Desicritics Category: Media: Films - Kannada

"Oh Boy!"

Seema Dhindaw — Thu, 15 May 2008 03:43:09 EDT

“Thank god, it’s a boy! How wonderful! Congratulations” I remember the desi uncles and aunties saying with abandon even as I stood right next to my parents. My memories of their uninhibited exclamations of “Badhaai ho, munda hua!” ring loud and clear even today. Being their first-born, a daughter, I couldn’t help being overcome with feelings of jealousy and apprehension. The realization that someone else was going to steal my parent’s attention was enough to get my 6-year old heart racing. My big brown eyes widened and filled with fear as I looked up at my parents and repeatedly asked “Do you still love me?”

As my brother and I grew older, sadly my fears became reality. The favoritism had become strikingly apparent not just to me but others as well. My aunt and neighbors noticed and did what they could to make me feel special. My grandmother, on the other hand, visiting from India could not see past my brother.

I faded into the background and all my tiny accomplishments in kindergarten and elementary school went unnoticed. I began to realize just how important it was for my parents to have a son, particularly my mother. As teenage years approached, the treatment meted out by our parents was obviously differential. He got to stay out later than I did. His mistakes were more readily forgiven. His anger and outbursts excused with “Boys are like that, its ok.” He was bought an expensive car because “it would stay in the family.” His announcement of having a girlfriend was met with pride and encouragement while even a mention of my boyfriend would probably inspire histrionics. Over the years my hostility towards him manifested and our relationship floundered.

Many Indians including Punjabis tend to agree upon the value of the male child. In Indian households and particularly in North Indian families, the son is expected to live with his wife and children while caring for his aging parents in the same house. This can be quite a lot of pressure for any son. Financial responsibilities and the lack of privacy can make life pretty miserable for everyone.

What is bothersome is not that these biases exist but that many families strive relentlessly to preserve and propagate those here in America. My own family, I feel, has been guilty of this. Many a times my mother has made statements such as “He’s a boy, so it’s different. You should be more understanding”, ” We feel sad for so and so. They just have two daughters. Who will care for them when they’re old?!” A daughter can take as good if not better care of her parents than any son could. Why such a strong bias especially when you have a daughter who cares for you? A gift from me is “no big deal” but any small card or gesture from my brother is received with open arms and praise.

How does being female somehow make us inferior? The last time I checked we were in the year 2008, weren’t we? Not 1930. One would think these views about women would be the height of the matter but surprisingly they are not! It actually makes a difference if you are thin and fair. Even Bollywood has adopted the “gori chitti aur patli” (fair and skinny) paradigm. Recently, Bollywood actress Kareena Kapoor has made headlines for becoming an unhealthy and perhaps anorexic size zero. “Zero” not only describes how good she looks but also her acting abilities.

Bollywood actresses like her wear drag-queen-style make-up to match the desired skin color to appear beautiful. Up until recently no significant effort was made towards making the nearing 40 year old balding male actors with receding hairlines and age inappropriate clothing, more appealing.

No doubt Bollywood is guilty of such nonsense but what does one say when the almost 300 lb aunties in sarees with bulging love handles, blouses that barely fit and extraordinarily huge hips casually comment on how so and so’s daughter should lose weight. “She would look so much prettier.” What about their own short chubby sons? I'd like to ask. The standard response which I've heard so often is "Oh, but they are boys, so looks don’t matter as much. It is the girl that has to get married off.” Such a mentality is difficult to change.

Enforcing these beliefs in girls raised in the United States is ridiculous. It breeds low self-esteem within an environment that values confidence and grooming over skin color and weight. Tanning salons have opened up all over and constitutes a multi-billion dollar industry. Yet you still have Indians saying “Hai! Kitni gori hai, patli hai! Changa munda milega”.

As a woman born and raised in the US, I now find myself rolling my eyes at these comments but I have to admit, they affected my self-worth deeply as a teenager. Perhaps on a subconscious level they made me rebellious as well. Why do the women have to endure phone calls and comments centered around their weight and looks? How fair is it that no one seems to notice the nice developing potbelly on my brother or the man boobs that have appeared on Kunal? Women have to deal with comments such as "moti hogayi hai na?"

