place of escape, but as a witness.

The clearing empties gradually. Only the carved figure remains at the center, rooted yet unfinished in meaning. It is neither warning nor promise. It is possibility.

As twilight settles, the forest returns to quiet balance. The spirits of the past rest. The future remains present. The living move forward—not purified, not absolved, but aware.

And for the first time, awareness itself becomes the beginning of renewal.

Why this Alternative Ending is Significant :

Element	Purpose	Effect on Theme
Adenebi’s Transformation	Justice	Shows that political corruption cannot be "washed away" by a festival; it must be lived.
Rola’s Agency	Feminist Rebirth	Breaks the "eternal feminine" archetype of the seductress, allowing for female redemption.
The Half-Child’s Growth	Hope	Converts the Abiku (child born to die) into a symbol of a future that might actually survive.
Demoke’s Hybridity	Synthesis	Represents Soyinka's ideal of the artist: someone who is both a part of nature and a shaper of it.

References :

  Marak, Monush R. “Ecocritical Consciousness in Wole Soyinkaâ€^TMS Play a Dance of the Forests.” Marak | International Journal of Research, 15 Feb. 2021, journals.pen2print.org/index.php/ijr/article/view/20421/19953. Accessed 22 Feb. 2026.

 Soyinka, Wole. A Dance of the Forests. Oxford UP, 1963.

  View of the Female Ghost Figure in Wole Soyinka’s Play a Dance of the Forests. al-kindipublishers.org/index.php/ijllt/article/view/8384/7208. Accessed 22 Feb. 2026.

“Humans in the Loop: Exploring AI, Invisible Labour, and Digital Culture”

 

This blog presents a critical analysis of the film screening of Humans in the Loop, organized as part of our classroom activity and assigned by Dr. Dilip Barad Sir. The film explores the intricate relationship between artificial intelligence, human labour, and digital culture, focusing on how “humans in the loop” remain central to AI systems despite the appearance of automation. Through its narrative, visual style, and cinematic devices, the film raises pressing questions about algorithmic bias, epistemic hierarchies, the invisibility of labour, and the politics of representation.

In this analysis, the discussion is structured around three key themes: the socio-cultural embeddedness of AI and bias (Task 1), the visualization and political implications of labour under digital capitalism (Task 2), and the role of film form and aesthetic strategies in conveying philosophical concerns about digital culture and human-AI interaction (Task 3). Drawing on film theory, structuralist and formalist perspectives, Marxist critique, and representation studies, this blog aims to unpack how the film not only documents contemporary technological realities but also invites critical reflection on knowledge, power, and human experience in AI-mediated systems.

Task : 1

Critical Analysis: AI, Bias, and Epistemic Representation in Humans in the Loop

Humans in the Loop presents artificial intelligence not as a neutral computational system but as a socially embedded technology shaped by human power, culture, and knowledge hierarchies. Through its narrative of data labor and algorithmic decision-making, the film interrogates how technological systems reproduce ideological structures rather than transcend them. Using concepts from film studies—representation, ideology, and power relations—alongside Apparatus Theory, the film reveals that AI operates within existing social orders rather than outside them.

Algorithmic Bias as Culturally Situated

The narrative exposes algorithmic bias not as a technical malfunction but as a product of cultural and social positioning. The AI systems depicted in the film rely on human-labeled datasets generated by workers whose socioeconomic conditions shape the content and interpretation of knowledge. Rather than presenting bias as a glitch that engineers can simply fix, the film frames it as structurally embedded in the pipeline of data production.

From a representational standpoint, the film emphasizes that AI “sees” the world through mediated human perspectives. Scenes showing repetitive annotation work demonstrate how subjective judgments become codified into supposedly objective systems. This aligns with ideological critique in film theory: technology appears neutral while invisibly carrying dominant cultural assumptions. The narrative therefore reframes bias as an outcome of who produces knowledge, under what conditions, and for whose benefit.

