The ‘Death’s in Iti Mrinalini

Death is a paradox - it announces an absence yet it is profound and revered in religions. It is a bonding which marks a distance – between us and within us. This relativism of death makes it an abstraction of separation – intrigues longing and masquerades permanence.  Death therefore essentially links memories to absolutism and in turn rejects itself. In Hindu philosophy of re-birth and the circle (and cycle) of life, however, death is only a beginning of a new life and continuous in the cycle, and memoirs don’t hold much significance as such since anyway only the soul changes the body on rebirth –

“A man acts according to the desires to which he clings. After death he goes to the next world bearing in his mind the subtle impressions of his deeds; and after reaping there the harvest of his deeds, he returns again to this world of action. Thus, he who has desires continues subject to rebirth.”  Shukla Yajur Veda, Brihadaranyaka Upanishad (4.4.5-6)

Separation, absence, death and longing have been favourite subject amongst creative persons. From novelists, to poets, artists and film makers these have always been their subject of interest.  Arthur Koestler, noted author, wrote before his own suicide: "If the word death were absent from our vocabulary, our great works of literature would have remained unwritten, pyramids and cathedrals would not exist, nor works of religious art-and all art of religious or magic origin. " Or, the famous Norwegian artist Edward Munch accepted, “Without anxiety and illness I should have been like a ship without a rudder."

            In cinema as well, the concept of absence marked by death have been symbolic in representation. Ingmar Bergman is one such director who toyed with this idea of death in conjunction with religious metaphors, Michelangelo Antonioni on the other narrated death with non-communication and painted the canvas red. Back home Ray’s Apu Trilogy holds death in substance and as sustenance for life, Ghatak epitomized nostalgia as a death of self and persistence of memory. Aparna Sen’s last released film Iti Mrinalini (henceforth referred to as IM) dealing with death and its role as precursor of life in absence hence, is not a new or a striking endeavour. In this short scope we will try to see how death and absence played key roles in defining the philosophy of this narrative.

There are three physical deaths in the film – the one of Abhi, Mrinalini’s college boyfriend who was a Naxalite, in the later part that of her dresser Kamala and in between, her only daughter Sohini who died due to a plane accident. Of these, the first and the second mentioned here have been shown as incidents which have importance in Mrinalini’s life but just as a loss of a close acquaintance. The love relation with Abhi was so minimally shown on screen (apart from their dubious love-making scene) that it or he, never become important for our notice. On the contrary Kamala had been a steadfast support, muted in her presence yet meaningful in her duties. She for once at-least advised the young Mrinalini to give up her case with Siddhartha the married film director.
            The death of Sohini aka Sona – Mrinalini’s daughter with Siddhartha was a blow to love-torn Mrinalini. It took a screen time much longer, is set up poignantly and is sure to catch your heart. It follows the proverbial “five stages of grief” from Denial to Acceptance and is probably the ‘only’ natural instinct that any common audience can relate to (most of the others – the extra martial affairs and the mandatory heart-breaks therein due to peer rivalry etc can be dismissed by the general audience as something related to the ‘film world’ only). This is the phase where Chintan Nair, the novelist friend of Mrinalini plays the vital cog – he is a support one rarely finds in life.  Though, question can be raised whether he could have been the same if his wife is not crippled with Arthritis? If we choose to ignore that question, the loss of a child through accidental death put us to this death paradox. This loss, attenuated by a visit to the Nair-couple reach Mrinalini exactly where? From the narrative we come to know she left cinema after Satyajit Ray’s demise. How did she manage, cope and sustain life in between? Did she defeat it with her remembrances of her? This is all unknown. Cause Aparna Sen chose a jump from that time to the fateful night when she opens her life to herself and the box of pictures.

