Author: Utpal Datta

  • Interview — Supratim Bhol | cinematographer

    Interview — Supratim Bhol | cinematographer

    Utpal Datta converses with Supratim Bhol, the cinematographer of Avijatrik, lit., the wanderlust of Apu, purportedly the concluding part of Satyajit Ray’s Apu trilogy based on the remaining portions of the novel Aparajito by Bibhutibhushan Bandyopadhyay.

     

    A film is a sort of a dream, a combination of imaginary images in the mind of the director. The job of the DoP is to convert those images into reality. What degree of understanding is essential between the two people?

    A writer and a director lives for a long period with their script. They live, eat, drink and sleep with it. They generate a certain series of images through living with it, and ultimately they wish to bring these images that have been formed in their mind onto the screen. Supratim Bhol

    As a DoP, the one thought that runs through me is this — how can I contribute to those series of images and bring out a more enriched product? I would always want to increase the production value of the film through my understanding of aesthetics. Discussions happen over months, sometimes years, as to how to proceed towards executing them. Eventually, the DoP becomes an eye of the director, and keeps on adding elements that enhance the whole film. Often times, alterations, modifications and adjustments are required to be made at the final moment too — at the time of the execution of the scenes.

    The better communicated and evolved the Director and DoP are the more perfectly matched their piece of art turns out to be. Supratim Bhol

     

    To bring alive a film, what does the cinematographer require from members of the various other departments?

    Synchronization. Everyone involved in the production, irrespective of their department and individual duty, must be on the same page. Since all are involved in making one and the same film, the motto must be “many in body and one in mind.”

     

    A director is a creative individual, and so is the DoP. A director has a special individualistic type of creation, and so has the DoP. How then, as a DoP, do you work with a variety of directors each of whom has a different thought process, and still maintain your own signature?

    We are all human beings. And we all possess a different philosophy. The philosophy in us has grown out of our life, our childhood, our mental nourishment, our upbringing. The books that we have read. The places we have travelled. The luxuries and hardships we have experienced. The people we have met, accepted and rejected. The situations we have faced; and moved out of, or not. And the wins and losses that have come our way. So, in general, we are all creative in certain ways and have evolved through our personal journeys.

    However, when one artist collaborates with another on a professional job their primary responsibility is towards the art that they have been assigned to create together. When a DoP with full technical responsibility and a director commit to a script, therefore, though there is bound to be differences in the way they each think and ideate, they should both strive to be in harmony. The two of them as well as the entire team should become one. Because all would be creating just one film, all should come together as one team out to achieve that singular goal.

    Individually, every artist has their own strong and weak points. And an artist who is wise will rely on their strong points to stamp their signature on whatever they do. Traces of our own taste of aesthetics will always keep our signatures intact.

     

    Thematically, Avijatrik is a continuation of Satyajit Ray’s Apu trilogy. Did the pressure of shooting for the sequel of such a timeless classic get to you?

    Avijatrik essentially means one who is forever on a journey. The journey may be an eternal one, or it may be one that is adventurous and fraught with challenges and hardships. The shooting of Avijatrik was no different. Right from the very moment when the director, Subhrajit Mitra, was convinced that he wanted me as the DoP, we both knew that there would always be an added pressure on us.

    However, I had cultivated a certain sanctity for the would-be film. My spirits were really high and indomitable. So, even though the pressure was high, it never touched me. I treated this film as an individual film, and packed my bags accordingly. I had never planned to shoot it out of the way or different. Of course, I tried to retain my individuality while being in harmony with the trilogy. Now that the film is made and ready for the festival circuit, it is totally up to the audiences and jury to assess what has been captured.

