High Hopes

Last weekend I screened Alexander Payne's 'Sideways' (2004) for my current screenwriting batch. I had watched this beautiful film twice before, and had also studied its screenplay very recently. So I, obviously, very clearly remembered every detail, all the plot-points, all the big and small characters and at times even the dialogue. But still, watching it with the entire batch added to my own pleasure. I laughed harder and choked easily, and in our collective admiration I saw the film in a new light. Most of the students in the batch are not that well-exposed to anything beyond mainstream Hindi and American cinema and it satisfied me to see how much they enjoyed the film. 

I had a similar fulfilling experience while watching Meghna Gulzar's 'Talvar' (2015) this week. Brilliantly written and filled with terrific performances, it works, as Anupama Chopra contests, like a horror film, stunning the audience and disturbing them unlike anything they have seen before. Unlike anything, because it is very rare in India for a film to be based on true events and to be crafted so well that it does what good movies do - move the audience. And when 'Talvar' played, the audience watched. It is as simple as that. I very clearly remember that during that screening we had very few of the usual disturbances that annoy me - people talking among themselves or on phone, or texting with their phone-light shining in the dark hall. Mostly, the film did not allow its audience to do anything but pay attention to its enthralling narrative. And we did exactly that. We. The audience as a whole.

Both these experiences reminded me all over again of the refreshingly optimistic view that Christopher Nolan had expressed a little over a year ago in this article called 'Films of the Future Will Still Draw People to the Theaters'. In this article Nolan dismisses the widespread notion that movies as we have known them, motion picture projected on a white screen in a dark room full of hundreds of people, and movie-theaters are heading toward their inevitable death because as the world becomes more and more compartmentalized, thanks to technology that pretends to 'connect' people, and home-theaters give you a more fulfilling experience, going to a movie theater to sit with annoying strangers would be the last thing one would prefer. Nolan does not believe in this and defends his views with a clear phrase - "the shared experience of these narrative". I firmly believe that we will always be aware of how our movie-exeprience gets enhanced with hundreds of people reacting simultaenously to the images on screen and that will bring us back to the cinema halls. In fact, I believe, as the world gets more and more segmented, and humans lose physical touch with each other by immersing themselves to virtual reality, cinema halls will be the only place where man, essentially a social animal that loves to laugh and cry together, will reconnect with a collective emotional experience and for that reason alone, cinema will survive, in its classical form. My hopes are high. And filmmakers who know their job will ensure that it lives on.

I had a very similar feeling by the time I finished watching 'The Walk', the latest film by Robert Zemeckis. It has its flaws and the often annoying voice-over narration proves once again why screenwriting gurus hate this tool. But all the patient wait of the first hour or so was paid-off during the last forty-five minutes of the film. The film is definitely nowhere close to 'Gravity' or other 3D adventures we have watched recently. But it is perhaps as universally effective as them, because of its simplicity. There is no theories of astrophysics or esoteric images of a dystopian future in play here. The film does not play on your logical mind, it plays on your survival instinct, and it plays on a most widely-experienced fear - of heights. It is also a film that you must experience on big screen, with audience, because only then you will be able to fully enjoy the breathtaking spectacle that it is. As it ended, I smiled within. It is films like these that will make sure that the big screen stays alive. And I thanked Sony Pictures in my heart for inviting me for the special preview at this IMAX screen. It was the same screen where I had watched, roughly a year ago, Zemeckis' 'Forrest Gump' for the first time, twenty years after its release. Doesn't it seem like I was trying to make up for that by watching 'The Walk' by the same director ten days before it released worldwide?

In Search of Aesthetic Emotion

After watching Rajkumar Hirani's 'PK' this morning of its release, I was instantly reminded of some concepts explored by Robert McKee in his wonderful book, 'Story'. Without spoiling the plot for you in any way, here follow the words of McKee that precisely illustrate my view on the film. All the words are his, but I have edited and reordered sentences to keep it brief and still as powerful and insightful.


NO SPOILERS AHEAD. NOT AT ALL.

In life, experiences become meaningful with reflection in time. Because in life idea and emotion come separately. The two realms influence each other, but first one, then the other. If you see a dead body in the street, you're struck by a rush of adrenaline. Perhaps you drive away in fear. Later, in the coolness of time, you may reflect on the meaning of this stranger's demise, on your own mortality, on life in the shadow of death. In fact, in life, moments that blaze with a fusion of idea and emotion are so rare, when they happen you think you're having a religious experience. 

But whereas life separates meaning from emotion, art unites them. In art, experiences are meaningful at the instant they happen. Story is an instrument by which you create such epiphanies at will, the phenomenon known as aesthetic emotion - the simultaneous encounter of thought and feeling. You might forget the day you saw a dead body in the street, but the death of Hamlet haunts you forever. A story well told gives you the very thing you cannot get from life: meaningful emotional experience. In this sense, story is, at heart, nonintellectual - it does not express ideas in the dry, intellectual arguments of an essay. But this is not to say story is anti-intellectual. We pray that the writer has ideas of import and insight. Rather, the exchange between artist and audience expresses idea directly through the senses and perceptions, intuition and emotion.

(Excuse me for interrupting Mr. McKee for a very brief illustration of the above-mentioned concept. Watch any movie directed by Rajkumar Hirani, who is perhaps the only filmmaker in the commerical Hindi movie space constantly exploring the communication of ideas through very basic emotions of joy and pain, all through well-crafted stories. Four movies, and all have this in common - the artist's pursuit of aesthetic emotion. Now, read on, for McKee has more to say.)

The danger is this: When your premise is an idea you feel you must prove to the world, and you design your story as an undeniable certification of that idea, you set yourself on the road to didacticism. Misusing and abusing art to preach, your screenplay will become a thesis film, a thinly disguised sermon as you strive in a single stroke to convert the world. Didacticism results from the naive enthusiasm that fiction can be used like a scalpel to cut out the cancers of the world. The finest writers have dialectical, flexible minds that easily shift points of view. They see the positive, the negative, and all shades of irony, seeking the truth of these views honestly and convincingly. This omniscience forces them to become even more creative, more imaginative, and more insightful. Ultimately, they express what they deeply believe, but not until they have allowed themselves to weigh each living issue and experience all its possibilities.

