Category: Cinema

Let us all raise our hands and put them together for the Gujarati film industry. For a family that has probably got used to being written off by all and sundry, completing 75 years of existence is a commendable effort from any benchmark. The author, on behalf of League magazine and all the GLOVADIs spread across the globe, congratulates the industry and wishes it an exponential rise in fortunes.

The most repeated lament that we hear in Ahmedabad with regards the Gujarati film industry is that Gujarati speaking people themselves do not care enough for the language; and consequently the films made in the language. The direct comparison is provided in the fom of the healthy state of Southern Indian cinema (implying a ready patronage for the cinema by native-language-speaking people).

Without doubt, there is no comparison today between, say, Tamil cinema and Gujarati cinema. But attributing the difference in the sizes of the two to merely the “lack of pride” would not only be naively inaccurate but also an insult to the passion for Gujarati language that all its proponents posses. Gujarati speaking people, and others too, love Gujarati language. And there is no reservation in accepting that. Period.

‘Pride’ is a word that has gained enormous currency in today’s India (and all its subset-districts) almost entirely because of politicians. ‘Pride’, ‘gaurav’, ‘asmita’, ‘samman’ etc are all variants of the same jingoism that promises to rip the Indian society apart. So, let’s not equate a beautiful expression of thoughts called cinema with pride. Cinema is about joy. And not about pride – unless and until a clarion call for society or nation building calls for it.

Another reason, and equally steadfast at that, which the critics provide for the sorry state of affairs is the content of Gujarati cinema. “All those rural stories, with unfit heroes moving around in Kediu-Dhotiu and fullsome heroines in chania-cholis have scared people away in cities”. While the point made there is well taken, it should be emphasised here that it is the apalling execution of a rural theme that needs to be destested; not the rural theme per se. After all, we had all queued up for Lagaan, a film that was shot in Bhuj.

Of course, as any student of filmmaking would tell us, ‘execution of a theme’ pretty much involves getting the clothing right too. Some of the clothes that the characters wear in our Gujarati films would be hard to find even in remote villages these days. It is generally a case of getting them in bulk and cheap from ‘some’bhai Dresswala. You can’t have the photograph of a hero in those clothes adorning a wall of your home at SG Highway, can you?

So why do a lot of us make such films?

Simply because they are cheaper to make. And with low investment, coupled with subsidy from Gujarat government, the making of such films becomes a safe business bet – what with a ready audience in the interiors of the state. There’s nothing more or less on that issue.

But just as it has stopped working in metros like Ahmedabad, the method would soon stop working in the interiors too. Simply because soon there would be no place where satellite television would not have reached. And if that were not enough, multiplexes are going to dot the countryside sooner than later. When one cinema hall at a place like Viramgam plays 3 Hindi and 1 Hollywood film dubbed in Hindi every single day for an year, the taste of the place for cinema would slowy but definitely go for a sea change. The place would then start demanding a change in the storylines in Gujarati films – on the lines of the Hindi / Hollywood films – or start shunning them, quite like their brothers in other big cities of Gujarat.

And how fast is it going to happen? In a matter barely a decade. And that too largely because it takes time to build real estate behemoths like mall-cum-multiplex.

It takes all of a few days for companies to come up with a higher version of any product. Why do we think then that the landscape of smaller towns is going to remain static – especially in a rapidly progressing, industrialised state like Gujarat? It won’t. Before we know, the Ambani brothers would have taken their retail, communication and entertainment caravan to every corner of the state. And with it, usher in an era of exposure to newer cultures, ways of life and also newer content and style of filmmaking. Then, it would be curtains for the ‘subsidy based filmmaker.

So, what’s the way ahead?

The way ahead is dictated by what McDonald’s learned and embraced here in India with open arms – that local sensibility at the core and global technique and / or packaging is the need of the hour for every idea, anywhere in the world.

