DEC 30, 2010 – This was written for the Malayala Manorama Yearbook, and it’s got to be one of my most “generic” pieces ever.
LIKE INDIA HERSELF, Indian cinema is so vast, so varied, so undisciplined, that any attempt to define and describe it is essentially an exercise in banality. Just what do you talk about when you mention “Indian cinema?” The newfangled Bollywood multiplex features, aimed at mall-hopping youngsters? Or the earthy Bhojpuri films, still attempting to regale audiences who have not yet been swayed and converted by Western modes of thought and behaviour? Do you talk about the cinemas of the regions – namely the cinema from Tamil Nadu, Kerala, Andhra Pradesh, Karnataka, Orissa, West Bengal, and so forth? Or do you take just the big industries (that is, Hindi, Telugu, Tamil)? Do you talk of commercial cinema in these big industries? Or do you talk about the art being created in the smaller centres?
Unsurprisingly, a discussion about Indian cinema would venture into each and every one of these areas and would fill a thousand-page book. For the purposes of this article, therefore, selective streamlining is necessary, and for that reason, we shall look primarily at the evolution of Indian cinema, over the years, with a focus on Hindi cinema. The prominence of – and the undue importance accorded to – Hindi cinema (or Bollywood, as it has come to be called) has been a perpetual thorn in the side of the regional industries. However, beneath the hype, it is certainly true that Hindi cinema, at least up to the arrival of the multiplexes, was fairly representative of both a pan-Indian ethos as well as trends that would eventually percolate into the regional-language films, whether Tamil or Telugu or Malayalam or Bengali or Marathi.
The use of examples from Hindi cinema, therefore, shouldn’t be taken to mean that these films are superior in any way – but just like Hindi is our national language and therefore useful as some sort of standard, the influence of Hindi cinema is everywhere, and many of our finest directors chose to make films in Hindi, and it is thus useful to employ Hindi cinema as a loose approximation for the story of Indian cinema. (Indeed, up to a while, stories were made simultaneously in Hindi, Tamil and Telugu, with just surface modifications, thus proving that the audiences were not all that different.) It is solely in this context that the instances in this article will refer back primarily to Hindi cinema in the context of grappling with the idea of an Indian cinema.
The early Indian cinema was primarily mythological – or rather, myth-based, archetype-based. With no sound, no dialogue, it was, for one, easiest to convey stories already familiar to the audience. But also, with these stories already existing, there was no need to “create” new stories (in other words, original screenwriting could wait), and therefore the focus could remain on getting familiar with a new technology. Accordingly, the first few films were along the lines of Pundalik (1912), Raja Harischandra (1913), Lanka Dahan (1917), Shri Krishna Janma (1918), Kaliya Mardan (1919) and Sairandhri (1920).
And gradually, the modern day began to creep in. Bilet Pherat (1921) employed satirical means to conservative Bengalis and the liberal British. Andhare Alo (1922), one of the earliest films based on a contemporary novel (by Saratchandra Chatterjee), looked at a love triangle between an upper-class Bengali hero, a 11-year-old virgin bride, and the still-far-from-cliché prostitute with a heart of gold. Pati Bhakti (1922) emphasised that wives should remain devoted to their husbands, while Bismi Sadi (1924) detailed the evolution of a street hawker into an exploitative capitalist. And alongside, there were courtly-intrigue fairy tales like Gul-e-Bakavali (1924), quasi-historicals like Kalyan Khajina (1924), and quasi-biopics like Cinema Ni Rani (1925).
March 14, 1931, saw the release of the Hindi-Urdu Alam Ara, which is one of the most significant films made in the country. Not only was it India’s first film to feature sound, it established the now-prevalent musical format that has come to define our cinema. The format became so popular that is wormed its way into films made in other regions (outside Bombay), and today, Indian films are the only ones in the world to depend on the musical format, having created an audio industry devoted entirely to the business of soundtrack music. Till date, film songs are the biggest sellers in the music industry, and non-film music (whether pop/rock, or devotional) comes a distant second. It is not unusual to find even devotional songs set to the tunes of film songs.
