They expect a hero’s story.
Gravity. The force that doesn’t want us to fly; which fears we might have a fatal fall if we do, so doesn’t permit the heavens to separate our feet from the clay. Kathmandu is that ground reality which beckons me night and day, and which I pretend to have already escaped. I thought I must first invent a pair of robust wings to defy gravity and deny that part of me. In rage, I sought to violate all rules and desired to soar the limits of the unknown blue in profound solitude and meaningful silence. But I didn’t want struggle. Never liked it.
People expect that. They expect a hero’s story. I am now in the streets like I had wanted to be—and this is not romantic. It is physical, yes sir, my struggle. I feel the great void in my breast, though the flight is not mere wings. We must endure the trap of dreams and witness a series of heroes in this league, falling and rising, rising and falling. I do not like to talk about Nepali films. Nepal is not a country known for its cinema. “Our film and television industry lacks talent,” says a Nepali friend, who is doing a cinematography course at Whistling Woods, “Nepali film directors have continued to make films despite a thousand hurdles, which is something I am proud of, but it will take time and talent to change things for better.”
The national television station has been showing Hindi films every Saturday for years now because advertisers from local and multinational companies do no trust Nepali films. “Things will change only if we return and make films there,” four people tell me everyday. The government ignores Nepali film industry since they do not know how to help improve the quality of our films. The cultural dominance of Hindi can be strongly felt across major towns and cities in many countries— Nepal is no exception. But that doesn’t mean Nepali films are not seen. They have their audiences.
The irony is many Nepali directors are making soaps in Mumbai. Many Nepalis are employed by television channels here. It is a fact that Nepali directors are also making Bhojpuri hits. After a documentary for National Geographic, I have been doing a few episodes here and there. Some films have stalled. Some serials are to take off. I am doing rounds of people. I didn’t want this, all that is part of ‘struggle.’ A wish to avoid the obvious pained me. I lacked manners to be patient. I didn’t want to be naked.
I will tell you why.
There was once a young man who believed in the existence of dwarfs and fairies. He lived in a valley below some white and green mountains. When people asked him how he knew that the lands of dreams really existed, he would say he just knew it. They called him names. They wanted evidence. He had only his faith. It was with this faith that he set out of the valley and crossed thick forests, passed through strong currents and traveled under a scorching sun to cross the plains. He broke bones, got wounded and suffered a heartburn in the course of the journey. But he was determined to reach the land of dreams to find the fanciful creatures. A year and a half had already passed when he found himself near a sea.
The night he arrived near the sea, exhausted and injured, he knew immediately it was here that he would find himself and realize his dreams. He wanted to begin the search without any delays but his eyes burned and his body ached so much that he thought it would be better to get a few hours sleep till daybreak. When he woke up, he found himself locked inside a cage. There were strange people staring at him and talking things he couldn’t grasp. Some looked at him in awe, some in anger and some looked greatly amused. He noticed every man and every woman in the place had a key to his cage.
Different people treated him differently. He felt humiliated. He was enraged. He felt loved. Later towards dusk, an old man approached the captive and said in the language familiar to him that they were willing to set him free on one condition. The people in this land sought only one thing for the key to his freedom. They demanded Struggle from him. He was relieved, he thought that was easy. He told them about himself and that he had reached their land after a great hardship. They didn’t believe him. They told him that they had heard the same story from so many. He said he wasn’t lying. But nobody cared. They said he must produce some proof.
Now if he wished to convince the people, he had no other way than to exhibit the wounds which he sustained during his journey. He bared his chest to show the wounds. Everybody recognized them and said, “These are red roses.” The dreamer closed his eyes for a moment in disbelief. He had failed to convince the people. The natives looked pleased. They didn’t tell him the reason. They knew soon he would have his own key—his struggle had already begun. He also knew it.
Also published on PFC.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Story about struggle
Monday, September 7, 2009
Teach cinema to children
“Why don’t we teach
cinema to children?”
“Who is the father of computer?” I asked my 9-year-old niece. “Charles Bab-bage,” she replied promptly. Then I asked her, “And who is the father of cinema?” “What is cinema?” the fourth grader asked me. “It’s the art of films.” The little girl, of course, was soon perplexed. We changed the topic and started talking about ants that had found their way into a cupboard where she had kept her candies. There can never be an art greater than the man’s expression. The first thing that a man learns is the language of his people. The language of other arts is an acquired and a required skill. When I was in school, I also learned about many great personalities and none of them were filmmakers. “Why don’t we teach cinema to children?” It was at this precise moment that the question finally hit me. We have not understood this modern man’s expression yet. There are not many who can ‘read’ films. While old expressions are seriously taught as part of school curriculum, the film history is yet not one of them.
I am not that old but I didn’t discover cinema on television. If anything, the idiot box was just a major distraction until my discovery of the cinematic language came along with my discovery of the p2p and torrents. The Apu Trilogy was my first download, The Bicycle Thief was second. While Ray was a redefinition of what cinema could be, it was Ingmar Bergman’s Persona, his partnership with cinematographer Sven Nykvist that really convinced me that cinema is the art of all arts and one which warrants a serious study like other ‘expressions.’ And I didn’t know whom to thank for the inspiration or the creation of this great art form, for cinema had no such patron deity. Cinema was modern in true sense.
