Understanding Cinema Lecture: How to Divide Your Scene to Shots for Shooting

Shots are the units that make a film. They are like sentences in prose: each unit conveying one complete idea. So, though I discourage the idea of visualizing the film in shots, especially at the writing stage, once the screenplay is ready, we have to finally go through this exercise, of dividing each scene into shots. And if there is one mantra that we should never forget, it is this: ‘Each shot should be significant, each cut should be significant.’ To achieve the most correct shot-division, the director needs to understand the screenplay and investigate on it. What appears so normal and obvious on screen is actually a matter of individual decisions taken out of hundreds of options. And the pain and the wisdom that go into this make a good film great.

We have to answer three basic questions to understand our scene:
- Whose scene is it? (Which characters’)
- What is the purpose of the scene? (Narrative and/or dramatic, expository, to create a mood, to shed more light on characters etc.)
- What are the Dramatic Blocks that constitute the scene? (Look below for details).

Every scene has an arc of its own, which is generally through the perception of the person whose scene it is (the answer to the first question). This arc exists because there is something to be achieved through the scene (the answer to the second question). If it is compared to a prose piece, a scene can be composed of one or more ‘paragraphs’. One idea is generally covered in one paragraph. The only way to get what idea is being conveyed in the scene is by finding the answer to the first two questions. And once we know that, we can divide the dramatic arc of the scene into these visual paragraphs called Dramatic Blocks.

Each paragraph is composed of sentences. Similarly each Dramatic Block is composed of shots. But unlike prose, where a change of paragraph is easily communicated, we can not have visible ‘breaks’ in the action of the scene to make the audience understand the change from one dramatic block to the other. Hence we need to design the shots in a manner that ‘renders’ this information to the audience. This design is again driven from the answer to the three questions above, including the ‘idea’ being communicated through that particular dramatic block.

For example, the scene when ‘Bhuvan’ is introduced in ‘Lagaan’ is also when the antagonist – Capt. Russel is introduced, as is the seed for their rivalry. Remember how it is shot? The two facing each other, and a ‘shot-reverse shot’ pattern capturing the drama. However, in the next scene as we see Bhuvan and Gauri together, and the scene establishes their romantic relationship, we see them sitting together, thus establishing their ‘togetherness’ which does not have any real friction despite the conflicted love affair of theirs. If we do not understand the purpose of this scene, we might end up rendering it in shot-reverse shot pattern which suggests a conflict, each cut truly ‘separating’ the characters.

We thus realize that each shot carries a syntagmatic connotation (the connotative sense we comprehend by relating the shot/sentence to the shots/sentences preceding and succeeding it) and a paradigmatic connotation (the connotative sense we comprehend from the comparison of the shot/sentence with its unrealized companions – other potential shots/sentences). This is the basis of cinema – shots colliding with each other to create a narrative, tension, or mood.

So if your scene begins with ‘togetherness’ between characters, and then they start arguing to finally ‘separate’ psychologically, you can divide the dramatic arc into blocks – the first showing togetherness, the second showing rise of conflict, the third showing the climax of conflict, and the last establishing the separation. Once you identify that, you can divide your shot more meaningfully.

This is not something that can be covered in one article. Thanks to the wonderful book ‘Film Directing Fundamentals’ by Nicholas Proferes I have started to understand this concept. We can spend years trying to learn this, by reading the movies of Alfred Hitchcock and Billy Wilder, among others, who were the masters of film grammar. The topic might look intimidating, but with reasoning and practice, it can be learnt. I hope we as young filmmakers can incorporate some of this learning into our work, and understand the function of a shot better. Shots are important, eventually.

Must Watch Before You Die #18: A Woman Under the Influence (1974)

Discovering a great filmmaker is always a pleasure. And it is so much more if that filmmaker is an auteur, and his expression personal. It seems you have just tasted a new cuisine, and reaffirms your belief that the discovery of cinema is an unending experience.