After Independence, two distinct strains of Indian cinema were discernible. One was the lowest-common-denominator movie, aimed at pleasing audiences of all ages everywhere. These were films with songs and dances and comedy tracks and action sequences intended to serve as “punchy highlights” (as well as selling points), and the presence of all these ingredients makes it possible for such films to be catagorised under “masala” cinema. (Masala, of course, is a mixture of spices. However, the tone of masala cinema is usually larger than life, and socialist melodramas like the Raj Kapoor and Guru Dutt films cannot be brought under the masala umbrella, even though they did have their share of Shankar-Jaikishan chartbusters and Johnny Walker comedy tracks.) Hindi films may have adapted to multiplex trends and moved away from masala, but the hybrid genre is alive and kicking in the regional industries.
The other strain of cinema is the kind epitomised by the likes of Satyajit Ray. (Though there were earlier attempts at realistic cinema, like Chetan Anand’s Neecha Nagar, Ray made such a splash with his Apu trilogy and subsequently produced such a body of work, right until his death, that he is often invoked as the patron saint of art cinema in India.) Films like Pather Panchali were at the opposite end of the spectrum from the larger-than-life masala films. (The films of Guru Dutt, therefore, can be said to occupy a middle ground, alongside latter-day middle-of-the-road filmmakers like Hrishikesh Mukherjee and Basu Chatterjee). Ray was followed by the likes of Ritwik Ghatak and Mrinal Sen, Adoor Gopalakrishnan and Girish Kasarvalli, who made films that were (and still are) appreciated more by audiences abroad than back home.
For a brief period in the seventies and eighties, there appeared to be four types of Indian cinema. There was the unapologetically commercial kind, embodied by major stars like Amitabh Bachchan. There was the unapologetically arty cinema of Kumar Shahani (Maya Darpan, Tarang) and Mani Kaul (Uski Roti, Duvidha). And between these extremes, there was one type of cinema that attempted to create art (but in a commercially viable fashion) and another that tried to make commercially viable cinema (but with an amount of artistry). Filmmakers of the former stripe were Shyam Benegal (Ankur, Nishant, Manthan, Bhumika) and Govind Nihalani (Aakrosh, Ardh Satya, Vijeta) , while Gulzar (Aandhi, Khushboo, Namkeen) and Mahesh Bhatt (Arth, Naam) are emblematic of the latter kind of cinema.
During this period, the boundaries between the various kinds of cinema being produced in the country were so porous that it wasn’t unusual to see stars like Hema Malini in a film by Gulzar (Kinara), or non-stars like Naseeruddin Shah (though he was certainly a star in his own way) in a film by Bapu (Woh Saat Din). Even elsewhere, in Tamil cinema for instance, Kamal Hassan was doing a Sakalakala Vallavan (which is as commercial as can be, from the house of AVM Productions and directed by SP Muthuraman) alongside a Moondram Pirai (from Balu Mahendra, who later remade this doomed love story in Hindi as Sadma). Even Amitabh Bachchan could be found multitasking between pan-India megahits like Sholay (Ramesh Sippy) and Muquaddar ka Sikandar (Prakash Mehra) and Barsaat Ki Ek Raat (Shakti Samanta) and Manzil (Basu Chatterjee).
The middle cinema, though, died an unceremonious death due to the advent of the VCR and multi-channel television. The educated middle-class audiences that ventured out for such worthy fare were content watching films from home, and it was no longer feasible to invest in these small-budget ventures. Decades later, the arrival of the multiplex has revitalised the small film. Charging more money per ticket than the single screen, these movie halls (mostly in the urban centres) have made it viable to produce movies driven by content rather than star power. In a sense, Dil Chahta Hai (2001) is the multiplex equivalent of Pather Panchali. Though urban-centric themes were not unknown earlier, Farhan Akhtar’s first film captured the Zeitgeist so powerfully that it has now come to be viewed as the film that showed that it wasn’t necessary to target all of India with an Indian film.
The India of the villages is no longer the India of the cities, and the disparities are drastic. Urban India has become Westernised to an unrecognisable extent, and the “real India” (as termed by some, though the urban India is equally real) is to be found mainly in the cinema from the regions. Unlike Hindi cinema, regional cinema cannot survive on pricey multiplex ticketing across the metros alone, or else from the lucrative NRI markets. The single-screen theatres in the interiors are equally important, and as a consequence, the audiences patronising those theatres are equally important. As a result, today, you have everything on the cinematic landscape, from ultra-commercial masala fare to the ultra-niche cinema of Vishal Bhardwaj and Anurag Kashyap.