Fortunately, helping them in the process would be, well, the likes of Ambani brothers! Yes, banners like ADLABS are not going to stop at producing and distributing only Hindi films. Far from it. Just as Anil Ambani wants every Indian to have a Reliance phone is her hand, he would want to catch any person who ever watches films, in any language. And as Ratan Tata had put it recently at the Vibrant Gujarat Summit, it would be stupid for any business to not come to Gujarat.

Once that begins, we might have Hiten Kumar and Roma Manek dancing at the Trafalgar Square in London. And probably joined by Upen Patel in that!

The thing, however, with Gujarat and Gujarati films is that the state has always had a stronger base for theater than films. Further augmenting the slant towards theater are folk forms like Bhavai, based on which format that gem of an experimental film Bhavni Bhavai was made. Now, since most of the highlights of Gujarat state and its culture were more than amply – and beautifully – expressed through street (pol) theater, folk forms and public religious discourses, the emphasis on cinema in the earlier part of the century was not as pronounced as in, say, Calcutta, Chennai and Mumbai. Later on, it was only the “special effects films” that showed miracles by saints or God in mythological films that had caught the imagination of the hoi polloi.

And yet, there is no escaping the fact that 1932, when the first Gujarati talkie Narsinh Mehta was released at the West End theater in Mumbai. (Today Naaz theater stands in the place). Directed by Nanubhai Vakil, the 139-minute had marked a reasonably early arrival of the Gujarati film industry. And hence, one expects a lot more distance – in terms of technical sophistication and mindspace reach – from the industry than what it boasts of at the moment.
While directors like Shankar are toying with glitz like using 32 cameras for a single shot, Gujarati films (except an occasional exception every few years) are stuck with dilapidated studios of Halol and archaic camera and editing techniques. Simply not done.

But, as the title of this discussion suggests, 762 films in 75 years is not a bad score. It’s the evolution of technique and themes – or the lack of it – that should garner more attention from us.

Filmmaking is a huge teamwork, from every sense of the exercise. Just as the director and producer are just two of the hundreds that are intrinsic to the making of a single film, unless the society is attracted adequately to cinema halls, films would gradually be pushed behind more persuasive mediums like television.

In case of Gujarati films, the phenomenon is almost complete. And the only method of recoiling the slide is by giving the audience that pays Rs 150 per ticket at the city multiplexes a reason to pay that kind of amount for a Gujarati film.
While making a film with actors like Paresh Rawal, Amisha and Upen Patel and a generous dose of glamour in terms of locations would make it financially unviable, how about doing a Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak, with manageable fresh actors, fresh director and fresh music directors? Or better still, making an Ahmedabad Blues! Hyderabad Blues had cost Nagesh Kukunoor Rs. 16 Lakhs. Don’t you think we can manage that sum?

Is cinema allowed to make a point in India? Or is the whole point is making sugar-candies for NRIs? I’ve got no problem with that – heck, I actually love them. But what if I want to see a direct political film, in theater? Would I be safe?

This is not going to be anywhere close to being a verbose write-up about freedom of expression. Simply because a few million souls are already doing that out there. And there is not much to add to that. We would be using this space to just sit back and think.

While a film-maker has to invariably think from the perspective of the audience, we, the much feared audience do not give too much to the travails of the film-makers. Luckily, we don’t have to think about that here too. For, this write-up asks us audience to think about our own selves.

‘Think’, because what goes around comes around. If we are fine with not being allowed to watch a socially-relatable film today, tomorrow we might be told to not watch any kind of cinema. After all, if today’s taboo is tomorrow’s token in a naturally progressive society, how far can the opposite of that be in a regressive society!

We’ve chosen the example of Fahreinheit 9/11 here simply to highlight the contrast in the civil societies of the world’s two most important democracies. The question here is not whether Fahrenheit 9/11 was an objective, non-partisan piece of (docu) art or not. It probably wasn’t entirely so – inspite of being an engaging piece of craft. But the subject here is whether we are free enough to make and watch a film like that? Can we be so unambiguous and blatant in our portrait of the President, Prime Minister or even a Chief Minister of India? We all know the answer, don’t we? And yet, we don’t know why!

