Another Dimension

Some exciting things are happening. I am presently in Vrindavan, shooting a 3D documentary. The project came as a surprise; I wasn’t expecting to get into something like this anytime soon. But now I am enjoying it thoroughly.

It started with a workshop at Lonavla held between 29th January and 1st February. Panasonic is launching a 3D camera – AG-3DA1, and to create a market, and this far-sight is admirable, they decided to introduce this to the students of film schools around India. So teams from seven film schools signed up, and each was given a mentor from Mumbai film industry. I am one of the seven mentors and, I must admit, the least experienced of them all. All of us attended this 3D camera workshop. Our instructor was Barry Braverman from LA, a cinematographer and 3D expert.

It was a wonderful experience. Apart from the luxury of the scenic resort at Lonavla, it was the introduction to a new technology that we truly cherished. 3D opens the doors to an enhanced visual expression in cinema. This is something all of us already knew. What we didn’t know was the limitations of this technology. I won’t go into technical details, but let me just state this for you. You can not shoot close-ups in 3D – a hand counting notes, a gun being loaded, lips kissing – nothing. You can get a medium-close-up of faces, but have to make sure that no part of the face is outside the frame. That is, you can not cut the upper part of the head and the lower face in 3D, something that is often done in 2D cinematography. Also, it is extremely difficult to push in the camera forwards, with objects in the frame moving towards the camera, unless it is done extremely fast.

Apart from these general ‘contraindications’ of the 3D technology, there are more limitations imposed upon us by this user-friendly camera, which is otherwise good enough. It is a digital camera, making things less expensive, but it has all limitations of digital cinematography. It doesn’t have a wide-angle lens. We can not zoom in during the shot, at least not in every situation. And the worst of all – we can not change its FPS (Frames per Second), hence we can not shoot in slow or fast motion. (Please refer to ‘Getting Cinemate’ section of this blog to understand about FPS and Lens, if required).

Understanding the merits and demerits of technology is essential for every level of filmmaking. The writer of a 3D film can NOT write something like: “We look into her eyes, brimming with tears. She blinks, and a tear drop makes its way down her cheek. The drop falls on the dried-up rose petal nestled in the yellowed pages of her old diary.” It will be nearly impossible to visually interpret these lines. Interesting, uh?

I advised my team to make a non-fiction film, more of a visual poetry than a documentary. They, being from Delhi, suggested we capture Vrindavan. I am captivated by this place and hope the film my team makes is a truly beautiful experience, especially with the addition of ‘the new dimension’. By the way, it is tentatively titled: ‘Krishnamaya: God Lives with Them’.

W(n)ot a Film!

“By any stretch of imagination, it can not be called a film” is what a friend of mine feels about ‘Dhobi Ghaat’. Aamir Khan, slowly gaining notoriety for the way he aggressively markets his films, has always maintained that this film would not appeal to the traditional Indian audience. There are people calling it boring, others praising it for its ‘freshness’. For me, it is neither. It is one of those numerous ‘hyperlinked’ films that world cinema has witnessed since ‘The Killing’ (1956) or even earlier, and what has been a fashionable trend among the movies of the last decade. By Hindi film standards, it is both fresh and slow, and even unaffecting. And this time I am not even ‘happy that a film like this got widespread release in India’. Being the wife of one of the most powerful men in the industry has done the trick. Kiran Rao has been fortunate in that sense, but that does not, in any way, mean that she is not talented.

The writer-director has made a film she can be proud of. It is not a great piece of cinema, but it is very well done. It is sure of its intent, and its content, or the apparent lack of it. It has its own way of affecting you, but as one leading film critic rightly wrote, it is an ‘acquired taste’. We can ‘acquire’ that taste only by watching films like these. And the presence of a superstar in this otherwise ‘small’ film will surely bring more people into the theatres. That is the only saving grace for the atrocious decision of casting Aamir Khan, who disappoints in his portrayal of the reclusive painter. Awkward with his English lines, he seems to be trying too hard, failing the character that, after a long time, suited him in all its dimensions. ‘Dhobi Ghaat’ proves once again that an actor ‘bigger’ than the character can never do justice to it. Correct casting is what Akira Kurosawa considered ‘the most important part of filmmaking besides writing’. I would like to add another exercise in the list, and that is ‘acting workshops and rehearsals’. I believe these are the reasons why Kriti Malhotra playing the girl in the videotapes is a delight to watch. And Prateik and Monica Dogra fit into their roles to near perfection.