     

    What were the challenges you faced well before rolling camera? Supratim Bhol

    Every film has its challenges. The primary one of Avijatrik was to recreate the 1940s world of Apu. Almost sixty years have passed since the last of the trilogy was shot. The whole world has changed. There are hardly any traces of the pre-independence era in our daily surroundings. Finding such locations — houses, roads, lanes, alleys — was quite a task. Supratim Bhol

    Furthermore, Apu /Apurbo is an iconic character in the minds of the Bengali audience. He is a dreamer, a writer, a wanderer. Building the world of Apu, and evolving through craft to make the audience believe in the Apu was a humongous task. Shooting the film in black and white, the process of giving a seamless effect of the VFX within the live action shots, setting up the locales, getting involved in the research — everything was a huge challenge given that we were shooting a period film with very limited resources. The entire film was planned to be shot in 22 days across 70 locations in and around northern and eastern India. It was made possible only because all the departments put in their greatest efforts.

     

    You shot in the same black-and-white tone as the original trilogy, but chose a wider format. What was the reason and logic behind this decision?

    The aspect ratio is definitely an important part of storytelling. I have chosen the 16:9 format to incorporate and thereby showcase more information with a wider view. If the 16:9 format was available in the 50s, most filmmakers would quite likely have preferred it.

     

    The visual design of Sahaj Pather Goppo is a juxtaposition of two opposing styles — in the opening and closing sequences the camera moves a lot, whereas in the rest of the film the shots are mostly static. From an aesthetic point of view, does such a contrast fit into the narrative?

    I always follow my instincts about shot taking. While reading the script, the sequence grows in me in a certain way and I decide the shot movement accordingly. It’s an amalgamation of my feelings and the director’s vision, I believe.

     

    The rain sequences are realistic, but I understand they weren’t shot naturally?

    Yes, since the entire film is set in the monsoon time, we decided to shoot in the rainy season but using a rain machine too. Monsoon Bengal is very beautiful. And children being integral part of the film adds to the beauty. But shooting in the rains is hectic. There is mud and water all over. At times it can quite frustrating too. Thankfully, the zeal to create good visuals is often rewarded with a positive result. I chose to not use any separate light to highlight the rain in order to give the rain an organic look. The colorist too has done well in maintaining that feel.

     

    How touchy are you about your visuals being manipulated in post?

    Sometimes, it becomes highly necessitated, especially if one is shooting with restricted resources. For instance, in Chorabali,  a complicated thriller with several layers, the director wanted a Hollywood look. So, the visual design was generated through lighting and grading in post production.

     

    How would you rate your own work? Supratim Bhol

    Well, I restrain myself from wearing the hat of a critic. I don’t think I would ever be able to rate the cinematography, or any other department for that matter, of my or any other film. For, I know well that each film has its own challenges, and everyone involved usually attempts to put in their best efforts and showcase their skills to the fullest.

    I could however tell you my view of what makes for great cinematography. It happens when the imagery blends smoothly with the story and the action, and does not stand out on its own. There can be nothing more beautiful than this to celebrate the art of cinema.

     

  • A 40-year-old Love Story

    A 40-year-old Love Story

    Hindi Film world is a huge store house of love stories i.e films. But only a few films, especially love stories, had made lasting impression upon the viewers and one fine day they receive the title of cult film. Love Story, released on February 26, 1981, is a movie without a director’s name. Hindi films that were released that year and achieved unprecedented commercial success were Nasib, Lawaris, Ek Duje Ke Liye, Kranti and Love Story. Among the films from the directors like Manmohan Desai, Prakash Mehra, Manoj Kumar, K Bishwanath, and others, a film by a young director whose two main characters were brand new faces, and that shined it its own way- was a remarkable happening of that year. What was in that movie? What was special in it? What was the [highlight background=”#f79126″ color=”#ffffff”]signature of director Rahul Rawal,[/highlight] even though he was not named in the film, he is known only by this film?

    One of the major key elements of a love story is the obstacle between the lovers, which can be economic, caste differences, language gaps, etc. In Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, the obstacle between the loving couple was the egoistic problems of the parents and this gap and animosity deepens the crisis of the love story. This feature of Romeo and Juliet has been widely adopted by Mirza Brothers, the author of Love story, and Rahul Rawal, the director.

