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The Songs of Noor Jehan
- Shala Jawaniyan Mane
- From the film Gul-E Bakawali (1939)
- Music: Ghulam Haider
- Lyrics: Wali Sahib
Too Kaunsi Badli Mein
- From t
he film Khan Daan (1942)
- Music: Ghulam Haider
- Â
- Diya Jalakar Aap Bujhaya
- From the film Badi Maa (1945)
- Music: Datta Korgaonkar
- Lyrics: Zia Sarhadi
- Â
- Kis Tarah Bhoolega Dil
- From the film Village Girl (1945)
- Music: Shyam Sunder
- Lyrics: Wali Sahib
- Â
- Deke Mujhe Woh Dard - E - Jigar Bhool Gaye
- From the film Dil (1946)
- Music: Zaffar Khursheed
- Lyrics: Shams Luckhnavi
- Â
-
- Awaz de Kahan Hai
- From the film Anmol Ghadi (1946)
- Music: Naushad
- Lyrics: Tanvir Naqvi
Mere Bachpan Ke Saathi
- From the film
Anmol Ghadi (1946)
- Music: Naushad
- Lyrics: Tanvir Naqvi
Yahan Badla Wafa Ka (with Mohd. Rafi)
- From the film Jugnu (1947)
- Music: Firoz Nizami
- Lyrics: Aazar Sarhadi
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Noor Jehan's filmography as an actress/singer
(This list does not include her Calcutta films, in which she made brief appearances as a child star)
Films in India
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- Gul Bakavli (P) 1939
- Director: Barkat Mehra
- Cast: Hemlata, Agha Saleem, Noor Jehan
- Composer: Master Ghulam Haider
- Lyricist:Wali Sahib
- Yamla Jat (P) Â 1940
- Director: Moti P Gidwani
- Cast: M.Ismail, Pran Ranjana & Noor Jehan
- Composer: Master Ghulam Haider
- Lyricist: Wali Sahib
- Chaudhury (P) 1941
- Director: Niranjan Pal
- Cast: Ghulam Mohammed, Roop Lekha & Noor Jehan
- Composer: Master Ghulam Haider
- Lyricist: F.S Sharaf
- Khandaan (Urdu/Hindustani) 1942
- Director: Shaukat Hussain Razvi
- Cast: Noor Jehan, Pran & Manorama
- Composer:Master Ghulam Haider
- Duhai (Hindustani) 1943
- Composer: Rafiq Ghaznavi
- Lyricist: Bharat Vyas
- Naukar (Urdu/Hindustani) 1943
- Director: Shaukat Hussain Rizvi
- Cast: Shobhna Samrath, Chandra Mohan, Noor Jehan
- Composer: Rafiq Ghaznavi
- Lyricist: Akhtar Sheerani
- Nadaan (Urdu/Hindustani) 1943
- Director: Zia Sarhadi
- Cast: Noor Jehan, Maya Devi, Jilloo, Alaknanda
- Composer: K.Datta
- Lyricist: Zia Sarhadi & Tanwir Naqvi
- Lal Haveli (Hindustani) 1944
- Director: K.B Lal
- Cast: Noor Jehan, Surendarnath
- Composer: Meer Saheb
- Lyricist: Shams Lakhnavi
- Bhaijan (Urdu) 1945
- Director: S.Khalil
- Cast: Noor Jehan, Shahnawaz, Karan Diwan, Meena
- Composer: Shyam Sunder
- Lyricist: Partao Lakhnavi
- Badi Ma (Hindustani) 1945
- Director: Master Vinayak
- Cast: Noor Jehan, Ishwar Lal, Yaqub, Lata Mangeshkar, Nazeer
- Composer: K.
Datta
- Lyricist: Zia Sarhadi & Anjum
- Gaon Ki Gori (Hindustani) 1945
- Director: K. Amarnath
- Cast: Noor Jehan, Durga Khote, Nazir
- Composer: Shyam Sunder
- Lyricist: K. Amarnath
- Zeenat (Hindustani) 1945
- Director: Shaukat Hussain Rizvi
- Cast: Noor Jehan, Yaqoob, Karan Diwan
- Composers: Mir Sahib & Hafiz Khan
- Lyricist: Mahir al Qadri
- Anmol Ghadi (Hindustani) 1946
- Director: Mehboob Khan
- Cast: Noor Jehan, Surendra, Suraiyya, Zahoor Raja
- Composer: N
aushad Ali
- Lyricist: Tanvir Naqvi & Anjum
- Dil (Urdu) 1946
- Director: Sibtain Fazli
- Cast: Noor Jehan, Abdul Lateef
- Composer: Zafar Khursheed
- Lyricist: Shams Luckhnavi
- Humjoli (Hindustani) 1946
- Director: Ismail Memon
- Cast: Noor Jehan, Jairaj
- Composer: Hafeez Khan
- Lyricist: Anjum
- Jugnu (Urdu) 1947
- Director: Shaukat Hussain Rizvi
- Cast: Noor Jehan, Dilip Kumar
- Composer: Feroze Nizami
- Lyricist: Aazar Sarhadi
- Mirza Sahiban (Urdu) 1947
- Director: K. Amarnath
- Cast: Noor Jehan, Trilok Kapoor
- Composer: Pandit Amarnath
- Lyricist: Qamar Jalalabadi
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Films in Pakistan
- Chan Ve (Punjabi) 1951
- Director: Noor Jehan
- Cast: Noor Jehan, Santosh Kumar, Jahangir
- Composer: Feroze Nizam
- Dupatta (Urdu) 1952
- Director: Sibtain Fazli
- Cast: Noor Jehan, Ajay Kumar,=2
0Sudhir
- Composer: Feroze Nizami
- Lyricist: Musheer
- Gulnaar (Urdu) 1953
- Director: Imtiaz Ali Taj
- Cast: Noor Jehan, Santosh Kumar
- Composer: Master Ghulam Haider
- Lyricist: Qateel Shifai
- Patatey Khan (Urdu) 1955
- Director: M.A Rasheed
- Cast: Noor Jehan, Aslam Pervez
- Composer: Akhtar Hussain
- Intezaar (Urdu) 1956
- Director: Luqman
- Cast: Noor Jehan, Santosh Kumar, Asha Posley
- Composer: Khwajah Khursheed Anwar
- Lakht-e-Jigar (Urdu) 1956
- Director: Luqman
- Cast: Santosh Kumar, Yasmeen, Habib, Sudhir
- Composer: Baba Chishti
- Nooran (Punjabi) 1957
- Director: M.A Khan
- Cast: Noor Jehan & Sudhir
- Composer: Safdar Hussain
- Anarkali (Urdu) 1958
- Director: Anwar Kamal Pasha
- Cast: Noor Jehan, Sudhir & Shamim Ara
- Composer: Rasheed Attre
- Lyricist: Qateel Shifai
- Choo Mantar(Punjabi) 1958
- Director: Mushtaq Hafeez
- Cast: Noor Jehan, Aslam Pervez
- Composer: Master Rafiq Ali
- Lyricist: Qateel Shifai
- Koel (Urdu) 1959
- Director: Masood Pervez
- Cast: Noor Jehan & Aslam Pervez
- Composer: Khwajah Khursheed Anwar
- Lyricist: Tanvir Naqvi
- Neend (Urdu) 1959
- Director: Hassan Tariq
- Cast: Aslam Pervez & Neelo
- Composer: Rasheed Attre
- Lyricist: Tanvir Naqvi
- Pardesan (Punjabi) 1959
- Director: Ali
- Cast: Aslam Parvez & Asha Posley
- Composer: Akhtar Hussain
- Ghalib (Urdu) 1961
- Di
rector: S. Attaullah Hashmi
- Cast: Noor Jehan and Sudhir
- Composer: Tassaduq Hussain
- Lyricist: Mirza Ghalib
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An Introduction to Indian Cinema
By Shyam Benegal
For most parts of the world, films made in Hindi represent Indian cinema. This is inevitable. Hindi films have greater access to markets in India and to the South Asian Diaspora, not all of which is Hindi speaking.=2
0Yet, the number of Hindi films made is no more than 15% of the total produced in India each year. More films are made in regional languages like Telugu and Tamil than in Hindi, a fact that is little known. Altogether over 850 films are made annually in about 14 Indian languages. The cultural characteristics and representations in regional language films are specific to the region where the language is spoken and distribution is restricted to that region.
In the pre-television era, until two decades ago, it used to be said that a Tamil film could only be successful with a Malayali audience when you substituted its happy ending (de rigeur in Tamil films) with a tragic ending. Regional language fil
ms are known for their rootedness in the culture of the region. In South Indian film circles this characteristic is loosely referred to as 'nativity' (not to be confused with the Nativity of Christ). A film not imbued with 'nativity' was criticized for its lack of cultural moorings and considered devoid of authenticity and conviction. Often the box office failure of a film was attributed to this reason. The success or failure of a Hindi film is not based on any such perception.
Hindi films originated in Mumbai and Kolkata where the spoken language is not Hindi. Hindi films had to appeal to people across the spectrum of different language groups. This gave rise to the creation of an invented culture,
pan-Indian in nature, based on emerging urban values, which were largely aspirational. As a result, diverse symbols, iconography, social mores, customs and conventions got simplified and standardized for countrywide acceptability. This vital difference between regional and Hindi cinemas may not be evident to a non-Indian viewer since the form of popular Indian cinema is common to both.
From its inception, Indian cinema took its shape from the existent urban and folk theatrical forms that were popular at the time. This was a narrative style that used songs and dances as interludes. In the hands of a creative filmmaker these interludes were often integrated into the narrative. South Asian audiences have preferred th
eir film entertainment in this form ever since. However, not all filmmakers were happy with this form which seemed creatively constricting. It wasn't till the middle of the 1950's that some young filmmakers in Bengal beginning with Satyajit Ray and Ritwick Ghatak and later with Mrinal Sen made a radical departure from this tradition. The films they made were at once culturally specific and yet used a narrative style that dispensed with the need for songs. The films were also closer to life and experience and could easily be accessed by international audiences. In the next two decades filmmakers in other parts of India made films that collectively came to be known as the new Indian cinema. The success of Satyajit Ray's films at majo
r international film festivals and in the art house circuits of the western world made his work appear to be representative of Indian cinema to international filmgoers. Ironically, outside of his native Bengal, his films were not as well distributed in the rest of India. The new Indian cinema had a measure of success in the decades of the 70's and 80's, but lost favour with the proliferation of television all over the country. To hold on to audiences cinema had to be bigger, more spectacular and offer a kind of entertainment that television could not deliver. Small budget films that new Indian cinema represented, could not possibly compete, except in some regions like Kerala and to some extent in Bengal.
=0
A
The South Asian Diaspora, which has increased considerably in recent years, has helped to make traditional Indian cinema known outside India. Tamil films featuring Rajnikant have been commercially successful in Japan while Hindi films such as Taal, Dilwale Dulhaniyan, and Kuch Kuch Hota Hai have figured among the top grossing films in the U.K. Last year Lagaan and Ashoka seemed to have attracted a considerable number of non-South Asian viewers in Europe and America. The film composer A.R. Rahman has written the music for the big West End musical, Bombay Dreams. Filmmakers of Indian origin like Deepa Mehta and Mira Nair have had their films released by major distributors in m
ainstream cinema houses on the international circuit, although they cannot be strictly considered as representing traditional Indian cinema. The younger generation of Indian filmmakers shows distinct transnational sensibilities and is aiming to reach world audiences beyond the South Asian Diaspora. For the radically inclined, the new digital technologies have come as a boon. They can make films of their choice (as some of them have) without feeling the pressure of the demands of the market place. The line drawn between traditional Indian cinema and the new Indian cinema will most likely disappear. The future holds great promise.