We can teach cinema to children today. The technology that limited the faculty from talking about pictures are no longer an issue. While doing some research for this article, I came across this news report on The Hindu. The Kerala State Chalachitra Academy, for one in India, has taken significant steps to make cinema an integral part of the school curriculum. N.J. Nair reported that the academy has “proposed teaching the aesthetics of cinema, the technical aspects of filmmaking, including cinematography, editing and sound recording, in the vocational higher secondary education.”
“Students should have a serious approach to cinema and they should learn it like literature itself. While appreciating the intrinsic artistic worth of cinema, they should be able to make use of its employment potential too. Hence, we have mooted a serious study of the technical aspects at the higher secondary level,” the academy vice-chairman V.K. Joseph told the newspaper [http://tinyurl.com/m5pa78].
“Why is film history not taught to schoolchildren?” The question must have occurred to many in the later half of the last century. A majority in the country might consider it a ridiculous idea. Some might call it too dangerous a proposition, and rightly so. We are yet to be aware of the scope and impact cinema could have on the impressive minds. What is really stopping us from pursuing this exciting idea is, perhaps then, fear. We are yet to have a real understanding of the power and the perils of the cinematic medium.
Ronald Bergan raised the same question recently on The Guardian blog [http://tinyurl.com/nhnrkv] recently. “Schoolchildren should be taught how to “read” films just as they are taught to read literature,” Bergan said, “They should learn how films systemise time and space and communicate ideas and emotions; how the patterns and structures of film genres allow us to engage specific historical and social rituals; how different conceptions of film history can direct and shape our responses; how film theory is a pragmatic extension and intensification of our interactions with a film, formal, technical and empirical. They should learn how to explore films from different angles and cultural perspectives.”
“The man is only half himself, the other half is his expression.” We are living in an age when the world cinema could be the better half.
[Note: An earlier version of this article was first published in print. Also on PFC.]
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Harishchandra’s Factory
Monday, July 20, 2009
The Crime of Kaspar Hauser
Bruno S. in The Enigma of Kaspar Hauser
too much of a Kaspar Hauser.
Kaspar wasn’t trained to kill, and they didn’t turn him into a killing machine. Well, that was also Germany. A wounded Ajmal Kasab, being interrogated by policemen in a hospital ward, looks too much of a Kaspar Hauser. These young men were dispatched on a suicide mission to Mumbai. While they were executing their ‘job,’ they were also communicating with their handlers. These confused boys were promised a paradise upon the successful completion of the mission with their death. Kasab and his friends were operating by their mentors’ logic, not their own. Yet they showed some sign of humanity. They were lost and enamored by the grandeur of the city.
The idea of justice is a very odd one. Bruno S., who ‘transmitted’ Kaspar Hauser’s character, had spent all his early life in homes, institutions, asylums and prisons. Werner says by the time he met him, Bruno’s treatment at the hands of the authorities had totally destroyed even the most basic human functions within him, including the desire to take care of himself. After the death scene in the film, Bruno desperately wanted to have the autopsy table used in the film. Bruno insisted it was the table of justice: One day you will put me on the table and I will die, and you will all die, the rich and the poor. This is justice. And all those who have done me wrong will confront justice here.
In a scene with the professor of logic, Werner mocks our sense of law and rationality. The professor believes there is only one question to solve a particular problem. The professor is not willing to accept any other question besides it. He insists there is ‘one question, and only one, to solve this problem of logic.’ The professor says he can’t accept Kaspar’s question.
What was Kasab’s crime? We didn’t want anybody to take up Kasab’s case in the court. Which one is a bigger crime? Kaspar left an autobiography, so we know, two years and a half outside in the cruel world, the only place he felt really happy was in his bed. ‘It seems to me that my coming into this world was a terribly hard fall,’ Kaspar would say about himself, and perhaps for people yet to be born and brought up this way. Kaspar was murdered. Kasab? The poor guy is probably my age, and now, perhaps, a little afraid of death.
>> Also published on PFC.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Cheer the idiot on!
They all just loved
to cheer the idiot on!
A certain intuition, perhaps the witch who lovingly blessed me upon my birth, or the wrath of another witch who cursed me many years later, I cannot explain how they do but books come to me. After I endure the painful walk, they come to me at every turn. They do not want me to choose which; but the right mentor always comes to me at the right time.
Complete text> Cheer the Idiot On!
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Stay Focussed
July 7, 2009. Bombay.
The set is the most revered
place in the industry.
I am so outlandish. There was a shoot at Leopold. I was too excited to see all those neo-Gothic structures. Dude, I'm in Bombay! First time at Leopold! My director was kind enough to let me indulge in merriment. I drink only at times. This time, that ‘time’ happened on the wrong time and the wrong place – on the set.
The set is the most revered place in the industry. Now, it’s getting into my head.
After the shooting, I decided to explore old Bombay. The weather was on my side. I was dead tired after the whole night of shooting, but what I saw in the city kept me alive and kicking.
Complete text> Aaja Aaja Bombay
Friday, July 3, 2009
Tribute to Tyeb Mehta
I made Koodal – on the life
of the common man.