Master storytellers never explain. They do the hard, painfully creative thing - they dramatize. Explanations of authorial ideas, whether in dialogue or narration, seriously diminish a film's quality. A great story authenticates its ideas solely within the dynamics of its events. Failure to express a view of life through the pure, honest consequences of human choice and action is a creative defeat no amount of clever language can salvage.

10 Questions to Understand What 'Indie Films' Are

Independent Films or Indies are widely abused terms a lot of people use without really understanding what they mean. I hope the post below helps you understand the concepts better. Do comment if you disagree with any of my opinions.

Q1. What are Independent Films?
A. Independent films are those that are produced (almost) without any funding from major film studios. Once produced, these films try to reach out to their audience on their own, often also involving alternate distribution channels like the internet, unless they are picked up by a bigger distributor, with or without the backing of a studio.

Q2. Why the term 'independent'?
A. Movie-making has always been expensive. During the early decades of the last century, when cinema turned into a business, it were big production and distribution companies that soon started dominating the market. They were called studios. RKO, MGM, Warner Bros. etc were some of the major studios of Hollywood. It was almost impossible to make a film outside of the studio system and getting it released was even tougher. However, several factors around the 40s and the 50s, including the gradual weakening of the studio system and development of new aesthetics through film revolutions like the Italian Neo-Realism, saw the rise of film-makers who made their films outside of the control of the studios. These film-makers did not have to conform with the notions and formulae of the sudios and thus exerted greater control over their medium than even the most successful of directors working with the studios. This gave the feeling of a new-found freedom, to be able to make movies, and make them on your own terms. Hence, the term 'independent'.

Q3. Does 'independent' always mean low-budget? Also, if my film has no stars, is it an indie film?
A. Not necessarily. If you are a rich man (and not a studio), you can produce a big-budget film on your own, with your own money. That big-budget film will still be called independent. However, since not many are that rich to be able to make movies to fulfill their whims and fancies, and since several rich men are sensible enough to not get into this misadventure, most indie films are low-budget. And I think it will remain that way. It should. Similarly, if a studio funds and distributes a film that does not necessarily have stars, it is not an indie film. Gangs of Wasseypur (2012) was not a star-studded film. But it was not indie either.

Q4. Does 'indie' mean 'art-house' or 'experimental'?
A. Not at all. Most art-house and experimental films fail to attract studio financing and hence have to raise money on their own and thus be made independently. But an independent film can be as, if not more, entertaining and commercially viable as a manistream, studio film. Remember, Pulp Fiction (1994) was an indie film. It was super-successful financially, and is among the most watched films of all time, apart from being so critically acclaimed and a major landmark in film history.

Q5. Why do 'indie' films look poor and unattractive?
A. Not all of them look poor and unattractive. I just named Pulp Fiction. But since the production budget of these films is typically low, several of them cannot adopt the gloss that big-budget movies possess. In fact, the success of the indie movement is based on the conviction of the film-maker to rely on content, performances, and a new sense of aesthetic that goes well with the limited budget. The hand-held camera and shooting in natural light or with non-actors are widely popular trends in world cinema. These were all developed when cinema broke free from the absolute control of the studios. Most successful indie films either manage to look 'good' despite the low budget, or come up with an original and exciting design to please our senses. The really timeless indies, like all successful films, are big on content than anything else.

Q6. Is it easier to make an indie film than a big-budget film? If no, then why do some film-makers choose to go independent?
A. No way. How can it be? Arranging so much money on your own can never be easy. And even if you do manage that, making films on small-budgets is always tough. Most importantly, it is film-making at the end of the day, something that is a difficult job anyway. I don't believe any film-maker would choose to go independent if a studio/producer assures him of funding, complete creative control, and distribution. But since that does not always happen with all film-makers and with all films, going indie is the only way out.

Q7. What is the most important ingredient for a successful indie film?
A. The script.

Q8. I have managed to develop/acquire a kick-ass script. And I have crowd-sourced the funding for the film. Guess, now I am sorted, right?
A. That depends on how sorted you are in your head. Is it really a kick-ass script or your passion is too blind to judge it? Is the funding actually in place or these are just promises? Is your budget realistic? Is there a mechanism in place to use that funding in the most economical way? And most importantly, is your director (even if it is you) really capable of directing a film? Does he/she have the undertanding of the craft and the technique?

Q9. Why do so many indie films fail?
A. For the same reason why most films fail, indie or studio-backed. Because most of them are really bad films. Very few films, indie or otherwise, are really good. Plus, even several good indie films fail to reach out to the audience. Those that do manage that suffer from low publicity budget and fail to create awareness in the audience about their release. But the biggest reason is that most of them are bad.

Q10. When will we witness the prophecy coming true - a real indie revolution in Hindi cinema?
A. No one can really tell when and if it will happen. But I am hopeful that the change is already visible. To be honest, a real successful and long-lasting impact will be created only when we have a really handsome number of films that tell essentially good stories in interesting and involving ways, forcing the studios and the distribution model to take notice of us, backed by some important steps taken by the government, and the industry, to nurture the most deserving indie films. I very stongly believe that the easiest barrier to cross is support from the audience - reaching them might be tough, making them love a good movie is really easy. The toughest step in the entire process is to make that good movie. And finding the right script is the single biggest challenge film-makers are going to face, today and tomorrow, indie or not.

'Sulemani Keeda' is an indie film directed by Amit Masurkar and produced by Datta Dave and Chaitanya Hegde. It releases on 5th Dec in Mumbai, Delhi, Kolkata, Bangalore, Pune, and Ahmedabad. I have written a song called "Door" for the film. Please watch it and share your comments with us. Cheers! :) 

The Return of the Writer

Writing previews is tricky business. And it is risky business too, especially if the upcoming film is from a production house that has made innumerable high-profile bad films in the past five years. But I was compelled to write this post for one reason alone – and that is the writer of the film. For me, “Shuddh Desi Romance” is the next film by Jaideep Sahni, whom I consider to be the best writer in Hindi cinema (writer, excluding writer-directors) today.