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Contemporary South Asian Cinema: A survey
Exploring some of the trends in contemporary South Asian cinema outside India and Bollywood, these articles cast light on other South Asian cinematic traditions
- India's Art House Cinema
- by Lalit Mohan Joshi
- Pakistani Cinema
- by Sajid Iqbal
- Telugu cinema: N.T. Rama Rao and After
- by S V Srinivas
- Contemporary Malayalam Cinema
- by C S Venkiteswaran
- Globalisation and Bollywood
- by Maithili Rao
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India's Art House Cinema
by Lalit Mohan Joshi
Following a decade in which (except for Bengal), cinema everywhere in India had lost touch with reality, 'art', 'parallel' or 'new wave' cinema emerged as a recognised genre during the=2
0late 1960s. The first to feel the sweep of the new wave was Hindi cinema.
The ground
Before the rise of the 'new wave', Mumbai-based Hindi cinema (currently termed Bollywood) had become cut off from social reality. Undoubtedly, films such as S. Mukherji's Junglee (Uncouth, 1961) or Shakti Samanta's Kashmir Ki Kali (The Girl from Kashmir, 1964) with loud entertainers like Shammi Kapoor with his funny yahoo antics or R. Nagaich's Farz (Duty, 1967) with Jeetendra with his
early 'jumping jack' image, won high ratings for their entertainment value. However, though popular with the new generation of viewers, such cinema was ephemeral and bore n
o resemblance to real life. This has not been so in the past. The 1950s for example, had been studded with films such as Raj Kapoor's Awara (The Vagabond,1951), Bimal Roy's Do Bigha Zamin (Two Acres of Land, 1953), Guru Dutt's Pyasa (Eternal Thirst, 1957) and Mehboob's Mother India (1957). Winning popular acclaim but at the same time not failing to raise relevant issues of rural and urban exploitation in independent India, they had succeeded in carving a distinct and lasting niche for themselves which is labelled neither as 'art house' or 'commercial' cinema.
The loss of moorings and drift away from social reality is attributable to a change in the Mumb
ai film scene. By the mid-60s death had removed three major filmmakers - Mehboob, Guru Dutt and Bimal Roy - leaving behind a huge vacuum. Those that remained seemed to have lost their original spark. Later works of Raj Kapoor, for instance, clearly appeared to lack the commitment and humanism that had shone through in films such as Awara and Shri 420 (Mr. 420, 1955). The creative lacuna bred unease and discontent among filmmakers and discerning audiences alike. It was, therefore, a gap or stasis that set the scene for change and a forward movement. Bollywood's art house cinema was thus born out of fatigue.
Rise
Surprisingly, it was a Bengali filmmaker, Mrinal Sen who took 20up the gauntlet and struck out on the path of change by making his low budget Hindi film Bhuwan Shome (Mr. Shome, 1969). The film was financed by the then newly established Film Finance Corporation (FFC) which later became the National Film Development Corporation (NFDC). Set in the 1940s, Bhuwan Shome not only launched a new kind of cinema but was also an attack on the establishment. It was the first low budget Hindi film to become a landmark in the history of Indian cinema. Sen's unconventional treatment gave his film originality, freshness and a modern feel. Within audiences tired of the usual run of the mill formula films, it created a new stir and felt like a breath of fresh air. Its success also
prompted the FFC to support and finance similar ventures which helped build the so called 'new wave' cinema in the years that followed.
Another significant development of the 1960s that impacted positively was the setting up of the National Film Archive of India (NFAI) and the Film and Television Institute of India (FTII) in Pune. By facilitating exposure of indigenous creative talent to the best of world cinema, these bodies nurtured a new crop of filmmakers who wanted to explore and use the power of the film medium. Hindi cinema entered a new phase with the early works of Mani Kaul, Kumar Shahni, Saeed Akhtar Mirza and Ketan Mehta - all products of the FTII.
The=2
0exciting new possibilities in cinema drew talent from diverse fields towards the film medium. A cartoonist with a Mumbai based news weekly Blitz, Basu Chatterjee turned towards filmmaking with his debut film Sara Aakash (The Whole Sky, 1969). Based on a Hindi novel by Rajendra Yadav, its most striking feature was 'realism'. It made viewers feel they were not watching a film but were looking through the window of someone who lived somewhere down their lane. Both Sara Akash and Bhuwan Shome struck a new chord.
Realism
'Realism' became the mantra for the new breed of filmmakers. Fresh from the FTII, Mani Kaul and Kumar Shahani both adm
itted being influenced by the works of Robert Bresson and Andrei Tarkovsky. They also were deeply inspired by the genius and epic tradition of Bengali filmmaker Ritwik Ghatak who had been their mentor at the Film Institute. The creative ferment nurtured in FTII products led to memorable works. The long pauses and silences in Mani Kaul's debut film Uski Roti (A Day's Bread, 1969), for example, skilfully heighten the loneliness of Balo (Garima) the wife of a Sikh bus driver Sucha Singh (Gurdeep Singh). Interestingly, not everyone was able to appreciate fresh departures made by innovative filmmakers like Mani Kaul as well as Kumar Shahni. While many hailed their films, others spurned them.
Some wit
hin the new crop of filmmakers not only started expressing themselves in new ways, they also began to explore untrodden ground by taking up new subjects as well as issues that had barely been touched. Outstanding among them was M. S. Sathyu who made Garam Hawa (Hot Winds, 1975). The film poignantly depicted the hurt and insecurity of Indian Muslims in post-partition India. M. S. Sathyu came with a background in theatre and had been active in IPTA (Indian People's Theatre Association) for decades. His sensitive treatment converted his film into a landmark.
'Realism' was recognised as the most distinctive hallmark of the newly emerging Indian art cinema of the late1960s. It, however, needs to be
recognised that it had been an element of Indian cinema right from its early days. Many classics of silent cinema had in fact been resonant with realism. In V. Shantaram's silent film Sawkari Pash (Indian Shylock, 1925), a poor peasant (played by Shantaram himself) loses his land to a greedy moneylender and is forced to migrate to the city to become a mill worker. Acclaimed as a realistic breakthrough, its shot of a howling dog near a hut, has become a milestone in the march of Indian cinema. Another Shantaram classic Duniya Na Mane (The Unexpected, 1937) is known for its daring attack on the treatment of women in Indian society.
Yet, not only in India but the general p
erception in the west too, is that realism was first injected into Indian filmmaking through the works of genius produced by Satyajit Ray. Even the contribution of Ritwik Ghatak, Ray's no less brilliant contemporary, received scant attention until very recent times.
Benegal, Nihalani & Mirza
The credit for re-introducing realism, however, must go to filmmakers of the 'new wave'. An outstanding filmmaker of this genre who entered the scene in the mid-1970s was Shyam Benegal. His debut film Ankur (The Seedling, 1974) was a breakthrough in more ways than one. It defied all the ground rules of popular Hindi cinema. Without a star cast, without a song and without melodrama, Ankur was produced w
ith a paltry sum of Rs. 5 lakh but fetched more than a crore for producer Lalit M. Bijlani.
The 1970s found Benegal at his creative best. His first three films form a thematic trilogy. Ankur deals with the slow transformation of the feudal system in India. Nishant (Night's End, 1975) shows a kind of actual confrontation between feudal value systems and a new emerging rural society in India. In Manthan (The Churning,1976) one sees social change actually coming. The popular acclaim of these three Benegal films (Ankur, Nishant and Manthan), made him the pioneer of new cinema in the 1970s.
Another dimension of Benegal's contribution via his new wave films to mainstream c
inema, was the infusion of fresh talent which dominated the Hindi film industry in the ensuing decades. "His sense of casting is one of the most acute one has ever encountered. The truth of this is amply evident in the names of some of the notable performers in the cinema today - Om Puri, Naseeruddin Shah, Amrish Puri, Mohan Agashe, Kulbhusan Kharbanda, Shabana Azmi, and the late Smita Patil - the list of his discoveries who have all made good, is impressive, to say the least. Even the faces launched by Satyajit Ray are not quite as many and except for Sharmila Tagore, have not invaded the mainstream the way Benegal's protégés have", acknowledges veteran film historian Chidananda Das Gupta.
0AShyam Bengal's new wave films also contributed indirectly. Govind Nihalani, Benegal's renowned cinematographer for more than a decade, soon emerged from the behind Benegal's camera as a powerful filmmaker in his own right in the early 80s. His debut film Aakrosh (Cry of the Wounded, 1980) exposed the exploitation of tribals in rural India. "The spirit of new cinema was to look at our own society with new eyes, with a different kind of vision. It was a vision of questioning and finding new answers. it was an effort to find a new language to talk to the new generation of our own society about the new issues that were then emerging", recalls Nihalani.
Nihalani's Ardh Satya (Hal
f Truth, 1983) is another landmark. "After two decades of its making I still come across young police officers at airports and else where who tell me they feel it's their story", admits Om Puri who played the police officer protagonist in the film. Exposing the nexus between corrupt politicians, the mafia and the police, the film became a huge commercial success.
Another bold and creative artist who entered the field was business executive turned filmmaker Saeed Akhtar Mirza. His cinema raised significant issues related to indigenous minority communities and to ordinary people. Albert Pinto Ko Gussa Kyon Ata Hai (What Makes Albert Pinto Angry, 1980) provided some insight into the world of Christia
n minority groups in India. Though Albert is portrayed as being genuinely concerned for his family and community, he is also depicted as a victim of his own false values and the oppressive forces of mainstream society. Likewise, Salim Langde Pe Mat Ro (Do Not Cry for Salim the Lame, 1989) and Naseem document Mirza's concern for sections within the Indian Muslim community. Another of his earlier works was Mohan Joshi Hazir Hon (Summons for Mohan Joshi, 1985) which in his own words focused on "the idea of decency sacrificed at the altar of pragmatism".
New Wave in the Regions - Kerala, Karnataka, West Bengal & Assam
The 1970s saw similar stirrings in regi
onal cinema. Down south in verdant Kerala, there was a flowering within Malayalam cinema where a new generation of filmmakers emerged. Shot on location, P. N. Menon's Olavum Theeravum (1970) was a landmark in the realm of realism. It was followed by Adoor Gopalakrishnan's Swayamvaram (1972) which quickened the pace of new cinema in the area. M.T. Vasudevan Nair's Nirmalyam (The Offering, 1973) and G. Aravindan's Thampu (The Tent, 1978) were other works that inspired many filmmakers of that era.
Outside Kerala, the new wave rose prominently in the neighbouring state of Karnataka. Here, Kannada filmmakers such as B.V.Karanth, Girish Karnad and Girish Kassarvalli produced consp
icuous works. Karanth's masterpiece, Chomna Dudi (Chomna's Drum, 1974), documented caste discrimination in rural India. Karnad's Kaadu (The Forest, 1973) and Girish Kasarvalli's Ghatashraddha (1977) were films that firmly and prominently placed Kannada cinema on the Indian new wave cinema map.