"Tyeb Mehta belongs to a quiet breed of artists who let the work speak for itself. He has been away from the public gaze. “I have always been a loner and a private person – each artist’s temperament is different,” he says. Mehta has an impressive resume to his credit – foreign fellowships and stints, numerous shows and participations – national and international and even a film. Very few would perhaps know that Mehta wanted to be a film-maker. And he joined J.J. School of Art to become an art director. Later he shifted his focus to painting. Nevertheless he made a film in 1970.
“The Films Division asked me and Husain to make films. I made Koodal – on the life of the common man. One must see it to get the feel of it,” he says not willing to divulge much about it. This film won the Filmfare Critics Award in 1970. One was hoping that this would be screened along with Husain’s. Unfortunately they were not. The cinematic urge made him write a script on Mahaswetha Devi’s novel Hazaar Chaurasi ki maa.
“I wanted to make a visually powerful film which was not approved by NFDC,” he says. Later on a film on this book was made by Govind Nihalani. “It is difficult to get finances for movies,” he says citing this as the main reason for not making more films.”
– The Hindu
Artists live inside their head. The only way they let you enter their world is through their work. I decided to paint today, and I struggled to give an outlet to my thoughts. Anyway, it was just a tribute to the debt of inspiration I own to Tyeb Mehta — who passed away Thursday.
Tribute to Tyeb Mehta
July 3, 09, Bombay
Man in the City, June 09
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Promoting good cinema
Without serious film criticism in
the media, we can’t promote good
cinema. Without good cinema, we
can’t produce good film criticism.
“Who is to blame when good cinema does not do good business?”
The audience is to blame, of course. But our filmmakers who have ‘corrupted’ the taste of the mass must take the moral responsibility of the same. The audiences were fed bad films for a really long time in the name of puraa entertainment. Similarly, the media culture in this country also supported this mindless masala culture. Without serious film criticism in the media, we can’t promote good cinema. Without good cinema, we can’t produce good film criticism.
I think the absence of film clubs or cinema movement can also provide some clues to today’s problem. I was surprised to know that Godard and Bergman are common names in villages of Kerala, thanks to the popular cinema movement in the area led by people like Adoor Gopalakrishan in their youth. We, as a nation, chose to ignore and sideline serious issues; many actually believed ‘India Shining.’ Those responsible for promoting good cinema have lost their prominence and have become elusive.
Reaction to Kay Kay Menon's post on PFC
Monday, June 22, 2009
A break from work
Rajabali: You’ve to find
your own formula
After doing a month-long film appreciation course at FTII, Pune, I returned to Bombay on Sunday. I had not taken any break from my work in the last three years. If you’re a cinephile or someone interested in cinema by chance, go check it out for yourself. I’m sure you’ll love it. If you’re lucky and your passion for cinema is really strong, you’ll get selected. [Out of around 2,500 applications, only 70+ were selected this year, they said.]
I’ve not found time to write about the whole experience. But I posted some of the real gyaan that I got there and which I think are worth quoting on my PFC blog:
“What do you suggest someone who hasn’t really begun?” I asked Anjum Rajabali outside the class. It is silly, I guess, to be honest about lack of experience.
“Start first!” our scriptwriter said.
When I discover my characters, their names become very important to me. Sometimes all I have is a name. Sometimes even when I know my character well, I am not aware of his name.
“I had asked you, if you remember, about how to name characters. You’d said, ‘Just name it.’ But I find it very difficult to name them.”
“What do you want then? I’ve my formula . . . You want me to tell them?”
“Yes . . .”
“I don’t want to,” Anjum said. “You’ve to find your own formula . . .”
Read A break from work.
Critics’ fight and fury
It really is a wonderfully exciting field to write about when the movies are good. When they’re not so good, it’s to despair.
“It really is a wonderfully exciting field to write about when the movies are good. When they’re not so good, it’s to despair. The really bad movies you can write about with some passion and anger. It’s the mediocre ones that wear you down. They’re disgusting to write about because you can feel yourself slipping into the same mediocrity and stupidity.”
— Pauline Kael
While I was doing the film appreciation course at the film institute in Pune, I tried to learn more about the craft of film criticism. I have posted some of my notes about film criticism in India and elsewhere on my new blog on Passionforcinema.
Read Critics' Fight and Fury.
“You cannot really reprehend mediocrity, you can only regret it. But you can and must condemn the gifted filmmakers who has it in him to combine artistic integrity with a consciousness of dual responsibility to the viewing public and to keep the man who backs him but who yet keeps postponing the great film because he must ‘first make a little money’ and therefore must compromise just this little, just the once.”
— Satyajit Ray
Thursday, May 21, 2009
The Nose Poems 2009
"It took me more than six months to come up with a poem about her nose . . . yeah, a silly nose can move you so much . . ."
Some of my dear colleagues at Mindworks happily took part in this exciting poetry exercise recently. Perhaps this was the first time that there was any poetic interest in our nose.
My Nose
My nose knows
Where the kitchen lies,
Of bread loaves
And apple pies.
My nose knows
Your heady scents,
Of orange blossom
And vanilla spice.
My nose twitches
In anticipation,
Of silky sheets
And musky nights.
My nose knows
What the touch can’t feel,
What fails the ears,
Beats the eyes.
My nose knows
The passion beneath,
Those innocent looks
And cherry smiles.
