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  • The Mahatma abhorred cinema, but films celebrated Gandhi

    The Mahatma abhorred cinema, but films celebrated Gandhi

    “I have never been to a cinema. But even to an outsider, the evil that it has done and is doing is patent. The good, if it has done any at all, remains to be proved.”

    If I Was Made Prime Minister… I Would Close All the Cinemas and Theatres.”

    If I had my way, I would see to it that all the cinemas and theatres in India were converted into spinning halls and factories for handicrafts of all kinds. What obscene photographs of actors and actresses are displayed in the newspapers by way of advertisement! Moreover, who are these actors and actresses if not our own brothers and sisters? We waste our money and ruin our culture at the same time.”

    Truth to tell, the Mahatma has not been far off the mark in his opinion, especially in the pandemic hit Covid-19 dictated “social distancing,” “quarantine” driven masked milieu. Profound passages from several of the writings of the Mahatma (Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi) in various journals and speeches eloquently and evocatively convey the abject abhorrence of the Idea of Cinema from the self-confessed and implicitly-held Father of the Nation’s ‘puritanical’ and ‘catholic’ perspective.

    In these troubled times, streaming works over OTT platforms has been the order of the day. Distributors are required not only to beat the Censorship blues but also to dish out all kinds of vitiating and corruptive content to cash in on the people’s need to be “engaged.” All in the excuse of providing uninterrupted ubiquitous “entertainment” to battle “ennui” and “claustrophobia” while being cocooned in the safety net of one’s homes, keeping Corona at bay.

    Cinema, since he strode on this earth and eventually departed felled by an assassin’s bullet, even before the Mahatma could experience the Free India he had fought and laid down his life for, may have coveted the hallowed persona of Mahatma Gandhi to propound his philosophy and the enigma he was as a person. Yet, Mahatma Gandhi, the Father of the Nation, may have been the subject of many a movie that has graced the Indian celluloid screens, from time immemorial.

    Filmmakers have left no stone unturned to depict, and bring to life, the Apostle of Peace and his philosophy of non-violence as a potent weapon of civil disobedience against the State. [highlight background=”#f79126″ color=”#ffffff”]While film makers may per se not have ingrained Gandhian thoughts or philosophies themselves, the Mahatma’s influence on cinema has been pervasive.[/highlight]

    The father figure, however, has been a tall, towering moral force, with movie makers perpetuating his principles and teachings in film after films, the great soul being an eternal fount of inspiration for the entire galaxy of filmmakers.

    From newsreels and documentaries to feature films, Gandhiji has been a fixture. It is through them that we find our Gandhi with that rounded spectacles, an ever-smiling benign face, the chained waist watch, clad in a loin cloth and the patent furious gait with baton, the picture of him and his mannerisms, as seen on screen, in cinema.

    Every October 2nd we celebrate his birthday in all forms of media entertainment platforms. We lose no moment in bringing to our living rooms some visual image of the Mahatma trying to perpetuate his “long forgotten’ ideals among the audiences – young and old, across all ages and avocations.

    So much so, ironical though it may seem, in a lucid testament to his popularity in mankind’s every day discourse, you have his wax statue at Madame Tussauds sharing the limelight with other personalities drawn from the world of cinema. This testifies to being antithetical to his own held beliefs about films and its harmful and debilitating effects on the psyche and life of man.

    It is no wonder then that late Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru, way back as early as 1963, had a word of cautionary advice to Richard Attenborough, when the latter had sought Nehru’s nod for a biopic on the Mahatma, and who in 1982, a good two decades later, eventually went on to make Gandhi.

    Pandit Nehru wisely counselled Sir Attenborough thus: “Whatever you do, do not deify him – that is what we have done in India – and he was too great a man to be deified”. Gandhi “had all the frailties, all the shortcomings. Give us that. That’s the measure, the greatness of a man.”

    Trust film makers to heed to such sane, wise words. [highlight background=”#f79126″ color=”#ffffff”]Such was the deification and elevation of Mahatma Gandhi to the exalted realms of “purity” and “divinity personified” that, even in his lifetime, no filmmaker or literary figure had the temerity to cast aspersions on Mahatma’s ideals, or the sagacity to evaluate his life, principles and beliefs objectively.[/highlight] Even Gandhiji’s rather fructuous filial relationships, be it with his father, wife, brothers, or sons, were always veered around to his stated belief or point, unlike his other political contemporaries who were put under the scanner.

    Hindi cinema has used Gandhi’s name to sell its wares, even during Mahatma Gandhi’s lifetime. Such was Gandhi’s popularity in the 1930s and 1940s that many film hoardings would put life-size pictures of him over the photographs of heroes and heroines. So much so, after his assassination, a good plentiful of songs were composed to sing paeans on the ideals of truth and non-violence and venerate and celebrate Gandhi’s contribution to India’s freedom struggle.