The new wave was not confined to south India alone. In the east, within Bengali cinema there emerged two young filmmakers Gautam Ghosh and Budhadeb Dasgupta. Both mirrored contemporary issues in their feature films. From nearby Assam, came Jahnu Barua's films like Aparoopa (1982) and Halodiya Choraye Baodhan Khaye (1987) which powerfully reflected the conflicts and change in Assamese 20society.
The magnetic pull of Hindi new wave cinema
With the passage of time, many a regional filmmaker was pulled into the vortex of Hindi cinema for drawing wider audiences and greater mass appeal. Ketan Mehta after making a breakthrough with a Gujarati film Bhavni Bhavai (A Folk Tale, 1980), shifted to Hindi with two significant films Holi (The Festival of Colour, 1983) and Mirch Masala (Hot Spices, 1986). Likewise, Marathi filmmaker Jabbar Patel made Hindi versions of Umbartha (1982) as Subah (1982), Bengali filmmaker Buddhadeb Dasgupta made his Andhi Gali (Blind Alleyway) in Hindi and Kannada filmmaker Girish Karnad made two Hindi fil
ms Godhuli (1977) and Utsav (The Festival, 1984).
Even veterans like Satyajit Ray did not remain unaffected by the pull force. In 1978 he made an excellent film in Hindi called Shatranj Ke Khilari (The Chess Players). Based on a story by the famous Hindi writer Munshi Premchand, it was a period film with an international caste that included Richard Attenborough playing an English general of nawabi times. The film became the launch pad for Saeed Jaffrey into Hindi cinema. All these films shaped Hindi new wave into a kind of national film movement.
Realism vs. Escapism
Although the themes of some 'new wave' films of the late
70s and early 80s such as Nihalani's Ardh Satya and Benegal's Manthan and Junoon won popularity within the masses, films of this genre generally remained confined to a limited circle of viewers made up of sections within the urban educated elite. It was perhaps the sharp contrast between new wave and commercial cinema that largely accounted for the former's lack of appeal with the masses. Like tales by Hans Christian Anderson or the Grimm brothers, films of the popular or commercial genre were peopled by fantastic characters who were either ugly, cruel and despicable knaves or beautiful, virtuous and pure-hearted heroes and heroines. Commercial filmmakers steered clear of picking themes that might remind viewers
of their daily lives by concentrating on wealth, glamour, beauty, romance, dance and song. Even if compelled by the storyline to show poverty, sickness, disease or sadness, they scrupulously avoided spoiling the fun of viewers by not giving them an overdose of any such negative aspects of real life and by quickly nullifying any resemblance to it by strong infusions of dance, song, romance, cheap thrills like fight sequences or bawdy humour.
New wave filmmakers, on the other hand, were inspired by the social and political reality around them. Their films rejected the unrealistic situations and storyline, fantastic characters, melodramatic dialogues and the popular song and dance format of commercial cinema. It=2
0is, therefore, not surprising that mass audiences brought up on a staple diet that was not only different but almost diametrically opposed to that of 'formula' films, generally found new wave cinema far less attractive and palatable.
New wave filmmakers also went in a big way for stark themes and stark treatments. Rabindra Dharamraj's Chakra (1980) focused unrelentingly on the poverty, hopelessness, suffering, disease and exploitation in the slums of Mumbai. Prakash Jha's Damul (The Bonded Until Death, 1985), was a shocking depiction of the hanging of a bonded labourer. The film drew rare acclaim from the veteran Bengali filmmaker Mrinal Sen for avoiding close ups. "My aim was to emotional
ly alienate the audience. Avoiding close ups the camera always moved around to create unease among the audience", says Jha.
Extraneous factors
While the very nature of 'new wave' films tended to strip its makers of any hopes of ever hitting it big with the masses, a fresh challenge to their continuation and development within the new wave genre, came from the small screen. By the mid-1980s the expansion of the national television network in India created a growing market for television serials. Despite their creative energy and talent, new wave filmmakers functioned in a very unsure world. The pull of the small screen proved irresistible as those who had ruled the new wave and ridden high 20on its crest like Shyam Benegal and Saeed Akhtar Mirza joined the race to seize opportunities in this new field. Their involvement with serials like Bharat Ek Khoj (Shyam Benegal) and Nukkad (Saeed Akhtar Mirza), were immensely successful and set new trends. Though their talent found outlets and flourished in TV, their involvements in television had a detrimental impact on their kind of cinema. They eventually did return to their forte, but by the time they did so, both their focus as well as the scene had altered. "Between 1986 and 1991, I had got busy doing television and lost contact with the film business. When I got back, it was like waking up from Rip Van Winkle's slumber. Everything had changed. The=2
0non-traditional cinema had lost its entire audience to television", admits Shyam Benegal.
Never robust, new wave cinema, by the dawn of the 1990s, especially that based in Mumbai, was like a spent force devoid of almost all vigour, spontaneity and freshness. Some began to resort to survival techniques that exposed them to criticism. Among them a few who had earlier ruled the 'new wave', waived the rules of their kind of cinema by using stars and peppering their films with dance and song sequences. One of the icons of new cinema, Naseeruddin Shah is candid in his criticism. "They [new wave filmmakers] lost their commitment and began to cast stars in desperation. I think they fell on their faces doi
ng that because they expected those stars to play real", says Naseer.
A prominent flaw regarding new wave cinema was its lack of an effective film distribution system. Art house cinema in the western world had the support of a distribution system as well as a regular circle of viewers no matter how small. Indian new wave cinema did not enjoy any such base. Some new wave filmmakers have identified this gap as a prime contributory factor for the decline of new wave cinema.
Many new wave filmmakers have, however, come forward with other points of view. Prakash Jha, who in recent years has resorted to a popular format of Bollywood filmmaking, is inward looking and
critical of his own brethren. "We film makers are to be blamed. We went on making films not bothering where they will be exhibited. We went on collecting awards, money and loans." Shyam Benegal with his strong sense of the impact of historical forces and a powerful analytical ability, on the other hand, ascribes other reasons for the decline. "There is a certain process of marginalising that has taken place. Certain things have become invisible to a lot of people. If today I were to deal with the subject of poverty or with caste oppression, I wouldn't have the same kind of interest in the urban audience. Urban audiences would rather not see these things."
Expatriate Filmmakers
While new wave In
dian cinema seems to be in the doldrums, a new generation of filmmakers like Dev Benegal with English August and Split Wide Open have tried to break new ice. Split Wide Open unravels the world of child abuse within Mumbai's high class society. In the 1990s expatriates such as Meera Nair and Deepa Mehta have also come forward with films that have hit national and international headlines. Although these films have raised new issues, many critics have spurned them as being carefully crafted attempts to steal the limelight by picking exotic and controversial themes. Barring Meera Nair's Monsoon Wedding, films like Deepa Mehta's Fire have neither won significant critical acclaim nor popular audie
nces either in India or abroad.
The present scenario
Though weak in Mumbai where it first rose, new wave cinema is still showing signs of life and vigour in the regions. A new generation of younger filmmakers like Rituparno Ghosh in West Bengal and Jayaraj in Kerala have emerged. Ghosh's cinema though reminiscent of Satyajit Ray, has a unique freshness. His Uneshe April (1995), Dahan (1997) and Utsab (2000) strongly reflect contemporary issues that are affecting modern India. The same is true with Jayaraj's Karunam, which poignantly depicts an elderly couple's vain wait for the return of their son who has settled abroad. Though filmmakers like Adoor Gopalakrishnan, T.V. Chand
ran and Shaji Karun have kept meaningful cinema robust and alive, mainstream Malayalam cinema which is inspired by the Bollywood model, is in the grip of the same malaise that Mumbai films suffers from.
Within Hindi new wave cinema itself, despite its near invisibility, the genre is scotched but not killed. With some digressions veterans like Benegal , Nihalani and Mirza have still not given up. They are exploring larger canvasses and trying for bigger resources. Shyam Benegal and Ketan Mehta have turned towards history with the former making his new feature film on national leader Subhash Chandra Bose and the latter on the 1857 Uprising.
Today 'New Wave' or 'Art' cinema
can be best described as being in the margins. Whether it will revive and co-exist alongside popular Indian cinema the way it did in the 1970s remains to be seen. Meanwhile, a discerning audience stands and waits.
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Pakistani Cinema
by Sajid Iqbal
Pakistan and India are two hostile neighbours in the South Asian Region, who vie whenever the national teams of the two countries come face to face, the fight is with each other in almost every sphere. In cricket, hockey, wrestling or squash, always a close one and a g
reat deal of heat and excitement is generated on both sides of the border. But the one field in which India undoubtedly surpasses all other countries in the region, including Pakistan, is showbiz. In fact, India produces more films than even Hollywood while Pakistan's film industry is yet to make even a mark in the region.
History provides some explanation for this contrast. In undivided India, Lahore (then in the Punjab) was important as a showbiz centre. It had an established film-making centre. The first film ever to be made in a Lahore studio was Delhi Express (1935) and thereafter many Urdu and Punjabi films emerged from Lahore every year. The partition of India into two independent stat
es - India and Pakistan, caused irreparable damage to film production in Lahore. Most of Lahore's film producers were Hindu and as the city fell to the side of the Islamic state of Pakistan, they migrated to India. This deprived Lollywood, as Lahore is referred to in film circles, of much needed investment and expertise in film production and distribution.
Fortunately, the outflow from Lahore was accompanied by an inflow into the city. Affected by the same political change, a number of talented Muslims who have established themselves in Bombay's (now Mumbai) film circles, moved back to Lahore. Prominent among them were film producer Syed Shaukat Hussain Rizvi, his wife actress and singer Noor Jehan, actres
s Swarn Lata, actor Nazeer, director W. Z. Ahmad, director Luqman, director Sabtain Fazli, music director Feroze Nizami and music director Khawaja Khursheed Anwar. These creative artists laid the foundation of the Pakistani film industry. They were also responsible for producing some of the best films ever made in Lollywood.
The creative energy of Lahore's film people began to express itself as soon as the partition frenzy subsided. Lollywood became alive again and Teri Yaad was the first film released after partition. Featuring Nasir Khan, brother of film icon Dileep Kumar and Asha Posle, it was released at Lahore Parbhat Cinema on Sept 2, 1948. Its producer was a Hindu named Diwan Sardari Lal, Da
ud Chand was the director while Nath was the music director. The following year, Anis Productions released a Punjabi film Pheray. Featuring Nazeer (who was also its director) and Swarn Lata, the film proved to be a success and became the first Pakistani film to complete a 25-week run at cinema houses. Another important film was Naubahar Films' Do Ansoo which was released in 1950. Produced by Sheikh Latif and directed by Anwar Kamal Pasha, it won popularity and became first Urdu film to complete its silver jubilee.
The most conspicuous among the returnees from Mumbai, however, was Syed Shaukat Hussain Rizvi. A well-known film personality in Mumbaiyya film circles, he started ma
king efforts to establish himself in Lahore. He founded a new film studio called Shahnoor in the city's suburbs and began his productions.
Shahnoor's first major production was Chan Way. It was also the first Pakistan film to be directed by a woman. Featuring Noor Jehan (who was also the director) and Santosh Kumar in the lead roles, the film was released on April 29, 1950. The script was by renowned playwright Syed Imtiaz Ali Taj while the musical score was by Feroze Nizami. Chan Way was an immediate hit with its music as a strong point. One of its hit songs sung by Noor Jahan Mundiya Sialkoti ya, is still a very popular number among fans of Noor Jehan who w
on the popular epithet of Malika- e-Tarannum or Melody Queen.