Are people so naive that a single three-hour film would turn their understanding of an issue on its head? It did not happen in USA – what with George Bush winning the election with a better margin.

And it won’t happen here too. Especially since we barely have a culture for serious cinema. Except in certain pockets of the nation, we Indians do not exactly treat cinema as food for soul. Logically, anything that is not considered serious enough would more often than not fail to evoke a serious reaction.

And even if the ‘sentiments’ are hurt, honest, hardworking and law-abiding citizens do not go on rampage ransacking public property. Those who do, do not need any excuse. So, what’s the point of the ‘ban brigade’ anyway? If we can elect governments, we can digest cinema too. Remember that.

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Fahrenheit 9/11 is an award-winning documentary film by American filmmaker and political activist Michael Moore. It throws a harsh and critical look at George W. Bush, his presidency and the War on Terrorism. The film had generated a great deal of controversy because of its content and The Los Angeles Times described the film as “an alternate history of the last four years on the U.S. political scene.”

The movie begins by questioning whether friends and political allies of George W. Bush at Fox News Channel (including his cousin, John Ellis) tilted the election of 2000 by prematurely declaring Bush the winner. It then questions whether the voting controversy in Florida, and its handling by the responsible authorities, constituted election fraud!

Although claimed a documentary, the film has been called (Democratic Party) propaganda, because of its shrill anti Bush tone.

But the subject here is that the (docu) filmmaker not only made an absolutely uncharitable and potentially immensely damaging film about the ruling administration but also got away with releasing the film and making more than $120 million at the box-office!

And yet, George Bush won the next election. That is the beauty of democracy; everyone has the right to put his case; and the general public takes the eventual call.

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The ‘she’ here is both your daughter and the box-office! Unlike the era of black and white films, when the composition of the cinema audience was loaded overwhelmingly in favour of men, these days the box-office does not smile if women don’t shriek in ecstasy!

One may moan the complete absence of ‘substance’ in today’s films, but the fact of the matter is that it is actually the ‘substance’ that stands for the most pronounced change that has come about in film-making in India.

Agreed, with ‘substance’ the high-brow circles generally mean the profundity of a thought and not any thought per se. But in a world where most self-proclaimed afficionados of cinema make statements like, “we are getting better with technique but not with scripts”, it would only be prudent to leave something as subjective as ‘substance’ for a later time. [Note: The uninitiated may take note of the fact that ‘script writing’ too is a technical aspect of film-making.]

Quite obviously, the change in substance or content has been forced upon film-makers by the rapid changes in today’s society. The audience has changed and so has the content that appeals to today’s audience. Nation-building through armed forces and good social conduct, sadly, do not rank too highly in the aspiration charts of today’s youth. Today’s youth does not want to stand with and for the society; it wants to stand out in a big society. It wants to be everything that the general society is not. It wants everything that the general society can and would ever be.

Everything that the earlier screen or ‘societal’ hero was meant to do has either already been achieved or is not to be done by a hero anymore. Not through earlier methods anyway. Today’s hero is not expected to take the society along. He is, in fact, supposed to stand out and form a fantasy society of his own. All surrounding ills of the two eras being a constant.

Little wonder then, the role models too ought to stand for those aspirations. A six-feet plus, good-looking, dare-devil police inspector with a beautiful wife and a still-interested scorching-hot ex-classmate is not enough for becoming a role model. For, the role model is the man whom the former guy is chasing. For, the role model is a chimera. National boundaries, human limitations and regular world do not interest him. He is a stand-out – whom the society has heard of, is in awe of and is pitted against. He’s the rebel that most of us are not good enough to be. And what does he do? Well, he puts his body and mind to good effect to make a statement. Sounds good? It did to youth all across the nation; and in the US and UK too.