This is where the film started with - the fourth death. The death of self – the mind and the soul happened, it seems long back. With suicide, Mrinalini wishes to part with the mortal remains. It is interesting hence, on the eve of embarking to this journey better unknown to all, she herself tries to conquer death with her nostalgia. Is it a funeral to the self only since there is probably no one who will subvert Mrinalini’s absence in their lives by her joyful memories? It could well be.  The prelude and the establishing shots cannot but make the audience remember Max Ophuls’s Letter from an Unknown Woman (1948) – like Lisa (a charming Joan Fontaine), Mrinalini (a tired Aparna Sen) also pens her suicide note. We are soon riding the flashback train with Mrinalini’s nostalgia from the turbulent 70’s to her becoming a top actress and the controversies. Interspersed, the aged Mrinalini tears up each time the suicide note. This conquest of the desire to die is from within – helped by the pictures, paper cuttings which all bring in nostalgia.  However one observation can be – the emphasis of the screenplay to show Mrinalini as a victim. It can be argued, in few cases with her men, she was a ‘willing’ victim. This shallows the depth of her emotional turmoil with them or in-spite of them. Associating tragedy inflicted by patriarchy is such a clichéd currency that it seldom sells now. In the context of Indian cinema two films which come rightly in mind are Guru Dutt’s epic Kaagaz Ke Phool (1959) and Shyam Benegal’s Bhumika (1977). Even though Guru Dutt had harped on the longing bells to the extent of self-destruction and the death of a relationship (marital in this case), the film is a tribute to the cinema of the 40’s and 50’s of Bombay. Bhumika on the other hand is a cut-above representation of the early Indian film industry and a woman’s journey through it – tragic yet unrepentant.

The deaths hence of IM are laden with self-indulgence, big philosophies and prophecies. Somehow in between, life slipped through. This is the reason why the film and the deaths within it almost always fail to connect. The tragedy of absence – in individual and in collective society is narrated in thin air and dissolves. The final scene where we find Mrinalini deciding to forego her decision of suicide (since she got a message from Chintan that he is coming – for another philosophical journey?, may be) but eventually lying dead from a gunshot when night is killed by the morning Sun becomes trivial in interpretation.

Only the longing, the unending quest and the feeling of loss due to Sona’s death is so over-encompassing. How to give enough to those who survive, not for us only – the living but more so for those who are so ceremonious with their absence as well.  If only the film showed us some glimpse of this herculean journey of the unfortunate.

Delhi Belly – shit happens, on screen

A few weeks back I happened to watch Delhi Belly, a film that has supposedly taken the urban country by storm. I happened to laugh away, revere even a few aspects of it in the first count. But after a few days and analyzing it mentally, not all was amusing! Sharing my little disavowal of the ‘humour’ in Delhi Belly (referred as DB henceforth) and my cynicism in accepting it to be ‘outrageous and obnoxious for Indian audience’, left few of my friends sore. They all opined that I have lost it – that sense, what they coin as HUMOUR. Now I have matured enough now to understand that like many things, this sense is also subjective.  I have enjoyed Woody Allen in his relentless hovering in the New York streets, reveled in Vinay Pathak’s antics in the original Bheja Fry but somehow got stumped with the new Golmaal or Welcome.  I do admit hence, that my friends are not at fault, it’s just a sense of humour somehow that rings differently in the different minds

It becomes imperative on my part hence, to clarify my stance – what went wrong with me in the scope of accepting DB as a comedy and as pioneer amongst its peers.  And, possibly few generic musings. I have always believed that there should be an Indian film theory – a theory to understand the different variations within the same genre of Indian films. They are varied based on time, culture and geography. The concept of a pan-Indian audience was cooked, it never was, and the unity in diversity had always been political and less cultural. That is solely the reason I hated the trend that classified Hindi films churned out from Mumbai as “Indian” film. Which India, whose India do they represent? Aamir Khan being a supremely intelligent individual has consciously chosen and supported the subjects of his films that are specific in their charm. DB, for instance is a period film with a difference - it articulates the existence of contemporary times in an upwardly urban city-scape. 

That the film is ‘inspired’ by a host of Hollywood films (who cannot but relate the similes with Todd Phillips’ The Hangover), US tv sit-coms is stated in its texture. There is an interesting usage of a Rishi Kapoor dance number in the first scene and the mockery of it by Aamir’s item number in the end. Then there is a small chase scene almost lifted from the classic Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron and so on. Now what started in the first part of the film as funny – the extreme frequent usage of farting and elaboration of human stool and its passing in the second half took the fun out from this grey humour for me.  Because, it is still at a level of abstraction where the tendencies have been to make the film ‘realistic’ but the form is almost the same primitive.  The scene where the gangman unloads human faeces on the table is hence nonsensical to me – neither humorous nor abhorring the way Pasolini raked up smell from behind the scenes even! Now if someone is not that bold to show the actual things on-screen (which can be fully justifiable) then why just fake it?  Just like Aamir’s earlier Dil Chahta Hai, DB also  renders within the normal peripheries of Hindi mainstream film – only camouflaging as being radical (and rebellious, this time).