    Film poster of Mahatma Gandhi: 20th Century Prophet

    From Mahatma Gandhi: 20th Century Prophet, a 1953 American documentary film written by Quentin Reynolds and directed by Stanley Neal and Mahatma: Life of Gandhi, 1869–1948, a 1968 documentary produced by The Gandhi National Memorial Fund in cooperation with Films Division, and written-directed by Vithalbhai Jhaveri to The Making of the Mahatma, a 1996 joint Indian-South African film by renowned filmmaker Shyam Benegal based on The Apprenticeship of a Mahatma by Fatima Meer, there has been no dearth of docu-features.

    Biopics and full length fictional films on the Mahatma include Feroz Abbas Khan’s Gandhi My Father, Rajkumar Hirani’s Munna Bhai franchise, Karim Traïdia and Pankaj Sehgal’s The Gandhi Murder, and A. Balakrishnan’s Welcome Back Gandhi (Mudhalvar Mahatma). Actor-director Kamal Haasan who made Hey Ram says, “I had a controversial opinion of Gandhi when I was a teenager. This film is my apology to him. I never called him Mahatma because I wanted to see his face for what it was before such a big halo.”

    Art house auteurs too were part of this Gandhi mania. In Kurmavatara, Kannada auteur Girish Kasarvalli showcased how the Gandhi name has been appropriated by all and sundry. His understudy, P Seshadri came up with an abjectly poor pastiche of a film detailing Mahatma as young Mohandas in the eponymous film Mohandasa. And you had Assamese film maker Jahnu Barua board the Bollywood bandwagon with Maine Gandhi Ko Nahin Mara hoping to hit paydirt. The spirit of Mahatma has been all invasive and pervasive across all strands and stratosphere of film making.

    However, trust the Mahatma himself to have enjoined and ingrained a similar ‘benevolent’ “all embracing goodness of cinema” disposition to the films. Gandhiji failed to see in it a medium that became the opiate of masses to escape from the harsh realities of life, seated in a dark theatres.

    Film still: Gandhi My Father
    Film still: Gandhi My Father

    It is indeed ironic that the great savant, who won India her Independence and freed India from the shackles of British Raj, and has been an inspiration to be depicted on celluloid many times over, venerating him, even to this day, took time to watch only few reels of just one movie in his entire lifetime.

    Down with illness, Gandhi, aged 74, consented to see select reels of Vijay Bhatt’s Ram Rajya (1943), a film based on Gandhiji’s favourite epic, Ramayana. This was at a special screening at Juhu, in Mumbai on June 2, 1944. He had agreed to watch it for about 40 minutes, but ended up watching it for an hour and a half. The filmmaker later described Gandhiji as being “cheerful” at the end of the show.

    Prior to that, Gandhi had been persuaded, unsuccessfully, to watch Mission to Moscow, a Hollywood movie by Michael Kurtiz filmed to promote American alliance with the then USSR. He is believed not to have thought very highly of cinema, for his innate belief and presumption was that Hindi as well as foreign films promoted immorality and corrupted young minds.

    Given the kind of films and web series bombarding various OTT platforms today, Gandhiji’s summation on cinema is not far from the truth. [highlight background=”#f79126″ color=”#ffffff”]Free from constricting demands of Film Certification, film makers have, one may say, gone to the seed, bringing onto mobiles, TV sets, what have you, virtually visual debauchery,[/highlight] to say the least.

    It is no wonder then that the Mahatma’s abhorrence of cinema and its ill-effects on mankind was so potent, omniscient, so much so that when a questionnaire was provided to Gandhiji by T Rangachariar, the then Chairman of Cinematograph Committee, in 1937, to elicit Gandhiji’s views on cinema, without an iota of hesitancy, the Father of the Nation described cinema as “sinful technology” and “a waste of resources and time.”

    Such was the Mahatma’s poor opinion of cinema that, inimical to the very idea of cinema as a form of entertainment, he once told a panel, “Even if I was so minded, I should be unfit to answer your questionnaire, as I have never been to a cinema. But even to an outsider, the evil that it has done and is doing is patent. The good, if it has done any at all, remains to be proved.”

    Never the one to have been enamoured or over awed by the marvel of this magical medium, his antipathy towards movies being so distasteful, in an interview published on May 3, 1942, in The Harijan, the paper he edited, the Mahatma observed, “If I began to organise picketing in respect of them (the evil of cinema), I should lose my caste, my Mahatmaship…! May I say that films are often bad.”

    For, he noted, “I have never once been to a cinema. Refuse to be enthused about it. Waste God-given time in spite of pressure sometimes used by kind friends. Its corrupting influence obdurates itself upon me every day.”

    [highlight background=”#f79126″ color=”#ffffff”]Gandhiji, a vociferous votary and practitioner of celibacy, believed that cinema could break a person’s vow for self-control.[/highlight] “You will avoid theatres and cinemas. Recreation is where you may not dissipate yourself but recreate yourself,” he observed in the preface to his book Self-Restraint vs Self-Indulgence.