What is lacking, though, is a sense of identity – and this is perhaps inevitable. What is Indian cinema? That is not an easy question to answer. The best way to look at Indian cinema is to look at its constituent cinemas and get a picture of how that particular segment of India enjoys its cinema. The restrained, West-influenced multiplex cinema, with characters lapsing into frequent English, is as much Indian cinema as the ones with a single hero beating up a hundred villains, where everyone speaks not just in a regional language but in a particular dialect. That is the reason an essay such as this one has to be content trafficking in broad generalities.
But thanks to the Internet, and especially cinephile blogs, several specific inquiries are being made into Indian cinema. The commercial aspect of Indian cinema has never been under contest – it is after all the largest film industry in the world – but there was never much of a critical eye applied with respect to genre, movements, auteurs and so forth. All that is changing, thanks to the Web. Where newspapers are content to allocate niggardly amounts of space to discussions about cinema (even the reviews are mostly perfunctory appraisals of surface elements), the limitlessness of blog-space, along with the participation of commenters, ensures healthy analysis of films from all over the country.
If there is a problem with Indian cinema, it is one that exists in the cinema all over the world, and that’s the clout of the star. While Hollywood, for instance, has specialty studios to bankroll the projects of directors off the mainstream radar (namely, those that are not driven by stars), India is still a country of individuals who become producers. It is, therefore, far more feasible to invest in expensive star vehicles than iffy slice-of-life dramas. But the arrival of studios such as UTV is signaling a sea change. On the one hand, we get A Wednesday, an actor’s film, and on the other the star-driven Jodhaa Akbar. And ultimately, both are necessary, for we wouldn’t want to deprived of either the shallowness of star power or the depth of genuine art.
Copyright ©2010 Baradwaj Rangan, Malayala Manorama. This article may not be reproduced in its entirety without permission. A link to this URL, instead, would be appreciated.
SB
December 30, 2010
Good Article.. It is very difficult to capture Indian Cinema into a crisp write up like what you have done. Note: Hindi is not the National Language of India, it is an Official Language along with English.
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Prasanna
December 30, 2010
Bravo!!! himalayan, daunting task – handled with such elan! great read. and kudos for the last summation line – “we wouldn’t want to deprived of either the shallowness of star power or the depth of genuine art.”
never has the Indian Fan’s seemingly schizophrenic taste been so succinctly put!
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Prasanna
December 30, 2010
I must add to my line – “never has the Indian Fan’s seemingly schizophrenic taste been so succinctly put!”….
Nor as lovingly!
🙂
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w
December 30, 2010
Hindi isn’t our national language. WtH!
That apart, no mention of one Mr.Mani Ratnam.
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bran1gan
December 31, 2010
SB / w: My mistake. For some reason, it’s still in my mind that we have a “national language” and it’s Hindi. But tell me, was that indeed once the case? Because I seem to recall the whole anti-Hindi movement being about this. Or maybe I just have my fundas wrong…
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KP
December 31, 2010
There was no consensus and it was agreed that both would be official and another vote be taken in 15 years to make hindi national language so far it has not been tabled.
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Abhirup
December 31, 2010
Mr. Rangan, I would like to ask w’s question as well. Why is that I find no mention of Mani Ratnam in this essay?
It’s an unbelievably lucid and comprehensive piece otherwise. I frankly don’t know the accolades that would do it justice.
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Kumar
December 31, 2010
Nice write up. Not sure how things were during the era of the anti-hindi movement in the 60s. But,has there ever been an instance where the governments in the South had to intervene to ensure cinemas in the local language didnt get overshadowed by Hindi cinema. Atleast, the way things are now, the south audience continue to celebrate their heroes and “their kinduv” of cinema. Bollywood has and will never be able to cannibalize regional cinema in Kerala, AP and TN. Karnataka, specifically Bangalore, since the IT revolution used to have problems in ensuring kannada films had enough screens but the govt. had to intervene a couple of years back.
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raj
December 31, 2010
Did you really write this? Large stretches of this read like what Randorguy would write for a hindu supplement. That bit about 4 typesa of cinema in the 70s and a large dose of Dil Chahta Hai were the only evidence of your hand being behind this.
