The moment I changed my 'Whatsapp' display picture - a selfie of me and my sister - I knew that I would receive quite a few angry messages from some of my friends, especially after my recent post on 'selfies' and I was not disappointed. The angry messages did come in. But I had not had an option. My sister, after having taken the picture, had requested me with a beautiful smile to upload it as my 'dp' and I had not had the heart to refuse that request. I had for a minute thought about it as I felt that the act would show me a weak person - as someone who had failed to follow his own words - but right then, I felt that making my sister happy was more important compared to sticking to my principles, or to put it more beautifully in the Tamil language - my kolgaigal.
I don't know if this act is worthy of being labeled a 'compromise' but that single minute's thought-process that had occupied my mind during the changing of my 'dp' had later haunted me bringing back thoughts about a topic that was redundant beyond redundancy in the discussions that me and my brother had often - Compromising art for art's sake (with regard to filmmaking, of course).
K.Balachander is a director I have high regard for. The very first time I watched Apoorva Raagangal, I was stunned beyond words as to how a director had had the guts to handle so delicate a subject (the hero loves the heroine's mother and the heroine loves the hero's father - the description might vary depending on whom you view as the hero and the heroine) at so early a time as 1975. The lines - Yaaruku theriyum? Innum konjam thondina Socialism kuda kedaikalaam! (Who knows? If we dig a bit further, we might even find Socialism) - uttered by the character played by Kamal Haasan as he digs up a garbage bin in a scene in Varumayin Niram Sivappu is one of my favorite lines in Tamil Cinema, perhaps even Indian cinema. But the reason I mentioned K.B. (as he is fondly known) is because the song 'Paadariyaen.. Padippariyaen..' and its prelude in Sindhu Bairavi exactly sums up the theme of this entire post.
Filmmaking, being an unmatched form of story-telling with a breathtaking blend of visuals and sounds, is seldom considered a serious business except for a very few who have had the first-hand experience of its magic. The simple fact that it took one of the greatest Indian filmmakers - Satyajit Ray - nearly three years to complete his debut (along with funds from the West Bengal government), Pather Panchali, is in itself a testament to the behind-the-scenes-bigger-story-aspect of filmmaking. The three year duration does seem justified watching every single scene of Pather Panchali and though it might feel clichéd for anyone who admires the masterpiece, the scene where Apu and Durga run across the field to have their first glimpse of a train is one of the finest moments to have been captured on the camera in Indian cinema.
And talking about Pather Panchali, I just cannot hold myself back from mentioning Veedu and Sandhiya Raagam (two of the greatest films made in Tamil cinema) since I watched the above mentioned three films in the same week (one of the best weeks of my life, if it does not sound too 'filmy'). I sometimes wonder as to what Tamil cinema would have become without Balu Mahendra, the man behind the last two films mentioned, and the thought just sends down a chill. All the three films mentioned above have an extraordinary poetical charm about them, the stories and the characters being rooted in our soil. But the reason that many people in India remain unaware of these classics might be attributed to the slow and lackadaisical way the stories unfold. It might also be the very unsophisticated way the shots are staged and the way the camera remains static - how could one forget Hou Hsiao Hsien's A City of madness and Three Times talking about static camera shots - unlike how the camera keeps constantly moving, as if in a hurry, in most of the mainstream (I hate the word 'commercial') films.
And having laid out the reasons, come flowing the questions - why do the general audience not accept a static camera shot or a languidly paced story? Doesn't the slow pace strengthen the characterization further? Doesn't the static shot give the audience time to take in the scene and ponder over it? But why do such films don't work on a large scale? Why is it that they are sidelined only for a niché audience?
If the slow pace seems a problem, more so does abstraction. How many people would claim to have understood the final act of Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey? How many people would claim to have understood every single reference to death and life in Ingmar Bergman's The Seventh Seal and Wild Strawberries respectively? How many people would claim to understand the various layers embedded intricately in the three different stories of Krzysztof Kiéslowski's Three Colors trilogy or Alejandro Inarritu's Babel and 21 grams? Movies like Memento, Primer, The Fountain do make us squeeze our brains a bit but movies like Full Metal Jacket and Mulholland Drive leave us in a state of confusion as to if the scenes really imply what is being shown or do they carry a deeper meaning within. Whilst it can be argued that a film needs to be outright and simple so as to be comprehensible by the general audience, a counter-argument also can be put forth as to why a filmmaker should be stopped from filling every frame of his film with a deeper meaning of the idea that was conceived in his head.
And this again leads to a series of never-ending questions - Why do the audience not show interest in analyzing a film? Why do they get satisfied by just simple plain entertainment? Is it the fault of certain filmmakers who have been constantly lowering the standard of the general audience by producing works of low quality? Is it wrong to not want to present the facts outright but try to make them abstract? Is it wrong to want the audience to spend more than just money and time on a film?
I try to think of answers for many of the questions asked above and my mind, instead of presenting me with solutions, seems to be presenting me with a list of filmmakers - Mani Ratnam, Steven Spielberg, David Fincher, Ang Lee, Sidney Lumet. And the fog does seem to clear a bit letting the road be seen. Perhaps Nayagan and Kannathil Muthamittaal is the way to go. Perhaps Schindler's List and E.T. is the way to go. Perhaps Seven and Social Network is the way to go. Perhaps Brokeback Mountain and Lust, Caution is the way to go. Perhaps 12 Angry Men and Serpico is the way to go.