    It is such pithy aphorisms that surface as one delves into Gandhiji’s idea of cinema and its “corruptive influence” on a person’s psyche. Such was the Mahatma’s innate belief that he was not the one to climb down from his stated position despite the pleading of writer-film maker Khwaja Ahmad Abbas to him to look at the positive contribution of cinema to entertainment and its utility as a tool to further the cause of Indian freedom movement.

    Such was his steadfast opinion and antipathy towards cinema that he was rather reluctant in meeting up with one of the greatest comedians of the silent era, Charlie Chaplin, whom he simply dismissed as “a buffoon”. The two, though, met on September 22, 1931 during Gandhi’s visit to England for the Round Table Conference.

    It is true that during Gandhi’s lifetime, Indian cinema did not quite have the potential to shape the minds of public; that is something it acquired a few decades later, post-Independence. However, post his death, film makers have not been wanting in bringing his life story onto the screen.

    Gandhiji wrote in Young India, in 1927, “You will avoid theatres and cinemas. Recreation is where you may not dissipate yourself but recreate yourself. You will, therefore, attend bhajan mandalis where word and tune uplift the soul.”

    The Collected Works of Mahatma Gandhi, 1965, provides enough personal viewpoints held by Gandhiji on cinema. In a letter to Helene Haussding, he writes, “I know that overwork and terrific strain are just as apprehensible, even though they may be in a good cause, as a drinking-bout or visiting cinemas. The results of both are the same.”

    Addressing labourers in Rangoon in 1929, Gandhiji says, “The cinema, the stage, the race-course, the drink-booth and the opium-den—all are enemies of society that have sprung up under the fostering influence of the present system threaten us on all sides.”

    In a letter to Kasturba, in 1934, he expounds: “In Ahmedabad, children get headaches, lose the power of thinking, get fever and die. It is on the decline now. The disease is caused by going to the cinemas.”

    And at a prayer meeting in 1947, he says to the gathering, “Why do you need a cinema here? Cinema will only make you spend money. Then you will also learn to gamble and fall into other evil habits.”

    But the irony of life and the times in which we live in today is that, [highlight background=”#f79126″ color=”#ffffff”]come October 2, no efforts are spared to ensure that there is a deluge of film of all hues and making on and about Gandhi as “entertainment,” to remember and pay homage to the “half naked fakir”[/highlight] as Winston Churchill described the Mahatma.

    Gandhi may have shunned, and smirked at, film as an avoidable and detestable corruptive beast, but the beast of cinema makes the most of the Mahatma whenever it falls short of ideas; it seeks refuge in his name and fame to champion the man and his message. Then, today and tomorrow. It’s good that his venerable memory is being perpetuated. For, as Albert Einstein once said, “Generations to come, it may well be, will scarce believe that such a man as this one ever in flesh and blood walked upon this Earth.”

  • Gantumoote, fallaciousness of the (fe)male gaze

    Gantumoote, fallaciousness of the (fe)male gaze

    Gantumoote, fallaciousness of the (fe)male gaze

     

    Films are the primary source of entertainment for Indians and the cultural constructs created by them strongly influence the thinking of men, women, and most importantly, the new generation.”

    -Cinema & Society: Shaping our Worldview: Beyond the Lens Investigation on the Impact of Gender Representation in Indian Films: Geena Davis Institute on Gender in Media & Oak Foundation Study.

     

    Life imitates art far more than art imitates life.”

    –Oscar Wilde.

     

    Objectification, commodification, stalking and sexual harassment of heroines in cinema all in the name of professing love, saving the damsel in distress, heroine giving in to the ministrations of the hero, has long been a bane, the world over.

    That, in majority cases, women, with aspirations, become willing participants looking to a glitz and glamourous career in the instant stardom providing industry, becoming putty in the hands of directors or film makers and producers, is another matter.

    More so, it is an accepted belief that, if it is a man behind the camera, he, all the more ensures his female characters become lascivious objects of male gaze to drool upon. Giving play to the lurid imagination of voyeuristic audiences that takes its own flight of fancy as pro-active participants in the vapid visual narratives that unveil before them.

    However, what is worrisome, and disconcerting is, that even women directors brook no bones being no better than their male counterparts when it comes to exploiting their own ilk, exceptions notwithstanding.

    They are equally easily culpable when it comes to depiction of women and their subtle exploitation, all in the garb of championing feminist’s cause, providing a feminine perspective, intended at empowerment and emancipation.  In the guise of tackling bold and women-centric concerns, women directors too, under this convenient ruse of giving voice to womenfolk, have no qualms conspiratorially playing to the gallery, driven by the vicious dictates of market economics, is what this essay perforce posits.

    The case in point, the recently released and much valorised Kannada film Gantumoote (Bag-Age) by debutant Roopa Rao. Ironically, the very eponymous title bespeaks the burden the young director bears such that her film succeeds both at commercial box-office as also catch the eye of discerning audiences alike. As goes the adage: Kill two birds in one stone.