The film’s visual style reinforces this argument. The framing of workers behind screens, often isolated and anonymized, contrasts with the authoritative presence of technological outputs. This cinematic contrast mirrors Apparatus Theory’s claim that technological systems naturalize ideology by concealing the mechanisms of production. Just as cinema positions viewers within ideological frameworks through its apparatus, AI systems in the film position users within prestructured categories shaped by unseen labor.

Epistemic Hierarchies and the Politics of Knowledge

A central theme in the film is epistemic hierarchy—whose knowledge is recognized as authoritative within technological systems. The narrative foregrounds a stark division between those who design and deploy AI systems and those who produce the knowledge that trains them. Data workers generate the interpretive labor necessary for AI functionality, yet their knowledge is rendered invisible or subordinate.

This dynamic illustrates a hierarchy between institutional knowledge (engineers, corporations, technological infrastructures) and embodied or localized knowledge (workers’ interpretations, cultural experience, and lived realities). The film suggests that technological systems privilege formalized, codified knowledge while marginalizing experiential insight. This reflects broader power relations in knowledge production: those who control technological frameworks determine what counts as truth.

From an ideological perspective, the film portrays AI as a mechanism that legitimizes dominant epistemologies while erasing the labor that sustains them. Workers’ contributions become abstracted into data points, transforming subjective interpretation into “objective” machine output. The invisibility of this process reinforces what film theory identifies as ideological naturalization—the presentation of historically produced structures as inevitable or neutral.

Apparatus Theory and Technological Ideology

Applying Apparatus Theory deepens this analysis. In classical film theory, the cinematic apparatus shapes perception by positioning viewers within a structured field of meaning that reproduces dominant ideology. Humans in the Loop extends this logic to digital technology: AI systems function as ideological apparatuses that organize knowledge, perception, and authority.

The film visually parallels cinematic spectatorship and algorithmic processing. Screens, interfaces, and data flows become framing devices that mediate reality. Just as cinema constructs meaning through selective representation, AI constructs knowledge through selective data interpretation. Both systems produce what appears as objective truth while embedding ideological assumptions within their structure.

By foregrounding labor conditions and knowledge production processes, the film disrupts the illusion of technological neutrality. It reveals that AI systems do not merely process information—they shape epistemic reality by determining what is visible, legible, and actionable. This mirrors Apparatus Theory’s central insight: technology is never purely technical but always ideological.

Power Relations and the Politics of Representation

The film ultimately situates AI within broader power relations. Representation becomes a site of control: those who design technological frameworks define categories, norms, and standards. Workers contribute knowledge but lack authority over how it is used or interpreted. This asymmetry reflects structural inequalities in global technological production.

By linking technological processes to labor, the narrative reframes AI as a social system rather than a computational tool. The film suggests that bias persists because power persists. Technology does not escape ideology; it operationalizes it.

Conclusion :

Through its depiction of data labor and algorithmic decision-making, Humans in the Loop challenges the myth of AI objectivity. The film reveals bias as culturally situated, exposes epistemic hierarchies embedded in technological systems, and frames AI as an ideological apparatus that reproduces power relations. By aligning cinematic representation with technological mediation, the narrative demonstrates that knowledge within AI is not discovered but constructed—shaped by social structures, labor conditions, and ideological frameworks.

Task : 2

Labor & the Politics of Cinematic Visibility in Humans in the Loop

The film offers a striking meditation on invisible labour under digital capitalism by foregrounding the human effort that sustains artificial intelligence systems while simultaneously showing how that labour is obscured, undervalued, and structurally constrained. Through its visual language and narrative framing, the film situates data annotation as a form of contemporary industrial work—fragmented, precarious, and emotionally taxing—while inviting viewers to critically reassess whose labour powers technological modernity.

Visualizing Invisible Labour

The film’s visual strategy makes the unseen visible. Repetitive framing of workers seated before screens emphasizes the mechanical rhythm of labelling tasks. The mise-en-scène—rows of workstations, sterile interiors, dim lighting—constructs an environment that mirrors industrial production lines, even though the labour is cognitive rather than physical. This aesthetic choice aligns with Marxist film theory’s understanding of cinema as a site where relations of production can be made perceptible.