It doesn't matter that you might be a successful researcher or a prominent scientist or an engineer. Fat is of utmost importance. It is the men,the sons who are complimented on their careers. Even your female friends who happen to get in touch with you online after years have past don't care about your professional accomplishments. "You've become chubby" "Moti, fat jaadi....i".This obsession with weight among Indian women in particular is upsetting.Why aren't such comments directed towards men?

Hearing such female-degrading comments from families and friends at social gatherings has become commonplace for me. However, it was astonishing to face such comments in a professional setting. My very own Indian ex-PhD advisor wasn’t afraid to reveal and act on her biases. At a lab lunch celebrating my birthday, she in a very matter of fact manner said “Indian women need to be subdued, as Seema will learn.”

On other occasions, instead of providing advice regarding my project she would make comments about how I should “lose weight” so that I can “get a husband.” “ You should work 24 hours a day, 7 days a week because you don’t have a husband or kids. Look at all the other people in lab,they aren’t single. They have families. Even XYZ has a girlfriend.” As I listened to these unprofessional comments, I couldn’t help thinking ”aren’t you a woman too? Don’t you have a daughter? “ At the time being her student, I was too scared to say anything for fear that she would jeopardize my future. As fate would have it, I didn’t have to say anything, I guess just being an overweight, single American woman of Indian descent was enough for her to screw me over on a whim.

It’s depressing that such strong biases exist in the US among Indians even today. It takes a toll on you when you hear the same comments so many times from the people who are supposed to be your strongest supporters. It is even more alarming that people with these views can abuse their power and get away it. Isn’t it about time that people do away with this mentality and accept each other with fairness and equality? Man, woman, short. Tall, fat, skinny—what does it matter? Aren’t we all human?

Sunday Slug Fest: Anantha Murthy and Bhyrappa

Sandeep — Mon, 4 Jun 2007 01:19:41 EDT

This was waiting to happen:

Prof U R Ananthamurthy has declared he will not take part in literary functions in future.

The decision came in the wake of strong criticism for his reaction on S L Bhyrappa's controversial novel Aavarana that appeared in a section of the media. Prof Ananthamurthy said he was "misquoted" and in the wake of strong criticism of his comments, decided not to take part in any literary functions.

Not Ananthamurthy's decision but his criticism of S L Bhyrappa.

This episode is a good jolt to shake off my sloth and post my thoughts on S L Bhyrappa's (latest) Aavarana.

Ever since Vamsha Vruksha propelled him to literary fame, every new Bhyrappa book is eagerly awaited by thousands of Kannada readers. Aavarana broke new ground purely in terms of its commercial success when it was published in February this year. It clocked three successive reprints in about two weeks, an astounding record in the small market for Kannada novels.

That however, is not Anantha Murthy's ire. And neither is his tirade against Bhyrappa recent. It is about three decades young.

Aavarana alternates between contemporary, and Aurangzeb's India. Its technique is similar to the familiar play-in-a-play in dramatics. The protagonist is a Hindu lady who converts to Islam post-marriage. She visits her father's house upon his death, and discovers his seemingly-sudden interest in studying Islam and its various encounters with India. Up to that point, she is a progressive feminist, schooled in the JNU version of the history of India.

Her studies lead her to question the history she was schooled in. Among other characters in the book is Professor Shastri, who hails from the same village and is her long-time mentor. He distinguishes himself by his staunch commitment to Leftism, fierce intellect, wiliness, intimacy with politicians, and a capacity to generate limitless funds.

Professor Shastri resembles U R Anantha Murthy in real life--complete with the Socialist beard.

Anantha Murthy is no stranger to my blog. He is vocally clear about his Communist sympathies. His Beijing Diary (?) records eyewitness events--in Kannada--during his stay at Beijing when the Tiananmen Square massacre happened. That travelogue has not a single word of reproof against the Chinese government's savagery.

Anantha Murthy's fame as a wire-puller is legendary. From securing appointments to Vice Chancellorships to chairmanships of various cultural boards to bagging the Jnanapith to obtaining free land doled out by the government, he has done it all. Interestingly, when he secured prime land in Dollars Colony when J.H. Patel was heading Karnataka, fellow-travellers like G.K. Govinda Rao yelled murder. Murthy it seems, is skillful in spotting well-ahead which way the road bends.

From a revolution-mongering Communist, he has been spotted recently with Dalit/backward class leaders like Mallikarjun Kharge.