Most of the time, the jokes in DB are cartoonish by any standard and raunchy to be best (or worst!). It such a misfortune that the film is branded as “Adult comedy”. It becomes difficult to appreciate that “adultness” is only in scatology and in squeezing the breasts of a prostitute on screen.  Likewise, the whole subplot of one of the characters trying to blackmail his landlord with pictures (taken in a non-digital SLR camera!!) of the latter visiting a prostitute falls flat. Or, take for instance after the other inmate of that crude apartment came to know that his love-interest is already engaged, breaks into a musical number in the typical Hindi cinema isshtyle – the only difference is that the dual-meaning of the lyrics possibly imply that the girl once gave him a blowjob!  Even, for the matter, the joke about branding the female journalist as a lesbian in one of the party scenes. If there is a slant at any transgression if at all, that is not understood. On the contrary in hooking up her with the male protagonist in the end (instead of the protagonist’s rich girlfriend), tries to balance the sexual preference of the female journalist.

In his blog Aamir Khan said, "Aamir Khan Productions is known for its inspiring, clean, family entertainment. All that is about to change! Delhi Belly has the potential of, in a single stroke, destroying all the goodwill we have built in the last ten years” (http://movies.ndtv.com/movie_Story.aspx?id=ENTEN20110175242 accessed on 27-July-2011). As mentioned, apart from that artificial picturisation of stool being unloaded, almost nothing is too gross – neither visually, nor at an abstract level apart from liberal use of curse words. On one hand the sanctity of familial happiness is restored in the landlord getting a let off and her wife knowing nothing about him visiting the brothel, and on the other, the male protagonist’s rejection of his girl-friend and her over-interfering family was as per the mainstream audience’s latent wish!

The effort in the end is a paced film smartly done which in actual is too concerned not to offend the audience or even try to shock it. There are laugh guff which all probably gets white-washed from the mind after some time. We can however, always hope that the next “adult” comedy gives some respect to the matters inside the head rather than your belly!

Ichchhe – if only the parents wished less

Let me start with the story of a teen-ager some twenty years back. He loved and wanted to study literature. His academician parents were wiser - "There is no future in General stream that too Literature". The boy grew up believing that he probably didn’t have the merit as well to pursue arts.

Watching Nandita Roy and Shiboprasad Mukherjee's debut film Ichchhe (meaning 'wish') I suddenly got reminded of that boy whom I knew quite well till a time. Ichchhe deals with a reality which is a perceived reality of the Bengali middle class. Long back Rabindranath Tagore was miffed by the hapless Bengali psyche and wrote "saat koti sontaner hey mugddho janoni, rekhecho bangali korey manush koroni" (a crude translation is - "Hey mother of seven crore children, you have kept them as Bengalis but did not let them grow as complete individuals"). Bengali population has got multiplied from that seven crores in these many years but the truth of situation remains almost unaltered. The film opens up with a kid Rana getting up from sleep and his mother Mamata (Sohini Sengupta) readies him for school. In the short journey in a rickshaw to school, Rana is hammered with 'knowledge' from the mother. And this continues, from home to school, on the way back and almost all the time the child is awake. He is threatened, loved, blackmailed and cornered - to fulfill the 'wish' of the mother that he stands first in the exams every time. Soon we find Rana a pawn to his mother's irreverent desire – a cherished dream of self-respect and status-quo in the society which her LIC-agent husband cannot provide.  In a touching sequence she breaks up to her sister and confesses that she has nothing more to do – she wanted to make it big through some one, if not the husband then at-least the son. This sad revelation immediately strips off the mother from a villainy badge, making her emotions logical even if her actions were not.  In one of the altercations the father (Bratya Basu) told her wife that as parents they have done their duties in bringing up their son and she should not ideally confuse it with her own sacrifices towards making a better future for Rana. Mamata couldn’t take it internally, her life revolved round her son, how can now she try to dissociate herself from this? Near the later part of the film there is a stunningly tragic representation of the repressed anxiety of Mamata, her world where Rana is still a kid – his cups and medals where Mamata can feel her efforts into the achievements. The message is strong and clear – how parents mummify their children as toys for their own ego satisfaction.  Through the father’s character in direct comparison with Mamata’s the dilemma of attention over intrusion is conveyed well. It was an interesting code where the father being un-interested from the beginning is not Rana’s biggest threat but is distant from him. On the other hand the mother trespasses Rana’s life and drifts away from Rana to an extent that he sees her as his enemy and revolts from time to time. So where does the son go? In Sanskrit there is an adage – “prapteshu sorosho borshe, putra mitra badacharet” (meaning “attaining the age of sixteen, the son should be treated as a friend”). Unfortunately even now, in middle class Bengali houses the son-parent relationship lacks this maturity. The film doesn’t answer this dichotomy as well but reflects it truthfully.