    Roopa Rao, quitting her cushy job at IT bellwether Infosys, took to her aspirational calling, foraying into films after she cut her teeth with the 12 episode web series The Other Love Story, on lesbianism, where two girls from disparate backgrounds – Aadya and Aachal strike same-sex companionship as the case with the ill-fated boy-girl romance in Gantumoote.

    In The Other Love Story, a format faithfully followed in Gantumoote, the protagonist Aadya is obsessed with movies. She pens her thoughts in her diary stating “I don’t know why everything that happens around me feels like a movie. I feel like a spectator, it’s hard to involve, because when I involve it is painful,” about her inability to comprehend the situation she finds herself closeted in, the tentativeness and swirl she feels to the happenings, as does Meera, in Gantumoote. A poster stuck on the wall of her living room proclaims “In a conflict between heart and doubt, follow your heart.” And that is precisely what Meera, as does Aadya, do in their respective roles.

    At the pivot of Gantumoote is 16-year-old still pubescent teen Meera pursued by an emboldened classmate Babu, who, egged on by his friends, hands her a red rose to Meera. The director, on her part, seeks our indulgence to believe Meera is ignorant and innocent as to what it signifies by accepting it without batting an eyelid.

    Here, straightaway you have the classic case of the girl making way for the boy stalking her at every opportunity, and unsolicited intrusion into her freedom and personal space. The way the scene is played is also much to be desired and the dialogues that follow suit despicable.

    The director conveniently infuses in her heroine a facile naivety in keeping with her small town moorings to prove her immaturity in being unable to fathom what accepting the rose signifies and thanks Babu stating she could not have refused for the efforts he had put in.

    For, when Babu asks her “What just thanks”? She retorts: What more should I say? Wondering what the fuss all about is blissfully unaware that Babu is euphorically exulting:  “Macha she has accepted me friends.” To which they respond: Man you have indeed successfully snared her.”

    That the setting of the film is a school rather than a college is another point of disquiet one needs to take note of. The film set in still conservative and tradition bound ‘90s and not in today’s freeway and footloose and fancy-free Internet and Mobile age makes it unacceptable cinematic liberties the director has taken.

    In fact, Meera suffers nightmares from a disturbing episode in the cinema theatre when just nine, where a man had molested her. The trauma revisits her when Babu audaciously makes bold trying to get familiar and fresh with Meera.

    As a pretext of asking what she is sketching, Babu consciously and deliberating places his palm on her thighs triggering childhood memory Meera had suffered as she hurries away shocked by his audacity. Once again the visual blatantly planting in young boys the wanton seeds to mimic it in real life.

    Thereon, Meera tamely rebuffs Babu ignoring his and his friends Hi! Meera greeting, sloppily portrayed, with undue familiarity every time they pass her desk in the classroom, which again is much hard to digest, even in cinematic terms.

    Meanwhile, Meera’s first flush of romance and adulthood is sublimely awakened when she sets her eyes on an otherwise quiescent and nondescript classmate Madhusudan, with familiar codas of cupid play getting underway.

    Again as Meera sets her sights on Madhu she wonders whether it was the influence of cinema that propelled her to fall in love. What has attracted Meera towards Madhu is that his lock of hair falls on his forehead a la Salman Khan’s in Hum Aap Ke Hai Kaun which she had seen when in 9th standard.

    What’s more the director has not be able to shy away from portraying her protagonist as hero’s love interest, despite the fact it is her young heroine Meera who first gives Madhu the comeuppance stealing suggestive glances at him.

    Once this is established, with the girl opening her defenses, the entire dynamics changes with the boy slowly overcoming his awkwardness and boldly asserting his ownership of Meera as his prized property dictating his superiority getting familiar and fresh with her like a possessed tiger playing with its prey before the final kill.

    Rebuffed, and witnessing Meera fanning and mooning over Madhu, you have an enraged Babu slut-shaming by calling her “Dagar (meaning slut) as also writing the word, unfamiliar to Meera, on her desk. Yet another case of suggestiveness that would be locked in the recess of the young similarly disposed viewers.

    Every time Babu and his friends confront Meera they lose no moment in calling her thus with Babu even brushing himself against Meera – in a virtual case of physical assault as she passes him by. It is such scenes shown visually on the screen, without repercussions, that subconsciously trigger similar reactions in real life as well, leading to acid and other attacks on women happening in frequent manner by spurned Romeos who believe every girl are there for them to play wanton sport with and they quiescently succumb to such unwarranted attentions.

    Likewise, prior to the red rose scene you have the bus stop incident. Here, a bunch boys pass lewd and sexist comments at Meera speaking of how Roopa Rao, as a woman director, is abjectly insensitive to her own gender.

    “Boys/brothers (Maga) see what a super figure she has. Yeke Chinna (What Dear) won’t turn and acknowledge me? Hey Bulbul, Hey Dove, you are mine. Do you think I will simply let you off if you ignore and go away?” while his friend keeps whistling alongside.