Why do people commission you to write hired articles? Doesnt seem like you are any good when you write from the brain as opposed to heart.
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bran1gan
January 1, 2011
Kumar: At least in Chennai, I haven’t seen/heard of government intervention like it happened in Bangalore.
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Shankar
January 1, 2011
I understand your lack of familiarity might have been a hindrance, but, considering this piece was for Malayala Manorama, the addition of some thoughts on the historical evolution and importance of Malayalam cinema within the context of Indian films, might have added greatly to the article. Otherwise, a well written piece, as per the requirements.
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bran1gan
January 2, 2011
Shankar: The same could be said of Telugu, Oriya, Bengali, Marathi cinema, no? That’s why when I said yes to this piece, I didn’t even pretend it would be comprehensive… just “trafficking in broad generalities.” Happy New Year.
Actually, the point you raise brings me to an interesting aspect of writing in India. If I’d been the editor who’d commissioned this piece, I’d have made sure that there was a line or two about Malayalam cinema — like you said, considering the publication. In an ideal scenario, the writer would submit a first draft. The editor would make suggestions for improvement. And this back-and-forth would happen a few times till the piece is perfect. This rarely happens.
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Shankar
January 2, 2011
Baddy, thanks for the info about the writing process. Even if I sounded that way (possibly due to the early morning post before the coffee has sunk in!!), I wasn’t being critical of you. I was looking at it from the point of view of the MM reader. As you say, the editor has a critical role to play here.
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Satyendra Jha
January 2, 2011
SB/W/BR: Hindi is very much the National Language (RashtraBhasha, as it is known), and has been since 14 September, 1969. FYI, 14th of Sep is celebrated as “Hindi Diwas” (u get the meaning, im sure).
Not giving due recognition / importance to any language is a personal choice;
Not knowing about the facts about one’s own country is, well.. lack of knowledge;
But knowingly / purposely not giving recognition to a fact is sacrilege.
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kanishk
January 2, 2011
Rangan – My Google Reader tells me that your blog has 616 followers! Quite an avid and faithful bunch, wont you say?
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SB
January 2, 2011
Brangan: The Anti Hindi Movement was to prevent Hindi becoming the Sole Official Language. The issue of National Language was resolved even before – in 1949 by our esteemed Parliamentarians when creating the constitution. The formula, called Munshee- Iyengar forumla was a compromise not only in stating Hindi as a Official Language and Not As a National Language but also to establish the roman numerical system as the system for numbers. English was to be official for 15 years but had to be regularized with the riots. Our first Prime Minister when supporting the formula in 1949 said ” Men shape a language, but then that language itself shapes those men and society.”
Which brings back to the influence of Language in the Fabric of Filmi India. Regional Movies are able to express regional aspirations as well as culture better. They are not only acting as a medium of expression for the Film Fraternity but as a detailed record of the history of our country over the past 100 years.
PS: A recent court ruling on Hindi as Official Language can be found here – http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/india/Theres-no-national-language-in-India-Gujarat-High-Court/articleshow/5496231.cms
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raj
January 3, 2011
Mr Jha, demanding special status for one’s’language is devious.
Hindi is not our national language. A significant percentage of our population reject your spurious attempts to push your language to special status.
And Rangan, do you imply influence has been one way from hindi to regonal. Obviously not. Only thing is you are unfamiliar with anything other than hindi and tamil. That is your limitation not a general rule.
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rameshram
January 3, 2011
RAj,
The Hindi Zealot Mr Jha is right.
Dr Rajendra Prasad, Indias first president is credited with pushing Hindi down all our throats and calling it the a “Rashtra Bhasha” , (and then of course the RSS , headed then by Vajpyee called india a hindu rashtra)
those are the facts.
doesn’t mean of course that people need to keep their blogs or comments sections friendly to people from the rashtra that dont know tamil……
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bran1gan
January 3, 2011
kanishk: Is that a high number? But I’ll take what I can get 🙂
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rameshram
January 4, 2011
That’s 800 people not giving you a blog hit each time you post something.
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Satyendra Jha
January 4, 2011
Mr. Raj / Mr. Rameshram:
The words “demanding special status”, “devious”, “Hindi zealot” are not something I would like to associate myself with. They sound too harsh to me. There is no hidden agenda anywhere, as you may like to believe. I stated a fact which I knew for sure.