My hero has to be better than my boyfriend and brother …

Let’s face it; none of my friends will swoon over a screen-sized paunch! There are enough open pores and bad teeth in real life. My hero has to be better than my boy friend and brother. When I pay for the cinema ticket, I  pay for aesthetic appeal and visual pleasure too. Father figures, sugar daddies do not turn me on. Brash, super-confident, rich, macho, good looker, muscle-packed guy with melting puppy dog gaze…..that is what I want to escape with and be courted by ..in reel–if not real–life. I’ll have to wake up after three hours anyway, right?

– (27 / female) Principal Correspondent of a leading financial daily

So what’s new? Even Shammi Kapoor was a standout, an enchanting ‘Junglee’. Yes he was and that’s why he was so successful. But would he be just as successful now? Not with that kind of body weight, dancing limitations and sameness of the look. Blasphemous? Not because the aforementioned was not a statement on him; it was a statement on today’s benchmarks. Such are the demands of today’s cinema-going youth that even Amitabh would’ve struggled to be what he is if he were to begin his journey now.

A mere addition of glamour cannot stand for dilution of substance. Seen without any prejudice, it speaks of a pursuit of excellence. Just as our parents talk of a healthy mind in a healthy body, our children are teaching us the worth of dressing up even organic food! Yes, a good thought that is also a visual delight is today’s call.

Middle class or salaried people seldom become the world’s idol. You may be from Jharkhand, but if you have hair of a rock star, you are a rock star. Just as you can be from Mumbai and still be an Ajit Agarkar. And that, again, is what the point is. Talent in the field of your choice has now become either a given or, quite ironically, a valuable added asset!

That’s not what separates yours truly from Hrithik’s character in D:2. Or else girls would have been ripping their tops off at a mere sight of Om Puri. That is not to say that today’s role model does not have talent. It’s just that he stands for things that go beyond talent. Today a child has a ‘been there done that’ feel right from her childhood. If she is not taken on a journey that is beyond even her wildest dreams, she will remain unimpressed. And yes, even if she’s impressed, she would not take him to her parents!

We have theater and TV for the rest

Why is Hrithik Roshan paid 36 Crores for a three-film deal? Simply because he can earn it back for the investors – by virtue of being a true-blue movie star.

A true-blue movie star is a film actor who is seldom seen anywhere except in movies. Not in real life, not on TV, not in theater and certainly not in our family or social circles. Whatever be the truth behind the scenes, but on screen and in collective imagination of the audience, he or she stands for everything that we and our society are not and will never be.

“A star is someone who evokes emotion even after he has stopped emoting” – Satyajit Ray had once remarked. That is the difference between an actor and a star. That X-amount more. Shows in the remuneration.

It is not about doing justice to an existing classic or improving upon an average film. The big question here is if it is possible to replicate the emotions of an audience of yesteryear?

It takes innocence, enthusiasm, devotion, courage and craft to make a film that is essentially a tribute to that one piece of magic on celluloid, which was instrumental in making one, a filmmaker in the first place. Don, in a way, was one such cinematic exercise. So was Akira Kurosawa’s Yojimbo (1960), which was known to have emulated a the westerns made by John Ford.

What is of greater interest to us, however, is the subject of remakes and not the makers of them.

The concept of remake is hardly a novel one. Ben-Hur was made three times (1907, 1925, 1959) – with the last version being the most successful in terms of Oscars (11) and box-office collections ($37 million); both ‘editions’ of The Ten Commandments (1926, 1925) were equally successful.

However not all remakes have been successful. There have been less-than-flattering reinterpretations of existing classics at times by the makers of the original themselves! But we shall skip the dead bodies and their gory post-mortems here.

The point, however, is that much as one would want to look beyond the subject of remakes, it would have to be accepted by all that remakes can’t simply be dismissed with one firm brush of disdain. For, to begin with, they help the world remember (or learn about) the originals and secondly, not much of art can qualify as creation sans inspiration anyway. For instance, there have been innumerable films based on Shakespearean tales, but shockingly  enough, the plot of Hamlet is said to have been borrowed by Shakespeare from his Elizabethan predecessors!

