Movies don’t actually change – and yet, the more you experience life, the more different they become.
We are not a great film-loving culture. We don’t preserve our films and we lose them to fire and chemical rot and indifference. We rarely subtitle them, and we miss out on films in languages we do not speak or understand. We are not especially good with history, and if Satyajit Ray and Guru Dutt are endlessly venerated today it’s only because foreigners – film buffs – singled them out and celebrated them, and because they were singled out and celebrated by foreigners we accepted their greatness as a given. But there’s at least one thing that’s right, cinematically speaking, in our country, and that’s the easy (and inexpensive) availability of older films on DVD. Of course, this doesn’t prove that we’ve suddenly turned film-loving. If anything, it’s the opposite – antiques, elsewhere, are priceless; here, they are thrown away three at a time, on a single disc, for ninety-nine rupees. But perhaps we should just be grateful that we can see these older films at all and at will, especially when we do not have the tradition of revival theatres.
These older films come attached with older memories. We see films at a young age when our thought processes are younger, and we are sometimes startled when we see these films when we are older, with older thought processes. The film in front of the eye is not the film inside the head. We remember comedies that left us gasping for breath, and we see them today with maybe a mere smile. We remember great feats of acting, and we see those actors today as hams with twitching cheeks and lurching eyebrows. Even the individual instances change at times. We remember a song that occurred by a waterfall descending from thousands of feet and kicking up a spray at least a hundred feet high, but the song, it turns out, actually unfolded beside a tranquil river. That was some other movie, some other song by the waterfall, and the mind, we discover, has shuffled these frames like a deck of cards at the hands of a Vegas croupier.
I saw 36 Chowringhee Lane as a teen who, for reasons unclear, liked watching movies that required of their audience more life experience than seven hours of school followed by three hours with friends, and in that chrysalis-cased phase of life, when I was all raw nerve endings, I was horribly moved by the protagonist’s plight – this poor old woman in her pitiful flat with only a dying brother and decaying memories for company. Aparna Sen – the director, whose stunning first film this was (and it still holds up very well) – fills her frames with sympathetic images of Miss Violet Stoneham (Jennifer Kendal), the spinster schoolteacher whose love for Shakespeare is manifest not only in her arid readings of Twelfth Night to her pupils but also at home, in a black cat named Sir Toby. (The story of her dotage, inevitably, is that of King Lear.) Miss Stoneham’s long-gone romance is depicted as a surreal dream where her appearance as an old bride, putrefying face smeared with a ghoulish gash of lipstick, evokes in us Pip’s horror upon encountering Miss Havisham. “Once, I had been taken to see some ghastly waxwork at the Fair, representing I know not what impossible personage lying in state.” In a stroke, Miss Stoneham’s solitariness is suffused with grotesquery, and we see her for what she really is – a mangled victim of love.
Like Lear, Miss Stoneham trusts the wrong people, and like Lear, her faith in them is betrayed, and like Lear, she is enfeebled by sorrow and self-pity. At the end, she recites, to no one in particular, and before shuffling off into the cavernous night, “Pray, do not mock me; I am a very foolish fond old man.” My teenaged self felt deeply for her, and my wrath was directed at the young couple who tell Miss Stoneham that they will use her apartment for the man’s literary efforts and then fall on her bed and make fevered love. Pinched by guilt at one point, the woman asks her lover if they are not taking advantage of Miss Stoneham’s kindness, and he replies that they are giving the old woman the company she so craves. When I saw the film a few days ago, I was mildly mortified to discover that I saw his point of view, and he didn’t seem selfish – as my younger self thought – but merely opportunistic. After all, he does, with his gregarious charm, flood Miss Stoneham’s sad world with sunlight. He does make her laugh and take her out for pani puri and choco-bar ice creams. He does bring over Chinese food and he does drink the sherry that Miss Stoneham excavates from within her ancient possessions. He does all these things when he’s unemployed, when he has the time.
And that’s why the great betrayal at the end – when he finds employment and they get married and move into a big house and tell Miss Stoneham they cannot have her over for Christmas because they will not be in town, when in reality they are hosting a party for young and busy social climbers like them – did not seem that great a betrayal at all. It is but a white lie, and I was annoyed that the director, in her quest to paint a great tragic figure, omitted to tell us whether this couple planned to make amends by having Miss Stoneham over the next day or the next month. Who, among us, is not guilty of wanting to do the good thing, the right thing, but winding up doing something else more expedient or more fun or more convenient to our careers? This is a perspective unknown to a boy, and it might not have been the perspective I harboured had I been born decades earlier and first seen 36 Chowringhee Lane as a disillusioned old man, a Mr. Stoneham, in a world filled with younger men and women with little time for themselves, leave alone others. But today, I saw the film from the point of view of the somewhat self-absorbed man, and I wanted to tell the director that she was cheating and that he was not really evil – just a busy man with somewhat misplaced priorities who cannot be held responsible for a lonely old woman’s belief that he will always be over at Christmas to tuck into her glorious cakes.
Lights, Camera, Conversation… is a weekly dose of cud-chewing over what Satyajit Ray called Our Films Their Films. An edited version of this piece can be found here.
Copyright ©2011 The Hindu. This article may not be reproduced in its entirety without permission. A link to this URL, instead, would be appreciated.
rameshram
July 15, 2011
OMGEEE stop mastrubating to art films!
http://www.guardian.co.uk/film/2011/jul/12/jean-luc-godard-film-socialisme
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Chhote saab
July 15, 2011
Very interesting! Why do some movies (or TV shows) age better than others, in your opinion?