But the mind still doesn't seem to be convinced. Should art be sacrificed for a wider reach? Should abstraction be avoided for a studio's financial backing? The questions seem to linger for a while.
And they seem to settle down slowly a little later having come to terms with the fact that sometimes compromises are the best way to take our (he)art further.
I don't know if this act is worthy of being labeled a 'compromise' but that single minute's thought-process that had occupied my mind during the changing of my 'dp' had later haunted me bringing back thoughts about a topic that was redundant beyond redundancy in the discussions that me and my brother had often - Compromising art for art's sake (with regard to filmmaking, of course).
K.Balachander is a director I have high regard for. The very first time I watched Apoorva Raagangal, I was stunned beyond words as to how a director had had the guts to handle so delicate a subject (the hero loves the heroine's mother and the heroine loves the hero's father - the description might vary depending on whom you view as the hero and the heroine) at so early a time as 1975. The lines - Yaaruku theriyum? Innum konjam thondina Socialism kuda kedaikalaam! (Who knows? If we dig a bit further, we might even find Socialism) - uttered by the character played by Kamal Haasan as he digs up a garbage bin in a scene in Varumayin Niram Sivappu is one of my favorite lines in Tamil Cinema, perhaps even Indian cinema. But the reason I mentioned K.B. (as he is fondly known) is because the song 'Paadariyaen.. Padippariyaen..' and its prelude in Sindhu Bairavi exactly sums up the theme of this entire post.
Filmmaking, being an unmatched form of story-telling with a breathtaking blend of visuals and sounds, is seldom considered a serious business except for a very few who have had the first-hand experience of its magic. The simple fact that it took one of the greatest Indian filmmakers - Satyajit Ray - nearly three years to complete his debut (along with funds from the West Bengal government), Pather Panchali, is in itself a testament to the behind-the-scenes-bigger-story-aspect of filmmaking. The three year duration does seem justified watching every single scene of Pather Panchali and though it might feel clichéd for anyone who admires the masterpiece, the scene where Apu and Durga run across the field to have their first glimpse of a train is one of the finest moments to have been captured on the camera in Indian cinema.
And talking about Pather Panchali, I just cannot hold myself back from mentioning Veedu and Sandhiya Raagam (two of the greatest films made in Tamil cinema) since I watched the above mentioned three films in the same week (one of the best weeks of my life, if it does not sound too 'filmy'). I sometimes wonder as to what Tamil cinema would have become without Balu Mahendra, the man behind the last two films mentioned, and the thought just sends down a chill. All the three films mentioned above have an extraordinary poetical charm about them, the stories and the characters being rooted in our soil. But the reason that many people in India remain unaware of these classics might be attributed to the slow and lackadaisical way the stories unfold. It might also be the very unsophisticated way the shots are staged and the way the camera remains static - how could one forget Hou Hsiao Hsien's A City of madness and Three Times talking about static camera shots - unlike how the camera keeps constantly moving, as if in a hurry, in most of the mainstream (I hate the word 'commercial') films.
And having laid out the reasons, come flowing the questions - why do the general audience not accept a static camera shot or a languidly paced story? Doesn't the slow pace strengthen the characterization further? Doesn't the static shot give the audience time to take in the scene and ponder over it? But why do such films don't work on a large scale? Why is it that they are sidelined only for a niché audience?
If the slow pace seems a problem, more so does abstraction. How many people would claim to have understood the final act of Stanley Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey? How many people would claim to have understood every single reference to death and life in Ingmar Bergman's The Seventh Seal and Wild Strawberries respectively? How many people would claim to understand the various layers embedded intricately in the three different stories of Krzysztof Kiéslowski's Three Colors trilogy or Alejandro Inarritu's Babel and 21 grams? Movies like Memento, Primer, The Fountain do make us squeeze our brains a bit but movies like Full Metal Jacket and Mulholland Drive leave us in a state of confusion as to if the scenes really imply what is being shown or do they carry a deeper meaning within. Whilst it can be argued that a film needs to be outright and simple so as to be comprehensible by the general audience, a counter-argument also can be put forth as to why a filmmaker should be stopped from filling every frame of his film with a deeper meaning of the idea that was conceived in his head.
And this again leads to a series of never-ending questions - Why do the audience not show interest in analyzing a film? Why do they get satisfied by just simple plain entertainment? Is it the fault of certain filmmakers who have been constantly lowering the standard of the general audience by producing works of low quality? Is it wrong to not want to present the facts outright but try to make them abstract? Is it wrong to want the audience to spend more than just money and time on a film?
I try to think of answers for many of the questions asked above and my mind, instead of presenting me with solutions, seems to be presenting me with a list of filmmakers - Mani Ratnam, Steven Spielberg, David Fincher, Ang Lee, Sidney Lumet. And the fog does seem to clear a bit letting the road be seen. Perhaps Nayagan and Kannathil Muthamittaal is the way to go. Perhaps Schindler's List and E.T. is the way to go. Perhaps Seven and Social Network is the way to go. Perhaps Brokeback Mountain and Lust, Caution is the way to go. Perhaps 12 Angry Men and Serpico is the way to go.
But the mind still doesn't seem to be convinced. Should art be sacrificed for a wider reach? Should abstraction be avoided for a studio's financial backing? The questions seem to linger for a while.
And they seem to settle down slowly a little later having come to terms with the fact that sometimes compromises are the best way to take our (he)art further.
No comments:
Post a Comment