I just got introduced to the cinema of John Cassavetes. And then realized I have seen him act – in Polanski’s ‘Rosemary’s Baby’. On reading, I got to know that Cassavetes was one of the founders of independent cinema in Hollywood. He made small-budget films, investing the money he earned from acting in mainstream movies, casting his own family and friends. He also dared to bypass the distribution system by personally persuading the theatre-owners to release his films. And he made some extremely personal films, developing a unique style of his own. Needless to say, after reading all this I’m anyway biased for this filmmaker now. But even while watching his movie, before I had read about him, I could feel his voice rising through his work, powerful and personal – it was like watching an European film made in Hollywood. I was so deeply affected by it that I decided to recommend it here.

Insanity has been a favourite topic among filmmakers. Insane characters are definitely a hit among the actors. But films featuring them have to tread a difficult path. We can recount numerous films on psychosis that either get repulsively melodramatic or dark. The characters evoke pity and sympathy in us – emotions we do not cherish. We do not love to pity, we love to love and admire. We do not want to cry and cry, we want to smile and cry. Movies dealing with a subject like this always have the risk of falling into these danger areas. However, the biggest challenge for a movie with such ‘unusual’ characters is to make the audience embrace them as they are, and not empathize with them from a distance. A good writer will always strive to attain that. A great director will maneuver his resources in order to achieve that.

Just a few weeks ago I had recommended ‘Breaking the Waves’ which is the story of an ‘unusual’ girl’s devoted love for her husband. ‘A Woman Under the Influence’ kept reminding me of that. But while ‘Breaking the Waves’ talks about love and faith, this movie is a critical observation of the human society, less spiritual, less sentimental.

Watch ‘A Woman Under the Influence’ to see a master director at work; it is one example of a ‘director’s film’. Despite the outstandingly powerful performances by the actors, including Mrs. Cassavetes – Gena Rowlands in the title role, you can see the director as their puppeteer, knowing when to pull his strings, and when to let them loose, allowing his brilliant actors the spontaneity and the space they truly deserve. Finally, the film should be watched for its point-of-view – of extrapolating the question of sanity and the lack of it to the mankind, which must have been the writer-director’s motive since the day he conceived of the film. His triumph is not in merely being able to convey his point, but to do that without resorting to sensationalism, melodrama, or pretensions. Films as finely balanced as this are rare, and timeless.

The Greatest Shorts

My students are presently scripting their short films for the 'Understanding Cinema' project. I thought of using this opportunity to list some of greatest short films in the history of cinema. All movies mentioned here are 40 minutes or shorter in length, as per the Academy's definition of a Short Film. I have also searched for these movies on YouTube or elsewhere on the net, except for a couple of them that I could not find. Click on the movies to watch them. And share your comments.

• Le Voyage Dans la Lune (1902) by Georges Melies
• Un Chien Andalou (1928) and Land Without Bread (1932) by Luis Bunuel
• Partie de Campagne (1936) by Jean Renoir
• Rose Hobart (1936) by Joseph Cornell
• Listen to Britain (1942) and A Diary for Timothy (1945) by Humphrey Jennings
• Meshes of the Afternoon (1943) by Maya Deren
• Un Chant d’amour (1950) by Jean Genet
• Night and Fog (1955) by Alain Resnais
• Les Maîtres fous (1955) by Jean Rouch
• The Red Balloon (1956) by Albert Lamorisse
• La Jetee (1962) by Chris Marker
• Scorpio Rising (1964) by Kenneth Anger

It Has Happened Only Thrice

What is common between ‘It Happened One Night’ (1934), ‘One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest’ (1975) and ‘The Silence of the Lambs’ (1991)? These three films, despite being as different as movies can be, share a unique similarity. And that is more than they being ‘inspirations’ for, respectively, ‘Dil Hai Ki Maanta Nahin’, ‘Kyun Ki’ and ‘Sangharsh’.