FYKI, my mother-tongue is language A, I have stayed in a city for 25 years where langiage B is spoken, and for the last 7 years, I been in a city where language C is used, and none of the A,B or C is Hindi.
Thats just to say I have no special affinity or love-lost towards whether Hindi (or any other language, for that matter) is given the status of the national language or not!
I also understand that this blog-space of BR, on which we are present, talks predominantly of movies & music, English, Hindi, regional or even international. Surely there is no language barrier there, and as the cliche goes, cinema (music) has its own language.
Having said that, the fact remains that Hindi is the most widely spoken / understood language in India, the Queen’s language notwithstanding. The efforts of Rajendra Prasad were not driven by his desire to push forward his own mother-tongue, but to give the people of India a common thread of communication, especially at the back of the British having just been banished from the country. By a natural consensus of majority, Hindi was chosen to be that language. Mind you, it was never a unanimous decision, and thats how all these language-based agitations started all across, and still come up, albeit sporadically.
Though its not about any one language being superior than the other, as some “zealots” would propagate, can we deny the fact that Hindi is still the most widely understood language across our country?
Peace, my friends!
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rameshram
January 4, 2011
I think the hindi zealot is right. cinema has no barriers of language. we should watch all cinema, even it is in the hated imperialistic language of hindi, without putting burning tires around the necks of the hindi zealots that we may catch during the rail marippu porattam…
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raj
January 4, 2011
Ramesu, namma dhaan indhi padam pArthuttu reviewlAm ezhudharOmE? NammaLai yAru zealot-nu solla mudiyum?
Jha-ji, i guess i know what language A is. Peculiarly, people with mothertounge A are more-hindier-than-thou in my experience.
Btw, you said it was sacrilege not to acknowledge that indhi is national language so you cant imply that you were being fair and unbiased – sorry that particular mask doesnt fit.
Btw, i havent been to 2 states where languages A and B are spoken ad can speak both fluently. Take that. And i think if my guess of your language A is right, ican understand that too.
Totally, i can speak 6 indian languages and understand a further 2. So, no trying to get away with trying to apply ” iam more liberal than you i i know hindi even though it is not my mother tonge”, please.
If people who call hindi national language are only fit to be called indians, then i am super-indan. Mind it. Rascala, to use a phrase from a language that doesnt exist except in the minds of sick idiots like farah khan.
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rameshram
January 4, 2011
Now that we have a hindi zealot willing to engage us in conversation, wouldn’t it be awesome if we had a (say) bengali speaking Hollywood zealot , who posts a “its always better in Hollywood” line consistently?
we’re all about diverse radical voices.
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Anwar Puttarjee
January 5, 2011
Nice article, as always. Just one comment. When you talked of middle-of-the-road cinema, you mentioned Hrishikesh Mukherjee, Basu Chatterjee and Gulzar, but not the mentor that influenced them into making this type of cinema: Bimal Roy. Since Raj Kapoor and Guru Dutt are mentioned, I feel Bimal Roy deserves a mention too. 🙂
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vidyut
January 6, 2011
“can we deny the fact that Hindi is still the most widely understood language across our country?”
Got it. You are now making a rational appeal. If we discount maa and paa (for lack of flair), swear words are the most widely used and understood in any language. By the same token, to give due recognition, should we designate “Choo***ya” the National Word by default? (or for that matter, designate “O**aa” the State Word of Tamil Nadu?). And the National Greeting shall be “Abey, Choo***ya!” ?!
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bran1gan
January 6, 2011
vidyut / raj: I think there is scope here for a genuine discussion (if you’re interested, that is) with Satyendra Jha, who is, after all, trying to put forth his thoughts in a polite, reasoned manner. Let’s disagree and argue, sure, but let’s not get combative please. Thanks.
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kanishk
January 6, 2011
Dai Ranga (and everyone else) Take it easy maamu!
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vidyut
January 6, 2011
Since when did sarcasm as a rhetorical tool go out of favor in making a case ? Since when did it make an underlying discussion less genuine ? Its odd that you find S.Jha’s position that it is sacrilegious to deny Hindi the status of National Language one way or the other less offensive/combative than the contesting view. If you’ve taken umbrage at the appearance of swear words in my comment, those were not directed at S.Jha, but were used to highlight the ridiculousness of playing the numbers game in all situations. Sorry, your attempt at enforcing even-handedness in this instance seems more disingenuous than not.