The success of these early post-1947 films proved to be a source of encouragement for investors. In 1954, another new film company Eastern Studio was established in Karachi and this was followed by the mushrooming of three more film studio - Qaisar, Karachi and Modern studios. The same year another milestone in the history of films in Pakistan was set when a Punjabi film Sassi was released. Featuring Sabiha Khanum, Sudhir and Asha Posle, the film was directed by seasoned director Daud Chand while G A Chishti was the music director. It not only turned out to be a successful movie but was also the first Pakistani film
to be a golden jubilee hit by completing a 50 week run in cinema houses.
Lahore was not the only city to make a mark in Pakistan's film map. Soon afterwards Dhaka (now in Bangladesh) also started emerging as a film-making centre. Its development was supported by the patronage extended by the central development board. In technical aspects of film-making, Dhaka forged ahead of both Lahore and Karachi by exploring new avenues in cinematography and film processing. In fact, Pakistan's first colour film Sangam, was filmed in a Dhaka studio.
The film medium did not fail to attract men of letters. Pakistan's renowned Urdu poet Faiz Ahmad Faiz composed lyrics for a fil
m Jago Hoowa Swera which was released on May 25, 1969. It was on the theme of the Palestinian resistance (Intefada) to the occupation of the West bank. Though well directed by A. J. Kardar, the film was a box office failure. Perhaps what its makers might have considered its strenghts - the literary merit of its songs and the intellectual depth of its dialogues - became the prime causes for the masses turning away from it. Involvement of literary figures in films was not always a recipe for financial disaster. Khalil Qaiser's Shaheed (1962) which had songs composed by another well-known poet Riaz Shahid set to music by Rasheed Attre, won wide public acclaim from cinegoers. One of its songs Uss 20Bewafa Ka Shehr Hai Aur Ham Hain Dosto is still very popular in urban middle classes of Pakistan. Another Urdu film Aaina (1977) for which lyrics had been composed by renowned poet Saroor Barabankwi completed an outstanding 400-week run in cinema halls. Featuring Shabnam and Nadeem, produced by A. R. Shamsi and directed by Nazarul Islam it had music composed by Robin Ghosh, Its lyrics were composed by while singers included Alamgir, Mehnaz, Nayyara Noor and Mehdi Hasan.
Despite the failure of a film based on the Intefada - Shaheed, Riaz Shahid who had written the script for it picked the same theme for his own film Zarqa which was released on October 17, 1969. T
he fact that most Pakistani Muslims attach great importance to the struggle of Palestinians who they think are fighting for the liberation of Al-Quds, the second most sacred place for Muslims after Khana Kha'aba in Mecca, seems to have prompted this move. Zarqa told the story of a Palestinian girl who suffers for the cause of the freedom of her motherland. Apart from the progressive poet Habib Jalib's famous song Raqs Zanjeer Pehn Kar Bhi Kiya Jata Hai, Zarqa is remembered for an offer made by Riaz Shahid to a Palestinian militant organization Al-Fatah which was asked to collect the distribution rights of the movie for the entire middle eastern region.
There were 20strong political reasons for the success of Zarqa. The song Raqs Zanjeer Pehn Kar Bhi Kiya Jata Hai was very close to real life incidents taking place in the life of actress Neelo, the heroine of the movie. On February 12, 1965, it is reported that she was invited to a dinner in honour of the visiting Shah of Iran hosted by Pakistan's military dictator Field Marshal Mohammad Ayub Khan. At the end of the function, Neelo was asked to dance and entertain the royal guests. Initially, she refused to oblige but was forced to comply in order to save the lives of her family members. This episode had a lasting impact on the the heroine as well as the general public. After the release of Zarqa c
rowds thronged to the cinema house to see Neelo in the film and to express general contempt for their hateful military dictator.
By 1966, it was time was the rise of Pakistan's first super star in the film firmament. He took the form of the 'Chocolate hero' Waheed Murad. The film to catapult him into the limelight was Arman. Released on March 18, 1966, it became a trend-setter and was an immense box office hit. Waheed Murad had the distinction of being not only the hero of the film, but also its scriptwriter and director. Arman completed a historic 75-week run in cinema houses and established Waheed Murad as the most popular film personality of his times. A number of movies
were made on the same story pattern of Arman but could not match the original. They just failed to impress the public.
The record set by Arman could only be broken five years later by a Punjab Films production Dosti which was relased on Feb 7, 1971. Produced by Noor Jehan's new husband Ijaz Durrani (who also played the lead role), it became a diamond jubilee hit by running 100 weeks at cinema houses. It was directed by Sharif Nayyar while A. Hameed was the music director. Besides Ijaz Durrani, it starred Husna, Rehman and Saqi. Its song Chitthi Zara Sayyan Ji Ke Naam Likh Do sung by Noor Jehan is still very popular.
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But the best was yet to come two years later with the release of Punjabi film Maula Jat featuring violent hero Sultan Rahi. The running period of this movie at cinema halls was so long that people simply lost track. This was undoubtedly the most successful film ever made in Pakistan. The typical axe (called gandasa in Punjabi and Hindi) held high by the character Maula Jat is an accepted symbol of violent protest against the cruel military regime by the poor masses. It established Sultan Rahi as the most successful film personality of Pakistan. He held this position till his death in 1996. His death was as dramatic as his figure had become after his rise to stardom and fame. While travelling fro
m Islamabad to Lahore by road, he stopped on the roadside to change the tyre of his jeep. Suddenly, a gang of bandits appeared on the scene and fired a shot at him. He died instantantly. Thousands of people attended his funeral held in a park close to his house. So strong was the public reaction, that the traffic remained suspended in the entire area for several hours after his funeral.
Though Maula Jat's hero was no longer there, Punjabi films modelled on the Maula Jat formula were churned out from Lollywood for the next sixteen years.
So strong was its impact, that the word Jat was tagged on to the title of every Punjabi film that was
released from here. This gave rise to a string of films such as Maula Jat in London, Wehshi Jat and Jat Da wair to name just a few.
The repetitive nature of Lollywood films, brought about important changes. The country's middle classes began to grow disenchanted with the made in Pakistan brand of films. They not only started turning away from indigenous films but also began to prefer watching India movies or television plays at home. The populist masses, however, continued to to throng to see formula movies. As a result the producers were not worried and had no complaints for they were getting their money back. However, Pakistan's film industry as a whole suffered.
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A
There was virtually no Urdu film in the circuit and this deprived the industry of the Urdu-speaking viewers living in urban centres such as Karachi, Hyderabad and elsewhere in the country. It was only in the mid 1990s that the situation started changing. The film that ushered in some improvement was Syed Noor's film Jeeva in 1995. Like many of its predecessors, it was a love story but there was a totally new cast comprised of Resham, Babar Ali and others. It had outdoor shooting on a foreign shore which allowed the director enough freedom to treat its love theme with a degree of boldness. The music was also very engaging. All these features helped the film to turn into a big success. Middle=2
0class families began to go back to the cinema which they had earlier abandoned.
An earlier Punjabi film by the same Syed Noor Choorian had also helped the film industry gain some ground. It had a number of positive features. Choorian was shot in rustic settings and the plot was kept very close to real life. With scant space for suspension of belief, common people could easily identified themselves with the characters in the film and enjoyed every bit of it. The music being very akin to Punjabi folk, was an additional bonus. Busty Saima who was in the female lead role, really looked like an earthy Punjabi beauty while Momar Rana (a scion of the Rana family of cricketers), 20was a refreshing addition to the film world.
While these two Syed Noor films broke new ground with the freshness of their themes and new faces, Javed Sheikh's Yeh Dill Aap Ka Hua did the same through the use of technique. He was the first director to utilise modern sound recording and film processing resources available in the international circuit. With an investment of about 500 millions Pakistani rupees (equivalent to about six million pounds), it is rated as the costliest Pakistani film ever made. Javed Sheikh plans to release the film internationally and if he succeeds, it will be the first Pakistani film to have be launched in the international film circuit.
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The films produced in Pakistan indicate that throughout the 55 years after partition, the country has not suffered from a dearth of talent in any field of film making. There have been talented actors, directors, technicians, poets as well as script writers. Yet, they somehow have not so far been able to form successful combinations that lasted long enough to make meaningful inputs. Consequently, we have only been able to see intermittent flashes or sparks of great film-making in Pakistani cinema. Whenever there was a fresh idea in set-designing, an original plot, a fresh face or a good song, the result was a wave of appreciation from the chattering classes and success at the box office. This is illustrated by films including
Arman of Waheed Murad, Aaina of Nazarul Islam, Jeeva and Choorian of Syed Noor and Yeh Dil Aap Ka Hua of Javed Sheikh.
Most of the time, however, producers opted for the beaten and safe path and made films which were in keeping with the public taste instead of taking risks. It would have been easier for them to be adventurous if they had any kind of government patronage. Pakistan no doubt, had a National Film Development Corporation (NAFDEC) at the federal level, but its role in the development of the film industry was ceremonial rather than real. Like a number of other institutions working for the development of arts and culture, it received s
ome attention during the five year tenure of Prime Minister Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto. However, as soon as Bhutto was removed from the scene, NAFDEC's future came under a cloud as the military government of Gen Zia-ul-Haq was using religion as a tool to woo the religious groups opposed to Mr Bhutto. The NAFDEC never regained its original role in later years and was only used for placing undesirable civil servants in post.
Apart from the lack of real official patronage, the film industry has been suffering due to the inconsistency of Pakistan's censor policy. During the government of a left of the centre party like the Pakistan People's Party, it usually has enjoyed some breathing space. But, as soon as a 20military government comes to power, Pakistan's film-makers have to suffer as the strict censor code has been placing them at a disadvantageous position vis-a-vis Indian films.
There have been some redeeming features too. The launch of cable television has made film-makers in Pakistan realise the need to make quality films if they want people to buy tickets and watch their movies. It has also driven the point home to authorities that there will be no film industry left if film producers are suppressed any further. Some relief in Entertainment Tax and duties on the import of film material has resulted in the making of films like Choorian and Yeh Dil Aap Ka Hua which are
a source of pride for every Pakistani.
At present the indication is that the trend is changing and a healthy competitive spirit is developing among producers and directors to make quality films. In times to come, it should not come as a surprise if some quality films from Pakistan emerge in local as well as in international venues.
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Telugu cinema: N.T. Rama Rao and After
by S.V. Srinivas
The Telugu film industry is the largest in India after Hindi. Since 1981, an average of just over 160 fi
lms have been produced annually, of which anywhere between a third to half have been dubbed into Telugu, mostly from other south Indian cinemas. Andhra Pradesh, where Telugu is spoken, has the highest number of cinema halls in the country. The total number rose from 1,904 in 1981 to 3,080 in 1995 but declined to 2,763 in 2000 [
1]. In the 1980s and 1990s, the industry expanded rapidly and even overtook Hindi in number of productions on occasion. The establishment of mass circulated film magazines from the late 1970s and a phenomenal growth in film star fan clubs, are indications of an increased lower class audience of cinema in this period.New studios and produc
tion facilities were established in Hyderabad including Ramanaidu Studios and Ramoji Film City. The latter, owned by Ramoji Rao, who also owns newspapers and television channels, is the largest film studio in India. In the 1990s, the industry, largely based in Chennai (formerly Madras), was finally relocated to Hyderabad after years of public censure and government subsidies.