Well, these are the only three films in the history of Academy Awards to have won the Big Five: awards for Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor, Best Actress, and Best Screenplay. I just watched ‘It Happened One Night’ and was tempted to share this trivia here.

• ‘It Happened One Night’ was directed by Frank Capra and written by Robert Riskin, based on a short story by Samuel Hopkins Adams. Clark Gable (the star of ‘Gone With the Wind’) and Claudette Colbert starred in this film that has been remade several times.

• ‘One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest’ was directed by Milos Forman. The screenplay by Laurence Hauben and Bo Goldman was based on the novel by Ken Kesey. Jack Nicholson and Louise Fletcher played the lead roles.

• ‘The Silence of the Lambs’ was directed by Jonathan Demme and written by Ted Tally based on the novel by Thomas Harris. Jodie Foster and Anthony Hopkins starred in this brilliant thriller.

P.S. Three Hindi films have similar achievement in the history of the Filmfare Awards. ‘Guide’ won awards for Best Film, Actor, Actress, Director, Story, and Dialogue (back then there was no award for Screenplay). ‘Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge’ won Best Film, Actor, Actress, Director, Screenplay, and Dialogue (but lost Best Story to ‘Rangeela’). And ‘Kuch Kuch Hota Hai’ won Best Film, Actor, Actress, Director, and Screenplay (but lost Best Story to ‘Zakhm’ and Best Dialogue to ‘Chinagate’).

Simple. Clear. Successful.

I feel guilty for having watched 'I am Kalam' so late. Guilty, because now I do not have sufficient time to recommend it to all. Tomorrow would be the last day of its run in the theatres. And most will miss the chance of spending on a good Hindi movie, for a change.

Most Hindi movies are bad because they lack clarity of intent and execution. Nila Madhab Panda's 'I am Kalam' succeeds because it has its basics right. I would like to enumerate some points, that we already know but fail to consider while making our films, which are the reasons behind this little film's triumph:

• Create interesting characters. Do not try to make the audience pity them, rather give them some dynamic qualities that the audience will admire.
• Keep the story focused and moving, simply, without resorting to complications, but conflicts.
• Understand the scope of your film and work within your canvas with complete trust on your story.
• Do not preach, even if you have something meaningful to say. Try to keep things light and entertaining.
• Cast correctly.
• Camera angles and great shots do not necessarily make a good film. Aesthetic weakness can not ruin a film with a good script. Aesthetic brilliance can not save a film with a bad script.
• Do not take yourself too seriously. Humility is a desirable quality in a filmmaker.
• (And as Dr Kalam says) Never stop dreaming. If you believe in your film, you will be able to find the theatres despite the unfavourable mechanisms of this film industry.

Strongly recommended.

Must Watch Before You Die #17: The Phantom of Liberty (1974)

Luis Bunuel is one of the founding fathers of surrealistic cinema. With 'Un chien andalou' (1929), possibly the most famous short-film in cinema history, he started a career that would mature into a prolific body of work over the next five decades and across continents. Bunuel is one essential chapter of cinema and many of his films would be considered must-watch.

I just watched my tenth Bunuel film, his second-last. And I'm yet again amazed by the humour he manages to create out of the most bizarre situations. 'The Phantom of Liberty' is one of the most absurd films you will ever see, and also one of the most unforgettable. I'm tempted to share one of the amazing episodes from the movie.

Parents of a girl are informed that their daughter has 'disappeared' from the class-room. When they reach the school, the headmistress takes them to the class-room and tries to explain the incredible accident. She claims that the girl entered the class, and never left, but is still nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, we see a girl rise from her seat and approach the mother - she is the 'missing' girl. The mother asks her to keep quiet as the headmistress talks about her 'disappearance'.

The parents then take the girl to the police station, to file a complaint. They introduce their daughter to the police officer and complain that she is nowhere to be found. The officer files a 'missing' complain and thanks them for bringing the daughter along as that would help them know how she looks like. The story moves ahead, involving other episodes and characters, and it takes some days for the girl to be found!