— Angelene
Breathe Easy
Two holes, a bone and a show of skin
Some hair to trap the dirt within
To blow, to dig, to wrinkle and make
For Inuits of the Arctic a novel handshake
To catch a cold, to makes a mess
It runs and pokes into others’ business
We all have one but some stand out
The Jewish, the Greek, and Roman no doubt
That besides it makes us look pretty
Unless we talk of Shilpa Shetty
It’s a lesson that we shouldn’t fuss
About our breathing apparatus
— Sridhar
A poem about Nose
“The edge that looks like a beacon on
the horizon,
a dew drop dangling on the leaf . . .
one of the many beautiful jewels of a woman.”
— Adesh
Your Nose
All of them will have your nose
and they will be just as beautiful as you are
I will watch you rub your noses
like we did when i'd pinch
love and smile mischievously
and then bite and let it burn like tulip
They will tell you
your little duckie has your duckie nose
A nose of a dove
that will find us everywhere
nose that will wake me up
that will tease me
and make me cry when we're old
When they leave us alone
that will find us
when our eyes cannot see
nose that wouldn't let me sleep
at nights and not even let me leave
They will tell them
All of you got your noses from them
And I'll tell them —
'Don't blame me,'
and I'll proudly tell your name.
— Salik
The Nose Dare
You can close your eyes
If you want.
I'll still be there.
Just where I was.
I won't disappear.
Because I live here!
You walk with me
Up in the clouds, sometimes.
Where I do not wish to be.
And you let me down
When you walk
As if
You would bury your head in the ground.
You have taken me for many a ride
On foggy, wintry mornings.
You still do that to me
In the ruthless summer sun.
I freeze. I burn.
Yet I never complain.
Through stormy winds or rain ...
In pleasure and pain,
Here shall I remain.
You are free
To close your eyes.
— K Jayalakshmi
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Wu Guanzhong
The essence of art is to pass on emotions.
"'Well-known' doesn't equal 'good.' This is the case for painters, as well as for paintings. The key to an artwork is the emotion it conveys. After decades of work in art, techniques, delicate or unique, no longer touch me. The essence of art is to pass on emotions. And that is what my works are all about."
— Wu Guanzhong
Further readings:
Wu Guanzhong
A rebel
Monday, May 18, 2009
Rethinking piracy: E-distribution network
Imagine a massive database like Wikipedia or Google that will catalog all products that could be sold online. These products would be linked to open bank/paypal accounts of individual products. All the pirates would use a link – ‘Donate, if you like’ — compulsorily on each page on the entire cyberspace allowing ‘free’ — eproduct — downloads. The money would go directly to the creator or the company which legally owns a product.
Follow the discussion on The Auteurs.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Watchmen — I
What I found the most impressive about Watchmen was its ingenious techniques in the comic art form: the comic within a comic format and the repetition of dialogues across its pages.
I read Watchmen for a really selfish reason. And the plan was ambitious indeed.
A tweet’s already revealed my secret:
Read Watchmen. Write a script. Read other screenplays. Then watch Watchmen.
Well, you got the idea?
Alan Moore is a genius. So are Dave Gibbons and John Higgins. Watchmen is just awesome. Some of the images from the book stay with you, so do some of its dialogues.
What I found the most impressive about Watchmen was its ingenious techniques in the comic art form: the comic within a comic format and the repetition of dialogues across its pages. This, in addition to the main plot line and imagery, builds the powerful mood of the book.
And the book tells stories of masked heroes in a flashback, commenting on relevance and ridiculousness of their decision to become vigilantes. The way the book is structured forces you to take it very seriously. Certainly a triumph!
More to follow. May 14. Noida.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Let the Right One In
Editing
'In Sweden we have like ten directors that can accomplish a film of this level, and if you have a work-in-progress screening for some people who don’t direct or know anything about the craft – suddenly turn into full-fledged film directors.'
The editing process started in storyboarding the film. I had a fantastic month together with storyboard artist Magnus Jonasson who was really inspiring and is a great source to the final feel of the film.
The editing process was in one way easygoing because of the rigorous preps and the plainness of the visual storytelling. I worked together with editor Dino Jonsäter experimenting with chronology and timing in a very interesting period. Once a week Louise Brattberg with whom I have worked together with for nearly twenty years, came in as the fifth and the sixth eye and told us what to do and not. I find editing like solving crosswords, it could really drive you mad sometimes – you know how many letters there ought to be, you know that the final letter is “F”, you have it in the back of your mind day and night – and suddenly – when sitting at the dentist, you have the solution! You run out of the puzzled dentists’ reception with this silly little napkin under your chin and sit down in front of the editing machine to try the idea out. It totally corrupts me twentyfour seven. Then, of course there are people involved watching the editing process that you have to convince and explain to and get nagged by. That’s truly one of the hardest parts of moviemaking – in Sweden we have like ten directors that can accomplish a film of this level, and if you have a work-in-progress screening for some people who don’t direct or know anything about the craft – suddenly turn into full-fledged film directors. They’re yawning, complaining, suggesting scenes to be taken away that doesn’t exist and so on – and these people have influence! I assume we have like ten brain surgeons, toppermost of the poppermost, in our country – would you dare to interfere with his or her work, suggest a little cut here or there? I don’t know how that works in other countries, but here everyone’s a film director.