Sahni started his career at the age of 32 with the name that has the credit of introducing the maximum number of fresh talents into the industry – Ram Gopal Verma, when he wrote ‘Jungle’ (2000). Two years later he was to win two Filmfare awards for the screenplay and the dialogue of his second film, ‘Company’ (2002). In the next ten years, he has had only five releases – ‘Bunty aur Babli’ (2005), ‘Khosla ka Ghosla’ (2006, that won him his third Filmfare), ‘Chak De India’ (2007), ‘Aaja Nachle’ (2007), and ‘Rocket Singh: Salesman of the Year’ (2009). According to me, he is yet to write a bad film. And according to me, he has already written 3-4 very good films – I would be really proud of them if they were mine. With the looks of a CEO of a corporate firm, Sahni has definitely built a filmography that gives the impression of being an original, intelligent, and passionate writer apart from being extremely talented. All his movies are different from each other; he is constantly seeking different milieu and different genres, and operates in a very mainstream space without selling his soul. To be honest, I have been missing his work for the past four years and am super-excited as his latest film is ready for release this Friday. He is one writer I have followed and admired ever since his arrival, and he is one writer yet to break my heart. This Friday, all I expect of him is this – he may not be able to repeat the success of his best, but this latest film of his must be better than his worst (choose your pick from the films mentioned above). I like to believe that this storyteller has a lot many stories to tell and hope I won’t be disappointed this Friday.

Over to you, Sahni sa’ab! Sunaaiye apni nayi kahaani…

Winds of Change?

February 2011: Filmfare Awards declare "Dabangg" the Best Film of the year and Karan Johar the Best Director for "My Name is Khan".

Two years later...

February 2013: None of the top grossers of the year - "Ek Tha Tiger", "Bol Bachchan", "Houseful 2", "Jab Tak Hai Jaan", "Rowdy Rathore", "Agneepath" and "Dabangg 2" could bag even a nomination in the Best Film category. "Barfi" won the award. And the runners-up were "Kahaani", "Vicky Donor", "English Vinglish" and the Wasseypur films - all fairly successful films but none to match the insane commercial triumph of the big ones.

May 2013: An "anthology film" - "Bombay Talkies" gets remarkably wide release and good publicity. The stars of the film, for a change, are directors, two of them being the most well-known auteurs of Hindi cinema today. (Remember it is easier to sell the name of a "genre" director like Rohit Shetty. The case was not the same here.)

July 2013: 'Ship of Theseus' gets a limited release in five cities. Almost all shows go house-full all week in Mumbai. Some of my friends, not from the film industry, watch and love it and do not feel it was too slow! Next week, the number of shows increase, a rare achievement for any film in today's times, and the movie reaches new cities. The trend continues, with the film travelling to cities like Patna, Lucknow, and Bhopal. In Mumbai, the film runs for five weeks. Although, big names were attached to it and we can not hope the same results with other films, the fact that the release model worked is such a good sign. Imagine, if the film had failed in its opening week, forcing the exhibitors to bring it out of theatres after the first week! Perhaps the success is only slightly positive a sign. But the failure would definitely mean doom for more such efforts.

August 2013: Another indie film "BA Pass" is fairly successful. OK. Sex always sells, right? NO. "Nasha", that released only a week ago could not gross half the numbers of "BA Pass".


And soon after, "Madras Cafe" is released. I love it thoroughly despite being slightly underwhelmed with its technical finesse. My brother says - "This is good enough for India!" I agree. We are going in the right direction, after all. Such a film is getting made, and getting successful. Good news. The very next day, I go to watch the Bengali film "Taasher Desh". The most pleasant surprise is not the film, but the fact that the Censor Board passed it without an Adult certificate. The film is U/A. The content is definitely bolder than that, with several intimate love making and homo-erotic scenes. Hope it is not an exceptional case and the CBFC maintains the same standards when it comes to Hindi films.

September 2013: Two big production houses have joined hands to release another small gem "The Lunchbox" that will be released in September. Fingers corssed!

The change will come only if it is holistic in nature. Otherwise one-off exceptions to the rigid rules of the market have always raised their heads and eventually got lost into oblivion. It has to start from the making - content driven, deftly executed films, on varied topics, including some conventionally controversial ones. The release and marketing is more vital than the production. It has to be done smartly and successfully. The critics should do their job - I loved Jeeturaj screaming on Radio Mirchi, urging the audience to go and watch "Ship of Theseus". The audience should respond well, and the word of mouth should be strong. The exhibitors should have continued confidence in such content - and I so admire PVR for actually releasing rare films. And eventually, the popular awards like Filmfare should acknowledge these films when the year ends. I won't go so far to say that the change has begun - the latest mega success of "Chennai Express" is nothing short of a disappointment (as we speak the film is making its way to the throne of the highest grossing Hindi film of all time). But I would like to hope that there are some welcome signs and that one day good cinema will finally dawn upon Hindi films. I will keep hoping this until February 2014 when, in most probability, Filmfare will award "Chennai Express" the Best Film if the year. I dread that day. Hope it never comes.

#7: The First Signs of Being 'Different'

"I am big. It's the pictures that got small!" - Billy Wilder's 'Sunset Blvd.' (1950)

Once my parents dropped me back to my hostel after my first vacation, which was forty-five days of summer, I realised there were so many things I forgot sharing with my Mom - little things about the hostel, and my experiences there. That left me heartbroken. The next vacation was three months away and it was going to be a short, eight-day leave. And I was sure that in the next three months, I would have accumulated so many more things to share with her. Intimidated and terrified by the idea of a continuously building deficit of "things-to-share-with-Mom" over several vacations, I decided to solve it, once and for ever. I started making a note of things happening to me during my term at the hostel in my little diary, half-sentences that contained long stories and new discoveries and layers of emotions. During the eight days of the next vacation, the mention of which has been made in the previous post in this series, Mom was so busy that I never got the time to sit with her and go through those pages of my diary. She was aware of it and it was an important agenda for her, but somehow we never got time. Finally, the last night, a few hours before I was to leave, Mom and I sat on a mat spread on the floor, and I shared with her all that I had to. That image of my mother, tired and exhausted, her heavy eye-lids battling against her resolve to spend time with her son and hear him out despite the night turning old and cruel, will remain one of the most special memories of my life. But today, as I look back, I also see the REVERSE SHOT of that scene - an eleven-year old boy, going through his 'notes' that he had made over several weeks, narrating stories and incidents with untiring enthusiasm and excitement. Today, as I look at the eleven-year olds around me, I wonder - was that the beginning of the method-oriented, obsessed-with-planning-and-execution storyteller I was to eventually become? Or was it simply, the first sign of me being 'different' - an adjective my friends in high-school and college used for me, for all compliments and insults!