I might have spoiled some fun by sharing this episode here, but I could not resist the temptation. I hope reading this would make you realize how absurd this film is. Bizarre, and extremely entertaining, 'The Phantom of Liberty' is not to be missed.

Understanding Cinema Lecture: The First Modern Movie

“Why did you show us this movie?” one of my students complained politely as I started my lecture. I was not surprised. It had taken me a lot of reading, two re-watches, and several years between them to figure out myself – what is so great about ‘Breathless’ (1960).

I have a parameter for identifying a great movie. If you enjoy a movie more while watching it for a second time, and even more during the third, it has to be a great movie. ‘Breathless’ sure is. However, it is important not to take it too seriously in order to enjoy it. I have not seen any movie made before 1960 that is as ‘modern’ as ‘Breathless’. In fact, if we make a shot-by-shot remake in Hindi today, it would still be too modern for Indian audience, more than half a century later! It also is one of the most influential movies in history. And the much talked about ‘jump cut’ is just one of the ‘influences’. What makes this movie important is its inherently rebellious nature, its voice against authority, a tendency that defined the decade of the 60s in the West. What makes this movie special is the philosophy that drives it, the philosophy of its maker and its characters.

Jean-Luc Godard was a vehement critic of the French cinema of the 50s. He believed in cinema as cinema, an art in its own right with its own language and aesthetics, without any narrative obligations. He also believed that the director should use his film as a medium for personal communication. So when he made this movie, his first, he selected a story that suited his philosophy. Like him, his characters are narcissistic rebels, revolting against all norms of the society, not caring much about life, and not giving too much of importance to death. Michel fancies himself as a gangster from American movies, with apparently only one real ambition – to stay fearless, and to live and die like a hero. Patricia roams around the streets without wearing a bra, makes not big deal about being pregnant as a result of her promiscuity, and is not sure whether she loves Michel. In fact, the director’s view of impossibility of love is evident through the (mis)communication between the lead pair. They indulge in meaningless conversations and confused actions, and the director makes sure we follow them closely, thus building a narrative that is extremely opposed to the classical form of storytelling. But the content and the philosophy of the movie remain in perfect sync.

As does the style. Godard’s innovations with the camera and editing and the actors’ improvisations add a youthful fearlessness to the movie. The biggest achievement for ‘Breathless’ is the way its philosophy, content, and style are interwoven to create one organic whole – a film that is proudly aware of its medium and makes sure the audience never forget that. It never pretends to be imitating life, the‘filmy’ background score surely helps. By keeping the audience at a distance the film celebrates itself, and communicates with them with surprising effectiveness. A huge commercial and critical success on its release, it was one of the first celebrated movies of the French New Wave. And its impact on cinema went on to be enormous. The same student, who complained in the beginning of the lecture, remarked rather profoundly – “this film is exactly like its protagonist.” And also like its maker, I would say. With ‘Breathless’ cinema finally establishes itself as the medium of the director, independent of studio-system, moral censoring, and most importantly all pre-conceived expectations.

P.S. It would be interesting to ask Godard how he feels about this movie today. How does he, who always defied authority, feel about his first rebellion’s rise to become an iconic authority? Is it really possible to achieve what one character in the movie considers to be his greatest ambition in life – “to be immortal, and then die”?

Understanding Cinema Lecture: The Legend of the Seven Samurai

A few years ago when I watched ‘Seven Samurai’ for the first time, I could hardly appreciate its greatness. The poor print and watching it on my laptop did not help. Recently I revisited the movie on big screen. In all these years, it kept growing on me. I have watched more than 600 good movies since my first watch of ‘Seven Samurai’, and I have not watched anything close to it. In fact, in all of my cinema experience, despite its elements being borrowed by several other movies, I have not seen a movie that could match this Kurosawa classic in its achievement. Today, I can sit through its 210 minutes every time it is screened near me. Some movies are made of the stuff of legends.