Interesting also is the politics of gender where the homo-gendered rivalry of the coveted object (the ‘man’) leads to a tussle of emotional tug-of-war. While Rana’s first girl-friend was passive (whom Mamata initially nipped off brutally from Rana’s life and at a later time wanted to implant back to get rid of his second girl-friend), Jayanti, his second love-interest is charmingly effervescent.  Bidita Bag as Jayanti exudes freshness which is natural and real. To her credit she managed to uplift the character from being a baby-doll at the hands of Rana or the director-duo! Her effortless flirtations from being an extrovert to the moments of psychological crises are praiseworthy. With few more films lined up for release, Bidita hopefully will get the variety to portray a range of characters. She has a promise, an urban youth who is familiar to us. Her leading man in the film Samadarshi Dutta (who played the grown up Rana) is a finding. His big eyes are innocent till you beat his ego hard and he can be stinging in his cold stare. With a stubble he at times resembled the young Soumitra Chatterjee of Apur Sansar (remember, The Times reviewer wrote, "Actor Chatterjee, as a young man too gifted to be strong, provides an unforgettable object of the Biblical lesson (Luke 10:8) ' the children of light'"). This is Samadarshi’s first film (like Bidita’s) though not the first released since Ichchhe was delayed exhibition by three years! Both Samadarshi and Bidita launch themselves whole-heartedly into the filmscape – we can hope they can be the face of Bengal to World cinema. Sohini Sengupta as Mamata used her stoic physique to create a sense of un-relented destiny for a Bengali child – a different mother archetype which is less benevolent and more strict and fearful. Sohini, as always grabbed the role in both hands and delivered.  At times she was melodramatic, her theatrical overtones being overtly underlined. But those can be treated as aberrations. Her own sense of void that leaves her hitting at the door of communication with her son and returning empty-handed are carried through deftly. Sohini as Mamata, is a different image in the collage of character acting in Bengali cinema and it’s sure to be held with high esteem in future as well.

The film that can boast so highly of the acting however cannot do justice with its soundscape. The background music is too dramatic and intrusive. Rupam Islam added some decibels of noise. Anuseh Anadil of Bangladesh sang a poignant song and juxtaposed with Rana’s emotional outburst to Jayanti however seemed a little lengthy defeating the purpose of drama needed there. The costume as in most Bengali films raise the same question – why will most of the characters remain so immaculately made up even if they are at the leisure comfort of their homes? 

Ichchhe is a good attempt. It holds on a palette that has all the colours that we are familiar with. It is rare to find a Bengali film devoid of any nostalgic reference. Rather it intrigued the audience to tread nostalgic remembrances about their own childhood and the others surround them. The making is not outstanding as a result somehow there is a feeling of looking at the sky through a small window rather than the whole sky itself. Yet, such effort is praiseworthy simply because it tried to look at different aspects of life that contemporary Bengali film makers choose to ignore. Ichchhe probably cannot become a phenomenon in itself the way Taare Zameen Par happened to be. But Ichchhe did create a ripple that transmitted across successfully. That is no mean achievement.

Postscript:  That boy, whom I mentioned in the beginning, never had the courage of Rana to revolt nor did his mother push him to that extreme. He is now a man in his late thirties who toils hard in a software company. I happened to ask the toiler “Are you happy with what you do or you wished if you are in literature today”. I got a corporate-like response “well it depends”. But I already know that art has left him long ago.

Soumitra Chatterjee Revisited

At Satyajit Ray Auditorium, ICCR,Kolkata on July 11,2011, Films Division, Government of India & Rabindranath Tagore Centre, ICCR jointly presented the premiere of Soumitra Revisited, a documentary made by Sandip Ray (not the son of Satyajit Ray) on the legend Soumitra Chatterjee. This is a every important incident to me. When the nation state is ga-ga over the new "Indian" cinema which is in essence only Hindi cinema, the retrospect on regional cinema is all which is welcome. And yes, this can be made possible by the Govt of India only since they can look beyond the bazaar.