A little more than a year after that night, I was on my way home for the winter vacations. It was December, 1996. It was for the first time that I was travelling from my hostel in a car, as my Buaji (the one who until her marriage was an active member of our domestic movie club) and her family had picked me up on her way to Munger, my home-town. I was sitting in the front passenger seat with my Chachaji and had fallen asleep as the car made its way through the rocky terrain of Sooiya Pahaad (the Hill of Needles). A little later, my eyes opened to the sound of a song that was being played from the car stereo. The song was ending but I heard it sufficiently to exclaim to my Uncle - "This is a good song!". "Isn't it?" he said. "Now, listen to this, an even better one." He reversed the side of the cassette and the song faded in. If life is a romantic ride, that definitely was my first experience of one. As this song soared, I felt its voices echoing in the dull and dead ambience of the hills around me. I was mesmerised by its pure magic, and until today, every time I listen to it, I am reminded of that amazing afternoon.

The first song I had heard while waking up was "Chappa Chappa Charkha Chale". And the one that eventually won me over was, yes you guessed it right, "Chhod Aaye Hum Wo Galiyaan". Within a few days, I asked Dad for the cassette of "Maachis" - my first buy as a music lover. It must be mentioned that buying film music was not encouraged under my Dad's regime, despite the three of us (Mom, brother, and me) being crazy movie-buffs. But Dad brought this one. As Devanshu and I played all the songs on our little tape recorder, the haunting melodies of Vishal and the beautiful words by Gulzar, my Dad expressed his disapproval - "What's so special about this music?"

How could have I answered that? I just knew that Dad didn't think this music was great. And most people around me, including my friends, thought the same. And the world around me was infinitely more obsessed with "Pardesi Pardesi" from 'Raja Hindustani' that was the craze of the season. When I watched that film, the biggest blockbuster of the year, I was pretty disappointed. By the time the film reached its climax, I had given my verdict - "Raja Hindustani is a bad film." The Filmfare Awards that followed a couple of months later thought otherwise, and I realised that I was different, that there will be films I hate which will be celebrated by the world around me. Today as I look back, I feel thankful to my Dad for being vocally disapproving of the music of "Maachis" as well as to that moment when I had discovered its magic among the hills of Jharkhand (then Bihar). "This is good, despite others' opinion of it" - was the thought that had come to my head. Several years later, it was to become the most constant feeling with things, especially movies and music, that I loved and celebrated. Only, the world of the internet would make sure that I eventually realise that there were several people like me who thought of cinema differently, and that I was not exactly "different"!

The Most Inspiring Indian Film Debut of Our Time?

I am facing strong disapproval from some of my closest acquaintances for not sufficiently admiring a latest mainstream Hindi film. Most around me have loved it and it shows in its box-office performance. Although, I don't mind either - people loving that film and it making money, and I kind of accept why this is happening, I am a little disappointed by their expectation from me to love that film as much as they do. So much so, that I almost contemplated writing a post here on this blog about what according to me were the problems with that film. And let me tell you, those, according to me, were big, glaring problems, which we can ignore only because our own standards as film audience has been very average, to say the least. It has to do with our tastes, and it also has to do with our commerce, and it definitely, and most importantly, has to do with the kind of films that are made in this city, thus sustaining a vicious cycle that has for a long, long time kept our cinema from growing and expand and evolve. The Indian film audience and their approach to the movies is like my Dad's approach to food. He has a certain set expectations from his food. It has to be Indian, North Indian to be specific (as the food from the South doesn't appeal to him), and 'Bihari' to be even more specific (as he is repelled by the idea of cream or milk in the gravy of a vegetable dish, and always prefers ghee over butter). He is very fond of eating, but he won't eat anything outside his strict and limited menu. During his last visit to Mumbai, I made him taste Italian and Chinese food. He vowed never to taste that again. And I can't blame him for that. Our small town and our closed culture never allowed him to develop taste buds for the enormous variety of food from all around the world. And he, almost unfortunately, believes his idea of food to be the epitome of human culinary achievement.

So, of course I don't blame my friends who are loving this film as a supreme cinematic achievement, because most probably they are satisfied too easily, not knowing what cinema can achieve when it is driven by pure inspiration, rather than a factory-designed manufacturing unit, trying to fit too many things into what they consider primarily a commercial product. After reading my lines here, most will think I am an 'artsy', pseudo-intellectual, or just too cerebral for conventional taste, or I live in my own world of idealism with the idea of 'cinema that can changes the world' or of a certain kind of cinema that is more 'superior' than others. However, those who know me will agree that I am someone who understands, or is at least willing to understand, the commercial dynamics of films much better than most. I want to love all kinds of films, and do not want to segregate them into art-house or mainstream. And for me, the only purpose of choosing my personal favourites is by trying to figure out the inspiration behind a film and the (cinematic) execution of what inspired the makers, especially the director. Instead of wondering about why I failed to appreciate a certain film, I would request my friends to understand why I appreciate another. I try to stay away from criticising films on public forum and hence I eventually decided not to write about this film in question. And I hope the reasons for me not liking that film can be found in my reasons for loving another film, which is Anand Gandhi's incredibly well-crafted, and confident feature debut, the film that is the talk of the town, and a film that will be remembered forever for what it is. I watched 'Ship of Theseus' today, and am desperate to watch it all over again.