‘Seven Samurai’ can easily be considered as great an achievement of cinema as it could possibly be. The very idea of something like this is intimidating, an action-adventure period epic set in a village, with a long running-time, huge ensemble of cast, big budget, and gigantic ambition. At its inception itself, it goes beyond most of the movies ever made. And then by crafting it with timeless storytelling devices without missing on its incredible artistic appeal, Akira Kurosawa ended up making an extremely entertaining film that could appeal to all, and thus exploring the medium of cinema to its fullest. It was the biggest blockbuster of Japanese cinema when it was released. However what makes it timeless is the strong socio-cultural context and a philosophical undertone, that gives the movie its exotic yet universal appeal. Close to six decades later, it remains one of the most influential films in the history of cinema. Cinema would have shaped itself differently, if this movie were not made.

A village in medieval Japan is oppressed by a group of merciless bandits. The helpless villagers decide to hire a group of Samurais to help them protect their next harvest. What follows next is ‘Seven Samurai’, one of the first action-adventure movies, featuring elements that were to become repeating motifs of the genre. The introduction of the action hero through a sub-plot totally unrelated to the movie is a celebrated style today; it started in this movie with the introduction of Kambei, the leader of the pack, played masterfully by the versatile Takashi Shimura. Building up of a team for an upcoming task is another celebrated plot element. It takes close to one hour for Kambei to get his Samurais together and head for the village. Then we witness the strategizing – how they plan to defend the village. The storyteller shares these wonderful details with us, using maps, showing the training of the villagers, and constantly teasing us with the sense of ‘something is going to happen soon’. This main narrative graph of the film is refreshingly intersected with some extremely involving sub-plots, interwoven elegantly with the central spine. The forbidden romance between the youngest Samurai and a village girl, the story of the peasant whose wife has been abducted by the bandits, the old woman who avenges the death of her son in a chilling scene, and the occasional hinting at the back-story of Kikuchiyo, played by another Kurosawa regular, Toshiro Mifune, add so much to this otherwise straight-forward story. These sub-plots, I suppose, appeal to you more when you watch the movie for the second time, like various other elements that keep coming up in the subsequent re-watches.

Universally loved and respected, ‘Seven Samurai’ is also one of the most watched movies. It is not surprising that Hollywood and Bollywood never cease to pay homage to it. ‘The Magnificent Seven’ and ‘Chinagate’ are the closest adaptations. But you will find ‘Seven Samurai’ in ‘Sholay’ and ‘Lagaan’, and ‘Guns of Navarone’ and ‘Dirty Dozen’. George Lucas admits to have been influenced by the Samurai epics of Kurosawa that inspired him to create ‘Star Wars’. As I write these words, the signature tune of the movie fills my ears and my mind, and I am looking forward to experience the movie again, with hundreds of people, in a darkened theatre, on the big screen – this is one movie that goes beyond celebrating the medium of cinema, it actually fulfills the invention of motion picture.

The Most Significant Hindi Film of the Last Decade

The farewell dinner in Sydney. Rohit and Shalini will soon be leaving for their marriage. Akash is invited. Mahesh Uncle is present. And Rohit tries to taunt Akash by reminding him of their graduation party, and the punch that had resulted in the iconic black-eye. Akash retorts: “In fact, I think I was lucky. Because if Shalini were with me, and someone had flirted with her, I would have killed him.” Some giggle in the audience. “Crap!” – emits a girl in my row. And for me too, that heroic line does not work this time. Ten years ago, when I was seventeen, and had romanced girls only in my head, that line had given me goose-bumps. Something had changed. This line from Terry Gilliam’s ‘Twelve Monkeys’ probably explains it: “The movie never changes. It can't change. But every time you see it, it seems different because you're different.”