Anantha Murthy's fame as a littérateur rests on just Samskara. A survey of his entire literary corpus yields mediocre harvest. His non-fiction is varied, insightful and at times, original. In his heydays, he dominated the entire Kannada Navya literary movement with Gopala Krishna Adiga, a phenomenon that S L Bhyrappa records in his autobiography, Bhitti.

The Navya movement in one massive surge, uprooted the likes of DVG, Masti, Bendre, and others who drew from ancient Indian philosophy and values. It imposed a confused melange of existentialism, socialism, communism and other intellectual diseases that plagued the West at that time. It sought to introduce alien experiences in Kannada literature. It sought to prop up its popularity using spurious devices like publishing only favourable literary reviews.

Rebellion naturally followed. More outspoken writers like P. Lankesh walked out on the Adiga-Ananthamurthy clique and started the parallel Dalit/Bandaya literary movement. The Navya movement for what it is worth died soon.

S L Bhyrappa was the lone dissenter belonging to no camp. A PhD in Philosophy, he sought to find his roots in ancient Indian philosophy. His doctoral dissertation entitled Satya Mattu Soundarya (Truth and Beauty) explores complex relationships between truth, ethics, beauty, art, existence, and philosophy. Bhyrappa's celebrated novels are founded on a strong Hindu philosophical base. The author was inspired by Ananda Coomaraswamy, Swami Vivekananda, Sri Ramakrishna, Mahatma Gandhi, the Upanishads, Mahabharata and Bhagavad Gita in his formative years.

A few literary critics focus on the Rasa element present in his works. When Vamsha Vruksha heralded his arrival on the Kannada literary stage, expected reactions erupted. The progressives called it colourful names: reaffirming Brahminical tyranny, retrograde, regressive, and backward. But the novel was wildly successful among critics and laymen alike. It earned Bhyrappa the permanent loyalty of a large base of devoted readers, something Anantha Murthy was unable to manage despite critics' encomiums.

As a curious coincidence, Vamsha Vruksha and Samskara were published at around the same time. The former examines changing values and mores at the threshold of an era from the perspective of a devout Sanatani (the protagonist of Vamsha Vruksha). Samskara seeks to show the futility of upholding traditional Indian values in the face of an undefined--at best, a crudely defined--modernism.

Further coincidence: Bhyrappa's Daatu and Murthy's Bharatipura were published at around the same time. Read Daatu if you want to understand caste in India. Bhyrappa won the Sahitya Akademi for the work. Bharatipura however, is a mere cut-and-paste job. Its overt anti-Brahminism is based on flimsy grounds. In a critique titled, Anantha Murthy's Literary Integrity (rough translation), Bhyrappa provides a firm rebuttal to Bharatipura.

Bhyrappa details the inner workings of the Kannada literary world in his autobiography, Bhitti. In the book, he provides evidence to back his claims for how Anantha Murthy tried to sabotage his novels, most notably his magnum opus, Parva. A frequent tactic that Anantha Murthy employed in order to discredit Bhyrappa's novels was to term them "popular novels" as opposed to "books with literary merit."

In Murthy's view, literary classics were those that the critics whetted their approval on. This tactic was convenient because the Kannada literary world then, was in the firm grip of the Navya writers. The theory of literary criticism ever since Independence has steadily accelerated towards the Western model. Too few critics today know--or even care to learn--about Indian literary theories of Rasa, Dhwani, Bhava and so on.

The dichotomy of "literary value" vs "popular novels" is both contrived and false. "Literary worth" is not the monopoly of a gifted few. A true classic has universal appeal that is at the same time timeless. Most epics belong to this category. Bhyrappa's Parva and Tanthu embody this epic element in them. At best, Anantha Murthy's attacks are cheap efforts to dissuade the public from reading Bhyrappa's books. On that count, Murthy's much-praised Samskara rests on dishonest premises as Bhyrappa notes in Bhitti.

Murthy characterizes the protagonist, Praneshacharya as a Brahmin scholar who had mastered Hindu Dharmashastras for 12 years in Kashi. Yet, he marries a diseased woman on the premise of finding fulfillment by serving her. She is unable to have sex with Praneshacharya, effectively ending his lineage. However, one of the fundamental goals of marriage, according to Hindu Dharmashastras is to perpetuate one's genealogy. If the wife is unable to conceive at all, the husband can marry again for the express purpose of having children but he should treat the first wife with due honour and respect.