Indian cinema, theater and music have always drawn generously from mythological and folk tales of our inspiringly diverse culture groups. In fact, the folk music and dance forms too draw some of their present inspirations from popular culture – as propagated by films and music – of the present times.

With time, culture and the various forms of its expression too change. Old traditions might wear a trendy new garb, while new beginnings might be copiously influenced by ancient traditions.

So then, does that mean that all the cinema of present times is basically based on some earlier tales, and hence remakes?

The answer may be both ‘yes’ and ‘no’. Yes, there is a probability of their being based – knowingly or otherwise – on some ancient tale of some land. Yet, no, they cannot be called remakes merely on the basis of the extreme  probability.

In any case, we are here concerned with the scenario of a film-maker himself calling his film a remake of the earlier one.
But why call it a remake? Why not give it the description, ‘based on the original’?

After all, except for Gus Van Sant’s Psycho (1998), which was a ‘verbatim’, shot-on-shot replication of Alfred Hitchcock’s 1960 original, most remakes make many changes in the narrative – including that of addition or removal of characters, change in the mood of the narrative or that of simply placing the narrative in a completely different era. What better example can we give than that of Devdas, which was played in their inimitable styles by K L Saigal, Dilip Kumar and Shah Rukh Khan – not to mention the distinct styles of directors like Bimal Roy and Sanjay Leela Bhansali.
Sensibility of a film, the emotions that it generates in the audience and the feel of its era are all inseparable parts of the magic called cinema. Once a film starts feeling different from its earlier avatar, one can safely assume it to be a different film!

One can remake Dil Chahta Hai with three female protagonists, based in Darbhanga (Bihar) in year 1863 and make an equally compelling and entertaining film at that; but would that be a ‘remake of Dil Chahta Hai’? Ram Gopal Varma might end up making a film that is technically superior and just as entertaining as Sholay, but would that film ever make you feel like the 1975 one?

So why not acknowledge the inspiration, have a different name of the new one and make what you are making anyway? You would not only avoid disappointing the loyals and team of the earlier one because of making changes (as in Farhan Akhtar’s DON) but also be saving yourself from mind-numbing expectations and, God forbid, soul-scarring criticism.
But hey, wouldn’t that steal away some ready-made publicity and respect? Of course. Which else motive do you think is muddying the subject of remakes?

…      …      …

A Tale of Two Psychos

One of the very rare remakes of its kind, Gus Van Sant’s Psycho (1998) was a ‘verbatim’, shot-by-shot replication of Alfred Hitchcock’s 1960 original. Almost all frames of the cult original were recreated in the exact same manner, with almost the same dialogue, the same music, and even the same screenwriter! Predictably, even before the release of the film, stringent critics were already questioning the purpose of ‘such a remake’ of ‘such a classic’.

In the DVD commentary of Psycho, Van Sant claims that his remake should be seen more as an artistic endeavour and not a commercial one. And that one of the leading motivation for him was to make the original more appealing to the youth of the present time. He further corroborates in the commentary that the original Psycho was filmed in black-and-white, not a very attractive medium in itself, and carried a language that might be deemed archaic now.

While one can argue that huge films like Schindler’s List have recently been made in black & white because of the requirement of the script, one can understand Van Sant’s slant towards the colour medium. After all, how easy is for any of us to think of making a film in black & white today? Unfortunately for Van Sant though, the very decision of giving colour to the original contributed to a great extent towards the spectacular failure of the remake. Psychological thrillers are supposed to be grim and ‘shadowy’, not a collage of pastel colours.

All said and psyched, no one quite understood the whole point of replicating a milestone of a story-board. Especially when access to the original is as convenient as it actually is? And what about the whole factor of time that this write-up is all about? How could Van Sant not take into account the change in sensibilities of the audiences of two different times, before serving the same dish, with minor modifications?