Like neighbouring Tamilnadu and Karnataka, cinema in Andhra Pradesh has a close and complex relationship with the politics of linguistic identity and nationalism. The industry's most popular star, Nandamuri Taraka Rama Rao (NTR), established the Telugu Desam Party (TDP) in 1982 with the avowed aim of protecting the self-respect of the Telugus. In
1983 he became the state's first non-Congress Chief Minister. His regime, like that of his counterpart in Tamilnadu, M.G. Ramachandran (MGR), was characterised by populism, increasing levels of state repression, as well as violence against lower castes by the upper caste landed elite. Although he himself was expelled from the party in 1995 and died in 1996, the TDP continues to dominate the state's politics. In the wake of NTR's success, a number of stars joined political parties and were elected to the state assembly as well as the parliament.
NTR introduced a new regime of entertainment tax in 1984, known as the 'slab system' that imposed a flat tax regardless of number of tickets sold. As a result,=2
0films running to packed houses were taxed less than before. On the other hand, even 50 per cent occupancy could actually result in a loss for distributors who had to pay steep theatre rentals. The indirect rewarding of 'full house' collections contributed to saturation release of new films. Coupled with other factors including the growth of fans' associations, the slab system encouraged producers, who in any case often indulged in the pre-sale of films, to make big budget star vehicles. Production costs increased manifold in the 1980s and 1990s due to the rising cost of stars and technicians, huge investments in sets, music, fights and dances. The prohibitive cost of film distribution rights resulted in the fragmentation of the distribution
network. Even in the 1970s, a single distribution company such as Navayuga Films or Poorna Pictures acquired the rights for all territories. Over the last two decades, distribution territories have decreased in size and increased to a total of ten, with different distributors or 'buyers' controlling each separate territory. The positive fallout of the reorganisation of distribution is the establishment of distribution offices in every district, leading to increasing investments in the sector and better exploitation of films.
Stars and Genres
While older stars such as NTR, Akkineni Nageswara Rao, Krishna and Sobhan Babu continued to act in films, the 1980s witnessed the rise to prominence of new stars - C
hiranjeevi, Balakrishna, Mohan Babu, Venkatesh and Nagarjuna - who were to dominate the industry in the 1990s. The new stars danced and fought better on screen and made possible huge investments in dance and action.
NTR's star vehicles in the early 1980s combined vigilantism and nostalgia for the feudal order to spawn a supra-generic entity called 'mass film'. The mass film mobilises the masses via the star-protagonist against the enemies of state and society [
2]. The mass film was the site of contradictory tendencies. On the one hand, films such as
Khaidi (A. Kodandarami Reddy/Samyuktha Movies, 1983) launched a populist critique 20by way of vigilante actions against figures representing feudal authority. On the other, the mass film also included anti-urban/ruralist melodramas, for instance
Mangammagari Manavadu (Kodi Ramakrishna/Bhargav Arts, 1984), which resulted in the nostalgic reconstruction of benevolent feudalism in the 1990s in films such as
Peda Rayudu (Raviraja Pinisetty/Shri Lakshmi Prasanna Pictures, 1995).
 The career of Chiranjeevi, the biggest star after NTR, marks a shift that has parallels in Tamil cinema as well. Chiranjeevi, like NTR before him, often played lower class characters. However, the uniqueness of the star-protagonist was no longer explained in terms of his superior origin - in Khaidi, the
hero is the son of a peasant. During NTR's time, but more so after him, popular cinema was trying to grapple with the absent feudal patriarch who till the early 1980s was the socio-political as well as narrative pivot for cinema. In NTR's later films like Kondaveeti Simham (K. Raghavendra Rao/Roja Movies, 1981) the passing of the patriarch played by NTR, was tragic but the consolation came in the form of the inheritance of the mantle by his son, also played by him. The feudal order, represented by old wealth, was often presented as an obscene anti-modern excess that had to destroyed in Chiranjeevi's Khaidi, Abhilasha (A. Kodandarami Reddy/Creative Commercials, 1983) and Challenge (A.
Kodandarami Reddy/Creative Commercials, 1984). Cruel feudal figures, dead/missing fathers and orphaned heroes are signs of a lack that the social as represented in cinema had to come to terms with. Reckoning with the missing centre of authority was often presented as a challenge to the hero's masculinity. The late 80s presented domineering female characters (heroines, their mothers) as threats to the social order. The lower class hero had to deploy his masculinity to put them in their (inferior) place to restore normalcy/patriarchal authority. Class antagonisms are thus played out and resolved within the domestic sphere in Donga Mogudu (A. Kodandarami Reddy/Maheshwari Movies, 1987), Attaku Yamudu Ammayiki Mogudu (A. Kodandarami Reddy/G
eeta Arts, 1989) and Gharana Mogudu (K. Raghavendra Rao/Devi Film Productions, 1992). In fact, from the late 1980s, a spate of 'mother-in-law films' was made featuring all major stars, for example Venkatesh's Bobbili Raja (B. Gopal/Suresh Productions, 1990). This trend continued till the Chiranjeevi starrer Alluda Majaaka (E.V.V. Satyanarayana/Devi Film Productions, 1995) led to huge public protests.
Vigilantism in the 1980s had an interesting variant featuring female stars in lead roles. The first of these to win box office success was Pratighatana (T. Krishna/Usha Kiron Movies, 1985). In the early 1990s, there was a full-fledged female vigilante film drawing on the mass film's th
emes as well as modes of representing (male) stars. Mostly starring Vijayashanthi, the leading actress of the period, the female vigilante film rendered the male protagonist redundant. This was because the 'Lady super star' took the side of the masses, fought crime and did her own stunts too. Important films of the genre include Kartavyam (A. Mohan Gandhi/Surya Movies, 1990), Street Fighter (B. Gopal/Sumanth Productions, 1995) and Police Lockup (Kodi Ramakrishna/Sumanth Arts, 1993). Unlike the more familiar vigilante films with female leads, the Vijayashanthi vehicles often did away with the revenge motive and focussed on the protagonist's duty as a representative of the state.
The mass f
ilm in the 1980s was complemented by what is locally known as the 'class film'. If the mass film is identifiable by its lower class addressee, huge budgets, star cast, populist politics and of course poor taste, the class film is presumably meant for the middle class audience, has an avowed pedagogic mission and is recognisably superior in aesthetic terms. Its art-house aesthetic quality is often indexed by the use of a popular version of south Indian classical music and dance. Tracing its origins to Shankarabharanam (K. Vishwanath/Poornodaya Art Creations, 1979), which lamented the erosion of Brahminical high culture and values, the 'class film' developed alongside the 1980s mass film, as the epitome of 'good' cinema. The 'class
film' is distinct from other middle class genres in that it occupies a moral high ground that has only on occasion been available to popular cinema. Throughout the 1980s the 'class film' exerted enough moral pressure on directors and stars to elicit their support. Nageswara Rao and the prolific director of the 1980s, Dasari Narayana Rao, came together in Megha Sandesam (Taraka Prabhu Films, 1982), a film about the relationship between a famous poet and a courtesan. K. Vishwanath, the director whose name is synonymous with the 'class cinema', made films with relative newcomers as well as major stars. A good example is Sagara Sangamam (Poornodaya Movie Creations, 1983) featuring Kamal Haasan and Swayamkrushi (Poorn
adaya Movie Creations, 1987) starring Chiranjeevi. Chiranjeevi went on to act in the 'class film' Rudraveena (K. Balachander/Anjana Art Productions, 1988), produced by a family-owned company. The 'class film' addressed not only the middle class audience that was increasingly alienated by the mass film, but also the state which often enough, responded with awards that were instituted to promote the film industry.
Other Genres
New Indian Cinema, though forgotten now, generated considerable critical discussion in its own time. For the most part, New Cinema in Telugu is associated with films made in Telugu by non-local filmmakers who often did not speak Telugu.
Maabhoomi (Gautam
Ghosh/Chaitanya Chitra, 1979) alone was well received in Andhra Pradesh. Telugu filmmakers identified with New Cinema are B. Narsinga Rao (
Rangula Kala, 1983;
Daasi, 1988) and Jatla Venkataswamy Naidu (
Prathyusha, Swairi Films, 1979). The actual impact of New Cinema was broader than the work of these directors. From the late 1970s, Telugu films like
Pranam Khareedu (K. Vasu/Shri Annpurna Cine Enterterprises, 1978) gestured towards the political realism of New Cinema. The genre known as the red film, typified by
Yuvatharam Kadhilindi (Dhavala Satyam/Navataram Pictures, 1980), which by the late 1980s became the Naxalite film, is a direct consequence of the hybridisation of the mass film with the film
s of Gautam Ghosh, Shyam Benegal and Narsinga Rao. The figure most closely associated with the Naxalite [
3] film, a political genre that has no parallels outside Telugu cinema, is the actor-director-producer R. Narayanamurthy. His hit film
Erra Sainyam (1994) prompted the industry to make slicker variants of the genre. One such film
Osey Ramulamma (Dasari Narayana Rao/Dasari Filim University, 1997) featuring Vijayashanthi, is among the most successful films of the 1990s.
During the 1980s and 1990s, comedy became a distinct genre. Associated with stars like Rajendra Prasad and Naresh and a number of comedians, including Brahmanan
dam, Ali, Babu Mohan and Mallikarjuna Rao who also featured in the 'comedy track' of mass films, this low budget genre launched female stars like Rambha and Aamani and directors like E.V.V. Satyanarayana and S.V. Krishna Reddy. Typically, there was cross-dressing, (Chirtam Bhalare Vichitram, 1991; Madam, 1994), reversal of gender roles (Jambalakidipamba, 1992; Mr. Pellam, 1993) and increased visibility of lower castes (Ladies' Tailor, 1986).These films had simple plots that broadly dealt with problems faced by youth due to factors such as unemployment, conservative parents or unresponsive lovers.
Crisis and Revival
By the late 1980s, the films of Ram Gopal Varma and=2
0Mani Rathnam (whose films had all been dubbed from Tamil, with the exception of Geetanjali, 1989) had cleared a middle ground where Hollywood style realism became the hallmark of a new middle class aesthetic that was disengaged from the oppressive pedagogic mandate of the 'class film'. The neat division between the mass and 'class film' and the audiences they presumably catered to, came under severe strain in the mid 1990s with the emergence of a popular cinema that was at once marked by a superior technical and aesthetic quality and was also successful at the box-office. Both mass and 'class films' were in crisis.
The two key films in this regard are Shiva (Ram Gopal Varma/Annapurn
a Cine Studios, 1989) and Geetanjali, both featuring Nagarjuna. The films dealt with common subjects (urban criminal gangs and romance respectively), but were so distinctive in the handling of their material that regular Telugu films looked crude in comparison. In the 1990s, there was an identifiable trend. This was characterised by technical innovation and experiments in genre attributed to the Rathnam-Varma 'school' and the work of the Tamil director Shankar.