It was important for me to write this piece as a flock of emotions cloud my mind. I was rather harsh on him post his Best Actor felicitation in my article The Enigma That is Soumitra Chatterjee (http://dearcinema.com/article/the-enigma-that-is-soumitra-chatterjee/1944) due to his overt and insensitive support of the Government in the Nandigram killings. I, at a later point in time, took an interview of him for my magazine Silhouette which was later re-published in Dearcinema (http://dearcinema.com/interview/taa%C2%AAte-aa%C2%A0-taa%C2%AAte-with-soumitra-chatterjee/2026). During the interview and afterwards I felt Mr. Chatterjee only acted a scene - one of the many which he does to many interviewers - on screen or off.  I still have that lamentation with me - wished I could take another with a more decent timeline and which actually probes and brings out the mysteries round creation.

I grew up watching cinema in the decade of the eighties. How I wished to be there when a Satyajit Ray classic got released or Ritwik Ghatak's Subarnarekha hit the theatres. That feeling eluded me ever. However on the brighter side, I could get a retrospective effect of the cinema of the Indian masters. And who else than Soumitra hogged it all. It was some sultry afternoon when I completed reading Bibhutibhusan's Pather Panchali and Aparajito - the two literary masterpieces that gave birth to Ray's Apu Trilogy. Like many, the electrifying feeling was to think myself as Apu - life is so beautiful, so vibrant and it never mattered if Apu and I are separated by decades, hundreds of kilometers and the comfort cushions of the living rooms. It was quite an experience hence to watch Ray’s Pather Panchali and liking that as well – how could he see the pictures that I have drawn in my mind! I was little apprehensive of Aparajito, Ray’s middle one of the Trilogy then (though it evolved as slightly more dear than the other two much later) but when I saw Apur Sansar, the last part, I was again sure that this man and no one else can be Apu. Till today, fifty two years after the film was made, I cannot think of anyone else as Apu. That film made Soumitra Chatterjee an icon. He stayed young and Apu ever since.

Chatterjee acted in hundreds of films, directed innumerable plays (many of which remain quite peerless even today), edited a premiere intellectual magazine in Ekkhan and had been a poet. Is there any other actor on this planet been so versatile? I know not. This multifaceted intellect is what made him popular – shaping up a Bengali intelligentsia in the mould of him. This is the reason why even today, a smart and sleek Sabyasachi Chakraborty isn’t accepted full-heartedly by the Bengali audience in the role of Feluda, the sleuth penned by Satyajit Ray and acted in two films by Soumitra. The two Feluda characterizations by Soumitra and Sabyasachi which are separated by few decades are difficult to be compared - Soumitra’s one is more cerebral and Sabysachi’s more physical.  As mentioned the blue-print of intellect – sharp eyes, hanging cigarette, reciting Bengali poetry dressed in a Panjabi with a shawl crossed across the shoulders with a few day’s unshaven beard – Soumitra-ness is the cult. His association with Ray yielding fourteen roles in the latter’s film only helped in fostering the image. From the romantic Apu, to the manipulative Sandeep (of Ghare Baire) till the stead-fast and honest doctor in Ganashatru, Soumitra had nurtured the image of Bengali-conscience and consciousness. The Bengali-ness which makes us think that pride is above money, that knowledge is more important than being street-smart, that being laidback is superior to throwing tantrums about being ‘professional’.  Interestingly, in many an interviews and memoirs Soumitra had presented a character of himself which is so unlike Bengalis. He is a dynamic person, professional to the hilt and extremely dedicated to his work and art – just like his mentor Ray, we as Bengalis size him and his philosophy the way that suits us. 