    Vijay Mehra [Rajendra Kumar] is a wealthy builder who loves Sumon [Vidya Sinha]. On the other hand, Ram Dogra [Danny], a college friend of the engineer, also likes Sumon. Vijay wants to bribe in the interest of business. After this only, he comes to know about the love affair of  Ram and Suman. Eventually, Sumon and Ram get married, and a daughter is born, named Pinky (Vijayeta)

    Vijay too gets married. But his wife dies after giving birth to their son. Vijay brings up his son Bunty with utmost love and care. After many years, Pinky and Bunty suddenly face each other and needless to say, that meet was not pleasant. Bunty wanted to be a pilot, but his father wanted him to be a builder. Pinky’s father wants her to get married  but she does not want to. This is the reason why both of them run away from their homes. Havaldar Shwer Singh [Amjad Khan]  arrests them and drags them with the same handcuff. It is in this twist that the love between the two develops.

    But the story does not proceed so smoothly. Ram Dogra enters to the scene. He never allows Pinky to get married with Bunty. So both of them run away again. This time they encounter some robbers. After many incidents, Bunty saves Pinky from the brink of death and finally the two love birds reunite.

    The main inspiration of the story is undoubtedly Romeo and Juliet. Raj Kapoor’s ‘Bobby’ seems to have a small impact on the teen’s love story. For example, in the song “Kya gajab karte ho ji”, the way Aruna Irani  irritates the teen Kumar Gaurav is somewhat similar  to the way  Rishi Kapoor was  instigated by  the same Aruna Irani in “Bobby.” Rahul Rawal learned film making as an assistant to Raj Kapoor. Raj Kapoor has a reputation for portraying the physical beauty of his heroine-actress, but that style has not impressed Rahul Rawal at all. He has portrayed the actress in a beautiful way, but has never unclothed them to expose their beauty. Rahulji told, the film is slightly influenced by the English film ‘The Defined Ones’. The handcuff element is taken from this picture.

    Raj Kapoor had picturised each and every shot with utmost care and tried to make all the shots look beautiful. Rahul Rawal also has that quality like his Guru, but, his shots are more beautiful from the point of view of composition, he is always aware of the vastness of the wide frame and the overall beauty of the whole frame. The location of the song ‘Kya Gajab Karte Ho Ji’ was a small room, but the articulate camera work has kept the small look of the room intact. Radhu Karmakar, the cameraman of this film, who was the cameraman of a number of films of Raj kapoor. Surprisingly, the technique or beauty of Raj Kapoor’s shot composition were not seen in Love story. Rahul Rawal, a new and young director, deserve appreciation for being able to come up with his own style even working with a veteran like Radhu Karmakar.

    [highlight background=”#f79126″ color=”#ffffff”]Rahul Rawal’s specialty was to adorn the film with his own aesthetic skills,[/highlight] ignoring the prevailing notions. The name Love Story evokes a kind of poetic tone and the director was keen to preserve that tone and mood throughout the film. The design of the poster, the style of writing the title, the credit title all have its mark. Another example that supports this comment is the scene of a Bunty, aspiring to become a pilot, playing with a herd of sheep seen at the bottom of a small plane. The description of the scene was not common, it was not dramatic, it was poetic. And in that poem there was a kind of loneliness and sadness This sadness, however, is flowing in a very subtle way in the whole film. Such poetic depiction was not found in the major mainstream films of that time. Even later, Rahul Rawal’s harsh and rude reality based films like ‘Dakait’ and ‘Arjun’ were a continuation of the poetic beauty of the loneliness and the elegant picturisation. Rahul Rawal and especially Love Story, are still relevant today because of the creativity shown in making a mainstream commercial film, a sensitive work of cinematic art.