Close shots of screens and cursor movements translate abstract computational processes into embodied human action. By lingering on gestures such as clicking, highlighting, and categorizing, the film foregrounds micro-decisions that collectively shape AI outputs. These visual repetitions convey both monotony and intensity, transforming what is typically imagined as automated efficiency into visible human strain.

Equally significant is the emotional register of labour. Workers’ expressions—fatigue, detachment, quiet frustration—suggest affective labour alongside cognitive work. The film depicts not only the extraction of time and skill but also the management of emotional endurance. From a cultural film theory perspective, this portrayal emphasizes labour as lived experience rather than abstract economic activity.

Cultural Valuation of Marginalized Work

The film suggests that digital capitalism systematically devalues the labour that makes technological systems possible. Workers perform essential interpretive tasks, yet their contributions remain structurally invisible. Their knowledge is absorbed into data infrastructures without recognition, authorship, or authority.

Marxist analysis helps clarify this dynamic: labour produces value, but that value is appropriated by institutions that control technological platforms. The film visually encodes this hierarchy through spatial separation between workers and technological outputs. Screens dominate the frame, while human figures appear small, repetitive, and interchangeable. This composition communicates commodification—the reduction of human interpretation into standardized units of production.

Representation and identity studies deepen this reading. The workers depicted belong to social positions typically excluded from narratives of technological innovation. By centering their labour, the film challenges dominant cultural assumptions that technological progress is driven solely by engineers or corporate actors. Instead, it reveals a stratified knowledge economy in which marginalized identities sustain systems from which they are excluded symbolically and materially.

Empathy, Critique, and Transformative Perception

The film does more than document labour conditions—it reorients perception. Through sustained attention to workers’ routines and subjectivities, it invites empathy by humanizing processes often imagined as automated. However, this empathy is not purely sentimental; it functions as a critical device that exposes structural inequalities.

Cinematic pacing plays a crucial role. The slow rhythm of repetitive work contrasts sharply with the ideological promise of technological acceleration. This temporal disjunction encourages viewers to question narratives of efficiency and innovation that obscure labour exploitation. The film thus produces what cultural theorists describe as critical spectatorship: an awareness of the social structures embedded in representation.

Ultimately, the film gestures toward transformation by destabilizing dominant perceptions of digital labour. By revealing that AI systems depend on undervalued human effort, it reframes technological advancement as a social process shaped by class relations and global inequalities. The act of making labour visible becomes itself a political intervention.

Labour, Representation, and Power Under Digital Capitalism

Through Marxist and cultural film theory lenses, the film portrays digital capitalism as a system that commodifies not only physical effort but also perception, judgment, and emotion. Labour becomes fragmented into micro-tasks, while representation functions as a mechanism of ideological concealment: viewers and users encounter seamless technological outputs rather than the human labour behind them.

By reversing this concealment, the film challenges dominant narratives of automation and technological neutrality. It reveals that digital infrastructures are sustained by human bodies, cultural interpretations, and unequal power relations. The politics of cinematic visibility therefore mirrors the politics of labour itself—what is seen, valued, and recognized within systems of production.

Conclusion:

The film visualizes invisible labour by transforming data annotation into a cinematic subject, exposing its emotional intensity and structural marginalization. Through its representational strategies, it critiques the cultural devaluation of labour under digital capitalism while fostering critical empathy in viewers. By making hidden work perceptible, the film not only documents labour but also reshapes how technological systems—and the human effort behind them—are understood.

Task : 3

Film Form, Structure, and Digital Culture in Humans in the Loop

Humans in the Loop uses cinematic form as a critical lens to examine the philosophical and social implications of digital culture and human-AI interaction. Through camera work, editing, sequencing, sound, and the contrast between natural and digital spaces, the film communicates the complexities of labour, identity, and technological mediation.