Because very rarely you see a film germinating out of conviction as strong and pure as this. Because most of such convictions fail to take the shape of a well-written script, as cinematically promising as conceptually exciting. Because many good scripts suffer at different stages of their translation onto the big screen, and very few end up appearing as one organic whole, a visionary's dream, a poet's verse, an artist's expression. Because modern Hindi cinema is utterly deficient of makers who have such an impressive understanding of framing a shot and controlling everything within the frame, and timing a cut and pacing their work using those cuts, and using the actors as they were real people playing themselves. And most importantly, because we hardly make films that fulfil and satisfy us at all levels - intellectual, emotional, aesthetic, and inspirational. Will 'Ship of Theseus' emerge as a landmark in our film history? Will Anand Gandhi live up to his promise, giving us more films as good as this, if not better? Will this in any way change anything for our audience? These are the questions I don't want to trouble myself with at this moment. All I want is to celebrate this unique achievement by this new voice in our cinema. 'Ship of Theseus' is not only the best film of the year, it is one of the best Indian films you will see. I hope you do yourselves a favour by watching it. Else, I know you are very happy and content with what is being offered to you on the usual basis, very much like my Dad and his favourite food on his plate.

#6: Partners in Crime

"Only one is a wanderer. Two together are always going somewhere." - Alfred Hitchcock's 'Vertigo' (1958)

Early hours of 28th September. 1995. About 2am. It is raining heavily. Dad and I have just reached home after an exhausting train journey from my boarding school. The Durga Puja vacations have begun. It is going to be the shortest vacation of my hostel life - only eight days. And I am really upset that the rains delayed the trains and spoiled almost half a day of my vacation. Soaked wet, we enter the compound of our house. Mom and my brother, Devanshu, come rushing to the collapsable grill. It is dark. Power failure. Mom is struggling to find the keys, more so with the excitement of having her son back, than due to darkness. Devanshu and I are standing on either sides of the locked grill, unable to look at each others' faces but glad to be together. The first thing he says to me is: "You missed something that came on TV tonight. It was called "the Making" of a film. They showed how the film was made and all that, and it was amazing. The film will be released in Diwali. It is called 'Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jaayenge'."

This conversation, even before Dad and I had entered the house, is the first memory I have of Devanshu and me having a personal, passionate discussion on the movies. We were eleven and ten respectively. This memory is so vivid, I feel I am still there, soaked, unable to see anything, waiting to enter the house and touch the feet of my Mom, but already curious about what "the Making" of a movie could be like.

For the next seven years, this was to be our ritual. Whether during Devanshu's visit to my hostel to meet me, or during my vacations, it did not take more than five minutes for us to start discussing cinema. And then we went on and on for hours. Mom participated excitedly, often giving us perspectives that her two kids did not have, while Dad was left ignored, and he retaliated with unkind remarks. The moment power supply was restored, Devanshu and I used to rush to the hall, to watch the latest trailers of the upcoming films. And he made me hear movie songs from the cassettes he had bought. This was all too overwhelming for me, especially during the first day of my vacations. He also taught me the lyrics of the latest hits - he had always been sharper than me when it came to learning the songs, and he could sing really well. But he was always less inhibited about his excitement and that often led us to embarrassing and difficult situations. I remember how he had exulted with joy when a particular song had topped the weekly top-ten on Doordarshan, a show called "Ek se badh kar ek", as Baba, our grandpa, was having dinner in the same room. Devanshu exclaimed as the song grabbed the top position and started singing along, as I stole a glance at Baba's disapproving face. The song was "Ek ho gaye hum aur tum, toh ud gayi neendein re" from Bombay (1996). Needless to say, I shivered with fear as the video of the song played on TV, in which the lead couple made love, with Baba sitting with us, and my brother, as if unaware of his presence, singing along.

Perhaps staying away did this wonderful thing to us. We longed for each others' company. And we longed to discuss cinema. My years away from him and this distance, I am sure, had to play a very major role in turning us into serious cinephiles very early in our lives. Leaving home as the vacations ended was sad not just because I was going to be away from my family, but also because my connection with the movies and the songs would be interrupted for the next few months. I remember, during the final day of all my vacations, I spent my entire day before the TV, trying to soak in all that I could, and the only relief would be the fact that on reaching hostel, I would be able to discuss with my friends all that we caught during the vacations. That mad passion for cinema would one day become our life, and we would continue to stay partners in crime, eventually working together and sharing credit - "Satyanshu and Devanshu Singh" - was of course a thought that never came to our heads back then. We were yet to be infected by the 'film-making' virus, and were happily, innocently, and harmlessly enjoying our love for cinema, together.

During my winter vacation in 1995, I finally got to see DDLJ on video. All had already seen it before me. I remember how amazed I was when the line "Bade bade deshon mien" was repeated in the end. Was that my first taste of an unforgettable pay-off? Perhaps it was. Later, perhaps in the summer vacation of 1996, Mom, Devanshu and I watched, for the first time, the Filmfare Awards on TV. I am sure it was a repeat telecast. But that added another chapter into my cinema consciousness, as since then I obsessively followed the Awards, year by year, to eventually compile a list of all winners in Filmfare history, and almost learning that by heart. As far as that 'first' Award show is concerned, I distinctly remember two things - that I believed 'Ho gaya hai tujhko toh pyaar sajna' had better lyrics than the winner 'Tujhe dekha toh ye jaana sanam', and that all three of us wondered what Choreography meant!!!

Author and Authority

Four years ago, I read the screenplay of 'Lootera'. A couple of years later, just a fortnight before it was going on floors, I read it again and had a discussion on it with the writer-director. I also visited its sets during the Mumbai-schedule of the film. This March, I watched the First Cut of the film in the editing room. And last night, I watched the final film at a preview at Yash Raj Studios. Despite having observed the journey of this film from such close distance, its impact on me last night was phenomenal. To say the least, well, I could not sleep all night. And as its release approaches, I am more anxious than I have ever been for the release of a film, despite the fact that I was not really a part of it.