    Sadly, [highlight background=”#f79126″ color=”#ffffff”]the identity of Rahul Rawal was not engraved on the body of the film in which he was established.[/highlight] There are many stories of confrontation between producers and directors, but omitting the name of the director seems to be the lowest level of this work. In a conversation, Rahul Rawal said that he himself had withdrawn the name from the picture. In response to a question about “did you get the director’s honor”, he said, Love Story was one of the most successful films of that year, a major hit. But I got very little remuneration, after a long court appearance.

    Although not mentioned in the film, today is Rahul Rawal’s second identity as a film director is associated with a movie called ‘Love Story’.

  • Directors’ Diaries: The Road to Their First Film

    Directors’ Diaries: The Road to Their First Film

    Book review – Directors’ Diaries: The Road to Their First Film

    The principle attraction of an interview lives in the questions thrown by the interviewer. Questions are framed to dig out unknown facts from the inner core of the interviewee. Additionally, they mirror the study, preparation, insight, mental makeup and so much more of the interviewee too. And that mirrored picture determines the character, purpose, and philosophy of the interview. Rakesh Anand’s  Directors’ Diaries: The Road to Their First Film, a compilation in two volumes of interviews conducted with a variety of film directors offers a valuable insight on the journeys to their respective first films; the preparations for the same; and the sweet and sour experiences gathered on the way.

    In a way, the author was always the ideal candidate for this job. Though he has studied film making and acting, has worked with important film personalities, and is the son of the legendary Hindi film song lyrics writer Anand Bakshi, Rakesh is yet to complete his debut feature film. In contrast to his plight, some of the directors whom he interviewed are people who weren’t blessed with the slightest link to the film world yet they succeeded in realizing their dreams. The author says in Directors’ Diaries that he felt some sort of anger at this, and craved to know how this was possible. The ‘craving’ felt by the author determined the soul and character of the book. However, the ‘anger’ that he claims to possess is nonexistent; rather, one comes across a down-to-earth person who commands affection, attention, and respect.

    In the prelude to every interview, the author introduces the director from a personal angle; this reflects his humility. Readers enjoy reading any kind interview when they feel attached with the interviewer. Instead of lengthy, boring questions or a scholarly self-presentation of the interviewer, the author throws questions that are crisp and lead the interviewee to unravel their past. This pattern may be compared to the presentation of a Raga in Indian Classical music where the beauty of a Raga is being unfolded in a systematic pattern of movement. The author believes too that a film director must be associated with any medium of creative work prior to their stepping into the world of filmmaking. He therefore poses this question to almost all his interviewees. That the replies he receives is more or less identical establish that whatever the character of the film may be, the basic creative qualification for one and all directors is essentially the same.

    Quite apparently passionate and emotionally charged about film direction, the author’s attachment to this artform compels him to be attentive in respect of all angles of film making. He doesn’t however stop with simply exploring the process of filmmaking through the experiences of these various directors. He informs the reader of the kind of dedication, courage, confidence, and dedication that is required for one who aspires to be a director. The answers to his questions also offer an insight into the requisites that follow in the next stage after one has turned director.

    At one point, the author enters the dreaded realm that haunted the protagonist of Fellini’s 8½. Have you as a film director ever faced a barren state of mind, he asks. Film shooting, especially in the traditional manner, is a very expensive creative process where every single moment involves costs. Therefore, the question of whether a director can have that luxury of facing the situation of a director’s block is highly relevant. It also gives indication of how seriously the author attempts to explore the conflict zone in the creative process of a director.

    The question of ego management is another that the author tosses into the air. Film shooting is like war. There’s an assembly of a huge number of participants. All are important, and most carry a huge ego. Some are highly sensitive and easily hurt. And the director has to lead such a team, while managing to satisfy all kind of egos, and yet without comprising on the pace of the shoot. Ego management is a hard task, and an important part of every film shoot, but very few books on filmmaking usually care to throw light on this issue. Ego management is a practical work, and the directors express their personal experiences of dealing with this issue.