Last Sunday I watched ‘Dil Chahta Hai’ after close to six years, and for the first time on big screen. The occasion was the tenth anniversary of the movie and the screening was followed by a Q&A with Farhan Akhtar. I had always been disappointed with the Sangeet scene where Akash ‘proposes’ Shalini in front of a hundred people. This time, I was disappointed with almost the entire final act. The writer-director himself admitted that there were two things he would like to change, in retrospection, and both have to do with the final act. One, he said, would be to terminate the Akash-Shalini track in Sydney itself, and two, to eliminate the last shot in the epilogue in Goa where Siddharth notices Deepa and drifts towards her as Akash and Sameer join their wives. It was heartening to hear him speak, with his charismatic insouciance, and answer all sorts of questions candidly, without making big deal about the movie that changed the shape of Hindi cinema like not many.

Back then, I didn’t understand cinema much. But I was so affected by the movie – by its sound (movies without sync-sound started to put me off), lighting (“You can watch DCH just for the way it uses light and colours” was my favourite show-off remark in college), and editing. I was amazed to observe the effect of the shots lingering over the faces for just a few seconds longer, enhancing the performances, and creating a stillness that all of us could relate to, but could hardly ‘diagnose’. It is not a coincidence that DCH showcased the finest performances of all lead actors, that had as much to do with editing, as with the unforgettably written characters. Also, the use of jump-cuts and ultra fast-motion, though not innovations, changed the picturization of songs forever. By just being truly modern, and setting an aesthetic parameter, DCH defined the decade that followed, and in this sense contributed more to our cinema than ‘Lagaan’. For me, these two movies, releasing within 5-6 weeks, changed the perception of cinema forever.

I was thus excited to catch this movie this Sunday, to check how it affects me after surviving for all these years on the finest of world cinema. And I have no words to describe the experience. Nostalgia had indeed a major role to play, but the real triumph was of the movie itself, of watching it unfold magically on the big screen. It is long, it is extremely melodramatic, and it is rooted in the Hindi cinema tradition. But ‘Dil Chahta Hai’ supersedes the tradition and becomes something so entertaining and involving that should be continued to be treasured when it is no more ‘modern’. The dip in the final act is something we would blissfully ignore.

Understanding Cinema Lecture: 'Salaam Bombay!' and the Initiation of the UC Project

It was really heartening to see the positive response to ‘Salaam Bombay!’(1988) among the students. I was a little confused after the relative ‘failure’ of ‘Pather Panchali’ and was reconsidering my selection of movies. Well, I don’t think I was wrong in selecting ‘Pather Panchali’, but perhaps could not time it well. I should have screened it later, at least after ‘Salaam Bombay!’

Through these two movies I have started explaining to the students the limitations of the classical narrative structure that was introduced to them through ‘Vertigo’. Sticking to the classical narrative definitely limits cinema and it is indeed necessary to defy these rules. However, I have also, and I will keep repeating this, stressed upon the importance of the classical narrative. It is very important to understand it completely, before denouncing it. And for all practical purposes, it is safe, and generally rewarding, to obey these rules.

I also briefly covered some cinematography topics, like camera equipments, and FPS. It was also interesting to note that the students are generally more interested in learning these film-making aspects, rather than understanding the ‘greatness’ of movies I screen. I would try to incorporate this observation into my future lectures.

The most exciting thing, however, is the initiation of the ‘Understanding Cinema Project.’ I am dividing the students into film-making teams, to be led by the Producers. After briefly explaining to them what a producer does (and he does not just put in the money!), I selected all producers I need from the volunteers. They will now select the directors they want to work with, and then divide the entire batch into their film-making units. There is still time before the topics are allotted and they start working on their scripts. Before that I want to make sure that each group consists of people who share good rapport among themselves. That, in my opinion, is the most important thing in a film-making unit, more important than the collective or individual talent.