    Nothing could be more obnoxious construct of a scene the director has taken to show the predictable ‘male gaze’ all of which only catalyse such enactments in real life as well, examples of which galore where women have broken the glass ceiling in aspects and marching stride by stride with menfolk.

    Likewise, you have another equally disturbing love play taking place in the classroom with Mohan authoritatively stating that he is love with Sajida, who much disturbed by this daring declaration, replies she does not like such things asking Meera to tell him that they are already looking for a groom for her.

    Hearing which Mohan starts tattooing her name on his hand with his compass, while he has etched her name on his chest as well, points out another boy. “I have to get her. That’s it. Tell her I am in love with her,” he tells Meera even as a teary and traumatized Sajida rushes to the washroom, with all vehemence.

    Meera then again wonders (note the film motif) whether it is the influence of Shahrukh Khan starrer Darr or Kannada film Shivrajkumar starrer Om that “I love you, you must love me,” has so influenced Mohan to even think that Sajida is his property and is meant for him alone.

    My critique of Gantumoote, therefore, supposedly women-centric cinema, pertains to such the fallacies and fanatical declarations it cleverly perpetuates, in the garb of providing female gaze of its protagonist’s life experiences (more so all drawn from director’s own past), and taking to the typical boy stalking girl formula, than a detached and more realistic and aesthetic portrayal.

    This is what I find problematic in films after films which are predominant commercial in nature. That Deepa Mehta created her own controversies with Fire with that slow-motion deliberate long take of love-making scene between Shabana Azmi and Nandita Das, is another classic case in point or recent Aruna Raje’s Marathi film Firebrand wherein you have the housewife encouraging another man to sleep with to rid the demons of childhood rape that still haunt her despite having an understanding husband.

    The very fact that the film’s protagonist deeply influenced by the film she has seen, Hum Aap Ke Hai Kaun which triggers the 9th standard girl’s romantic hormones validates my case which I seek to put forth in furtherance of my critique of Gantumoote that it is no better than any crass commercial potboilers but done with sophistication camouflaging its more economic aspirations.

    Furthermore, that her very first encounter during a cinema viewing session, at a nubile age of nine, when she is molested and which the heroine seeks to brush aside stating “why should I write about the abuse or even report it, thereby, give the molester prominence he may get as a result and it is better to move on,” only goes on to show, where director Roopa Rao’s sympathies lie and where her priorities are.

    The young Meera persists in watching the film from balcony this time from the earlier Gandhi class, only to scour who her molester could have been, further buttresses my argument, film makers must consider the visual impact their cinemas can have on young minds, unless aesthetically and sensitively done.

    That the girl at such a tender age was even allowed in a theatre to watch the film all alone is bit too hard to digest given the time the film is set in – the ‘90s, that too in a small town, despite all cinematic license one may excuse the director indulging in.

    As a young girl the director may have done that, but depicting it visually on screen is another matter and bit unacceptable. No wonder the censors prudently certified it ‘A’ much to the consternation of the director who bemoaned that young adults would be kept away from her film and rightly and wisely so.

    While it may be argued that one off incidents should not tarnish the entire industry. The most recent of episode of a man influenced to murder his wife after watching Malayalam film Drishyam and Tamil film 99, further strengthens my assertion unless audiences are educated to take sensible, detached and realistic approach to cinema and consider movies more than mere entertainment, strong, potent visuals take deep roots in their mind’s recess and psyche which they then reenact in reality believing they can get away like their heroes on the screen.

    As a result, societies continue to suffer misdemeanours and violent incidents such as Nirbhaya, and the recent Hyderabad tragedy, which haunt larger public in the society, rousing the collective conscience of the diaspora for instant justice raising questions about the safety and security of their girl children and womenfolk.

    While it is indisputable that one of the functions of cinema is to entertain its audiences, give wings to the assorted viewers to travel into an another world if only for its screen time, than lived, real one, providing window of escape from diurnal grind and mundanity of everyday life, one has to argue and assert that there is more to cinema than this.

    For, beyond being a popular vehicle of mass, affordable, and easily accessible consumption, it is also a fact that cinema also plays a pivotal role in moulding and shaping opinions, constructing either positive or negative images, thereby reinforcing dominant and prevailing socio-cultural and political values.

    Given cinema illiterate audiences that folk to theatres are susceptible to carry their screen experience into real life, it becomes even more incumbent upon film makers to exercise caution and be more responsible as to how they depict and delineate their narrative and its hidden homilies than duck under artistic liberty and freedom to do so.

    As Geena Davis study substantiates: though films reflect society around them, they have the unique power to change society as well. Besides the portrayal of women in main roles influencing us, there is invidious subliminal conditioning that takes place by only seeing women playing subsidiary roles on screen, may be even more instrumental in shaping our thoughts.

    I quote few observations from the study of those interviewed.