This anxiety and sleeplessness has nothing to do with the film per se, or how much I liked it. It is much beyond that. It is a matter of inspirations and insecurities, of hope and hopelessness. It is the feeling that only true art can ignite in you, and in my case, only powerful cinema.  Within a couple of days, the so-called film critics operating in our industry will inundate the minds of the masses with their star-bearing reviews that never dare to go beyond the synopsis of the story and how the first half of the film was vis-a-vis the second half. There are only a handful of critics, from whom I can expect to talk in ways only critics can and should. I dread to imagine the consequences if such a film fails at the box office. After coming this close, all we need is the public applauding the film and making it a huge success, because that will be an irreversible milestone in the history of modern commercial Hindi cinema. I wish that happens. I wish the Indian audience tells us filmmakers that they are a responsible lot and we will get the liberty to believe in our convictions and our genuine, sincere hard-work.

I am saying all this because of many reasons, including the fact that I could not talk so highly about 'Udaan'. Being a part of that film, I felt it was 'nicer' to keep quiet. I really regret that in a way, because if I were not a part of 'Udaan', the film-buff in me, and the student of cinema in me, would have exalted the film beyond any sense of imagination. Today let me acknowledge this in public space for the first time - I think 'Udaan' was one of the most well-made Hindi films in recent memory. And the merits of its craft go beyond its Cannes nomination and its multiple Filmfare awards. I have been using that film as a text for my students, to talk about cinematic storytelling, shot division, sound design, and so on. But the biggest thing about 'Udaan' was something I could hardly talk about, because of lack of evidence, despite the strong intuition. After 'Lootera', I can talk about that one thing - that rare and precious achievement on motion picture that not many have the guts to aspire for, and most who do fail to fulfil. That one thing, which was evident in each frame of 'Udaan' and which comes back to us in 'Lootera' is called 'Authorship' - when the director of the film exerts complete control over the entire material, using cinema as a pen to write his novel on screen, when all cast and crew function proudly as puppets in the hands of the master craftsman, surrendering to his authority with complete humility, trust, and faith, when the captain of the ship becomes the ship itself and all its parts revel in that fact. Authorship in cinema is perhaps the most difficult achievement a film-maker can have. It takes entire life-times of intent and execution, clarity and madness, humility and self-belief to do that. Of course, going by that, it is too early to call, and unarguably so, Vikramaditya Motwane a true author. But after his second film, we can definitely see hope and can expect him to achieve what very few Hindi film-makers have achieved.

So what exactly defines authorship in cinema? Well, it starts with the world-view of the film-maker. Does he have something to share with the world? It's not important how relevant or 'correct' his world-view is, having one, or several views in one, is good enough. It then goes on to the expression of his world view, using his medium. His aesthetic choices not only do justice to the world-view, making him a competent communicator of his opinions, but also show a unity of design, over several films, as we start seeing patterns emerge and talk to us - the way the director designs his shots, lights his sets, uses the motion or the stillness of camera, explores the possibilities of sound, extracts performances from his actors, paces his storytelling, and does all of this to create, despite the mad and clumsy process film-making is, one seamless whole, one organic body, one sum that is greater than its parts. Films are made anyway, an author creates works of art, that provoke, disturb or inspire people, from their minds and intellects, to their emotions and their feelings, and most importantly, their senses. In fact, it is the sensory perception that a master film-maker creates, purposefully and meticulously, that forms the most beautiful film experience, taking cinema beyond its story, trying to mimic music, or even dreams.

I could not sleep last night because I witnessed the same. Do not expect 'Lootera' to be a better film than 'Udaan'. Do not expect 'Lootera' to even be one of the best films of the year. You might have issues with the story, like I had, until last night, or find the movie to be one with several flaws. But if you really understand cinema, and its magical scope, you will look beyond that. You will love the stillness of its certain sequences, and would want those moments to linger on. You will jump at its amazing chase sequence,  and never want it to end. You will feel for the two main characters, and the helplessness of their situation. You may even start discovering its similarities with 'Udaan', despite the apparent difference in the two. And with all this, you may just understand the power and authority of a single man, the director, owning up the entire film as his own, with all its merits and flaws, with his conviction and ambition speaking in a voice louder than the film he just made. I am suddenly eager to watch the next Motwane film, because for me, the film-maker is already beyond his current or future filmography. If only some of our critics could identify that author in the film-maker, if only our audience could actually understand how special a craftsman we have in our midst....

A One-day Film Fest

Last Tuesday I did something I had never done before. And it was so much fun. Fun Republic, the closest movie theatre, is 20-minute walk from my place and on Tuesdays their ticket prices are lower than other days. The back-log of pending movies was building up and I knew if I didn't watch them soon, I am going to miss at least some of them. So, I decided to watch three movies on the same day, alone.

Started the day with 'Raanjhanaa'. I thought it had a very good story, about a man obsessively in love with a woman who never returns that love. And the dialogues were amazingly delicious. Despite that, writing remains the biggest problem with that film. Clarity and focus in storytelling, along with identifying and maintaining the right mood and genre elements is very important, especially mainstream films. Despite a very good job by the director, an incredible and endearing performance by the male lead (I can watch the movie again just because of Dhanush and the dialogues), and powerful music, the film still fails to soar from its amazing first act. However, I think this is a film that must be watched, and am very happy that it has been successful.

I returned home for lunch and then had a long discussion with my brother on a story idea I had had a day ago, followed by another extended discussion with a friend on his script. By 6.30 in the evening, I was back to the theatre. This time to watch the highest grosser of this year - 'Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani'. It has its moments, and I think the biggest achievement of the film was that I liked Miss Padukone for the first time in my life. Frankly, I was disappointed by the film, as I thought it was just about OK. I am not surprised that it is a successful film. But I really do not know why it became so successful, among the biggest grossers in history. I don't know why audiences are watching it again and again. The lady sitting behind me had definitely seen it at least once before, as she could not stop mouthing the lines and reacting to the jokes before they were delivered!

After the long second film, it was already 10pm, and I was tired and hungry. I wasn't sure if I will be able to sit through another film. But I had already purchased the ticket and so had no option. I quickly grabbed a bite at McDonalds, made a brief but important call, and then rushed back to the same screen, to the same seat (I had taken the tickets keeping that in mind). And then they played 'Fukrey'! What a film! I thoroughly enjoyed it, as did others around me in that packed house. It was also the perfect 'closing film' for this mini-festival of mine.