Style versus Storytelling

I just got introduced to the cinema of Mani Kaul. And though I have been searching for his movies for five years, I’m glad it happened now. Because only now I have started to understand cinema in a way that is required to react appropriately to such works. Though it’s not more than a beginning, I was glad I could react individually and independently, without being affected by others, including this great article on Kaul’s cinema.

Ever since I read the plot of the Rajasthani folk tale on which Amol Palekar’s ‘Paheli’ (2005) was based, I was excited. However, the movie left me disappointed and angry – I thought it was such a waste of a beautiful story. So then I was dying to watch ‘Duvidha’ (1973), the original movie on the eponymous story. I told myself – look at the titles. That alone explains the difference in approach. This story is not about a ‘puzzle’ but about a moral ‘dilemma’. Hence, I was sure ‘Duvidha’ would do justice to it.

Today, I watched ‘Duvidha’. And I’m disappointed again. Not that I did not like the movie, but it left so much to be desired. Simply speaking, it failed to explore into the moral dilemma I was so interested in. The husband of a newly wed bride leaves her three days after marriage for a business trip that would not bring him back for five years. A ghost, who is struck by the beauty of the woman, enters the house in the form of the husband, even managing to cheat his own father. But he discloses his identity to the woman and leaves it on her to accept him. Unfortunately, the director does not dwell on the woman’s dilemma, neither focuses on the psychological state of her mind when she agrees to and spends days and nights with the ghost. By using a style, that I would even call egotistical, he solves all conflicts before they emerge. This continues throughout the film – including the conflict that results from the ‘real’ husband’s premature return, and the climax where the ghost is punished. Such a wonderful plot, and such a waste of opportunity.

I am aware of the arguments that would come up in defense of the movie. The first would be – the director willingly and consciously decides to sacrifice storytelling to create a powerful personal expression. And the example of Jean-Luc Godard will feature in this argument. Firstly, I think the director is not, or should not be, bigger than the story. And if he wants to showcase a unique and personal style, he should choose the story accordingly. I have watched only seven of Godard’s films, so perhaps I’m not eligible to give a general comment, but none of his movies had a story unsuitable to his style. I never felt Godard is letting go of any wonderful opportunity. I love his playfulness, and I never mind his egotism. Finding the correct story to display your style is essential, as is to find the correct style for your story, which brings me to the second point.

The minimalism of Mani Kaul might be compared to Ozu or Bresson. However, the style adopted by these two masters is so suitable to the stories they decide to tell. The economy of expression is so in sync with the universe they operate in. Watching them I never feel that they are compromising on the strengths of their story. I can not help but wonder, what someone like a Jean-Pierre Jeunet would have done to this story – how incredible and memorable the resulting film would have been.

The third argument would be the aesthetic excellence of the maker which, and I might be offending many by saying this, I thought was seriously deficient. All these great filmmakers we are talking about had an impeccable craft. Their frames and their montages were very self-assured. I have seen Godard’s outrageous innovations, but generally none of them have weak aesthetics. Mani Kaul’s imagery and sound design could never convince me of his greatness. And the voice-overs further ruined the storytelling. One example would be this: As the villagers are taking the husband and the ghost to the king for a solution, the narrator says that the ghost was on his way to be captured by the shepherd. Till then we do not even know who this shepherd is, and we do not want the narrator to spoil the climax for us. I wonder how would someone defend errors like this. And if you think I’m stressing unnecessarily on the importance of classical storytelling and do not agree with my opinion on Kaul’s aesthetics, please read on.

I decided to watch another Mani Kaul movie just after ‘Duvidha’ because I did not want to form an opinion based on just one movie. I decided to spend more time trying to understand something that I might have missed in the first. So I sat for ‘Satah Se Uthta Aadmi’ (1980). It was such a difficult movie, and I was so hungry, that I repeatedly considered the option of leaving it mid-way. There was obviously no story, and the loosely connected episodes made no sense at all. But I persisted. I wanted to give the maker a fair chance.