     

    Whoever has seen whatever movie, he will wonder if he should do that also.”

    –Dixit, 24.

     

    People also copy the fashion, clothes, and attitudes from movies.”

    –Vandana, 35.

     

    It affects the mind of children. It also affects our society and culture.”

    –Maneesha, 30.

     

    Children are deeply affected by these characters and movies as they immediately start copying it after watching them.”

    –Pinky, 38.

     

    See, nowadays, girls are also bold, they smoke, they drink… Now the girls also want to do everything which a boy is doing.”

    –Umeshbhai, 42.

     

    Incidents of rape are increasing in society now. This is because of the effect of movies.”

    –Rupa, 43.

     

    If they show such content, awareness may not increase, but such crimes would increase.”

    –Saleem, 44.

     

    Hence, it becomes imperative how the particular film is packaged and received by the ultimate consumers – the viewers / audiences without being prejudicial to civil society norms on public conduct. For, a notion/perception predominantly based on a director’s beliefs, attitudes and values, combined with director’s own larger but misconstrued understanding of what audiences’ want and pandering suit to popular market demands, must be consciously eschewed for the larger good of society.

    Furthermore, with women constituting a sizeable portion of cinema going population, and more so, the young adults – both male and female, the portrayal of women, the roles they play, the way they come across, on screen, the message these visual registers ultimately carry, is a crucial factor in breaking or reinforcing and determining the prevalent stereotypes that is already firmly entrenched in the society.

    Besides, how it impacts the psyche of diaspora habituated to films more as a means of entertainment, to pass time, than assimilate and approach it as art and creative form that depict social realities or life experiences on screen becomes equally relevant.

    Merely conceived and constructed just as entertainment, however, rabidly it may be, without an educated engagement and appreciation of cinema aesthetics as art form and not merely tool of entertainment, is doing great disservice to not only themselves but larger public in general.

    The film has several such disturbing fault lines in its very construction and scripting that one watches with aghast at the cupid caper played out before you. For example, in mathematics class room scene you have Madhu asking the lecturer whether if someone did not give what they had promised on time, should then they not do so with interest.

    The lecturer states it all depends what was agreed upon, who should have given what, without realising Madhu had asked Meera to kiss him which she had reluctantly not obliged. The next scene has Madhu cornering Meera in the classroom alone and series of kisses and lip lock picturised providing audiences gratuitous ideas to carry home with.

    As if such wanton cupid play was not enough you have even more gross visuals coming in the form of Madhu and Meera making it in the public libraries lip-locking and getting physical, as also during school picnic, where following sudden cloud burst sees Madhu remove his shirt a la Salman Khan.

    It is such blatantly exploitative and titillating visuals, pandering to familiar baser male desires to provide audiences pervert and prurient pleasures, with Meera and Madhu pirouetting on once they formalise their relationship that the director subvertly goes on catering to (fe)male gratification, with the two becoming licentious playground to milk their rendezvous for a trip in voyeurism. That you have another scene where you have Meera asking for cigarette and takes a puff also points to where the film’s intent lies and who it is surreptious catering to.

    Needless to say, despite being a woman herself, Roopa Rao gloriously takes to depicting the world of women is the most regressive, demeaning and depressing manner which constantly thwarts any expectations of seeing Meera in a more plausible and positive manner that would offer similarly disposed young audiences to reflect upon than providing them indirect inspiration to mimic in their lives from what they have seen and experienced in the dark confines of the cinema hall.

    Noticing that both Madhu and Meera are virtually pawing at each other, the mathematics teacher counsels them stating: I like you both as a couple, but you guys need to slow down, while cautioning especially Meera stating you will be the most affected from repercussions of your actions. You are my favourite student. The whole school depends on you. With two months for board exams be serious. To which a flippant Madhu, basking in romantic mood casually retorts there is a good two months to go, and we will make it.

    But sadly, while Meera, given her natural disposition to do well at studies, tops her class, it is one downhill slide for Madhu, who keeps failing, and thereafter, unable to digest the fact that Meera has fared well, and he has miserably failed, goes into depression and commits suicide. This not before the following interlude between the two love birds.

    Madhu asks Meera how you were able to top the school. I am not worthy to be with you. I am a repeater. What did you find in me? When Meera consoles him to not give up and there’s a next time he bites back so now you are a senior advising this dullard of a junior.

    As has been persistently pointed out, cinema being undisputed mediator of socio-realities and personal dreams, it is imperative that one brings under scrutiny and interpret the dissonances and discrepancies inherent in the representation of women, especially in popular cinemas, for audiences to appreciate it as informed receptors of the narratives.

    By showcasing the heroine as mere spectacle or an object of cupid play and dominant male desire, Roopa Rao allows her protagonist to be inexorably trapped in a world of callous, insensitive film making by faithfully following the time-tested template for formulaic no-brainer, insensitive  entertainers .