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Bala
July 15, 2011
Ever seen that episode of Frasier where he comes across their once favorite Shakespearean actor at a Star Trek convention, decide to bring their hero back on stage once again and show the theater world what they have been missing and discover …well…you can see it here 😀 (not really the best episode ever…but still ..it’s Frasier )
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Apu
July 16, 2011
Awesome re-take!
I have had similar experiences with lesser films (given that I view and re-view the Bollywood movies quite a bit :)). The one that I remember is ‘Aaina’, where I was totally backin the supposedly-ugly-duckling-but-charming Juhi Chawla’s character, and thought Amrita Singh was the devil incarnate when I viewed it first time as a teenager. Viewing it now, i sort of feel that Amrita’s and Jackie’s needs from life were different and they were taken in by each other’s glamor in the beginning, and it would have all worked out fine if Jackie were the quintessential-bollywoody-no-heart businessman, and both would have been happy being together but following their own ambitions of money (him) and fame (her). Of course, there were other nuances to this movie than just this, but this thought sort of toned down the “villainy” of Amrita’s character for me.
I guess (on the same lines as your observation) age brings us more experiences (hopefully), and maturity brings with it an ability to see other people’s point of view. Of course, the results would be varied as we balance empathy with cynicism – sometimes it will complicate an utterly simple tale of good vs evil, at other times, it might make us totally lose patience/sympathy with a never-do-good character and wish he/she would just move on.
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Nimmi Rangswamy
July 16, 2011
Lovely ideas about the shifts in perspective as we move on in life and times change and values turn around as we move on… agree totally
I’m intrigued that this specific movie made you see these shifts… a film painting a moral, cultural canvas of a decaying culture , that of an Anglo-Indian and an old women with a tragic past. And one, from the director’s POV, would make for an immensely moving experience.
Its fair enough to assume the movie to be about Ms Stoneham, her portraiture of Nandita and Samaresh as lovable youngsters until it dawns on her that Christmas eve…. I am not too sure if full blown self-absorbed adults watching the movie, then and possibly even now, weren’t moved similarly [ok somewhat] and did get a wee bit shocked at the couple by recognizing it as something normal.
This is exactly what the director was expecting us to feel at the risk of making the couple a bit villainous and also alluding to the unbridgeable chasm in the values of an old women living in the past and that of the with it couple.
The movie works only at that ultra-emotional level. It may be another thing to say it’s dated as genre or as a poignant portrait of decaying Anglo-Indian culture… and hence you are able to get that distance to view this movie as a grown-up. I am not sure if I am articulating what is bothering me about your raised finger at the director… The bit you say of being ‘cheated’ into the emotions felt as a teenager and that 30 years hence seems out of character. More so ‘cos you say it still worked for you…
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Sanjay Shankar
July 16, 2011
That first line about how movies don’t change… so true!!. When I catch the odd Visu movie today or even one of Sankar’s first few movies, I cringe, and can’t believe that I used to love them as a kid /teenager.
This also applies to Balachander & Bharatiraaja. I am not blaming them. Every filmmaker is a product of their times. Even Maniratnam had a Goundamani comedy track (and a tasteless one at that) in one of his earlier films.
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Jack
July 16, 2011
So what we are accepting here is that in our vacuous, insensitive urban existences, as long as we superficially maintain some human connections, deception and dishonesty are acceptable mechanisms for extracting from them the means that will serve our basest needs. Good!
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bran1gan
July 17, 2011
Chhote saab: I think it’s just a question of whether the film (or TV show) still speaks to you. Because the film itself is unchanged — only you keep changing. Like once upon a time I used to enjoy Sridevi’s performances; now I find them mostly unbearable (except a few films).
Nimmi Rangswamy: See but full-blown adults watching the film for the first time are still being hit with the newness of it. I am talking about “aging” with a film and responding (slightly) differently at two different points. I still found it very moving — just that I was able to him as less of a “villain.”
Jack: Absolutely! 🙂
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Ajit
April 7, 2012
Thanks for sharing a very interesting and different viewpoint about the characters of the film. Nevertheless, I believe that there is a strong case that Nandita and Samaresh were indeed ungrateful. Yes, the film seems a little unclear about whether they intended to invite Miss Stoneham over to their house for another occasion like a New Year’s party. But Samaresh’s body language does not convey any such inclination. Quite importantly, the couple tell Miss Stoneham a lie – they could have easily explained the situation to her and invited her the next day (yes, of course, she would have understood). Lastly, much as they enjoy the music from the old gramophone player during their Christmas booze party, they don’t seem to remember, or mention to their friends, that the player was a prompt, generous gift from that sincere, kind-hearted English lady. Au contraire, Samaresh boasts about how one must really, really have to look out for such antiques! Yes, the newly wed couple aren’t obligated to solve any of the problems in Miss Stoneham’s life (they can’t!), but surely it’s not beyond the call of duty to be sincere and grateful. Just my humble two cents.
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brangan
June 8, 2022
This morning, at the airport, a woman stopped me and asked if I was BR. I said yes. She then proceeded to talk about THIS piece and how it resonated with her.
That was so amazing because this piece is so old. It felt so, so nice to be reminded about it – and remembered for it.
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