I don’t expect the film to be widely loved. But I do hope that more and more people watch films like these. Because the coming generation of Hindi filmmakers is actually going to ‘stretch the imagination’ of the Indian audience, including the aforesaid friend of mine, and redefine what can be called cinema. ‘Dhobi Ghaat’ is a small step in that direction.

P.S. After watching the film, please try to answer this – why was it given an Adult certificate? As I type these words, small kids near my building are dancing to ‘Sheela’. It is some celebration down there, and they are lip-syncing to ‘Sheela ki jawani… I’m too sexy for you…’ whatever!

Must Watch Before You Die #8: 'Anatomy of a Murder' (1959)

The first release of the year was a disappointment for me. I expected a lot from Rajkumar Gupta and his 'No One Killed Jessica'. The subject had the potential of a world-class film. But the best compliment it can generate is frankly 'good by Indian standards'. Still, there are reasons to be happy. The film is a certified hit. A decade ago, it was impossible to imagine a film like this could be made. Hindi cinema is changing, definitely.

But a lot needs to be done. A couple of days after 'Jessica', I watched a 2hr 40min courtroom trial drama. And I believe Otto Preminger's 'Anatomy of a Murder' is one of the best trial movies we will ever see.

The movie is a must watch for:

• The unforgettable characters. The lady victim is promiscuity personified. We are not made to sympathize with her, but wonder at her state-of-mind. Her husband accused of the murder is a cool, composed armyman pleading not guilty on the grounds of insanity! And then we have the Judge and his sense of humour, the confident and suave prosecution lawyer, and our protagonist - the defense lawyer played by the ever-dependent James Stewart, who loves fishing possibly more than practicing law. Add to this the person whose murder we are dissecting. He is never seen, but you won't realize that.
• The delightful and insightful detailing of the court proceedings and game of law. Based on a novel by a Supreme Court judge, it presents itself as a case, less sensationally projected as you would expect, but keeps you intrigued by its progression. You like chess? You like Test Cricket? You like cerebral entertainment? This is the movie for the weekend.

Why Awards Matter

I am not a fan of the Oscars. But I still give a lot of importance to them. And, in my opinion, it is good to give just the right importance to everything. How to judge that is tricky, but worth a try.

There was a time when Filmfare awards meant a lot. I remember watching them for the first time with my brother and mom. I also remember complaining when Anand Bakhshi won the Best Lyrics Award for ‘Tujhe dekha toh ye jaana sanam’. My 11-year old self believed his ‘Ho gaya hai tujhko toh pyaar sajna’ was more deserving. Seven years later, I suffered my first heartbreak when the music of ‘Devdas’ lost to that of ‘Saathiya’. Filmfare lost its importance for me. But not its significance. I am not a fan of the Oscars. But then I am not a fan of any award given for cinematic excellence. Still, it is impossible for me to ignore them altogether.

An award should never be taken very seriously. The winner of the Best Film need not be the best film of the year. In fact, it need not even be the best among the nominees. The winning film is just the most popular first choice among the jury (with or without the audience vote). But the film that wins does manage to generate a reaction. The Academy nomination of ‘Lagaan’ had resulted in the release of that film in countries oblivious to Hindi cinema. I have friends from the US who have not watched many Indian films, but have watched ‘Lagaan’. This increased penetration of a film into untapped audiences is the greatest advantage of winning an award, especially a popular one. And this means a lot more to a small, off-beat film.

Some unavoidable circumstances had forced me to spend a month with my family at Patna. All work had to be paused. This also explains my silence on this blog for such a long time. This morning my brother and I got the news of ‘Udaan’ winning the Best Film and the Best Director awards, and two more, at Screen Awards. It was the morning we took our train to Mumbai, and this was the best news we could have shared with our parents while leaving. I am on the train at this moment and the news of these awards is truly the biggest inspiration for both of us. For the first time in more than two decades, an unconventional, ‘small’ film, that didn’t do well at the box-office, has been awarded the Best Film award at a popular award function in this country. Being a part of that film is special. But even more special is the hope that it has rekindled in me, that good cinema will eventually find its way to its audience.

Last night a friend of mine was talking with me about the fourteen nominations ‘Udaan’ got at the Screen Awards. The results were not out then. But just those nominations, he said, were enough for his financial banker colleagues to take a notice of this film that they had missed. They now want to grab the DVD. If nominations could do that, hope the wins cause a more widespread awareness for the film, something its limited publicity could not achieve. For films like these, at least, awards do matter a lot.