And thank God I did that. As the movie approached its conclusion, everything started making sense to me. The movie was pure poetry – a long poem that uses abstractions to convey the world-view of the poet. The lack of coherence and the vague imagery was completely in sync with the content (or the story). And hence, I liked the movie more than the first one. I would like to insist, thus, that I’m not adamant about the classical structure of storytelling. I only believe that the story should dictate its style. However, even this movie left me unfulfilled as far as the aesthetics were concerned. Watch Tarkovsky’s ‘The Mirror’ (1975) – another film-poem and you would agree. If ‘Duvidha’ and ‘Satah Se Uthta Aadmi’ could only improve on their shots and edit, without changing the style, the mood, or anything else, these would have been much better movies. And the argument that I should not compare Mani Kaul with Andrei Tarkovsky is totally irrelevant. Because if you are calling him great with respect to Indian cinema, we have no argument at all.

Just two movies, and I’m convinced of Mani Kaul’s greatness. The sheer conviction to make such movies, in such a style, in our film-industry, during that period is enough to convince me of that. I would definitely watch more of him, and would love to accept later, if it happens, that I was too quick in forming an opinion about him. But my belief on two things just got strengthened today. The first is really unfortunate and harsh, that even the best of Hindi cinema stands nowhere compared to the best of the world. And the second, that the story, within or without a coherent narrative, is above the style of the film and more importantly, the filmmaker.

The Importance of Being Familiar

This is the first scene (the overture) of Woody Allen’s Manhattan (1979). I have borrowed 'action' from the Ebert review, and the lines, obviously from the movie itself:

George Gershwin’s “Rhapsody in Blue” plays over powerful black-and-white visions of Manhattan and its skyline, and the mighty bridges leaping out to it from the provinces. We go through its people and places as a voice, filled with uncertainty and hesitations, plays as a monologue.

"Chapter one. He adored New York City. He idolised it all out of proportion."

Uh, no. Make that "He romanticised it all out of proportion."

"To him, no matter what the season was, this was still a town that existed in black and white and pulsated to the great tunes of George Gershwin."

Uh... no. Let me start this over.

"Chapter one. He was too romantic about Manhattan, as he was about everything else. He thrived on the hustle- bustle of the crowds and the traffic. To him, New York meant beautiful women and street-smart guys who seemed to know all the angles."

Ah, corny. Too corny for a man of my taste. Let me... try and make it more profound.

"Chapter one. He adored New York City. To him, it was a metaphor for the decay of contemporary culture. The same lack of integrity to cause so many people to take the easy way out... was rapidly turning the town of his dreams..."

No, it's gonna be too preachy. I mean, face it, I wanna sell some books here.

"Chapter one. He adored New York City, although to him it was a metaphor for the decay of contemporary culture. How hard it was to exist in a society desensitised by drugs, loud music, television, crime, garbage..."

Too angry. I don't wanna be angry.

"Chapter one. He was as tough and romantic as the city he loved. Behind his black-rimmed glasses was the coiled sexual power of a jungle cat."

I love this.

"New York was his town and it always would be."


We later realize that these lines were probably the protagonist’s random blabbering into his cassette recorder. Though we do not know that yet, these set him up for us. I was already laughing as this montage ended, hardly a few minutes into the movie. To all those who are yet to discover the cinema of Woody Allen, these lines would appear hardly humourous. But most of those who know him (both the writer-director and the character(s) he plays), will react as I did, and the ‘Woody’ humour will hook them into the movie at once. Moreover, going beyond what the protagonist in this movie feels or conveys, these lines communicate, to all those who are familiar with Allen’s cinema, the writer-director’s sentiment for New York.

I wonder how it would have been received if it were the first work of the maker. I wonder how some filmographies become more important and memorable than the individual films. Most Masters are more than the sum of their individual movies.

Somebody asked me once, what is so great about ‘Annie Hall’ (1977). I could not answer him then. I can not answer him today. The only answer, probably, would be – watch more of Woody Allen. And then we will share a laugh together.