    When a director makes a film, in addition to the craftwork that is involved, an emotional and passionate creation, and some personal or autobiographical elements too enters into the narrative, sometimes as a metaphor or as an incident or a character trait. Directors’ Diaries sets out to uncover some such moments. This double volume primarily interviews twenty film directors ranging from veterans such as Shyam Benegal to the young Tanuja Chandra-Mohit Suri. By including in it an interview of a spot boy, the author immediately throws the limelight on that person on the lowest rung of the film direction ladder; albeit, one who is crucial to the sets and all people on it.

    Such curiosities transform Directors’ Diaries from a mere anthology of interviews to a motivational book; one that is meant not just for aspiring filmmakers but for anyone who has and chases a dream. This anthology of experiences and dedication seeks to enrich the film viewing experience of the general audience while also providing endless courage to those who wish to see themselves someday seated on a director’s chair. In addition to providing for a thrilling reading experience, therefore, it also serves as a guide for upcoming filmmakers.

  • The Journey of Assamese Cinema through the Ages

    The Journey of Assamese Cinema through the Ages

    Walking down the roads of Calcutta very many years ago, a college youth remarked to his friend, “If I can make an Assamese cinema I would attain salvation.” Thus began the history of Assamese cinema.

    The incident happened at the beginning of the second decade of the last century. The author of these words, and the architect of the Assam film industry, was Jyotiprasad Agarwala. It was the age before the birth of the sound movie, and world cinema was still in its infancy. At such a crucial time, Jyotiprasad dreamt of producing a sound movie and went to Germany to be trained in the art of filmmaking. One fine day, he returned from Germany, built a studio in Bholaguri Tea Estate, captured the scenes there, edited the film in Lahore, and released the first Assamese film in Rounak Hall in Calcutta in the March of 1934—four years after the birth of the sound movie in India. The film was about a rebellious female character of Assam history. This periodic and big budget film was more mature and rich in literary qualities than the majority of other Indian films of that era.

    It would be relevant to say that Jyotiprasad who was interested in a new medium such as cinema was an earnest worshipper of newness and a sincere devotee of novelty and innovation. He effervesced Assamese music with newness. His songs were, and still are, popularly known as ‘Jyotisangeet’. And he imported new spirit and lustre to both the body and soul of Assamese drama. Jyotiprasad’s ‘Joymoti,’ the pioneer Assamese film, is but a part of this devotion to art. The film was released in Guwahati Theatre Hall on March 20, 1935, and went on to be screened at various other places in Assam. The production cost of the film was fifty thousand rupees, but it could earn only twenty thousand rupees. His second film, ‘Indramalati’ was made with a consolidated budget. The film was not only a commercial success, but also relieved the producer from the financial burden of the earlier film, ‘Joymati’. As the film was made investing scanty money it lacked in production values and technical beauty, but Jyotiprasad did not compromise on the the beauty of the story and the narrative bounty. It is essentially a love story set around India’s freedom movement. The story also raised a zihad against the issue of untouchability, and comprised some scenes of solidarity between the hills and the plains. Though Indramalati was made to capture the mass market, Jyotiprasad had not strayed away from his duty as an artist. Worshipping beauty was not the ends and means of his life. In addition to being a devotee of culture, he was also a fearless freedom fighter. He composed songs to arouse nationalism and to inculcate patriotic feelings among all Indians. These songs are a part of the indispensable wealth of Assamese culture. It is a blessing that the cinema of Assamese was created out of hope, and by such a highly responsible, educated, and visionary artist, in a proper, succinct way.

    Assamese cinema has now passed 78 years, but the journey has not carried on smoothly. The limitation of the scope of screening Assamese cinema always creates depression; for this reason, Assamese films cannot become commercially successes. This medium of art depends on heavily on machines and demands huge amounts of money for production. Hence, there is less scope of minimizing the budget. Yet, Assamese films are made by some people because of their passion for it or due to somebody’s natural instinct for self-revelation. Only a few films are able to get back the money spent for its production. The same problem is faced by other regional films of India in regions that are not very populous. To help Assamese cinema, the state government had earlier taken a few important steps such as establishing a film studio with government aid, setting up of a film corporation for the development of cinema and establishing a centre of film education. Recently, the state government of Assam took a decision to extend financial aid of the same amount earned by an Assamese film as entertainment tax. I was announced that the said amount would be paid back within a year of the film’s release. Among all the above-mentioned handouts, producers showed the most interest in getting back from government the cumulative amount of money that the film earned as entertainment tax.