But what is more important is to appreciate that probably no other Indian actor aged so gracefully as Soumitra. This is the reason why we never had any problem accepting him in more mature characters where the reel-age was far more than the real. Ray once quipped that Soumitra was not equally good in characters which are not up to the mark. The maestro director was wrong at times and this assessment of his about his leading man is one such – there are umpteen examples of Soumitra being extraordinary in films made by inconsequential directors in forgettable roles. It is unfortunate hence, for an artist of his stature to be always labeled as a director’s actor – his fourteen extraordinary appearances in Ray’s films are to be blamed! It took long for Soumitra to prove his detractors wrong, but he surely did it. For many long years he was without doubt the greatest Indian cinema actor to me. I would argue that he was successful both as a romantic hero and also in character roles even as villains. However, it is true, it is essentially that single Bengali-conscience role that he played with impunity – as a youth ageing to an old. In contrast, Naseeruddin probably holds a more sparkling gamut of offerings – from rags to riches, from being a Parsi to a South Indian – he played them all. Soumitra being a regional actor, it may be argued, got less chance to portray this variety.

There have been many words written about the artist, a documentary by Catherine Berge named Gaach on him and few other tributes. That the Films Division stepped up to pay a tribute is a commendable gesture. For all those, who thrived on a lot of things that nurtured us the way we are, Soumitra Chatterjee remains a vital cog. He had ruled the scene for long and is continuing to startle with the veracity of his commitment towards life and art.

Take a bow, Apu – the world is truly, yours.

Ranjana… please don’t come again!

Every film-maker has a hangover or what they call , a favourite subject! Bergman had issues with Christianity, Antonioni with communication and spaces, Woody Allen had New York, our own Ritwik Ghatak had partition. For Bengali film director Anjan Dutta (who started off as the 'angry young' face in the films of Mrinal Sen and Buddhadeb Dasgupta in the early 80s) its basically two - Darjeeling and Bangla Rock/band music. Anjan had been quite prominent as a solo modern song-writer and singer since the mid 90s after Kabir Suman (then Suman Chatterjee) brought in some energy to a new type of Bengali modern songs which harped on our existence. Gone are those romantic lyrics - these songs in many cases came out from the streets and directly into our favourite playlists.

Previously Anjan made a smart and sleek film in Madly Bangali which dealt with a young gang of college students and their ambition to become a successful rock band. It was quite an enjoyable film - true to times and honest in its rendition.

The latest film by Anjan Dutt Ranjana ami aar asbona (meaning "Ranjana I won't come again" - this is a song from Anjan's first released album of the mid-90s) however dabbles more with self-indulgence to the extent of narcissism.

            Most Bengali film directors of today (and unfortunately I do write this in almost every article of mine on contemporary Bengali films) play the 'nostalgia' card dripping with sugary emotions so much so that even the sepia undertones have become monotones! Anjan used to be quite different - smart and entertaining. He seemed to have been lucky not to carry the 'hang' of being a Bengali - culture vulture prying from old treasures. Unfortunately enough Ranjana... seemed to fall in that genre. There had been explicit and abundant references of Anjan's own songs which are hits (though the character's name is Abani), Kabir Suman plays the role of a senior musician Stanley Bose who like Suman himself was the torch-bearer. Stanley of the film actually sung Suman's "Gaanwala" a lyrical masterpiece. So, references are galore. And in the midst you find Abani Sen - a successful 'legend' of the music industry who raps up with this mofussil girl dreaming to make big in the city. Then what follows is self-pity, indolence, overdose (And I mean OVERDOSE) of smoking and boozing - the typical bengali sentiment of an artist defeated by fate and so lonely - ahha, you have to feel for him. Its his creativity which makes him unwind every girl on his way and throw away like sanitary napkins, its his "good inner soul" which makes him worry for the girl when she doesn’t return for long (he actually leaves her in street because he wants her to be "lost in the city" ) - what crap bullsh#t! Give me a break!!

There was one interesting collage however in that "know yourself only when you are lost" sequence where the city of Kolkata came up close - in the Park street, the banks of the Ganges, the Kumartully where the Durga idols were being made and so on. But the parallel verbose from Abani about what is music and what is art seemed jarring. When will reel characters be less prophetic?

The character of Stanley Bose is intriguing - he is the only ray of hope - not because Abani Sen confessed to him that none of Sen's songs are like Bose's but more because Bose had an aim, a focus and the strength of will and character to pursue his goals. He is unattached, economical in his associations and radical in his vision.

Like any profession majority of the Bengali directors should also understand that there is need for a retirement age - else you repeat and you repeat and whatever you preach in your film, in actual, you don't step aside to give way to a newcomer. It is a distant dream hence, if they can be like Bose in the dissociation of their pet objects. Simply because art should not be wasted as toilet tissues.