Anantha Murthy's Praneshacharya essentially seeks salvation through suffering, a purely Christian concept. Bhyrappa questions Murthy's integrity in mischaracterizing a whole system of philosophy and value system. In addition, we could accept Murthy's premise if Praneshacharya was an unlearned Priest but not when he is explicitly described as a scholar in Dharmashastras. But then, Praneshacharya's characterization makes sense if you remember that Murthy wrote his books for the Western audience.

Given this record, Murthy shines more splendidly as a lobbyist and politician than as a litterateur. All lobbyists and politicians are fine specimens to caricature. Neither has Bhyrappa caricatured him in Aavarana alone. Anantha Murthy briefly figures as Hari Shankar Prasad in Tantu. However, he is both easily identifiable, and more prominent in Aavarana than in Tantu.

Because Aavarana uncovers the gory extent of Aurangzeb's--and Islamic--brutality, it has delivered a blow where it hurts the most: to Aurangzeb, the darling of the secularists. Understandably, Aavarana opened to stoic silence from the secularists' quarter followed by few opposing murmurs. Local Kannada rags called it the "textbook of the Saffronites," "dangerous," "divisive," "communal" and the rest. No "noted" writer wrote anything about it. Till a book release function where Anantha Murthy spoke about Aavaranada Anaavarana (The unravelling of Aavarana) for its "critical analysis" of Aavarana.

"Bhyrappa does not know either Hindu religion or the art of story-telling. He is only a debater," says Anantha Murthy. "He does not go beyond his opinions. He constructs the plot and selects characters only to suit his opinions and end up as a debater, rather than a creative writer."

The skies opened up instantly. Vijaya Karnataka reports (free subscription to access the link; the report is in Kannada) that it received more than 2000 responses condemning Anantha Murthy's "insolence."

This grand drama ended predictably. Anantha Murthy claimed

...he was "misquoted" and in the wake of strong criticism of his comments, decided not to take part in any literary functions.

He said, "This will be my last literary function. Henceforth, I will confine my interaction regarding literature with my close associates. However, he said he will continue to participate in political debates.

Standard secularist response. When cornered...

Movie Review: Mungaru Male

Sandeep — Thu, 5 Apr 2007 05:54:45 EDT

I finally watched the movie that's sent the whole of Karnataka into a tizzy. I'm glad I watched Mungaru Male.The best things in life are often simple. Mungaru Male's simplicity is its success secret: when was the last time you saw the Sold Out sign for a Kannada film in an upmarket theatre like PVR for the 10 PM show?

Note: Some spoilers ahead

I don't remember the last time I went to a theatre to watch a Kannada film for obvious reasons: a title like Gunna is enough to put you off. I decided to watch Mungaru Male more out of curiosity: there must be something in a movie that's running to packed houses more than four months since its release.

The storyline though, is straightforward and almost hackneyed. Aimless rich boy, Ganesh, falls in love with cute girl Sanjana Gandhi, pursues her, and finds she's the daughter of a family friend. He stays at her house, and discovers that her wedding is a week away. He endears himself to her family all the while battling his feelings. The girl reciprocates two days before the wedding date. They decide to elope. Watch what happens next on the screen.

So what made this film a monster hit? In one word: screenplay.

Mungaru Male literally means pre-monsoon rain. From a cultural standpoint, pre-mosoon rain holds a special, unique significance in Karnataka. It is typically identified with the densely-thicketed areas of Malnad, stretching all the way to Coorg. The pre-monsoon rain is usually celebrated in much the same way as Spring is celebrated in Europe. In the Malnad region, the pre-monsoon rain is usually fierce. A couple of such rain spells, and you see the colour returning to the lush greenery there.

Kannada romantic poetry abounds with references to mungaru male. It is the season of tenderness, and the season when love sprouts. And this is precisely what Mungaru Male brings to life on screen.

Mungaru Male is one of the really rare movies that has used the rain metaphor from start till end. It sets the mood for the entire film, takes hold of you and never lets you go. Even after you walk out of the cinema hall. Unsurprisingly, the most effective scenes of the film are shot in rain with some great landscapes in the background. The best example of this is when a drunk Ganesh pours out his feelings to Sanjana. The rain has thinned down, the sky is a depressed ash, and the large lake in the background is similarly coloured. The scene is intense with superb histrionics by Ganesh. Yogaraj Bhat, who has written the screenplay, brings out several layers in this scene.