— Tomas Alfredson tells Twitchfilm
Monday, May 4, 2009
Playing with the viewer's mind
Audience Activity
'I sincerely hope the day never comes when movies become interactive. I don’t think motion pictures stand to gain anything via interactivity.'
A film, without any visible protagonist, plays with the audience and forces them to become active as the invisible protagonist. The audience feel s/he is there, s/he feels part of the story. Normally the audience can connect to the film through the characters playing on the screen, but is there any film that keeps the gap which only the audience would fill?
A discussion on interactivity in films on The Auteurs.
Excerpts:
The future looks promising for filmmakers who want to exploit whatever interactivity technology might offer.
But from the same thread that you suggested, I’d like to quote Patrick:
“I think that the interactivity of New Media is a false promise…. the game is rigged, and what is invited is not honest contemplation, but merely “figuring out the next movie”…. most games that I’m familiar with are, at heart, puzzles with actions to be “figured out.” I sincerely hope the day never comes when movies become interactive…. I don’t think motion pictures stand to gain anything via interactivity. I want To know that Hitchcock and David Lean and Tim Burton have made the choices (this is the Ebert argument that I think holds up.)…. and aren’t leaving it up to me to take the next step. But this isn’t to say I want them to do my thinking for me…. and this is where passivity comes into play. I think motion pictures are often a passive experience, but needn’t be, at the best they aren’t….. inviting critical thought is something that many of the best films do and rely on for their impact. But if a video game is active only because you move your thumbs about and figure out where the medipack is…. or even which corners you can go around in a game like Passages….. than this level of activity doesn’t seem to stretch far from passivity in a very meaningful way. I’ve no doubt that some games can give you a migraine thinking so hard about a given problem….. but by getting to move around on your own, I don’t see this as making you far more active than getting a migraine thinking about the issues and conundrums of a filmed narrative. It may take more active thought and hand-eye coordination to complete a task in a video game, but this thought is limited to the task at hand…. a great movie will give you opportunities to leave it behind and contemplate the world around you, which is a very active process, even if it isn’t interactive.”
Patrick does make a convincing argument. Is it interactivity in true sense? I’m trying to stick to the tradition (deciding the structure for the viewer without giving them you-can-choose options) while exploring new possibilities. However, what matters at the end of the day, is of course if you achieved your goal of telling a story and creating an impact best desired. I think it’s a tough call but this human desire to accomplish something unique and new probably drives all of us.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Eyeing that Cahiers in Indian Cinema
Anuj Malhotra, a talented young aspiring filmmaker, wrote "Why Don't We Make Our Own Films In Bombay?" on their mouthpiece Indian Auteur site. The thought-provoking article by my friend obliged me to write a feedback.
Indian Auteur: We don’t come down to make films, because we do not want to make films in an industry where cinema is not an artform anymore, but another business.
Auteur Age: If you can make a film without money, it won’t be business.
IA: We don’t want to make films in Bombay because we do not believe making films is as essential as being in sincere love with the medium.
AA: This sincere love will not change anything. I’m obliged to supplement with a simple example: An old mother always tells this and that to her children — because she loves them and how much anyone can guess. But their children think she just doesn’t understand them. She just tells us. She doesn’t know how difficult it is out there. When she knows it’s painful, she asks us to take refuge on her lap, in her love. But that cannot change the world. Never.
IA: We don’t want to make films in Bombay because we do not know enough.
AA: Who knows all? How do directors push the boundaries? How do they learn? Books. Films. This is a silly argument. I will make my film from my experience. I will do my best within my limits. I will try to do something new with whatever resources I have. That’s challenging. But that’s fun. And to master technical craftsmanship and understanding of my history, I’ll equally work hard. You can’t stop living, just because you think you don’t know how to live.
IA: We don’t want to make films in Bombay because we want our souls to remain uncorrupted from an atmosphere where money becomes the only thing that matters.
AA: Time for a checkup. Perhaps, you aren’t strong enough. Have you seen the world? Have you heard the famous parable of a lotus? You told me if I use such language in Mumbai, people will slap me. But this is what I am. I’m ready to welcome the slap. And I’m ready to give him another cheek. We’ve a rich cultural heritage, the profound Indian philosophy is our guide and the scriptures our support. Why fear? The messenger say, ‘Fear Allah and obey me’ in Quran. Follow the path of righteousness, and that is what art is all about in truest sense. The purpose of art to me is to serve humanity. Just like your writing. Keep doing.
IA: We don’t want to make films in Bombay because we remain certain that our films will get lost in the fog of oblivion of millions of personal films that people make, but which never get anywhere in this nation because we do not have people to appreciate them.
AA: You’re wrong. The world has changed. Ask Nitesh, your other team members. “The Indian audiences have been underestimated for a long time now,” Supriya said.
IA: In such a situation, it is precisely by not making films at this stage that things will change.
AA: I told you guys that’s why I’m worried about you all. What more can I say? This is the suggestion I got recently: “Never hesitate to ask for help — financial or emotional.” We’re willing to help as long as we see you’re fighting for a right cause.
IA: Not if everyone throws their own personal coin into the wishing well, that does not have enough magical water to fulfil everyone’s wishes in the first place.