In all, this was one remake that made headlines for all the wrong reasons. And this was one remake that most filmmakers would vouch of not attempting. Cinema is basically about narrating a story. Not about playing the same live voice through a audio player. Ouch!

Dev was often introduced as the sequel-in-spirit of Ardh Satya. And much to its credit, Dev did manage to live up to the colossal identity. Alas, as the film’s box office faring reiterated, the success of an Ardh Satya of 1970s would be difficult to emulate today; unless backed by an all-round marketing blitz.

For, films today have become products that need to be furiously marketed. Those that do a better job at the strategy table win.

Nothing illustrates the point more than the comparative box office performances of Dev and Girl Friend, two films that were released simultaneously. Admittedly, the example chosen here is a slightly dated one, but it is not only immensely demonstrative of the subject but also valid for the present day. It was an instance where a blatantly voyeuristic misrepresentation of lesbianism did more at the box-office than a collage of towering performances, a spell-bounding screenplay and masterly direction by one of the giants of Indian cinema.
It is not a case of tears being shed at elite coffee houses over the state of meaningful cinema. For, while Girl Friend would certainly struggle to reach the highbrow art circles, Dev was not too unaffected by distinctly mainstream genes. Why, Dev even had a ‘smooch scene’ (sic) filmed on Fardeen Khan and Kareena Kapoor, the absolute poster kids of the so-called commercial cinema.

It is also no one’s argument that films, however mediocre, on previously taboo subjects like lesbianism should be seen in the broader context of a society’s evolution. But then, whoever said the subject of Girl Friend was lesbianism! The subject was saleable voyeurism. The communication route was lesbianism. And the core target market was the sexually suppressed or inadequately catered Indian male.

How different is the talk from a marketing strategy of an FMCG product? Not much. Makers of films like Girl Friend do, after all, follow Phillip Kotler’s principles of marketing. They know what to make, how to sell it and to whom. In fact, much beyond creating a routine USP (unique selling proposition), the makers of Girl Friend had succeeded in designing a much sought-after UDP (unique delight proposition) for its core market.

Girl Friend is thus a symbol of that new wave in Indian cinema, which is not about content, or often the absence of it, but is about the method of creating, packaging and selling the content.

But why just highlight the makers of Girl Friend; or that of Murder, Hawas, Jism, Khwaaish and Julie for that matter? Marketing is where the world has come to and has decided to stay put. Whether it is the case of M F Hussein’s paintings earning a whopping 100 Crores or Tendulkar earning more from endorsements than from Cricket or Aishwarya hiring Hollywood based agency William Morris for all her cinema and endorsement deals, marketing is what drives the world today. Like it or lick yourself.

Who can forget the enormous lobbying that Aamir Khan had to do to merely get his film seen by the panel members of Academy Awards! Unheard of in the Indian context, the practice is as routine in Hollywood as brushing of teeth in the morning. But his efforts paid and Lagaan got nominated for Oscars. All of that has ensured that Aamir Khan’s next home production would be flush with funds, irrespective of all the variables.

And that is where a sparkling work like Dev had faltered. The promotion of Dev, quite unlike the hard-hitting subject and treatment, was quite tepid. Either the makers were not confident of putting more money in a project that they probably perceived as a risky one or they had thought that big stars and a burning issue would rake in the audience. Unfortunately, as the example of Lagaan illustrates, nothing succeeds like successful marketing. Fierce publicity is a must, even a very notorious one would do.

So what could Dev have done? Well, put very loosely, the people at helm should have treated the film at best as a Picasso painting at an auction house or at worst as a consumer durable or service! Very good marketing can often draw people to bad products (though not necessarily hold them for long), and Dev is stirring cinema; thus providing even greater ammunition to the marketing whiz kids.

The Hum Tum cartoon strip in newspapers prior to the release of the film had proved, yet again, the utility of employing out-of-the-box thinking. Similarly, who would’ve missed the presence of bikes and stars of Dhoom on ESPN and Star Sports? Finishing the Yash Raj Trilogy, Veer-Zaara was incessantly playing Madan Mohan’s name in its publicity. The intent was clear – to give the film an aura of a yesteryears’ classic and draw elders in large numbers. The youth was going to watch Shahrukh, Preity and Rani anyway.

