From the darkened halls, a peep into global culture

BENGALURU: If you’re among those watching the Andrei Tarkovsky retrospective at the on-going

film

festival in Bengaluru, you surely wouldn’t have had to scrounge for information about the Russian film director and theorist before walking into the movie hall. There are numerous online blogs, analytical notes, documentaries and scholarly video lectures, apart from DVD collections of his cinema for further viewing.

It wasn’t so in the decades before this millennium; nothing came off the shelf or at a click of a button. Why, even a film

festival

in the city wasn’t regular. Before the 35th edition of the International Film Festival of India (IFFI) became competitive and pitched tent in Goa in 2004, Bengaluru hosted the event only twice: the Filmotsav in 1980 and the IFFI in 1992.

Both those events were widely celebrated by the media, students of cinema and professionals. Viewers lapped up special coverage in the papers, stood in queues for season tickets and strode in and out of theatres in Majestic –then, with about 20-plus movie halls in the vicinity and seen as an ideal location for a film festival. Critics not too familiar with world cinema, had begun to contact film societies for material on trends and seek old copies of “Sight and Sound”. First-hand experience meant taking down notes in the darkened halls – perhaps of Miklos Jancso’s expansive use of open fields and trademark long-takes.

They had to change the structure and language of their reviews too. All year long, they had been used to writing about popular cinema in a set format: opening lines that set the mood followed by a summary of the plot invariably beginning with “The film revolves around…” and a concluding paragraph that judged the performances of the cast and the cinematographer with one or two adjectives for each. Assessment of quality cinema needed a more rigorous approach – of not only understanding the socio-cultural and political context of the theme, but also unique narrative styles and technique. Why does Robert Bresson “flatten” his images? Or why does Chantal Akerman use the kitchen as central space in her films?

And even if it didn’t interest most readers, there was a mandatory article on the market. Looking at the film bazaar in 1992, one report said there was hardly any buzz “as far as imports were concerned owing to certain curbs and censorship code, but organisers believed enquiries for exports were encouraging”.

The coverage ended with comments that art cinema was still in the grip of “neo-Rayalism”, with no sincere attempt to break the mould. At least a dozen films in the Indian Panorama package were set in the countryside. As a cinematographer put it, “The village has become an ideal setting for projecting universal values, even if simplistic. Can you recollect how many calendar shots of sunrise and sunset you have seen, or how often you have heard the suprabhatam on the soundtrack in the morning sequences of Indian art cinema?” There were exceptions that year, though, and pick of the Panorama included Satyajit Ray’s “Agantuk”, G Aravindan’s “Vastuhara”, Mrinal Sen’s “Mahaprathibhi”, MT Vasudevan Nair’s “Kadavu” , Jahnu Barua’s “Firingoti” and TS Nagabharana’s “Mysuru Mallige”.

Many festivals in India have left us with a tinge of displeasure about the absence of big names and the best cinema. If there was a memorable one, it was in Delhi in 1977, attended by maestros Satyajit Ray, Michaelangelo Antonioni and Akira Kurosawa. A photograph of their visit to the Taj Mahal was splashed across newspapers and magazines. BIFFes (Bengaluru International Film Festival), now in its 11th edition, is grappling with the task of establishing its own identity.

Finally, it’s all about access to films and avenues for film appreciation. The city wasn’t short of independent film clubs, among them the most active were Bangalore film society and Suchitra. They brought out newsletters and journals, apart from hosting their own festivals. One club, Manthan, had a distinctive process of understanding a film. I remember attending a screening of Ingmar Bergman’s “Wild Strawberries” sometime in the early 1980s on a Saturday. Soon after the movie, we were given some notes to read for a second screening that happened the next morning. On the second day, finer points – specific shots and sequences – were discussed threadbare, after halting the projection for a veritable “rewind” of the reels. At a time when film was still physical and the digital evolution was nowhere on the horizon, this took some doing.

Over the years, the experience hasn’t changed drastically, though. Cinephiles continue to search for newer works of true art. They spend hours for the living experience, for that matchless joy of watching directors sculpt a “lump of time”. When the lights fade out, they would have grasped a bit of Tarkovsky. And agree with him that the power of cinema hasn’t to do only with stars, story-lines and entertainment.

— Jayanth Kodkani


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