AA: There are thousands of people in the industry. Are you trying to tell that they are not talented, brave or uncorrupted — whatever you think you really are? Mr Malhotra, come out of your robust illusion and face the world. Be a strong man. Films should be your first priority. You don’t believe in Hindu scriptures, do you? You do your work, and do not worry about the result. Maybe 10 years down the line, you become successful in establishing a parallel industry in Delhi, do you think it will have enough magical water to fulfill your wishes forever? Accept the reality, you’ve to make whatever you can from whatever minimum resources you’ve in your hands. Always. That’s how people survive — it doesn’t matter if you are fit or the fittest.
IA: We don’t want to make films because until we have watched the entire filmography of Rossellini, Godard, Ray and Guru Dutt, how can we?
AA: OMG! You have not yet? I want to love my girl, but without mastering all the Kamasutra positions, how can I?
Further reading:
A discussion with the Indian Auteur team.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
The Dilemma of Dialogue
"So dialogue, even if you use it, it shouldn't be so logical and it shouldn't carry much information about the film's secrets or the meaning of the film."
“One of the things that strikes me about this film is that a lot of it is shot with very, very little dialogue, and that seems to be a common thing in your films. Do you think that people express themselves better without words?”
I don't know, actually. I don't try to make my characters silent. In the script, that scene had a lot of dialogue. But in the shoot, it's the only place to understand whether what you wrote works or not. Always during a shoot, I try to find more balance in the situation, so I end up taking dialogue out here and there and finally there's no dialogue. I feel the balance is reached at that point and I don't know what to do about it. It just convinces me more like that, somehow. And of course, dialogue should be treated very carefully. I've investigated this a lot. I've recorded many conversations in order to understand the nature of it. It doesn't follow a logical progression. Somebody says something, the other person says something entirely different; if you analyse it, you see it is that way. So dialogue, even if you use it, it shouldn't be so logical and it shouldn't carry much information about the film's secrets or the meaning of the film. Dialogue, for me, only works if they talk nonsense, anything unrelated to the film. I like to do this as much as possible. I try to tell the meaning of the film without dialogue – with the situation, the gestures, and so on. This is my intention, but maybe I'm not successful.
— Nuri Bilge Ceylan tells Geoff Andrew, 2009
“In this film, as in other films, did you eliminate dialogue, or did you set out from the beginning not to have much dialogue?/It seemed like the lack of dialogue, or the silence, became an important part of the story. The characters rebel and sometimes maybe even self-destruct by choosing not to speak. Are words sort of useless to the characters?”
When I first wrote this narrative, there was dialogue throughout it. During production, I eliminated more and more. In post production, I just kept the very few words that remain. But even without words, I do believe there is much—there's a lot of dialogue. Laughter and crying, for instance, are I think important elements of dialogue in this film.
It's not necessarily that the characters don't need words to communicate, but really it's a strategy to force the audience to fill in the blanks themselves. So in some ways they insert sort of their own dialogue throughout the film: imagining what they would say—imagining what might be said when there is silence in the film.
— Kim Ki-duk to Groucho, 2005
I have enjoyed foreign movies at many film festivals even though the movies were in the languages I didn't understand. There I learnt that explanatory dialogue is not necessary in storytelling. But the characters in my films are not dumb. They just don't believe in verbal communication, or else they have deserted it because they are hurt. Sometimes I intend to delete lines to stress the visual images and context of the movie. In other occasions, I put little dialogue in the movies because I am afraid an incorrect translation might hurt the flow of my work. I often ask viewers after the movie whether there were essential lines lacking for them to understand the movie, but they all seem to comprehend the movie without many lines. I think that laughter and crying are the best dialogue. But, then again, I want to do a movie full of dialogue some day. The longer you live, the less you believe in the spoken word. Talking is the most convenient thing for humans to do. I wish to show human behavior and human nature rather than show talking. I think actions are a more powerful media to deliver my message. There are no lies in the movements of human beings. They are honest, no matter whether it is good or bad.
— Kim Ki-duk to The Hollywood Reporter, 2005
“The silent pictures were the purest form of cinema; the only thing they lacked was the sound of people talking and the noises. But this slight imperfection did not warrant the major changes that sound brought in. In Many of the films now being made, there is very little cinema. They are mostly what I call ‘photographs of people talking.’ When we tell a story in cinema, we should resort to dialogue only when it’s impossible to do otherwise. I always try first to tell a story in the cinematic way, through a succession of shots and bits of film in between… To me, one of the cardinal sins for a scriptwriter, when he runs into some difficulty, is to say ‘We can cover that by a line of dialogue.’ Dialogue should simply be a sound among sounds, just something that comes out of the mouths of people whose eyes tell the story in visual terms.”
— Alfred Hitchcock
“I knew it was much easier for me to pantomime than it was to talk. I'm an artist, and I knew very well that in talking a lot of that would disappear. I'd be no better than anybody else with good diction and a very good voice, which is more than half the battle . . . I've always said that the pantomime is far more poetic and it has a universal appeal that everyone would understand if it were well done. The spoken word reduces everybody to a certain glibness. The voice is a beautiful thing, most revealing, and I didn't want to be too revealing in my art because it may show a limitation. There are very few people with voices that can reach or give the illusion of great depth, whereas movement is as near to nature as a bird flying. The expression of the eyes - there's no words. The pure expression of the face that people can't hide - if it's one of disappointment it can be ever so subtle. I had to bear all this in mind when I started talking. I knew very well I lost a lot of eloquence. It can never be as good.”