Cinema 2010: Looking Back at my Cinema Experience of the Year

One of the best things about 2010 was my exploration of the cinema of Coen Brothers. Except ‘Intolerable Cruelty’ and their latest, ‘True Grit’, I have finished watching all of their films, some more than once. This, and finishing Kieslowski’s ‘Dekalog’ were the best achievements of the year. But there was a lot more.

Watched more than 200 movies in 2010, about 75 from the Greatest Movies list. It included some of the best English-language films like: ‘The Third Man’, ‘Blade Runner’, ‘Walkabout’, ‘Life of Brian’, ‘Network’, ‘The Exorcist’, ‘All About Eve’, ‘GoodFellas’, ‘Midnight Cowboy’, ‘Crimes and Misdemeanors’, ‘Deliverance’, ‘Sex, Lies, and Videotape’, ‘Rumble Fish’, ‘Rosemary’s Baby’, ‘Traffic’, ‘Lolita’, and ‘The King of Comedy’. I was also fascinated by the two films of Wes Anderson that I saw: ‘Rushmore’ and ‘The Royal Tenenbaums’.

Also experienced some classics of World Cinema for the first time: ‘M’, ‘Battleship Potemkin’, ‘The Rules of the Game’, ‘The Cabinet of Dr Caliguri’, ‘Nosferatu’, ‘Shoeshine’, ‘The Man with the Movie Camera’, ‘Knife in the Water’, The Orphic Trilogy, ‘Rififi’, and ‘Raise the Red Lantern’.

But the most fulfilling experience was discovering greats like Luis Bunuel, Robert Bresson, Kenji Mizoguchi, and Abbas Kiarostami. I was also introduced to the cinema of Sam Peckinpah, Nagisa Oshima, Takeshi Kitano and Lars Von Trier.

Discovery of Shakti Samanta was the highlight of my Hindi cinema experience. And I also watched some of the best Hindi films for the first time, like Jewel Thief, Waqt, Shakti, and the hugely underrated ‘Disha’.

And to add to this, continued watching more of Fellini, Bergman, Hitchcock, Antonioni, Tarkovsky, Godard, Truffaut, and Ray.

The Film Book of the Year was Nicholas Proferes’ ‘Film Directing Fundamentals’. Earlier, I was pretty confused when every other person praised a film’s ‘amazing direction’. Thanks to this book, I have begun to understand what the job of a director is. The last section of the book discussed three films in detail: ‘Notorious’, ‘8 ½’, and ‘The Truman Show’. It was such a rewarding experience that I want to continue the exercise by studying more films and writing about them in detail. Starting with the one-hour films from the ‘Dekalog’ would be great. Only wish a day had more than 24 hours…

Once Upon a Time in India

This is a true story.

In the year 2001, a seventeen-year old boy discovered cinema. He started understanding the difference between the crap that had dominated the popular cinema of his consciousness, the cream of the crap that had resulted in some blockbusters, and the rare cinema rooted in aesthetics of the craft. One important lesson was to understand how 'sound' matters in a movie, among many other big and small mantras he picked up from that textbook of a movie. The final and the most essential lesson was how passion, in fact lunacy, was essential for making a truly immortal film.

The movie that taught the young boy this, went on to win the hearts of people all over the globe. Today, it is considered as one of the landmark films of Hindi cinema. This boy, struck by the achievement and short-sighted by faith, had exclaimed among his movie-crazy friends: "In the next ten years, we are going to have at least five Academy nominations, and two wins!" More than nine years have passed. The boy is now 26. He is waiting no more. He has lost all hope. He has lost his faith.

'Satya' was the film that planted in me the seeds of film-making passion. But I started learning the art with 'Lagaan'. The first foreign-language films I watched were 'No Man's Land' and 'Amelie', because they were in competition with 'Lagaan', and thus I discovered world cinema. I used to follow every word that Gowariker said those days, and thus, following his inspiration, I discovered Guru Dutt, V. Shantaram, and Bimal Roy. The film was followed by a documentary on its making, titled 'Chale Chalo: The Lunacy of Film Making'. I went to watch that in a theatre, covering a long distance by bus, alone.

'Lagaan' had the tagline: Once Upon a Time in India. I never knew it meant something like this can only happen once!