    Touted as an urban romance with the small town girl going through all the pangs of coming of age and experiencing the first flush of romance, Roopa Rao has not been to escape from the familiar stereotypical representation of her heroine as “sexual objects” the way men (read her young juveniles on the verge of adulthood) would enjoy seeing them on the silver screen….”

    Also by repeatedly perpetuating the very illusion of cinema that her heroine breaks, Roopa Rao, in frame after frame, reinforces the idiosyncratic dangers that films trap the young minds into mimicking them in real life imitating the doings of their hero/heroines. Thereby, as her heroine Meera reflects deciding not to take Madhu’s suicidal path consoling herself that the episode and experience will a “Gantumoote (Bag-age) in her life” so does Roopa Rao by pursuing a more mundane commercial path than provide for a meaning, sensible and subtle cinema that can be celebrated and cheered. Sad!

     


    References

    Analysis of Hindi women-centric-films in India. Srijita Sarkar. University of Louisville

    Stereotyping women in Indian Cinema. Vatika Sibal. St. Andrew’s College of Arts, Science & Commerce

    Ahmed, S. Akbar (1992). ‘Bombay Films:  The Cinema as Metaphor for Indian Society and Politics’. Modern Asian Studies 26, 2 (1992). 289-320. Great Britain.

    Ahmed S Akbar (1992). Bombay Films:  The Cinema as Metaphor for Indian Society & Politics. Modern Asian Studies 26, 2 (1992).

    Nandkumar S (2011). The Stereotypical Portrayal of Women III Commercial Indian Cinema. University of Houston.

    Laura Mulvey (1988) Visual Pleasure & Narrative Cinema. In Constance Penley (Ed), Feminism and Film Theory, New York: Routledge.

    Mulvey L 1989: Visual & Other Pleasures. Bloomington & Indiana: Indiana University Press.

    Cinema & Society: Shaping our Worldview: Beyond the Lens Investigation on the Impact of Gender Representation in Indian Films: Geena Davis Institute on Gender in Media & Oak Foundation Study.

     

    External

    Gantumoote on IMDB | Gantumoote official trailer

     

  • Cinematographic Consciousness

    Cinematographic Consciousness

    The cinematograph provides us with a view of the world that is not a representation of the world outside, but is instead a space-time continuum representing an interiority that captures the internal state of the audience. This continuum is in the form of a sound-image block that provides us with a new understanding of reality. In other words, there is always a film playing beneath the surface, which is an indexical sign to the nature of reality that is both manifested and unmanifested.

    The camera represents a consciousness, which is separate from the content (the story). Distanciation in the cinematograph is of key importance so that consciousness can be split from the content. The moment this condition is validated the middle, between start and end, can be established in the same way that a shot is between an ON and an OFF (the recording of the camera). Film-makers, starting from neo-realism (as in Satyajit Ray’s Apu Trilogy), establish one dimension of the manifest reality in order to emphasize the nature of the whole that is simultaneously a manifest reality but is an index for the ultimate reality beneath the surface.

    The key term in the cinematograph is conscioushood, which phenomenonology refers to as intentionality. The phenomenological praxis of cinema involves using the cinematographic apparatus to move from phenomena A to phenomena B. The camera is an expanding or contracting consciousness that is an indexical sign for the transformation between phenomenon A to B. Spoken dialogue is used in such a way that language penetrates the consciousness of the spectator so that the subconscious can be brought into view and the cinematograph can move to a point beyond death i.e. the death of the spectator as s/he passes her/his life watching the film.

    Cinema concentrates several years of sleeping, waking and dreaming into the runtime of a single film. This is especially possible when it induces a state of deep sleep (the reason for the film being played out at a deliberately slower pace) so that the film is a dream the spectator has in the waking state. Sleep is induced through pre-empted and delayed editing so that time is manipulated and the temporal nature of the film becomes a body in a state of tension. The intentionality of the shot, giving birth to the auteur, is such that it is self-abnegating and the film becomes a space where thing and thought to meet whilst at the same time emphasizing its own aboutness state, outside the domain of intentionality. Mani Kaul’s Satah Se Uthata Aadmi uses this approach to sleeping, waking and dreaming until the narrative settings are reduced and the camera can record the consciousness of the machines in the penultimate scene at the factory.

    In order for this to occur, it is of chief importance that the shot be deliberately constructed in such a way that its recording is its own un-construction. Creation and destruction occur simultaneously to address the whole of time and the minimum interval between two durations. Language is used so that cinema becomes a tool for desire, so that language serves as the only medium for communicating the cinematographic relationship between the psychoanalyst (the director) and the analysand (the cinematographic shot constituting actors/objects and utterances in the form of dialogue).

    The camera represents the Self so that it is free from causality and all that remains is the relationship between percepts (witnessed whilst dreaming in the waking state) and affects (denying the film the possibility to represent). In other words cinema is a sound-image block that has no representation and is pure potentiality through the seed-image (‘Rosebud’ in Orson Welles’ Citizen Kane) that creates a chronic time spiral. There are two spirals in cinema, the ascending male spiral of consciousness and the descending female spiral of consciousness, which fuse together to form a mandala: a pure icon transcending both denotation and representation.