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rameshram
January 6, 2011
Brannigan,
sound advice but I think people should also ralize that extreme opinions can be (should be?) part of a dbate. civility does not mean agreeing with opinions you disagree with.
reasonable argument is nice, but as in the case of Hindi bhasha, sometimes one does feel intolerant of it being brought up in a harmless film review forum minding its own business. Imagine someone said, “most people in India believe in God, so shouldnt all posters start their post with a “god is great” slogan? ” I feel setting a hindi agenda(no matter how civilly) merits **some** radical responses that show an unwillingness to argue this out reasonably with the zealot in question.
but that’s just me.
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bran1gan
January 6, 2011
vidyut / rameshram: I am all for extreme opinions — heck, I’m not convinced by what Satyendra has to say. I was just trying to propose a way these extreme opinions can be expressed in such a case, where tempers can easily flare up.
Reg.”Its odd that you find S.Jha’s position that it is sacrilegious to deny Hindi the status of National Language one way or the other less offensive/combative than the contesting view.” I used the word combative not with respect to the points being made, but with regard to the *tone* with which they were being made.
But my mistake. I do not have the stomach for strongly worded back-and-forths, but I guess that’s the nature of the Internet and nothing can be done about it.
And yes, I do realise that the swear words are not directed at any one person — that much understanding capability I have 🙂
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Rahul
January 6, 2011
Brangan , lovely article. I would like to know what you think about the distinguishing features of regional cinema like Tamil and Telugu. I think that non Hindi cinema is still not obsessed with looking picture postcard perfect and hence provides space for more interesting and diverse characters than Hindi Cinema.
I also think there is currently a trend in Hindi cinema that should be recognized and that surpasses the classification of multiplex and single screen – that of the 3 guy comedy which was pioneered by Herapheri.
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vidyut
January 7, 2011
I am afraid that this will devolve into a lengthy discussion about a discussion and will try to keep my thoughts brief:
The perniciousness of an initial thought (starting position) cannot be offset by the politeness of the subsequent justifications supporting it (unless the position itself is renounced).
Brusqueness of speech and stridency of tone are IMO necessary evils to deal with the above (at times, stinging sarcasm and mockery do the trick where passive persuasion fails).
Civility, cordiality and politeness are commendable virtues in any discourse, but are easier to embrace when the topic itself is non-controversial (a la, strawberry flavor is better than vanilla). This topic is outside that realm. The dog-whistle politics surrounding “Hindi is the national language” usually ends up in something more sinister such as the subsumption of identity.
However, given your desire to keep the temperature of your blog down, I regret wading into this linguistic/political thicket.
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kannan
January 7, 2011
Rangan-Perhaps, you need to moderate little better? (With the hope this is not moderated!)
Raj/Vidyut/Ramesh Ram – There’s now an official term created for people like you in the Internet lexicon “Trolls”
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bran1gan
January 8, 2011
Rahul: I think the main advantage of non-Hindi cinema is that they cater mainly to audiences with ONE particular taste (I’m generalising a bit, of course), and so when you see a Tamil film or a Bengali film or a Marathi film, you see bits and pieces of Tamilians and Bengalis and Maharashtrians. Even when the film takes on a Westernised/urban dimension, there’s still a bit of rootedness.
With Hindi cinema, you don’t find this as often, because of the economics and the need for wide reach (to be all things to all people). I think once they stop paying stars hideous amounts, the budgets will come down, and we’ll be able to see better films. (I think the stars charge more with the logic that their films are seen all over India plus overseas.) For my money, the most affecting film I saw last year was Udaan — and it was set in Jamshedpur, and it had no stars. But you cannot make this movie with a star as the economics will break the film.
This sort of thing needs an essay to fully discuss, but that’s the gist.
vidyut: Acrimony is fine when the topic is about cinema. There have been a few battles in this space — I’ve kept away but allowed them because they add to some kind of sense about cinema and the viewer and so on. But with these topics, there’s nothing of value added.
Reg. “The perniciousness of an initial thought (starting position) cannot be offset by the politeness” — I agree. And where have I said otherwise?