To be fair to Ashutosh Gowariker, I do not expect him to re-create something as wonderful as 'Lagaan', or even 'Swades' for that matter. I accepted the flaws of 'Jodha Akbar' and the flaw called 'What's Your Rashi?' with a smile, understanding, as he says, why he made these movies. But this time, I am left disappointed, and angry. You taught me Sir, the importance of correct sound in cinema. Why then, is the sound (including the background score) of this latest film of yours so terribly done? Why have your characters lost themselves to stars, or incompetence of the cast, or your complacence? I remember you had promised this film would be shorter. By your standards, 2 hours 45 minutes is short. But when are you going to realize that each film should be completed within the time that best suits its purpose? I refuse to believe that your passion and your 'lunacy of film-making' remains the same. And that, Sir, is a crime, especially for you than anyone else.

This is a true story. Ashutosh Gowariker is no more among my favourite film-makers. Unfortunately, he has managed to instill an insecurity and fear in me. I am no more worried about my success in this industry. I am afraid of being destroyed post that success, by my own complacency and errors of judgment, and by the loss of the purity and passion I earned through cinema.

Heart of Gold

Last evening, we were lucky to be at Metro Cinema. The occasion was the golden jubilee celebration of 'Sujata'(1960), one of the best films by Bimal Roy. It was a pretty warm and informal affair, and the focus was on the movie itself, something that is lost in the pomp of a 'loud celebration.' I had watched the film a few years ago, but to experience it on the big screen was a beautiful experience. I just feel lucky!

The most remarkable thing that I felt in the film, apart from the deeply moving story and great performances, was the display of cinema aesthetics at their best - the pure experience of the romance called film. Also, it would be apt to mention a sequence almost mid-way into the film when the story pauses, for a considerable time. It is night, and the characters are just there, sitting together, and then talking over phone. This sequence also involves more than one song, including the soulful 'Jalte Hain Jiske Liye'. Wished it to go on and on...

After the experience, my brother wants to make a film with Nutan! Sadly, that can not happen - we came into the world a bit too late. He also wants to make a B&W film. That can happen, with a gutsy producer backing us. But one thing that we can actually learn from these films is to work honestly, and to remember that we are not bigger than the films that we make. Good or bad, it is the film that stays long after the maker is no more. The romance shows if the maker experienced it himself. And those films live forever, beyond jubilees and celebrations...

Defining Its Maker

Friday morning, a friend sends me a text: “Dude, are you going for ‘Guzaarish’. Do tell me whether I should watch it or not.” Half an hour later I was in the theatre. It was fifteen minutes past the scheduled time, and we were still waiting for the projectionist to start the film. Someone joked: “The print hasn’t reached yet. Bhansali is still working on the film.”

This is the problem with being Sanjay Leela Bhansali. The world knows about your painstaking ways of making a film, your obsession with attaining your ‘vision’, a virtue that is not common among Hindi filmmakers. The world knows you work hard, and many things that you do are really good. But you are still joked at. In fact, one thing that the world surely doesn’t know is what to expect from you. ‘Guzaarish’, in my opinion, is an answer to that.

I have always felt that ‘Saawariya’ was not as bad as it appeared, and the harsh reaction it generated. And was hoping, the director would make sure his next offering is decent. Now, that next film is out and the three reviews I have read are extremely favourable, lauding it as one of the best films in recent times. One regular reviewer of a popular daily has been replaced by some other ‘critic’, with the promise that the original reviewer will be ‘back next week’. It seems the media is trying to compensate for the harsh reactions three years ago.

Why, for instance, none of these reviewers have objected to the garish make-up and the distractingly generous cleavage-revealing look of the leading lady, who plays a nurse? Why, haven’t they written about the inconsistent writing, that goes awkwardly out-of-control with the first scene of the second half? Why, for god’s sake, have they ignored the fact that there is more than just ‘inspiration’ taken out of the Javier Bardem starrer ‘The Sea Inside’? One critic, after admitting that the film is also inspired from ‘Whose Life is it Anyway?’ and ‘Prestige’, goes to the extent of saying: “Just because you trace the source of the inspiration does it anyway demean SLB’s ‘Guzaarish’? It most certainly does not. The film is a masterpiece…”

A masterpiece! I confess it left me teary-eyed in a scene or two. Hrithik Roshan did look sincere, if not impeccable. The wants of most characters were well in place. And the film appeared to be making an earnest effort to inspire us with love and life. But a masterpiece?

Perhaps the critic is not wrong. My pillow-side pocket dictionary defines ‘masterpiece’ as ‘someone’s best work.’ The critic might be right because perhaps this is the best Bhansali can deliver. He is definitely not as bad as ‘Saawariya’ and he will perhaps never make a film better than ‘Guzaarish.’ It is not a terrible film. And SLB is not a terrible filmmaker. He is just an artist past his prime, caught within his own world of diminishing objectivity and ‘inspiration’. Correct me if I’m wrong, but ‘Guzaarish’ seems to be the precise definition of its filmmaker.