— Charlie Chaplin
"Today one can actually question whether introduction of words into films was not in fact an introduction of an impurity undermining the direct visual impact of the medium. There is no denying the fact that with the coming of sound, images in films became, in general, less meaningful in themselves. After all, with sound and with words one can always fall back on speech to convey one’s meaning. When Chaplin eats his shoes in The Gold Rush, he performs an act which is not only funny but is also rich with overtones of symbolical meaning conveyed by purely visual means. A scene like this could never have been conceived in literary terms. And yet when Chaplin himself, in literary mood, indulges in metaphysical pronouncements in films like Verdoux and Limelight, he conveys less sense in a purely artistic manner than that single bit of business with the shoe in The Gold Rush.
It is not as if sound films do not contain moments of purely visual significance. But whenever they do they envitably hark back to the silent cinema. And more often than not they prove to be the moments that stay in the mind longest . . .
Words, too, have a valid function to perform. When written by a gifted screen writer and spoken by an able actor, words can achieve a plastic quality which gives them a significance that is more cinematic than literary. But when an image or an action speaks for itself, it acquires a level of significance in its context which no spoken words can reach."
— Satyajit Ray, on Silent Cinema from Their Films, Our Films
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
All films are political
"The goal of today's media is more commercial than journalistic. That’s why filmmakers must take a stance and make 'political' films."
“Cinema is anything but political,” said film scholar Sushmita Dasgupta. She said every film is political. She gave a wonderful example of Lagey Raho Munna Bhai. She narrated a scene where Munna and Short Circuit imagine how the currency bills would carry their pictures and roads would be also named after them. The film shows Gandhi as an everyman. The last scene where Lucky Singh asks his photographer to take his shot with Gandhi, the photographer says, ‘With whom?’ He can’t see anyone. Gandhi is an idea. She said Gandhi wasn’t too enthusiastic about art forms, nor were Nehru, or spiritual leaders like Buddha, or Prophet Mohammad, since they were all ‘activists’.
The Indian Auteur team members told me that they are working to bring about a change and increase film awareness in the country. They have some like-minded cinephiles in various cities across the country. But they don’t want to move their base out of Delhi. And they say making films is not the only way to change the film-scape. These young cinephiles want to do a Cahiers du cinema, with good intentions, no doubt about that. But I told them I was worried about them. Supriya Suri, one of the Indian Auteur founders, asked me, “What do you think are the ways to change films?” I said raising awareness comes first, hence the role of film criticism. I didn’t want to be rude. But the truth is a social activist cannot match a politician.
The meeting was about ‘political cinema.’ Anuj Malhotra, one of the organizers, said Sergei Einsteintein used equally important shots to create in his cinematic sequence in his films. Each shot was dependent upon the others in his films. Anuj said Einsteintein was a communist filmmaker not only in his subject but also in his style.
Gaurav, another participant who organized a short film festival in IHC recently, asked when news channels are giving us information and facts, why a filmmaker should raise the same issues. Nitesh Rohit, the man behind the Indian Auteur, said today’s media has failed to perform that role and their goal has become more commercial than journalistic. That’s why filmmakers must take political stance and make political films, he said. Perhaps, this explained their idea behind organzing such a cinephile event.
Nitesh was talking about films that could fit what he described as ‘political’ films like Jia Zhangke’s Platform (China) and Witold Orzechowski’s Death Sentence (Poland). The Indian Auteur team felt there were less political filmmakers in the country or films with political messages are not being made. He said even if the authorities ban a movie, they can be shown today in film festivals and could influence the authorities to give a second thought to their earlier standing. Supriya quoted a few Iranian films that changed the cinematic history of the country like The Cow.
When I said even Dev D is a political film to me, the Indian Auteur wouldn’t agree. I also felt it was necessary to talk about Gulaal and what difficulties Anurag Kashyap faced while trying to make a political film. I cited Delhi 6 and Rang De Basanti. But the ‘political’ films, which Nitesh thought were lacking today, were too direct and confrontational to some of us. Dasgupta shared my view.
It is nearly impossible to make a film that attacks an idea or ideology espoused by the majority or those in power without facing too many difficulties and possible ban. I said a film like Delhi 6 sends a very powerful message without being confrontational. The goal of a filmmaker is to reach the people he cares the most. I don’t think any filmmaker would be happy if their films were not being shown at home but at some film foreign festivals abroad alone. When there are restrictions, you’ve to process political subjects in a non-political way. If you don’t, your film will suffer. Anurag Kashyap had to cut 45 minutes from the full-length Gulaal because of the pressure from not only the censor board but also the exhibitioners.
But is the audience capable to decipher the meaning of a ‘complicated’ film? Nitesh said of course they are: When ordinary people were shown widely acclaimed and difficult or ‘intelligent’ films at some event, most of them easily understood the films. When P. Sainath’s editor told him that the readers are not interested in reading about rural India, Sainath asked his editor, “Have you met your reader?”