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vidyut
January 8, 2011
@kannan: “There’s now an official term created for people like you in the Internet lexicon “Trolls””
It appears that you woke up from a deep slumber and stumbled onto the Internet, which is not the main point. Just don’t get lost in its vastness 🙂
The main point is that there is a term for people like you who offer unsolicited opinions of little value (and this one predates the Internet): sanctimonious twerp.
@BR: “Acrimony is fine when the topic is about cinema”
I disagree with that as a general statement (of course, if its your blog policy, i don’t get to vote) and shall also refer you back to something you had said (and I am paraphrasing) “We are not here to save the whales …”. Which makes acrimony in such situations more forced and futile. These “charged” topics though have real world consequences and a few minds changed might make a real world difference. I shall also refer you back to your interview with Thamarai, where you posted some of her “incendiary” political views which had little to do with cinema. It resulted in a heated political discussion, but was not discouraged then. So, the impression that leaves is there is the occasional instance when you are OK with such non-cinematic political discussions here. In this case, had you weighed in early when Jha posted his thesis on Hindi and discouraged people from taking the bait on the topic (that has clearly been a lightning rod in the past), it could have staved off the slugfest.
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rameshram
January 8, 2011
Branigan these moderates will be the death to us alll.
Raj/vidyut want to go track down kannan and break all his bones;)
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bran1gan
January 8, 2011
vidyut: Acrimony is *always* — to used your word — “futile.” But as I cannot prevent it, the least I try to do is see that it stays within syllabus, so to speak. The Thamarai post was within syllabus because she herself made a statement that was controversial — and there were bound to be reactions, and that’s okay.
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vidyut
January 8, 2011
“But as I cannot prevent it, the least I try to do is see that it stays within syllabus, so to speak. ”
In this case, the student (so to speak) that strayed from the syllabus did not get the dressing down for his offensive and controversial remarks. Those who took offense and retorted did. Fairness got the short shrift here.
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kannan
January 8, 2011
See, I was right; Trolls are trolling alike! Troll Alert!
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bran1gan
January 9, 2011
vidyut: I thought that was a request, not a dressing down. I was just afraid that the enthusiasm in the arguments might result in combative comments. This is the reason I hate arguing. You say something, it’s interpreted as something else… And you spend endless comments trying to explain what you meant. Anyway, I’m done here.
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rameshram
January 9, 2011
Yeah.. Gets boring..after a while..
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raj
January 9, 2011
Brannigan, how about dispensing some advice to kannan for his sanctimony. I am afraid if you dispense request/advice to one side(after letting go a rather provocative statement from the other side – and consistently address only to one side (even now you dont have any advice for the likes of kannan and jha), i am afraid you arent being balanced. I dont think anything i said was offensive in terms of tone/words used – while kannan is being extremely offensive with his/her presumptive tone. The lack of ability to spot this is a disability, too, in my not so humble opintion
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rameshram
January 9, 2011
Yeah br I think kannan should be condemned by all right thinking people as acrimonious. Of course if BR says something kannan might call him a troll so br should be careful. Difficult to survive the aftermath of being called a troll by kannan…
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kaminey
January 13, 2011
Not so much that as an effort to “out-kannan” kannan. One doesnt have to resort to name-calling for him. Letting him be is enough name-calling on him
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shrikanthk
January 15, 2011
Nice piece.
But I object to certain observations in the article.
“One was the lowest-common-denominator movie, aimed at pleasing audiences of all ages everywhere.
So any movie-making effort that appeals to a wide range of audiences is invariably a “lowest common denominator” movie? Do you use this phrase in a pejorative sense? I disagree if you do.
By that definition, Citizen Kane is a “lowest denominator” movie, given that its themes and ideas appeal to a very wide audience of practically all ages.
“And ultimately, both are necessary, for we wouldn’t want to deprived of either the shallowness of star power or the depth of genuine art.”
Why should one regard “star power” as shallow? To my mind, a movie star is somebody who has a distinctive personality that the audience can relate to/empathise with. There is no reason why he should be a roadblock on the way to high art. Some of the most iconic films of all time have been creative efforts where the “star” has practically played the role of an auteur. Think It’s a Wonderful Life, The Big Sleep or even The Searchers
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Rahini David
July 26, 2017
So apparently this blog had 616 readers in Jan 2011.
How many are there now?
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