    The primary position of the cinematograph is between camera and object. It is becomes a key to place the camera at a distance so that actors and objects are bodies in a space instead of characters with functions, and the film becomes a quality of attention that can either be concentrated or diluted. The moment the camera is at a distance the interior life of the spectator i.e. consciousness is evoked whilst simultaneously the relationship between sound and image ruptures her/his subconscious. The purpose of this axiom is to allow the spectator to project thought onto the object so that the film makes one realize that it is not the film that moves, but the mind. In other words, a film is a mind at work. Mani Kaul’s early work including films like Uski Roti, Ashad Ka Ek Din and Duvidha established the relationship between camera and object through camera distances (the 7 camera distances in Uski Roti) to eventually address the addition of the new (‘unknown’) foreign object in Duvidha, which is in the form of a ghost.

    For most film critics the body in the space is transformed into a character. The relationship between actor, body and character needs to be differentiated here. The actor is a thing, an object, which does not resemble the character s/he plays. However the actor’s body serves as a figuration for the volumetric nature of the frame. The actor and the body are both projections of the camera, whereas the character is a projection of the world, coming from the other direction, allowing cinema to be a world viewed. The ethics between the characters serve as laws to engage the sociopolitical fabric of cinema. The ethics do not directly refer to sociopolitical realities, since taking a shot in itself is a sociopolitical act. What then, do the characters in a film refer to?

    A key for analyzing character is to allow a becoming of the narrative-space from the conditions of potentiality of the shot i.e. the location-space. The character is also producing a space as the camera records it in time. The ethics between the characters is “what the film is about” and results in sociopolitical flux that is tilted like a magnet aligning itself to the north and south poles. The intentionality of character construction is the relationship between the intentio and the intentium, such that the director has a gaze (intentio) that is constructed by the character (intentium). Now the director must proceed toward a nullification of the combination of intention and intentium i.e. intentionality so that the Self i.e. the camera can be dissolved. In Satah Se Uthata Aadmi, Mani Kaul gradually limits the narrative-space so that the location space can serve as the line of flight for the film to free itself from representation.

    In order to achieve this, there is a withdrawal of interest in “story-telling” so that the camera can serve as a tool to record movement (“motion-picture”/ “movie”). The basis of cinema is not the shot or the cut, but the active ‘life-force’ i.e. breath. Focusing on the breath produces a crisis in action so that the mental image produced by breathing is the image on the screen. In other words, the representations on the screen create a relationship between director, image and audience so that a pure mental image is produced. An example of this would be a scene in which the protagonist chases the antagonist on a bicycle. Here there is a direct correlation between the movement of the wheel of the cycle (rotation), the entire bicycle (translation) and the movement of the film and the spectator’s mind (camera movement may be added as an additional dimension).

    This crisis in the action, which produces a mental image, produces a withdrawal of the representation to a state of mind much like a tortoise withdrawing into its shell. Now, all the audience perceives is images of pure time (Gilles Deleuze’s time-image) where breath is out-of-joint resulting in the descending spiral of consciousness becoming pathological. There are two processes here: the transformation of movement into energy followed by the transformation of energy into mind-energy. This in turn creates an expansion of consciousness of the spectator making him into a thinking subject, such that s/he can project their thoughts onto the shot. Yasujiro Ozu achieves this in his later films. This aesthetic finds its Indian equivalent in the closing scenes of Vishnu Mathur’s Pahla Adhyay, in which the image has already occurred, once in the cosmos and for the second time on the screen i.e. able to bring about the ‘power of repetition’ in a single shot.

    Once this projection is complete: the film is pure attention, light striking an orifice, captured on film and recorded first by the camera and then by the memory of the spectator. It is at these points that either the light source is shown in the shot or the film is overexposed so that the spectator is reminded that s/he is still awake. The manifest reality of movement is fragmented so that the ultimate reality that is constituted by awareness is brought into play.

    This is generally followed by an epilogue in which the function of language serves as a profound mediator of cinema. Cinema is no longer a language, but language mediates cinema, with the ideology of holding the attention of the spectator over duration. Now cinema has transcended death, it has moved from psychopathology to a state beyond death where sleeping, waking and dreaming lead to the ultimate reality.

    In this way cinema becomes a transformation of a world-view philosophy of Becoming into a temporal medium of Being. The reason why cinema cannot transcend Being is because of representation, which makes space into a manifest reality. Being is only possible when the visual is static and nothing moves. To transform Being into the absolute reality it would be necessary to shoot an image that represents the unmanifested and not simply denote the unmanifested through language (‘Rosebud’). However, the camera’s relationship to the object before it prevents this unmanifest reality from being represented: the “direct representation of time” is still a manifest reality, and the question is: can a shot document the Absolute?