On the whole, that day was pretty something. To be honest, I want an en core soon. I don't know how many of you have done something like this. If you haven't, give it a try. If the movies are above average to good, you won't really regret this indulgence. :)

Must Watch Before You Die #36: Ijaazat (1987)

Wim Wenders' 'Wings of Desire' (1987) has a line that I am going to use all my life when lost for directions, spoilt for choices, or faced with life-changing situations. That line summarises my world view, and my actions. It is: "I don't know if there is a destiny. But there is a decision. Decide."

As film-writers, we learn the difference between chance-driven events and character-driven events. While developing the plot, we try our best to make the events, especially the irreversible events or the Plot Points, look like results of believable actions or decisions by a character, rather than an accident or 'an act of destiny'. Why do we try to achieve that? Because in films (as in other forms of fiction), a chance-driven event is actually the 'decision' of the writer, that a smart audience figures out, sub-consciously if not consciously, while by letting the event be driven more convincingly by a character, the writer hides and the audience never realises the manipulation. I will give you an example. In DDLJ (1995), Raj tells Simran's Mom that he will not elope with her. But he will earn her and wait for the day when her Dad hands her over to him. This is a decision made by the writer, but hidden under the 'decision making ability' of the hero. The audience is lost admiring the hero and his guts and his principles, and forgets that it was actually the work of the writer. On the other hand, a little later in the film, a photograph of the love-birds floats around the house full of people to finally be spotted by someone and thus the story is changed irreversibly. This is a chance-driven event that makes an intelligent audience react not as favourably as the event mentioned above. Most of us feel, at that moment, that it is after all only a film! The efforts of the film-writer to make the audience forget that they are watching a film and make them lose themselves in the world of the characters are compromised if the writer relies too heavily on such chance-driven events. It makes things melodramatic. And the audience reacts: "This is how it happens in movies!"

The very same audience does not question the authenticity of such chance-driven events in real life. All of us keep coming across instances from our lives which are stranger than fiction. And we try to explain those with such terms like karma, connection of the souls, God's will, or simply, an act of destiny. Lovers always believe in such things. That makes them feel 'special' and 'made for each other' and enhances their belief in their relationships, if such events are positive, and full of misery and doubts, if such events are negative. Worse, in a bad state of mind, we tend to blame the character for a negative chance-driven event, while we praise the destiny for all pleasant accidents. Better sense prevails only with more wisdom, better communication, or over time. But often, it is too late by then. Most relationships fail because of lack of honest and appropriate communication and wrong choices made at the wrong times under the influence of strong but potentially misguiding emotions. If only we could know our destiny, if there is one. Or if only, at least, we could take rights decisions at the right time...

In the same year as 'Wings of Desire', Gulzar wrote and directed what I consider his masterpiece, and which is my favourite Hindi film of all time. The film and its characters inspire us to look at all relationships, however complicated and morally or socially 'forbidden' in a non-judgmental way, with greater empathy for the people involved in such relationships. Every time I watch it, I am filled with enormous and endless admiration for people who can co-exist without malice or mistrust by simply being honest with each other, enduring all troubles, including numerous moments of doubts, pain, and grudges. Every time I watch it I cry at the cruel game destiny sometimes plays with us, changing our lives forever, and robbing us of our most precious companions. And lately when I watched it, I shivered with that dread of a similar loss and the subsequent pain if the same happened to me. When characters as mature as those shown in the film can eventually suffer so much, who are you and I? The only consolation I find is in the fact that the same mature characters did not communicate as well as I do, or want to do, and thus they spoiled their chances. If only they had followed what one of them suggests to the other pretty early in the film: "Zindagi ko lagaam mat daaliye. Aapke rokne se ye nahin rukegi. Jo sach hai, aur sahi hai, wahi kijiye." Isn't this exactly the same thought as reflected in the line from 'Wings of Desire'?

'Ijaazat' earns the distinction of being the first Hindi film that I am recommending here as a Must Watch, not just because of its amazing structure, unforgettable characters, incredible performances, and the devastating catharsis it provides, but for everything that it can teach you to lead a life with more fulfilment and pride, and lesser regret.

P.S. It is available on YouTube, at this link.

100 Greatest Indian Films: A List by CNN-IBN

This is perhaps the first 'Greatest Movies' list made to cover Indian cinema in general, and not just Hindi films. Such lists are often a subject of debate and argument. But I am obsessed by collecting such lists and constantly checking my score. 

Good to see that more than 60% of the movies in the list are not in the Hindi language. Sad to know that my score is a lowly 39 out of 100. What is yours?

·      Raja Harishchandra (1913/ Silent/ Dadasaheb Phalke)

·      Sant Tukaram (1936/ Marathi/ VG Damle and Sheikh Fattelal)

·      Manoos (1939/ Marathi/ V Shantaram)

·      Haridas (1944/ Tamil/ Sundar Rao Nadkarni)

·      Meera (1945/ Tamil/ Ellis R Dungan)

·      Awaara (1951/ Hindi/ Raj Kapoor)

·      Mallishwari (1951/ Telugu/ BN Reddy)

·      Patala Bhairavi (1951/ Telugu/ KV Reddy)

·      Devadasu (1953/ Telugu/ Vedantam Raghavaiah)

·      Do Bigha Zamin (1953/ Hindi/ Bimal Roy)

·      Shyamchi Aai (1953/ Marathi/ PK Atre)

·      Andha Naal (1954/ Tamil/ S Balachander)

·      Pather Panchali (1955/ Bengali/ Satyajit Ray)

·      Aparajito (1956/ Bengali/ Satyajit Ray)

·      Do Aankhen Barah Haath (1957/ Hindi/ V Shantaram)

·      Harano Sur (1957/ Bengali/ Ajoy Kar)

·      Mayabazar (1957/ Telugu/ KV Reddy)

·      Mother India (1957/ Hindi/ Mehboob Khan)

·      Naya Daur (1957/ Hindi/ BR Chopra)

·      Pyaasa (1957/ Hindi/ Guru Dutt)

·      Apur Sansar (1959/ Bengali/ Satyajit Ray)