The failure of expensive mass films like Matho Pettukokku (A. Kodandarami Reddy/Bhargav Arts, 1995) and Big Boss (Vijay Bapineedu/Shyam Prasad Arts, 1995) coincided with this trend and a host of other developments:the closure 20of cinema halls at an alarming rate due to rising maintenance costs and declining audiences, the success of dubbed Tamil films such as Premikoodu (Shankar/Sri Surya Movies, 1994), Basha (Suresh Krishna/Ramalayam, 1996), Prema Desam (Kadir/J.R.S. Combines, 1996) and Bharateeyudu (Shankar/Sri Surya Movies, 1996) and the increased market for Hollywood and Hong Kong productions due to dubbing into Telugu.
In the early 1990s, the mass film increasingly gestured towards the struggles of empowerment of the lower class population. At times it represented these struggles with a surprising degree of sympathy, notably in Mutha Mestri (A. Kodandarami Reddy/Kamakshi Devi Kamal Combines,
1992). By the mid 1990s, however, the political mandate of the mass film, was taken over by the Naxalite film and films advocating an aggressive upper caste nationalism and a hard state, such as Roja (Mani Rathnam/Kavitalaya, 1992) and Bharateeyudu. Complicating the picture further, was the revival of the devotional film, now aided by computer special effects. Ammoru (Kodi Ramakrishna/M.S. Arts, 1995) was so successful that the B-grade genre of the 1970s and 1980s was in direct competition with star vehicles.
The industry responded by cultivating middle class audiences that, presumably alienated by the mass film, had abandoned cinema for cable television. Venkatesh was the first to make
a decisive move away from the mass film. Chiranjeevi followed much later with Hitler (Muthyala Subbaiah/M.L. Art Movies, 1997). Middle class audiences seemed to be a safe bet in view of the success of the Hindi film Hum Aapke Hain Koun...! (Sooraj Barjatya/Rajshri Prod., 1994) which inspired Telugu equivalents such as Pelli Sandadi (K. Raghavendra Rao/Raghavendra Movie Corp., 1996).
Fears of cultural invasion due to increasing availability of and exposure to global cultural products resulted in renewed investment in nativity, an industry term meaning 'local colour'. In earlier decades, nativity referred to representations of 'Telugu-ness' on screen and from the 1970s wa
s often associated with the work of K. Vishwanath and Bapu (Andala Ramudu (1973)). By now, nativity stood for nostalgic reconstruction of the local whose sole mark of authenticity lay in its supposed distinctness from western culture. Pelli Sandadi, Mavichiguru (S.V. Krishna Reddy/Chandrakiran Movies, 1996) and Sindhooram (Krishna Vamsy/Andhra Talkies, 1997) gave new meanings to nativity.
The last few years have not been bad for the industry. The mass film made a major comeback with the success of Samarasimha Reddy (B. Gopal/Satyanarayanamma Productions, 1999). Despite complaints of dubbed soft porn films taking over the market, there has been a sp
urt in film production, largely due the success of low and medium budget yuppie romances that came in the wake of Chitram (Teja/Usha Kiron Movies, 1999) and Nuvve Kaavali (Vijay Bhaskar/Usha Kiron Movies, 2000). The new romance set in globalised spaces (the college itself being one such space), is virtually without plot and avoids any overt engagement with politics.
[
1] Figures culled from Andhra Pradesh Film Chamber of Commerce publications,
Indian Talkie Golden Jubilee Celebration Souvenir (Hyderabad: Andhra Pradesh Film Chamber of Commerce, 1981),
Andhra Pradesh Film Diary (Hyderabad: Andhra Pradesh Film Chamber of Commerce, 1995) and
Screen Weekly (4 August 2000).
[
2] M. Madhava Prasad's analysis of the 'aesthetic of mobilisation' in Hindi cinema is useful for understanding the mass film as well. See the author's
Ideology of the Hindi Film: A Historical Construction (New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1998), pp. 138 - 159.
[
3] Naxalite refers to ultra left groups that are factions of the Communist Party of India (Marxist-Leninist). Naxalite groups have been active in Andhra Pradesh for over three decades now.
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--
Contemporary Malayalam Cinema
by C S Venkiteswaran
In the last few decades, Malayalam cinema has carved a niche for itself in world cinema.
Malayalam is a language spoken by over 30 million people in Keralam (or Kerala), a tiny state at the southernmost tip of India. Keralam is considered an enigma by economists and international agencies for its high achievements in social indices such as literacy, longevity, low infant mortality and very low economic indices.
Cinema also came early to Keralam; a decade after the Lumiere Brothers' historic show at Grand Café, Paris. And, like Vasco da 20Gama four centuries earlier, cinema also arrived at the shores of Kozhikode, when, with his Edison Bioscope, the itinerant showman, Paul Vincent, screened some films there in 1906. But film production came much later. The first Malayalam movie Vigathakumaran by J. C. Daniel was made only in 1928. It was followed by another silent movie Marthanda Varma (V. V. Rao, 1931) based on a renowned literary work. It took another seven years for the first Malayalam talkie, Balan (S. Nottani, 1938), to arrive.
In the absence of an established indigenous production and distribution system, films in other languages, especially from neighbouring Tamil Nadu, dominated the Keralam film scene. There 20were only a handful of Malayalam films till the 1950s - when film production began gathering momentum. Since then, it has not looked back.
The Seventies - From Social Realism to Self-expression
If films of the 1950s and 1960s were dominated by literary influences, social realism and dramatic treatment, the 1970s mark a departure.
The 1970s saw a new awakening due to a combination of factors. At the national level, several state institutions were set up to support 'new cinema'. The Film Finance Corporation, Film & Television Institute of India and the National Film Archives were established and a new crop of trained professionals entered the scene.
In Malayalam too, old forms, styles, themes and narratives started giving way to new ones. The literary scene was already undergoing a 'modernist' revolution of sorts. For filmmakers of the earlier era, even when dealing with individual struggles and dilemmas, the resolution and rendering was essentially bound with social liberation. The fate of Neeli in Neelakuyil (P. Bhaskaran/Ramu Kariat, 1954), or Appu and Sankaran Nair in Newspaper Boy (P. Ramdas, 1955), or of Pappu in Odeyil Ninnu (K. S. Sethumadhavan, 1965) was embedded in their class identity and position.
P. N. Menon's Olavum Theeravum (1970) is considered a watershed in t
he history of Malayalam cinema. Shot almost entirely on location and fired by the realist aesthetic, it broke the claustrophobic ambience of studios and a theatrical mode of rendition. A far more definitive rupture was brought about by Adoor Gopalakrishnan's Swayamvaram (1972), which is supposed to have inaugurated 'new wave' cinema in Malayalam. Although the plot of Swayamvaram is conventional - the trials and tribulations of a runaway couple - with regard to form and treatment, it was a trendsetter.
Backer (1940-1993) was another maverick filmmaker whose cinema consistently dealt with the oppressed and the marginalised - orphans, sex workers, landless peasants, labourers and rebels. His significa
nt films include: Kabani Nadi Chuvannappol (1975), (a bold, avant-garde film about an underground activist and his love, made during the dark days of the National Emergency), Chuvanna Vithukal, Manimuzhakkam (1976), and Sanghaganam (1979). Other notable films of the period were Nirmalayam (1973, M. T. Vasudevan Nair), Swapnadanam (K. G. George, 1975), Aswathama (K. R. Mohanan, 1978) and Yaro Oral (Pavithran, 1978).
The Eighties - The Rise of 'Art' Films
The 1980s were dominated by the prolific Adoor Gopalakrishnan and Aravindan. Adoor's films, noted for their thematic versatility and mastery over form, probed into various aspects of its 20life and polity and were firmly situated in the Malayalee milieu. Kodiyettam (1977) was about a village bum (played by Gopi, one among the many finds of the 'new wave'), coming to terms with his life. Elippathayam (1981) graphically portrayed the claustrophobia of a feudal mind that refuses to change in a changing world. Mukha Mukham (1984), which ruffled many a feather locally and was widely admired outside, was an introspective look at the leftist movement and its decadence. Mathilukal (1987), based on a celebrated story by Vaikom Muhamed Basheer, explored the blocks that militate against freedom, love and creativity. Vidheyan (1993) clinically analysed the sado-masochistic dimensions inherent i
n master-servant bonding, and Kathapurushan (1995) was an autobiographical gaze at recent Keralam history.
The films of Aravindan (1935-1991) have an oneiric quality. They were formally innovative and explored new realms of experience and imagination. His second film
Kanchana Seeta (1977), was a celluloid adaptation of a play by Sreekantan Nair, which dwelt upon the all too human conflicts of the mythic Rama in a tribal setting.
Thampu (1978) was a lyrical film about the arrival and departure of a circus troupe and the ripples it creates in a sleepy village.
Kummatty (1979) was one of the most imaginative in children's film, still an unexplored genre in Malayalam
[1].
Estheppan (1979) is a magical search into the roots of a legendary character in a fishing village, and
Pokkuveyil (1981) took the theme of the disillusioned youth of
Uttarayanam to its extreme, imaginatively using poetry, long takes and elevating music. Aravindan's later films,
Chidambaram (1985),
Oridathu (1986) and
Vasthuhara (1990) exhibit a growing concern for the linear narrative.
One of the most enigmatic figures in Malayalam cinema during the period was John Abraham (1937-1987), in whom Ritwik Ghatak (the great Bengali filmmaker and his teacher), saw 'the future of Indian cinem
a'. As erratic and unpredictable in life as in his films, John's works are imbued with a deep humanity. In a way, they dealt with the very impossibility of being human and creative. His first film, Agraharathil Kazhuthai (Tamil, 1977), centred on a donkey in a Brahmin village and was a blackly humorous look at a caste-oriented society. A strand of dark humour also runs through his next film Cheriyachente Kroora Krithyangal (1979).
The untimely death of John Abraham and P. A. Backer dealt a severe blow to the alternative cinema movement in the region.
Shifting Terrains
Unlike other parts of the country, Malayalam 'new wave' was not a 20state-supported phenomenon. It was made possible by enterprising producers and cooperative efforts. (For instance, the Chitralekha Film Cooperative produced all the early films of Adoor Gopalakrishnan. An industrialist, Ravindran Nair produced some of his and Aravindan's later films). This freedom from dependence on the state was a major reason why 'art' films continued to be produced in Malayalam while they met a natural death elsewhere in the country. With regard to its audience base also, the Keralam situation was different: it was not limited to the cities, but spawned all over the state and was nurtured by a vibrant film society movement. Thematically, while the new cinema in other languages returned to rural life, portraying the cruelty
and injustice behind its idyllic surface, the concerns of Malayalam films of the period were different. Various films of earlier decades had already dealt with questions of class and caste. The films of the Malayalam 'new wave' were engrossed with dilemmas of the educated, upper caste, middle class and male youth. Their angst was more often existential in nature combined with that of survival and a struggle for expression. Unlike their counterparts in other languages, the journeys of the heroes of Malayalam were not from the city to the village, but in the opposite direction. The Malayalee protagonists looked forward to the cities for survival and also for self-expression. Viswam and Seetha of Swayamvaram elope to the city to pu
rsue their dreams. In Uttarayanam and Aswathamavu, the city is an alluring presence, though pretentious and sometimes hostile.
While 'new wave' filmmakers were hogging attention and placing Malayalam cinema on the world map, commercial cinema was also slowly undergoing significant change.