As for my reply to my friend, and my advice to you, here it is: “Nothing great. But you should watch it.”

P.S. Just before the film, watched the theatrical trailer of ‘No One Killed Jessica’. It left me stunned. Waiting eagerly for you, Mr. Gupta.

My First Quarter!

‘The Man with a Movie Camera’ is the 200th movie I have watched this year (not counting the not-so-good ones). So, I’m happy.

But I’m particularly excited because it is the 250th movie I have completed from the 1000 Greatest Movies list I so obsessively follow. (You can find the list by clicking to the link provided at the right-hand column under the title “Top Movie Lists: Check Your Score”.

Here are the last ten movies that helped me reach the landmark:

‘The Story of the Last Chrysanthemums’ (1939, Ranked #254)
‘The Exorcist’ (1973, Ranked #185)
‘A Taste of Cherry’ (1997, Ranked #643)
‘Shoeshine’ (1946, Ranked #744)
‘MASH’ (1970, Ranked #573)
‘The Royal Tenenbaums’ (2001, Ranked #704)
‘All About Eve’ (1950, Ranked #70)
‘Back to the Future’ (1985, Ranked #361)
‘Rocky’ (1976, Ranked #459)
‘The Man with a Movie Camera’ (1929, Ranked #101)

What a movie to finish the quarter!

Time to celebrate! And to ‘eye’ the 300 figure mark!

The Return of the Musician

Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s music is very much like his movies. Love it or hate it, but you can not deny that it is born out of arrogant conviction, that might be indulgent, but is intricate, imaginative, and interesting. His obsession with pure and classical art is apparent in the music he creates. It thus does not have an essentially popular appeal. But like his films, he doesn’t seem to be caring more about the audience than about his own creative energy, which is overtly saturated with melodramatic emotions. I consider him a flawed artist, but he is an artist anyway. That does not necessarily make him a good storyteller. But yes, that makes him a good musician. And that is the reason behind the difference between his music, that always works, and his movies.

I am not very fond of the music of his first film, but his collaborations with Ismail Durbar and Monty, ‘Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam’, ‘Devdas’, and ‘Saawariya’, apart from the only song from ‘Black’, have been phenomenal. During the past decade he has been the only filmmaker with such a consistent record of high-quality playback music. Personally, his music gives me the fulfillment that I expect from none. In fact, I wait for his music more eagerly than his movies.

I have to accept that the music of ‘Guzaarish’ does not match the standards of the three preceding movies. Just one ‘Daras Bina Nahi Chain’ from ‘Saawariya’ was better than all the ten tracks of this. Also, a major disappointment is the poetry, which has been deteriorating consistently with every movie of his. Bhansali is more interested in putting together ideas and words, rather than working within the conventions of lyric-writing. In fact, I joke that the lyrics have also been written by Bhansali himself. Interestingly, and perhaps suitably, the CD cover does not credit anyone for ‘lyrics’. It says: ‘Words by Turaz and Vibhu Puri.’ The lyrics are not bad, but very typical, at times outrageously so. It goes with our idea of Bhansali. But imagine what a wonder someone like Prasoon Joshi would have created on these tunes?

Ultimately, the best thing about Bhansali’s music is that it allows you a discussion on it, a long, never-ending discussion. You just need to find someone who understands the basics of music, and more importantly, loves these songs. My brother and I have been doing this for more than a decade now. During the first few hearings, all our energies are directed to ‘understand the structure’ of these free-flowing, apparently ‘formless’ songs. It is always a challenge to correctly hum the lines, in sur. The challenge that these songs provide you as a singer is the single most fascinating aspect of this music. I would love to sit with someone who could just correctly hum these lines: “Bas itni si tumse guzaarish hai… Ye jo baarish hai, us mein teri baahon mein mar jaaoon… Bas itni si, chhoti-si, ek khwahish hai…”

In this era of instant chartbuster music, here is one musician whose music, in spite of being an integral part of the films, is independent of them. ‘Saawariya’, the movie, came and failed, but its music still gives us the high that we have stopped expecting from Hindi film music. I am not expecting much from the movie releasing this Friday, being more than happy with the magic its music has created. Bravo, maestro! En core!