Cinema Wins

Reading my article Cinema using DSLR (published in The Statesman on 17 June 2011) a friend insisted that if there can be some more details that can be provided since this topic did create interest in him presumably. Hopefully a few more as well. At the outset, it needs a clarification – I am not a technical expert. But, like I mentioned in that previous article, I am one of the many in the crowd who are happy to witness a phenomenon that strips cinema from its commercial overcoat.

            Digital SLRs will and have already cut down the cost of production by factors in the order of 5 atleast. That is, whereas a RED camera per shift rent is around 15-16 thousand in Kolkata, a Canon 7D is expected to be around 3 thousand maximum. The proportion almost balances the same for the cost of these new devices. This gain without significant loss in the output should actually push film-makers to venture new and potentially parallel modes of distribution wherein an initial investment may lead to make the cinema making experience even more inexpensive. So much so, that Hindi films and quite a handful of regional cinema viz Tamil, Telegu and Bengali has started reaping the advantages. The controversial Bengali film Gandu is shot in Canon 7D and the director Kausik Mukherjee found the black-white texture rendered by the interchangeable lens talk what he wants to say. While it is difficult for an Indian audience to view Gandu (due to censorship), the effects of Amol Gupte’s Stanley ka Dabba are electrifying. The camera successfully cloned as one of the students and mixed with the others effortlessly. The size of a DSLR helps actually in becoming an identity of its own. The flip side is to keep it steady unless the jerk is intended. Even popular film makers like Ramgopal Verma is using Canon 5D to shoot his latest Tamil film.

            Shallow depth of field is a common filmic technique which many urban-centric films try to achieve. In soft saturation frames or in city settings this blur effect creates a dramatic impact. Just like during the transition from Black-white to colour cinema, the pan and track came into fore, with the advent of DSLRs blur is set to have a new meaning. The major reason for the embossed effect is the large sensor which is intrinsic to DSLRs for their primary role of capturing static images.

            All these DSLRs give you video in full high definition, that is 1920×1080. They come with variable frame rates which allows for even more interesting outcomes. A traditional film is shot in 24p i.e 24 frames per second. However, using one of these DSLRs you can shoot a narrative in 60p and then track it in a 24p timeline on the editing floor to generate stunning slow-motion effect. Though this is not a feature of the DSLRs alone, what is important again is the cost – the rent cost is so reduced that you can actually shoot the same piece with multiple settings and then try out in the edit machine for the final that suits you best.

            Most of these DSLRs produce good results in natural lights – Stanley.. was shot in natural lights and it produces natural cinematic effect on screen. However, what needs to be kept in mind is to colour correct the film in post production appropriately to give it a 35mm effect instead of a digital one. There are three basic guidelines (there are many which one may find on the internet) that can be of help for a DSLR beginner though the radiant truth is to experiment and explore:

Ø       Shooting Mode – This is a cinema that you are shooting. So it has to be Manual always. Now, controlling the focus is a challenge that you have to take, gleefully.

Ø       ISO range – Best result is with ISO 100. In low light conditions the result can be exponentially drastic at the cost of making the image brighter.

Ø       Shutter Speed – By default, set to double the frame rate, so in case you are shooting at 24fps, then your shutter speed should be at 50 or 60 (you probably won’t get a 48). In some cameras it will be referred as 1/50 instead of 50!

Coming to the limitations of shooting videos in a DSLR – actually there are more than a few. But to list the major ones, here are they:

Ø       Duration of a clip is always a challenge with maximum of 10-12 minutes footage per clip on an average

Ø       Overheating of the cameras - however funny it may sound, it can actually ruin your schedule if you tend to overlook it.

Ø       The fixed LCD monitor in most DSLRs can defeat its advantage of being lightweight and marked for effortless maneuvering

Ø       Sound – most of these DSLRs are poor to capture live sound. So you need to back up for mixing audio during your editorial process.

Ø       The most prevalent and accepted editing software across the globe is Apple iMac’s Final Cut Pro (fondly referred as FCP). FCP has serious issues with the Codec H.264 that these DSLRs use. This might catch anyone by surprise on edit desk. But there are few work around available if you Google.

The purpose of these is to make a new DSLR video practitioner aware of the tool at her hand. She should know its limitations well to tame it to her will.