The Commercial Stream - Sex, Violence and Political corruption
By the 1980s, a kind of osmosis was under way with the gradual dissolution of the boundaries separating the commercial mainstream from the elitist 'art' cinema. A crop of filmmakers - the practitioners of 'middle cinema' - burst onto the scene. Among them were prolific filmmakers such as Bharathan, P. Padmara
jan, Fazil, Satyan Anthikkad, Lenin Rajendran and Balachandra Menon. The formal and thematic distinctness that separated the 'art' and the 'commercial', had thinned, and as a corollary, the rationale of the film society movement.
In the mainstream, the work of P. Padmarajan and K. G. George dominated the 1980s. Padmarajan (1936-1991), a novelist and short story writer of repute, started his career as a successful scriptwriter for Bharathan and I. V. Sasi.
K. G. George, a graduate from the Film Institute, started as an assistant to Ramu Kariat, and made his debut with Swapnadanam (1975) a psychodrama about marital love. In the 1980s he went on to make a series
of significant and commercially successful films about women and the traps that society lays for them: Kolangal (1980); Yavanika (1982); Lekhayude Maranam Oru Flashback (1983); Irakal (1985); Kathakku Pinnil (1987); Mattoral (1988); Ee Kanni Koodi (1990).
I. V. Sasi, Bharathan and Fazil were the other commercially successful directors of the period. While Fazil's concerns were adolescent love and filial relationships, I. V. Sasi's canvas was broader. After Avalude Ravukal (1978), a trendsetter of sorts that made forays into the national soft porn market, Sasi, in association with his scriptwriter T. Damodaran, made a series of politi
cal melodramas based on newspaper reports and public political scandals of the 1980s. The major themes of the period were entanglements in marital/love life and corruption in public life. Sex and violence formed an inevitable part of the narrative.
The Nineties - Knee-jerk responses to Globalisation
The 1990s saw a sea change in themes as well as audience expectations and tastes. Nehruvian dreams about a 'mixed economy' receded. The new buzzwords were liberalisation, globalisation and privatisation. The opening up of the sky and the proliferation of TV channels released a flood of images and narratives from all over the world.
Meanwhile, the spread of cable television
(at present Keralam has four round-the-clock channels - one in the public and three in the private sector), was also gnawing into the thematic terrain of cinema. The plethora of tele-serials (as many as 25 a day!) that dominate Malayalam channels, are almost all family dramas or centre around man-woman relationships, limiting the thematic choices of the film industry.
The Slapstick and the Sleaze
Working within limited economies of scale, unable to compete technically and with no substantial outlet outside the state, Malayalam cinema of the 1990s retreated to slapstick and sleaze - the only areas where the indigenous had an assured market and could not be combated from without. In recent years, the
Malayalam cinema industry has been dominated by two kinds of films. One, a number of low budget, 'full-length' comedies, and the other, soft porn films with second line stars and shoestring budgets. The comedies are all dialogue-based and depend entirely upon mimicry artists who are making a beeline to films. And, at the crest of the soft porn wave that is lapping the shores of Keralam at present, is an un-crowned super star Shakeela. Last year (2001), about a third of the films released in the state were of the 'Shakeela' genre.
With the obliteration of the difference between the 'art' and the 'commercial', a new breed of filmmakers comfortable with both the worlds, emerged. Prominent among them are
: Sibi Malayil, Fazil, Priyadarsan, Srinivasan, Kamal, Jayaraj, Balachandra Menon and Lohitadas. Their films dealt with socially relevant themes treated with a tinge of élan and humour. Their strength rested basically on the script. Many of them were commercially successful and have also won acclaim abroad.
In a way, commercial films were rediscovering 'art' cinema as yet another formula - films that were low budget, angled for awards, and packaged for the Festival audience. One of the most prolific and successful among them, Jayaraj, represents the Janus face of contemporary Keralam life and polity. His body of films reflects the contradictions of a people caught between nostalgia and pleasure, the aggressive 20rise of communalism, on the one hand, and the inescapable forces unleashed by globalisation on the other. While in one set of his films (Johnny Walker, Highway, Millennium Stars), we encounter unmistakable icons and markers of a 'global' culture, in another we come across obscurantist notions and a return to 'traditional values' (Paithrukam, Kudumba Sametham, Sopanam). Yet another set of his films have attracted international attention. These include Desadanam (1996), Kaliyattam (1997), Karunam (1999), Santham (2000) and Kannaki (2001), all of which are low-budget and deal with various aspects of contemporary life, and are more often intended for international audiences.
The Rise of Communalism
The 1990s saw a spate of films centred on the upper caste milieu; their rituals, costumes, concerns and mannerisms were established as the normative/narrative centre. The Valluvanadan Malayalam (a slang term used by the upper castes in central Keralam and popularised by the highly successful scripts of M. T. Vasudevan Nair), became the mothertongue of popular cinema. The minorities, especially communities such as Muslims and members of the lower castes, were gradually marginalised and forced into stereotypes, tending to appear more as exceptions to the 'norm' and the 'normal'.
If packaging the local and the exotic is one side of Malayalee ambivalence about the=2
0conflict between tradition and modernity, the other side is nakedly communal and violent. An undercurrent of communalism runs through most of the commercially successful films of the 1990s. Sometimes, it manifests itself in a subtle manner (dress, demeanour, slang, double-edged dialogues, character anatomy and traits), but in the films of directors like Shaji Kailas, it is flaunted to great box office effect. His recent hits Narasimham and Valyettan (2000), portray the lumpen and blatantly communal macho heroes played by the super stars, Mohanlal and Mammootty respectively. These have a deadly mix of feudal values and the physical exploits of a superhuman hero.
The two major conspicuous filmmakers
of the 1990s are T. V. Chandran and Shaji Karun. Chandran began his film career as an actor in Backer's Kabani Nadi Chuvannappol and made his debut with Krishnankutty in 1980. It was followed by a Tamil film Hemavin Kathalargal (1984) and Alicinte Anveshanam (1989). The latter is a disturbing film about the chasm that separates the lives of man and woman. Its narrative is about a wife in search of her missing husband. She ends up realising that she had never known him at all. His next film Ponthan Mada (1993) is centred on the life and relationships of Mada, a peasant who is a mute witness to the tides of history. Ormakalundayirikkanam (1995) deals with a period=2
0in Keralam history when a democratically elected communist government was overthrown by the Centre. The film unfolds through the eyes of a teenager who, torn between a tyrant-father and a local toughie who is his hero, is gradually forced to come to terms with life.
Shaji Karun, who was cinematographer on most of Aravindan's films, made an impressive debut with Piravi (1988) which won several international awards. Shaji's latest film Vanaprastham (1999) which won the national award for the best film, dealt with the inner and outer struggles of a traditional actor in a society that no longer supports his art, nor recognises his worth.
The most striking deve
lopment in the first decade of the new millennium is the entry of a number of young filmmakers who, fighting against all odds and despite the so-called crisis in the film industry, have managed to make interesting films. Most of their films are low budget, formally adventurous, thematically introspective and engage with the present in all its complexities. One hopes they will be the harbingers of Malayalam cinema for the new millennium.
Dr.C S Venkiteswaran is faculty, Centre For Taxation Studies, Thiruvananthapuram. He has published a number of articles on Malayalam Cinema in Deep Focus, Lights Camera Action and South Asian Cinema and writes regularly on film and media in New Indian Express.
[
1] Curiously, 'film' always meant 'full length features' in Keralam. Even when the so-called new wave was at its peak, there were no innovative attempts worth mentioning in genres like the short film, documentary, children's film etc. All discourses and experimentation in cinema were limited to the feature films. Even the film societies held similar notions. Only in recent years, has there been a re-awakening in these areas with a crop of new filmmakers entering the field.
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Globalisation 20and Bollywood
By Maithili Rao
A paradox bridges the last century and the bright new millennium. The geriatric 90s sought rejuvenation through the infusion of young blood into tired old stories told by Bollywood's panicky dream merchants. New stars zapped us with their wattage, new attitudes strutted unto the global catwalk with panache... The 1990s boasted all this plus the chutzpah to carry it off. The 90s were like a wise but ageing courtesan, a statuesque descendant of voluptuous temple sculpture, down-sizing herself into minis and hot pants to seduce an MTV-addicted Generation X.
This was the flamboyant face India showed off to a world already bedazzled by Indian 20beauties laying repeated claim to Miss Universe and Miss World titles. Bollywood made the Indian Babe hot and sultry, yet demurely biddable. The high visibility of the indigenous fashion industry also changed the look of the screen siren and shaped a new body image. Wide hipped voluptuousness - so evocative of the Mother Goddess's abundant fertility - was banished. The new image of desirability was svelte slimness clothed in tight jeans and desi (native) haute couture. The Indian hunk followed suit: iron-pumping bodies showcased in international designer labels but plumping for homegrown virtues of filial obedience. There was to be no pre-marital sex despite all that red-hot wooing across continents. India was sexy and Hindi cinema
sexier. Despite the riots and ravages of Third World poverty, political upheavals and natural calamities, India edged her way to the world's attention, even if only at the periphery.
It's always the economy, stupid, and not just for an American presidential election. This was the historic moment when India's creaky economy was forced out of an old comfort zone. Earlier, domestic protectionism was presided over by bureaucrats waving ideological rulebooks at international entrepreneurs seeking new markets. Ironically, ideologues continued to spout shop-worn socialist rhetoric to a middle class clamouring to enter the new consumerist paradise. A 5,000-year old culture was both a cherished legacy and a liability for guilt-f
ree seekers of conspicuous consumption. Ancient India raised asceticism to a spiritual level but also worshipped Lakshmi, the Goddess of Wealth, supremely unaware of ironical contradictions. India's entry into the hazardous freedom of globalised market wasn't just a matter of economics. It was a seismic shift that not only convulsed India's economy and polity but also dictated how Bollywood manufactured and sold new dreams to an audience it could no longer take for granted.
Shifts in national sensibilities and deepening of collective anxieties don't follow the precision of calendar dates. But there is something about the 90s of a century, especially one leading to a next millennium, which forces these subterranean=2
0movements to the surface.
The Amitabh Bachchan era of the angry young man who voiced the despair of the marginalized and the neo-fascist vigilantes who provided violent solutions had passed. Irrevocably. Into this post-Bachchan vacuum came the mantra of globalisation. Bollywood led the incantatory chant with fervent hope and febrile anticipation, finding its vocation with missionary zeal. When a conservative, caste-ridden society - internally pulled apart by ethnic and religious divisions - is hurtled into a globalised society of instant gratification and instant punishment, it is cast adrift on a sea of moral confusion. The old certitudes are gone and there is an almost xenophobic fear of losing one's cultural identi
ty. Bollywood allayed these deep fears that were shrilly voiced by revalidating traditional virtues and the sanctity of family values.
Popular culture senses the zeitgeist far more quickly than it is credited and offers quick fix answers with equal alacrity. This also coincided - accidentally or by historical inevitability? - with the rise of militant Hindutva which sought to impose a semitised version of a tolerant religion as India's answer to the perceived threat from western cultural hegemony. Hindutva seeks to homogenise India's multi-religious society into its neo-fascist image. This aggressive cultural nationalism found endorsement in phenomenally popular family sagas through the 90s, starting with Maine Pyar=2
0Kiya (1989), Hum Aapke Hain Kaun, Dilwale Dulhaniya Lejayenge, Raja Hindustani, Kuch Kuch Hota Hai, Hum Saath Saath Hain, down to 2001's Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham.