    Initially, genuine producers profited from this help extended by the government, and they were able to produce more films with the tax returns. Eventually, though, this got turned into a black market racket. Dishonest producers began polluting the whole process by adopting dubious tactics. On tax papers, they showed that Assamese films were screened at the night shows. In reality, third-rate films were screened instead, and the tax collected from these screenings were claimed as entertainment tax of the supposed Assamese films. This unhealthy practice was conducted by producers with the help of exhibitors as well as corrupt tax officials. As a result, the whole procedure of financial assistance extended by the government grew mighty slow and tedious.

    As stated earlier, the shooting of the first Assamese film was done in the studio built by Jyotiprasad Agarwala in Bholaguri Tea Estate. Since the commercial returns were not fruitful, he did the works of his second film in Calcutta. At that time, Calcutta was the centre of producing Assamese movies. Assamese filmmakers were required to take shelter in Calcutta not only for shootings and settings but also for the help of the film technicians of Calcutta. Thus, the Jyoti Chitraban Studio, named after Jyotiprasad Agarwala, was established in Guwahati under the aegis of the Assam Government, to decrease the dependency of Assamese films on Calcutta.

    At such a crucial juncture, an Assamese film producer instead of going to Calcutta, chose to set and shoot his film in ordinary houses in Assam with the help of a few apprentices and learners as well as technical assistants from Assam. The name of Brajen Barua’s film is Dr. Bezbarua. It was a super hit beyond all expectations. Though it is unlikely that the success was primarily due to the real-life local settings, the film nevertheless offered a major moral boost to Assamese filmmakers and freed them of their dependency on Calcutta. Brajen Barua’s innovative mind, his courage to accept the risk of working with a new team of local artists and technicians, and his interest in creating a band of new technical persons; and the beginning of Jyoti Chitraban—the conglomeration of these two things brought novelty and excitement. Consequently, the production of Assamese films immensely increased.

    In the film industry, the film director is responsible for all the things that make up his film. They are therefore ideally required to be talented to some extent in all related fields. Brajen Barua was such a talented artist. Before coming to the film world he was a singer, and he began his film career as a music director and an actor, in ‘Smritir Parash’ (The Touch of Memory). The director of this film was his brother Nip Barua. Eminent Assamese poet Keshav Mahanta too appeared as a composer of songs in it. And Ramen Barua lent his voice for this film. All these geniuses came from the same family, which eventually became famous as the ‘Barua family’ in Assam. Following this film, Brajen Barua took to directing films, leaving music in the hands of his brother Ramen. In addition to being a singer and a music composer, the latter discovered quite a few singing legends. Ramen later gave up singing and introduced another brother, Dipen, to the music world of Assam. Dipen Barua continues till date to be a successful playback singer. He has also tasted success as a screenplay writer and a director. Two other brothers, Niren Barua and Girin Barua, are connected to the film world as assistant director and actor. And a few young men of the next generation of the Barua family too have associated themselves with the film world in some way.

    Brajen Barua was a multifaceted genius—a poet, music composer, storywriter, screenplay writer, actor and director. As an actor, his extraordinary roles in ‘Dr. Bezbarua’ and ‘Opaja Sonor Mati’ created two immortal characters. But why he acted only in his brother Nipa Barua’s films as well as in his own films is still a mystery. The music director of Nipa Barua’s first few films was Brajen Barua; Ramen Barua joined him as the director of music in the films of the second part of his career. In one of his films Anupam Choudhury appeared as a music director. Why Ramen Barua did not work in that film is also another riddle.