“The Indian audiences have been underestimated for a long time now,” Supriya said. So that explains all the hues and cries over No Smoking? Anuj had said the film used metaphors to suggest that the system of democracy wasn’t working anymore. I wonder how many people got this political message. Surpiya rightly said even when a filmmaker is not trying to become political, the audience might derive a political message out of it. That’s why the role of censor board becomes important, Dasgupta explained. Once a film leaves hands of its filmmaker, it is open to individual interpretations.
Prince, a regular face at film festivals in Delhi, said he liked a recent Bengali film Kaal Bela for it depiction of Calcutta’s past political turmoil and violence. However, Madhushree Baneejee, Dasgupta’s friend, said the film by Gautam Ghosh was too much documentation but short of anything new. She had witnessed the violence in Bengal personally. Once the film was over, she was like “So what? Big deal?” She said, for an outsider it had information, but for her it failed to make an impact.
Before ending this note, I would like to write what the qualities of a good (political) film should be. When faced with the question, Dasgupta said: chase and internal struggle. It was nice to listen to her. Only she can describe it so well. The ‘chase’ keeps us engaged, it grips us, thrills us. While the internal struggle, the drama, the crux of a film, makes the cinema not just an entertaining but also an unforgettable experience.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Infinite wait for immortality
The project was still just in my head but the problem was already out there: if I were to really shoot this, where’s the money?
When I was watching The 400 Blows, I was thinking about my own stories. The same thing happened yesterday during Ivan’s Childhood. At a point, I felt this is just the making of a movie. When I am watching a film, these days I am also thinking about making it. Want proof? I thought I was reviewing Ivan’s Childhood. However, the result turned out to be self-indulgent again. I hope you approve:
One of my highly ambitious stories was set in a historical backdrop of a nation. I was trying to bring a wholesome perspective toward its cultural and political failings through an unusual relationship between fathers and sons. I was still in the high school when I finished the ‘draft’ of the story — stories have now started to stop to end. I didn’t want to assault with excessive facts. So I had to stick with the highlights of ‘modern period’ of the nation — spanning nearly 300 years.
It was full of capitalized words here and there. When I went back to the story after four years, I realized they were meant for elaboration. I finally became aware of the inability of the written words to exactly capture what somewhere, somehow exists inside the human head. We don’t have time for too many words these days in any case.
I called the second story Part II two years after I wrote Father and Son. I didn’t know why I called it so. Now two years later, I think I know the reason. Part II was a sophisticated but more intimate take on the contemporary state of affairs involving a child. While the first story was about the father, the second one was more about the child. But I didn’t write the second story. It was difficult to write. I didn’t want to spoil it on the paper. I’ll come to this dilemma later here.
In both stories, a child is struggling to come in terms with his national past and horrendous present. Questions about his identity and his place in the world around him; questions about faith, revolution, people and politics; everything profound and depressing was there. But there were also finest moments of human triumph. The real goal of the teenager was to ‘correct’ history. I envy that vision.
I knew the first story could be great film but I hadn’t thought it could be possible for me to film it. However, the second story changed my life: I immediately knew that I couldn’t do justice with it if I didn’t film it. I was working at a media house then. I talked with some people. And I went to shoot with an amateur camera one night.
Upon the very first inspection of the shooting site, I was heart broken. The camera wouldn’t do. We didn’t have lightings. I wouldn’t get permission to shoot in the military area. The final acts that defined the movie were to be shot in front of the parliamentary house — and I was sure the confrontational nature of my work wouldn’t get approval from the authorities. I was going to play that boy, but I didn’t have soldiers of my own. While these were the main hurdles that I didn’t know how to solve (I was even ready to break laws for this work), the project was still just in my head but the problem was already out there: if I were to really shoot this, where’s the money?
The last two years were a follow up. Waiting, waiting. I’ve seen many directors in this never-ending wait but nothing that could beat my images yet. I don’t think I could be really happy until I bring these ideas to the screen. I have not lost the sight of my work. I have not taken any break. Sometimes I get tired of this 24/7 of work. I start questioning the purpose of art and its role in the society. At these low points, when I find movies like Andrei Rublev or Otto e Mezzo (films with optimistic endings), I feel better. The pain is the medium and the cure is also the medium. Woody Allen once said he would better waste his life making films, than indulge in any other occupation. I would better live inside my head — in all my perfection — than bow down to demons of the real world. But how long? Sooner or later, I’ve to come in terms with the reality. And that day doesn’t seem very far right now.
I am finally quitting my editorial career in May. I’ve seen enough of journalism — too much fuss, too many words. I am going to Mumbai in June. I am happy that I met right people. Actor-playwright Rudra Deep Chakraborty told me about his secret to success: "I met people who taught me scientific techniques of doing things... They were good people... and that's why I am where I am today." When I look back at four years of my career, I can see how important it is to make right choices and be with right people. There is too much to learn. But two years, I think that’s enough. Enough till I know I’m done. You've to learn to pat yourself on the back. There is barely any other support one can count on during such creative isolation. Being a filmmaker is all about growing up; it's all about fighting unreal battles and overcoming them. I hardly have any other choices left if I want to be a filmmaker and not just a filmmaker or another filmmaker.
Published on Passionforcinema.com
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