            Amongst the camera manufacturers, there is no doubt that Canon started this buzz around DSLRs. As a result you will find the Canon 1Ds, 7Ds and 5Ds all over the internet with their specifications and success stories. Whereas it’s true that Canon literally revolutionized the scene, it is also worth remembering that Nikon, Sony, Panasonic or the other giants are not far behind. Nikon’s D7000 for instance has reproducible good output. Within Canon stack as well, Canon 550D is a low-cost optimum camera which can turn an amateur into a professional practitioner. Priced almost half than the bigger and heavier Canon 7D, the video output measures up leaving consumers rushing for it to add in the kit.  One can taste a slice of DSLR video photography here: http://nofilmschool.com/2010/01/10-examples-of-stunning-dslr-cinematography/ (accessed on 21-June-2011).

            All these will prove that DSLR is the future for semi-professional film making – feature or otherwise. It doesn’t dilute the art of cinema, it rather bolsters the science behind it by making it inexpensive for many. It’s you to decide if you want to take it up in your hand and experiment. The latent creative persona within you may just erupt. The camera manufacturers should strive to create a competitive platform where the consumer comes out winner. That will ensure that cinema as an entertaining art also triumphs.

Cinema using DSLRs

Cinema has been an expensive adventure. Long back, people grumbled that the art of letter writing waned as the cost of writing decreased coupled with the expanse of telegraph. We have moved far from that reality and realise that the art of story-telling never got cheap – it moved from papyrus to iPad. The content emanating from the creator’s mind sustains enigma in similar fashion. Coming back to cinema, the first democratic attempt toward freedom of voice (or rather voice and picture) came with the popularity of the handycam. These video cameras fulfilled the middle-class dream of capturing the birthday celebrations or the occasional outings in wilderness. The devices are user-friendly and like all, you will want it to be shared with friends and families. Lenses or editing is not priority, its more important that your brother in Los Angeles relishes the mukhe-bhaat of your son in Kolkata on YouTube. It bridges the gap, it mends minds, and, more importantly, it connects.
But there are many, like me, who also want to shoot a film. The biggest hindrance for us is budget. You can always ask friends to act in your film at minimal cost but what you can’t reduce is the cost towards equipment. To address this, leading camera makers ~ Canon and Nikon ~ have come up with HD video recording features in their professional DSLRs. Yes, and more importantly, the results are promising. The recent released Stanley Ka Dabba and the subway scenes in Darren Aronofsky’s Black Swan are glorious exponents of feature films fully shot in HD professional DSLRs. Unless you are a practitioner, it’s difficult to make out that this film is not the conventional 35mm one. So who cares?
The advantage of these DSLRs is mostly the full-frame camera sensors and the ability to reproduce an unbelievably shallow Depth of Field – both which magnifies its fragrance. To acknowledge this new phenomenon, film festivals in the USA, Canada and in parts of Europe have started having cinema shot only on DSLR cameras! The cinema-quality images in low light conditions have bolstered the hopes of this low-cost alternative. So much so that the highly performing Red Camera is taking a slight back-seat for its price which is eight-10 times that of these DSLRs.
Balancing the manual focus while shooting (particularly when there is a lot of high moving subjects) and upscaling in the traditional editing softwares (Final Cut Pro for example) are having known issues. But these are never hindrance to this digital revolution. An interesting set of articles and blogs is being hosted by the magical Dear Cinema website (you can read here: dearcinema.com/category/dslr-filmmaking). But the take-away is all positive. Now, there have been waves in the history of cinema where smaller independent groups of individuals have tried to break away from the shackles imposed by the consumer world. Films made with a guerilla approach had been reasonably successful. But they have always remained on the edge. What makes this movement  so unique is the fact that these Canon 7Ds or Nikon D7000s are actually figuring in the equipment list of Hollywood / Bollywood / South Indian and Bengali film makers all alike. Even purely commercial ventures look upto them for reduced cost without sacrificing quality.
With time the hope is that these DSLRs will become more mature to obey the cinematographer’s wish. The traditional professional video cameras need to deal with customization to prove their cost and the fight will continue. This tussle is healthy. And as the manufacturers fight it out, let us sit down and work on our own scripts.
The time is ripe that we take up our film project armed with the latest ruler – the DSLRs. Till then, happy clicking

(Orig published in The Statesman on 17th June 2011 - http://www.thestatesman.net/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=373458:cinema-using-dslr&catid=47:marquee&from_page=search)