Film-viewing, they say, is a collective experience.
A dark room. 200-300 strangers seated around you. Different professions, different castes, different religions. The only uniting factor in such a setting becomes the film.
The film-viewing process has always fascinated me for this particular reason. In our world of increasing differences, a work of art manages to wipe away all the boundaries. This is a really great achievement, isn't it?!
But sadly, this fascinating experience has left me bitter-hearted after the viewing of artistically great films.
It happened with Raavanan. It happened with Pisaasu. It happened yesterday with Uttama Villain.
And I guess I am the person to blame.
Am I not when it is only I who finds faults with the understanding of the audience when a larger portion seems to have no problems?
An example to explain.
Uttama Villain was nearing its end. There is a play - Hiranyan nadagam, a play about Hiranyakashipu and Prahlada - staged within the film Uttama Villain that is shot within the original film Uttama Villain. As the play began, I could hear grunting noises and exasperated sighs all around me. I just couldn't stand it. How could someone be sighing when an ingeniously layered story was unfolding before them?
I wanted to stand up from my seat and scream.
"Can't you see? Can't you see? It is a play about immortality that is staged within a film that has its theme as immortality that is being shot in the original film because the protagonist of the original film wants (his art) to be immortal?"
If that is not ingenuity, I do not know what else is.
The film was making an attempt at addressing the issue of what a person leaves behind after his death.
There was an answer in the film that was pretty loud for any person to miss - art. An artist's art stays behind for decades and centuries even after the artist's death.
There was also an answer that was very subtle - a person's child/children. They remain the living proof of a person's existence after his demise. I realized that the reference could not be understood by many but when there arose a debate among the people seated behind me as to whether the character who played the protagonist's daughter - Parvathi Menon - looked prettier in this film or Bangalore Days, I just couldn't take it up anymore.
But then, as I mentioned earlier, I guess I am the person to blame.
I believed that understanding art would enhance my life considerably.
It has. It definitely has.
Just that, it has grown to a point of affecting me harshly when I see it being disrespected.
Maybe it is time to start letting ignorance creep in a bit to lead a normal life.
After all, isn't ignorance a bliss?!
A dark room. 200-300 strangers seated around you. Different professions, different castes, different religions. The only uniting factor in such a setting becomes the film.
The film-viewing process has always fascinated me for this particular reason. In our world of increasing differences, a work of art manages to wipe away all the boundaries. This is a really great achievement, isn't it?!
But sadly, this fascinating experience has left me bitter-hearted after the viewing of artistically great films.
It happened with Raavanan. It happened with Pisaasu. It happened yesterday with Uttama Villain.
And I guess I am the person to blame.
Am I not when it is only I who finds faults with the understanding of the audience when a larger portion seems to have no problems?
An example to explain.
Uttama Villain was nearing its end. There is a play - Hiranyan nadagam, a play about Hiranyakashipu and Prahlada - staged within the film Uttama Villain that is shot within the original film Uttama Villain. As the play began, I could hear grunting noises and exasperated sighs all around me. I just couldn't stand it. How could someone be sighing when an ingeniously layered story was unfolding before them?
I wanted to stand up from my seat and scream.
"Can't you see? Can't you see? It is a play about immortality that is staged within a film that has its theme as immortality that is being shot in the original film because the protagonist of the original film wants (his art) to be immortal?"
If that is not ingenuity, I do not know what else is.
The film was making an attempt at addressing the issue of what a person leaves behind after his death.
There was an answer in the film that was pretty loud for any person to miss - art. An artist's art stays behind for decades and centuries even after the artist's death.
There was also an answer that was very subtle - a person's child/children. They remain the living proof of a person's existence after his demise. I realized that the reference could not be understood by many but when there arose a debate among the people seated behind me as to whether the character who played the protagonist's daughter - Parvathi Menon - looked prettier in this film or Bangalore Days, I just couldn't take it up anymore.
But then, as I mentioned earlier, I guess I am the person to blame.
I believed that understanding art would enhance my life considerably.
It has. It definitely has.
Just that, it has grown to a point of affecting me harshly when I see it being disrespected.
Maybe it is time to start letting ignorance creep in a bit to lead a normal life.
After all, isn't ignorance a bliss?!
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