·      Kaagaz Ke Phool (1959/ Hindi/ Guru Dutt)

·      Kshudhita Pashan (1960/ Bengali/ Tapan Sinha)

·      Meghe Dhaka Tara (1960/ Bengali/ Ritwik Ghatak)

·      Mughal-e-Azam (1960/ Urdu-Hindi/ K Asif)

·      Jhinder Bandi (1961/ Bengali/ Tapan Sinha)

·      Kabuliwaala(1961/ Hindi/ Hemen Gupta)

·      Saheb Biwi Aur Ghulam (1962/ Hindi/ Abrar Alvi)

·      Narthanasala (1963/ Telugu/ KK Rao)

·      Charulata (1964/ Bengali/ Satyajit Ray)

·      Chemmeen (1965/ Malayalam/ Ramu Kariat)

·      Guide (1965/ Hindi/ Vijay Anand)

·      Galpa Holeo Satyi (1966/ Bengali/ Tapan Sinha)

·      Nayak (1966/ Bengali/ Satyajit Ray)

·      Padosan (1968/ Hindi/ Jyoti Swaroop)

·      Bhuvan Shome (1969/ Hindi/ Mrinal Sen)

·      Goopy Gyne Bagha Byne (1969/ Bengali/ Satyajit Ray)

·      Aranyer Din Ratri (1970/ Bengali/ Satyajit Ray)

·      Mera Naam Joker (1970/ Hindi/ Raj Kapoor)

·      Samskara (1970/ Kannada/ Pattabhi Rama Reddy)

·      Anand (1971/ Hindi/ Hrishikesh Mukherjee)

·      Pakeezah (1972/ Urdu-Hindi/ Kamal Amrohi)

·      Pinjra (1972/ Marathi/ V Shantaram)

·      Garam Hava (1973/ Urdu-Hindi/ MS Sathyu)

·      Kaadu (1973/ Kannada/ Girish Karnad)

·      Padatik (1973/ Bengali/ Mrinal Sen)

·      Shriman Prithviraj (1973/ Bengali/ Tarun Majumdar)

·      Zanjeer (1973/ Hindi/ Prakash Mehra)

·      Ankur (1974/ Hindi/ Shyam Benegal)

·      Deewar (1975/ Hindi/ Yash Chopra)

·      Katha Sangama (1975/ Kannada/ Puttanna Kanagal)

·      Sholay (1975/ Hindi/ Ramesh Sippy)

·      Agrahrathil Kazhudai (1977/ Tamil/ John Abraham)

·      Ghatashraddha (1977/ Kannada/ Girish Kasaravalli)

·      Pathinaru Vayadhinile(1977/ Tamil/ Bharathiraja)

·      Aval Appadithan (1978/ Tamil/ C Rudhraiya)

·      Maro Charitra (1978/ Telugu/ K Balachander)

·      Gol Maal (1979/ Hindi/ Hrishikesh Mukherjee)

·      Peruvazhiyambalam (1979/ Malayalam/ P Padmarajan)

·      Shankarabharanam (1979/ Telugu/ K Vishwanath)

·      Uthiri Pookkal (1979/ Tamil/ J Mahendran)

·      Maa Bhoomi (1980/ Telugu/ Goutam Ghose)

·      Akaler Sandhane (1981/ Bengali/ Mrinal Sen)

·      Ek Duuje Ke Liye (1981/ Hindi/ K Balachander)

·       Ranganayaki (1981/ Kannada/ Puttanna Kanagal)

·      Thanneer, Thanneer (1981/ Tamil/ K Balachander)

·      Metti (1982/ Tamil/ J Mahendran)

·      Umbartha (1982/ Marathi/ Jabbar Patel)

·      Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron (1983/ Hindi/ Kundan Shah)

·      Masoom (1983/ Hindi/ Shekhar Kapur)

·      Sagara Sangamam (1983/ Telugu/ K Vishwanath)

·      Paar (1984/ Hindi/ Goutam Ghose)

·      Saaransh (1984/ Hindi/ Mahesh Bhatt)

·      Anantaram (1987/ Malayalam/ Adoor Gopalakrishnan)

·      Halodhia Choraye Baodhan Khai (1987/ Assamese/ Jahnu Barua)

·      Mr India (1987/ Hindi/ Shekhar Kapur)

·      Nayagan (1987/ Tamil/ Mani Ratnam)

·      Pushpak Vimana (1987/ Silent/ SS Rao)

·      Thoovanathumbikal (1987/ Malayalam/ P Padmarajan)

·      Salaam Bombay (1988/ Hindi/ Mira Nair)

·      Oru Vadakkan Veeragatha (1989/ Malayalam/ Hariharan)

·      Parinda (1989/ Hindi/ Vidhu Vinod Chopra)

·      Shiva (1989/ Telugu/ Ram Gopal Varma)

·      Ishanou (1991/ Manipuri/ Aribam Syam Sharma)

·      Sandesham (1991/ Malayalam/ Sathyan Anthikad)

·      Manichitrathazhu (1993/ Malayalam/ Fazil)

·      Unishe April (1994/ Bengali/ Rituparno Ghosh)

·      Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge (1995/ Hindi/ Aditya Chopra)

·      Satya (1998/ Hindi/ Ram Gopal Varma)

·      Vanaprastham (1999/ Malayalam/ Shaji N Karun)

·      Hazaaron Khwahishen Aisi (2003/ English-Hindi/ Sudhir Mishra)

·      Maqbool (2003/ Hindi/ Vishal Bhardwaj)

·      Munnabhai MBBS (2003/ Hindi/ Rajkumar Hirani)

·      Black Friday (2004/ Hindi/ Anurag Kashyap)

·      Shwaas (2004/ Marathi/ Sandeep Sawant)

·      Harishchandrachi Factory (2009/ Marathi/ Paresh Mokashi)

·      Vihir (2010/ Marathi/ Umesh Kulkarni)

·      Anhey Ghorhey Da Daan (2011/ Punjabi/ Gurvinder Singh)

·      Deool (2011/ Marathi/ Umesh Kulkarni)

·      Shala (2011/ Marathi/ Sujay Dahake)