This soft patriotism has its hard-sell counterpoint that appealed to a nation torn by internal secessionist movements. The initial inspiration came from the South in 1992 with Mani Ratnam's Roja. Its path-breaking popularity emboldened hitherto timid jingoists into naming Pakistan as the enemy. Krantiveer, Sarfarosh, Pukar, Mission Kashmir, Gadar are the more successful examples of this super nationalistic genre. Except for Sarfarosh, almost all these films wallowed in xenophobic excess, refusing t
o look inwards to find the causes of ethnic unrest. It was as if you couldn't love your country without hating your neighbour. Bollywood was blind to the fact that the West too had been stricken by the resurgent tribalism that had surfaced in many parts of the globalised world. Globalisation and tribalism are the Siamese twins that no surgeon's scalpel can separate.
Drunk with the success of the new formula of push-button patriotism, Bollywood continues to dance gleefully on the razor's edge. What was perceived as a threat seems to have turned to manna from the heavens, ; heavens ruled by powerful NRIs who beam benediction down on Mumbai's Mughals. What is new is the gratifying respectability bestowe
d by the critical scrutiny of academics exploring a whole new territory of post-colonial popular culture. It took decades for cultural fashions to be set in the pre-information highway age. But now, cultural studies follow in the wake of markets. Bollywood suddenly seems to be the flavour of the season - in Europe and across the Atlantic, in addition to the taken-for-granted audiences in the Middle East, South-Asia and parts of Africa. You now see Bollywood trimming its sails to seduce the hitherto resistant West and enlarge its familiar appeal to the newer generation NRI kids. The Indian Diaspora is prone to acute attacks of nostalgia. Bollywood assiduously feeds this craving with its staple fare of star power, music and stories that
remain essentially the same.
The external face of Bollywood's globalizing zeal is obvious in the simultaneous release of blockbusters at home and abroad, stage shows that draw hysterical crowds and the conscious introduction of the NRI element into the story. From the time of Maine Pyar Kiya, where the homecoming hero returns from studies abroad, to K3G's migration of the rejected son to London, Hindi films have exploited the love-hate relationship Indians have with their NRI cousins. Vicarious pride in their achievements in alien lands is vitiated by envy and the hurt of desertion. Bollywood responds with the emphatic reiteration of traditional Indian virtues such as family loyalty and self-
denial in all the feel good films of the 90s.
The eye candy of sumptuous foreign locations is more than a package deal of armchair tourism for desi audiences who clamour for exotic settings. So often, songs or a key sequence - like K3G's poignant meeting of the estranged Raichand paterfamilias and his son - is set in a shopping mall. The utopia of conspicuous consumption couldn't be advertised more effectively by any Madison Avenue ad wizard. These images also flatter the lifestyles of wealthy NRIs, whether it's the mansion by the bay in Pardes or pastel pretty suburbia of K3G.
This opulence abroad is matched by overpowering mag
nificence at home. Not even the President of India, who occupies the Viceregal palace in Delhi built by Imperial Britain, lives in the unreal grandeur of K3G's baronial mansion. Chandni Chowk's overcrowded squalor is sanitised to pink blandness because there is no room for working class grime or middleclass grit in these designer made fantasies. That is the biggest change that has overtaken Hindi cinema - in look, feel and attitude.
This gradual change coincided with the explosion of satellite TV. This was also the period of the yawning post-Bachchan vacuum when no formula could work... until young love blessed by family elders was invented in a culture which had previously celebrated the rebellio
n of obsessed young love against inimical society. The legend of Laila Majnu or Heer Ranjha gloried in love's subversive passion. Now, lovers court family elders with more ardour than the beloved. Romance has become contemporary, based on friendship rather than incandescent passion. But finally, love conquers only after submission to the family's greater good. This is the new formula patented by the Bollywood brat pack - Aditya Chopra, Karan Johar, Dharmesh Darshan and adopted by older showbiz moghuls like Subhash Ghai (Pardes, Taal and Yadein show that he has learnt the latest lesson) and even Yash Chopra, the originator of the chiffon and roses romance.
But some new auteurs refuse to be 20part of the brat pack. Foremost among them is Ram Gopal Varma who graduated from Sholay (his avowed text book) to Tarantino's post-modernist violence. Satya and its latest follow up, Company, reveal how brilliantly Varma has imbibed Hollywood technique and married it to the topicality of newspaper headlines. Mafia wars and Bombay's criminalized underbelly are revealed in a style that owes as much to Scorcese, Tarantino and film noir as to Varma's quirky, restless sensibility. This direct influence of Hollywood is now out in the open, with no shame-faced apologies about "inspiration". Abbas-Mastan transformed a little seen HBO film, A Kiss Before Dying, into Baazigar. Shahrukh Khan's charming kille
r was different precisely because there was no emotional justification offered prior to the killing spree. This new amorality, and the subsequent glamorisation of violence on its own terms, contradicts the dominant trend of the family saga. But this well-made valorisation of crime and killers doesn't seem to have the all-India appeal of the other genre. Technique is secondary to morality.
But Hollywoodisation continues. It duplicates the trendy look of film noir but shuns the moral ambiguities of the borrowed genre. Aks (2001), a biggie made by the talented ad filmmaker Rakesh Mehra, takes off from Hollywood's Fallen. It is a triumph of moody cinematography and Bachchan's brilliance. But the 20moralising script tries to impose the simplified philosophy of Karma from the Bhagvadgita on an action thriller and the film came a cropper at the box-office. But take Vikram Bhatt's Raaz (2002), the sleeper-hit of the year. This What Lies Beneath rip off, starring models turned actors, dresses up the occult with the heroics of a chaste wife fighting to protect her husband! Moral vindication of traditional virtues, especially in modern women who might tear the family apart with their aspirations of personal fulfilment, can always trump more ambitious rivals.
Bachchan's legendary status, even after acquiring the warmth of avuncular affection on the TV game show Kaun Banega C
rorepati, does not guarantee success. Bachchan's pioneering effort of bringing corporate discipline to film production failed initially but has more takers now. The corporate culture has trickled down to insuring films but will this withstand the notoriously fickle public, which shifts allegiance without forewarning? Despite the risks, the trend continues. Product placement (with lamentably laughable results in Yadein) and merchandising Ă la Hollywood,are in the ascendance . Coffee table tomes on the making of hyped films - Asoka, K3G, Lagaan - fuel a whole new industry. Aamir Khan may not have won the Oscar but the campaign to woo a crossover audience has been launched. Market savvy has come to stay. An
essential skill if you want to compete in the global market.
At home, a whole new generation has grown up on MTV-ised fare dished out by the satellite TV invasion of Indian homes. The Khan triad of saleable younger stars - Shahrukh, Aamir and Salman - in tailor-made vehicles has destroyed the Bachchan mystique for younger viewers who want their idols to dance like Michael Jackson, swagger like Tom Cruise, emote like Russell Crowe, fight like Jackie Chan - and still croon to the beloved in Swiss meadows, caper along London streets and deliver rhetorical dialogue with panache! That is, when they are not spouting the mantra of pop patriotism and espousing sacrosanct Indian family values whilst enjoying the
best of western material comforts. It is like having your Indian cake and licking the forbidden western icing too.
Maithili Rao is a renowned film critic and has written regularly for Sunday Express, Times of India, Cinema in India and international film journals like South Asian Cinema. She lives in Mumbai and often edits film festival publications.
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50 essential South Asian films


We have created from the views of experts, critics, aca
demics and practitioners, 5 lists of the top ten films released up to the end of 2001 from across the region and their Diaspora communities.
Top 10 Bangladeshi Films

1
|
|
Ritwik Ghatak
|
1973
|
2
|
|
Tanvir Mokammel
|
1999
|
3
|
|
Tanvir Mokkamel
|
1994
|
4
|
|
Alamgir Kabir
|
1977
|
5
| 0D
|
|
Tojammel HÂ Bokul
|
1989
|
6
|
|
Shaik Niamat Ali & Masihuudin Shaker
|
1979
|
7
|
|
Alamgir Kabir
|
1973
|
8
|
|
Alamgir Kabir
|
1979
|
9
|
|
Humayn Ahmed
|
1999
|
10
|
|
Dilip Shom
|
1968
|
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Top 10 Diaspora Films

1
|
|
Stephen Frears
|
1985
|
2
|
|
Mira Nair
|
2001
|
3
|
|
Gurinder Chadha
|
1993
|
4
|
|
Deepa Mehta
|
1996
|
5
|
|
Guninder Chadha
|
2002
|
6
|
|
Nagesh Kuknoor
|
1998
|
7
|
|
Deepa Mehta
|
1998
|
8
|
| 0D
|
Damien O'Donnell
|
1999
|
9
|
|
Srinivas Krishna
|
1991
|
10
|
|
Asif Kapadia
|
2001
|
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
---------------
Top 10 Indian Films

1
|
|
Ramesh Sippy
|
1975
|
2
|
|
Satyajit Ray
|
1955
|
3
|
|
Mehboob Khan
|
1957
|
4
|
|
Guru Dutt
|
1957
|
5
|
|
R. Ghatak
|
1960
|
6
|
|
Satyajit Ray
|
1964
|
7
|
|
Ritwik Ghatak
|
1962
|
8
|
|
K. Asif
|
1960
|
9
|
|
John Abraham
|
1986
|
10
|
|
Raj Kapoor
|
1951
|
|
The next 10... |
|
|
11
|
Kaagaz Ke Phool
|
Guru Dutt
|
1957
|
12
|
DDLJ< /div>
|
A. Chopra
|
1995
|
13
|
Baiju Bawra
|
Vijay Bhatt
|
1952
|
14
|
Bombay
|
Mani Rathman
|
1995
|
15
|
Do Bigha Zameen
|
Bimal Roy
|
1953
|
16
|
Lagaan
|
Ashutosh Gowarikar
|
2001
|
0D
|
17
|
Guide
|
Vijay Anand
|
1965
|
18
|
Deewar
|
Yash Chopra
|
1975
|
19
|
Amar Akbar Anthony
|
Manmohan Desai
|
1977
|
20
|
Jaane Bhi Do Yaaron
|
Kundan Shah
|
1983
|
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Top 10 Pakistani Films

1
|
|
S. Suleman
|
1963
|
2
|
|
Masud Pervaiz
|
1970
|
3
|
< /TD>
|
Riaz Shahid
|
1969
|
4
|
|
Jan Mohammed
|
1991
|
5
|
|
Nazrul Islam
|
1980
|
6
|
|
AJ. Kardar
|
1959
|
7
|
|
Saeed Ali Khan
|
1990
|
8
|
|
Khurshid Anwar
|
1962
|
9
|
|
Nazrul Islam
|
1977
|
10
|
|
Shaan
|
2000
|
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Top 10 Sri Lankan Films

1
|
|
P. Vithanage
|
1997
|
2
|
|
D. Pathiraja
|
1974
|
3
|
|
D. Pathiraja
|
2001
|
4
|
|
B. Ratnauke
|
2001
|
5
|
|
P. Vithanage
|
1995
|
6
|
|
Lester James Perries
|
1970
|
7
|
|
Asoka Handagamage
|
2000
|
8
|
|
Asoka Handagamage
|
1998
|
9
|
|
D. Pathiraja
|
1978
|
10
|
|
Dharmasiri Bandaranayake
|
1980
|
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