    Bhupen Hazarika entered the arena of Assamese film in his very childhood as singer and actor in ‘Indramalati’, the second film of Jyotiprasad Agarwala. Then, in ‘Siraj’, the sixth Assamese film, he assisted Vishnu Rbaha with two of his songs; he wrote the songs and composed the tunes. He worked as an independent music director in ‘Sati Beula’, the 10th Assamese film. This was the beginning. After that he directed music in Bangla, Hindi and Bhojpuri films. From music direction to film direction he manifested his extraordinary expertise and transformed one of his radio-play to an exquisite film ‘Era Bator Sur’. There were lots of autobiographical elements in ‘Era Bator Sur’. The presence of some well-known artists of Mumbai gave another dimension to the film. This was the first Assamese film that built a bridge between Assamese and Mumbai film world. Bhupen Hazarika was the first Assamese professional artist who had resigned from a university job and went outside Assam. Besides contributing to Assamese music and culture, he produced a number of brilliant films to his credit. He is the only Assamese artist honoured with the Dada Saheb Falke Award.

    The number of directors who later on look forward to producing films is relatively high in Assamese cinema. The music director of the third Assamese movie ‘Manomati’ later on made ‘Badan Barphukan’, the fourth film of Assam. He was not the director of music in that film; Gaura Goswami lent his music to it. From a music director, Bhupen Hazrika too turned a film director. Bhupen Hazrika was the second one who transformed from a music director to a film director. Brajen Barua stood third in this row. One popular music director Upen Kakoti also produced films. Jubin Garg, Nayanmani Barua, and Sadananda Gogoi too began to make films after working as a music director in a few films. Only Brajen Barua retired from music direction after he had begun his career as a director of film.

    Some camerapersons later turned into film directors. In the history of Assamese cinema, Sujit Sinha, Bhabani Nath and Nalin Duwerah are a few names to cite. Nalin Duwera’s ‘Mamota’ made on sylvan settings with a low budget manifests his excellence in filmmaking. For lack of money he did not go to a studio for recording of the music of ‘Mamota’. Instead, he recorded the music in an open field while all were sleeping. The music duo Basanta-Manik who lent their music to ‘Mamota’ later on created many immortal songs. Another renowned Assamese music duo was Kula-Atul.

    Coming back to Mamota, it must be said that Rudra Barua won the National Film Award –Special Jury Mention for his heart touching acting. This was the first national level award won by an Assamese film. But Rudra Barua became popular only as a musician, for his new style of singing. At the National Film Awards, the first winner of the best regional film was ‘Piyali Phukan’, directed by Phani Sarmah. From that time onwards, Assamese films have been able to carry off awards for regional films. In film direction, Assamese cinema has won awards twice; but more awards are received in the field of film criticism. Assam is the recipient of five Swarna Kamal and two Jury Special Mention Awards for film criticism, and with such honour, Assam, no doubt, enjoys a prestigious place.

    At the International Film Festival of India too, many Assamese films since the time of Bhabendranath Saikia’s ‘Sandhyaraag’ have made it to the Indian Panorama category.

    Quite a number of notable awards, a few commercially successful films, and a certain amount of government aid, on one hand; and on the other, innumerous commercial flops, and failure to win prizes for artistic excellence—with these two extremes, Assamese cinema is well on its way to touch eighty years. The present hot discussion in the Assamese media with respect to Assamese films is that a market for it is near nonexistent and that, therefore, to set out to make an Assamese film is to set out to make a loss. Ironically, even though there is a lack of audience for Assamese films, and many Assamese films may not even have the opportunity of a week of screening in the cinema halls, a decent number of Assamese films are still being produced in Assam. Perhaps, this is the inexplicable magic of cinema—the unavoidable, endless passion of the film world—maya.

     

    See also:

    https://filmcriticscircle.com/journal/jyotiprasad-agarwala-and-his-film-joymoti/

    https://filmcriticscircle.com/journal/new-wave-in-cinema-of-northeast-india/