Natural Imagery vs. Digital Spaces

One of the most striking formal choices in the film is its juxtaposition of natural and digital environments. Wide shots of open landscapes, human gestures, and organic spaces contrast sharply with claustrophobic frames of data labs, screens, and artificial interfaces.

This visual opposition operates as a system of signification (film semiotics) that conveys the tension between human experience and technologically mediated perception. Natural imagery symbolizes embodied, contextual knowledge—experience grounded in the physical and social world—while digital spaces represent abstraction, codification, and algorithmic control.

For example, scenes of workers annotating images of natural phenomena highlight how human interpretation translates the richness of lived reality into discrete data points. This contrast raises broader philosophical concerns about the limits of AI in capturing subjective experience and underscores how human knowledge remains essential within digital systems.

Camera Techniques and Editing

The film employs a combination of close-ups, over-the-shoulder shots, and high-angle perspectives to communicate the immersive and isolating aspects of digital labour. Close-ups of workers’ hands and screens emphasize precision, repetition, and embodied labour, while high-angle shots of the lab create a sense of surveillance and systematization.

Editing choices—rhythmic cuts between workers, AI interfaces, and outcomes—highlight temporal fragmentation. The pace of editing mirrors the repetitive, segmented nature of annotation work, reinforcing viewers’ awareness of labour as both cognitively and emotionally demanding. Cross-cutting between human gestures and algorithmic outputs semiotically links labour to the consequences of technological action, showing that human interpretation is inseparable from machine “intelligence.”

Sound and Aesthetic Choices

Sound design in Humans in the Loop also plays a critical role in shaping perception. Ambient office noises—clicks, keystrokes, murmured conversations—contrast with digital sound cues like notification pings or AI-generated voiceovers. This sonic layering represents the coexistence and tension between human and machine activity, emphasizing the human presence that underpins technological systems.

The absence of music in some sequences amplifies the monotony of labour, creating an immersive, almost meditative experience for the viewer. This aesthetic strategy aligns with formalist theory, showing how sound—or silence—constructs meaning and emotional resonance without explicit exposition.

Labour, Identity, and Digital Culture

The interplay of visual and auditory codes communicates philosophical questions about the human condition in a digital age. By situating embodied labour within highly mediated digital spaces, the film semiotically encodes identity as relational and contingent: the worker’s knowledge, judgment, and affective engagement are central to AI functionality yet rendered invisible within broader technological narratives.

Natural imagery and spatial contrast remind viewers of the human scale of work and knowledge, challenging assumptions of automation and technological neutrality. Cinematic techniques emphasize that digital culture is not simply a technical domain but a sociocultural system shaped by human effort, interpretation, and positionality.

Structuralist and Narrative Implications

From a structuralist perspective, the film constructs meaning through recurring motifs and oppositions: nature vs. technology, visibility vs. invisibility, labour vs. automation. Narrative sequencing highlights cause-effect relationships between human annotation, AI decision-making, and social consequences, creating a semiotic chain that exposes the interdependence of humans and machines.

By analyzing these codes, it becomes clear that film form itself functions as an argument: it visually and aurally demonstrates that digital culture is socially mediated, morally contingent, and epistemically situated.

Conclusion:

Humans in the Loop leverages cinematic form to communicate deep philosophical concerns about digital culture, human labour, and AI. Through the interplay of natural and digital spaces, strategic camera work, editing rhythms, and layered sound, the film conveys the embodied, interpretive, and relational nature of knowledge in technological systems. Structuralist and formalist analysis reveals that these aesthetic choices are not merely stylistic but essential to understanding how labour, identity, and digital culture intersect, making the invisible visible and the abstract concrete.

References : 

 Barad, Dilip. (2026). WORKSHEET FILM SCREENING ARANYA SAHAY'S HUMANS IN THE LOOP. 10.13140/RG.2.2.11775.06568. 

 Shorts Now. “Artificial Intelligence Explained: Human in the Loop Movie in Hindi | AI Aur Human Ka Future.” YouTube, 9 Nov. 2025, www.youtube.com/watch?v=K-vVMk-rytM.