Another successful example of marketing can be Ram Gopal Varma’s art factory. There is not a genre left that the restless filmmaker has not tried to explore. More often than not, his films are niche-market oriented. And yet, RGV the brand and the omnipresent cutting-edge ‘promos’ of an RGV film make sure that most film enthusiasts not only know about his latest release but also are curious about the content. Never mind the often-corrugated quality of his films.
Does the approach of the aforementioned two extremes of Hindi cinema reflect their belonging to the much-reviled commercial cinema? Or does it simply reflect their clarity of approach? The latter, one would argue. Anything that makes someone pay to experience it becomes commercial in nature. Hence cinema, irrespective of its artistic quotient, is commercial. Period.

Anything that makes someone pay to experience it becomes commercial in nature. Hence cinema, irrespective of its artistic quotient, is commercial. Period.

Time is now ripe for Nihalani & Co. to acknowledge the truth of the moment. Continuing to overlook the innovative financial and marketing requirements of their niche films would do more damage to serious cinema, and to their own selves, than what mainstream films can ever inflict upon them.

If thinking about commerce hinders their further artistic evolution, Nihalani & Co. should hire a professional marketing team for promoting their films. A team that would, sans any interference in artistic matters, work towards a ‘successful product launch’ and try and ensure the maximum return on investment (ROI) for the producers. Not the least by making the maximum possible number of people watch the film; firstly, and importantly, at theatres and then through TV channels and home video. That is how it works in West. That is how it works with the successful ones here in India.

All said and chewed, it is time that makers of serious cinema realize that Dev can no longer be aloof from worldly virtues. He needs the lure of a Girl Friend. Or a Boy Friend, if that is what is due next.

The more you take out from a creation, the greater it becomes. Whether or not it holds true for my experience while watching an inspiring documentary entitled Sangharsh – Against All Odds late last night, I certainly came out of it with a renewed hope for things around. Sangharsh reinforces the learning that there are many worlds in this world of ours. And that every world provides a perspective to the ‘rest of the worlds’. It is that lovely reminder, laced with a stirring message of hope, that makes the documentary worth a dekko.

Made by the students of SIMC (Pune), the documentary takes the viewers on a journey to a world that most of us would never be able to experience. A world where the native people were completely at home with nature and nakedness just till a decade or so ago. A world where a handful few have the weaponary to blow up a police patrol Jeep but most others find it difficult to even imagine what a train would look like! A world where it takes good samaritans close to six years to convince the native people that education is not such a bad thing after all, and then produce a qualified doctor from amongst the tribals! A world where some of the better people of ‘our world’ have decided to spend their lives; providing education, medication and building bridges between the tribals and us.

All credit must go to Mrunmaiy Abroal, Smita Diwan and Swati Subhedar for a thorough research on the subject. The detailing shows and adds much to the effort of their very young team. The director-duo of Mrunmaiy Abroal and Smita Diwan show great control over the narration. The duo, courtesy a very robust platform provided by Vimida M. Das’ script (in absence of any mention of screenplay in the credits, I would take script as screenplay too), make the thought flow effortlessly from the description of the geography of the tribal villages, to the amazing societal work by the Amte family and others, to the mushrooming of hope for the tribal children amidst the deadly naxal violence. Editing by Anand Kumar (a.f.e.) is seamless and facilitates natural progression of the thought. Providing him ample ammunition on the editing table is some lovely camerawork by Rajesh Das.

On the downside, I thought Chandrika Chakraborti’s narrative voice needed some more weight or texture. What also let her down at places was the script writer providing her with some very predictable lines over self-describing images. But the biggest failure of the documentary was its background score. Lacking the enterprise of the makers and the subject, the background score meanders from being mundane to outright uninspiring at places.