Must Watch Before You Die #7: 'The Man with a Movie Camera' (1929)

Artists who are intellectually and aesthetically more advanced than their contemporaries are called the Avant-Garde (literally ‘the vanguards’), pioneers contributing in the evolution of the art. For all those who knew this term, and for those who came to know while reading these words, here is a movie that best defines it. Dziga Vertov’s silent experimental film called ‘The Man with a Movie Camera’ (1929) is, and will remain, one of the most mind-blowing experiences of motion picture.

Why is it a must watch?
• Because its opening titles daringly read: “Excerpts from a camera operator’s diary… This film is an experiment in cinematic communication of visual phenomena, without the use of intertitles, script, actors, and sets… Aims at creating a truly international language of cinema based on its absolute separation from the language of theatre and literature.”
• Because it does succeed in communicating cinematically the passion of a man with a movie camera, the fascinating patterns in the everyday world around us, and the power of film to entertain, and go beyond it. It also argues for the case of filmmaking – that it is a kind of occupation with complicated technique and long-hours of patience and devotion. Of course, what it ‘communicates’ to you would depend on how you look at it.
• Because it might be the first film to have attempted to show filmmaking itself. It shows a man going around with a movie camera and shooting. It shows a woman working patiently in the edit room. And it shows the final product being screened for the audience. Also, the movie being screened also shows the cameraman. So, it shows the screening of itself!
• Because I doubt you are ever going to find a film that contains so many technical innovations in one: Parallel Montage, Match Dissolve, Freeze Frame, POV Shots, Fast and Slow Motions, Jump Cuts, Stop-Block, Split Screens, Dutch Angles, and the earliest Spl Fx. All of these were not strictly ‘innovated’ in this film, but I have never seen something technically and historically as important as this.
• Because it is the father of all cinema rebellions and revolutions, celebrating the power of motion picture by simply playing with images, and entertaining and stunning us, without any story or performances. Just different rates of frames per second. Just film – shot, cut, projected.

As Vertov said, “My path leads to the creation of a fresh perception of the world I decipher in a new way, a world unknown to you.” That perception is the magic a filmmaker weaves through the make-believe of cinema!

Waiting for Godard

Last week I walked out of the theater during the intermission of a movie, deciding to ‘abandon’ it. I have watched movies worse than this, but strangely, have never actually left one midway. I was feeling guilty, doing this for the first time, but mainly because it was a ‘small’ film sans stars, with honest intentions, but a terrible execution. This summarizes the state of independent Hindi cinema today.

Half a decade ago, there was this myth of an upcoming independent cinema revolution that would change ‘Bollywood’ for good. This myth rode on the success of a shameless rip-off of a French comedy, and the promise of new names like Anurag Kashyap, Dibakar Banerjee, Imtiaz Ali, Sriram Raghvan etc. Today, some of these directors have turned to stars and are making big-budget films. Others have been inconsistent about the commercial and critical success of their movies. And worse, in spite of a mob of first-time filmmakers appearing during this period, hardly a few can match the talent and the aesthetic maturity of their predecessors. Let us summarize the situation:

• Even the most talented and gutsy filmmakers, can not avoid the opportunity a star or a big budget provides.
• Even the best and most interesting of small films have failed to achieve commercial success. None has replicated the dream-run of that ‘rip-off’.
• Most, if not all, films made with ‘honest intent’ are so pedestrian in their aesthetic value that we are forced to think – whether this person should be making movies? Others are ‘almost there’ – in spite of having an interesting plot and characters, these films have an air of complacence and lose steam mid-way.

I have not yet talked about the problems of marketing and distribution that these movies face, because that was always expected, and we were hoping that these films will slowly, but consistently, help in changing the scenario. The hope has dimmed. The clout of stars and big-budget films is as mighty as before. The New Wave of Hindi Cinema seems to be dying a premature death, in utero.

And we can not blame the audience. The makers need to understand that ‘independent cinema’ is not the license to serve half-baked, technically poor specimens of ‘honest and brave attempts’. There can be no excuse for out-of-sync dialogues and annoying background score, leave aside improper framing and purposeless edit patterns. Bad ‘big’ films have less of these problems. And the presence of good-looking ‘stars’ and ‘sets and locations’ make sure you have something to watch. A big, bad film is bad. A small, bad film is worse. The number of patrons of small, meaningful cinema is rising. But it is the responsibility of the filmmakers to ensure that the audience sits-through the movie once they have entered the theater despite poor publicity, and not ‘abandon’ it mid-way. The unnecessary transfer of guilt does not, and would not help. The last thing we would wish is this wait for ‘the revolution’ to be an endless one.