For a romance movie, Mungaru Male moves at an amazing pace. Yogaraj Bhatt, also the director, sustains suspense in every scene. He has also written the dialogues, which are pretty breezy and set in a highly casual tone. It takes a special talent to express your hurt in a casual manner: no yelling, hair-pulling, or chest-beating. Ganesh says this with a smile but it stuns you with its intensity:

Nang gottaghoytu ri neev nang sigalla yaakandre nann time kharaab aagide...time ketthodre tale kerkondru taleli gaaya aagi gaaya cancer aagi doctor tale ne tegi beku antaare...antadrall naanu...ee hrudya...heart antaaralla adann kai haakond para para para anta kerkond bittideenri...prema devate ri neevu...tumba novv aagutte...male...male nintre kanneer kaanutte nachke aagutte

Perhaps the most unexpected moment of the film is its climax, one of the realistically best endings I've seen in a long time.

Ganesh who graduated from a TV-show anchor to a "hero" walks away with all the acting honours. His timing is one of the highlights of his performance. It is evident that comedy is his forte but he has excelled in emotional scenes as well. The drunk scene, and the scene where he spontaneously lays his head on his mother's lap are heart rending. Anant Nag as Sanjana's father is his evergreen self. Another great sequence is when he confesses his terminal illness to Ganesh.

It is moments like these that make Mungaru Male special and memorable.

Music is definitely another highlight of the movie. Of the seven songs, I liked just Anisutide yaako and the title track. However, Aralutiru Jeevada Geleya (the sad version of Anisutide yaako) has superb lyrics although Shreya Ghoshal could've rendered it better.

Hakkiyu haadide thanna hesaranu helade
Sampige beeride kampanu yaarigu kelade
Beesuva gaaliya hakkiya haadina nantige hesarina hangilla

and

Maathige meerida bhaavada selethave sundara
Nalumeyu thumbida manasige baaradu besara
Baala daariyali bere yaadaru chandira baruvanu namma jothe
Kaanuvenu avanalle ninnane

Very simple and profound at the same time. Jayant Kaikini reminds us of the legendary Chi Udayashankar in this song.

Mano Murthy, who gave us the lilting Nooru Janmaku has only outdone himself in Mungaru Male. Full marks to Sonu Nigam for Anisutide especially. He has sung it with the appropriate Bhava (feeling, emotion), which is a tough task for a singer who doesn't know the language. More so, a song loaded with tender feelings.

Dialogues deserve a second mention here because they're powerful in their simplicity:

Yeno Devdasa, life alli modalne saari ista pattu ondh mombathi hachidhe, male huydbidtu...

Ee mungaru maleli istondh benki idhe antha gothirlilla devdaasa

The cinematography is just mindblowing. The cameraman's hard work shows in the scintillating landscapes of Coorg and Malnad although there's a factual error. Most of the movie is set in Coorg but Sanjana chooses to confess her love to Ganesh standing on the edge of Jog Falls. There's no explanation how they got there because the journey from Coorg to Jog Falls is considerable. But the lovely camera work more than compensates for this factual error.

All right, I'm heavily biased in favour of Mungaru Male. This is by no means a "balanced" review. Nor did I intend it to be. The film has its drawbacks but its positives outweigh the drawbacks by light years. Name just three Kannada films over the past 10 years that use a metaphor. Or any other subtlety. Speaking of which, Yogaraj Bhat excels in adopting an excellent symbolism in the film. In the form of a rabbit. Nicknamed Devdas, Ganesh first discovers the rabbit at roadside. He adopts it, and makes it his accomplice to woo Sanjana. The rabbit symbolizes Ganesh's quest from start to end. Its death mirrors Ganesh's fate. Its burial near the tip of the Jog Falls is equally consistent with the shaping of events in the movie, and symbolic, again. The death of Devdas is intensely moving.

Ultimately, Mungaru Male appeals because everybody recognizes in it, something common to their own experiences of falling in/out of love. The way it is told makes the difference: the tenor is casually intimate, like the small bits of routine conversation among friends that metamorphose into fond memories to be recalled long after the conversation is over, and when the friends are no longer physically in touch. The movie has a lingering quality, which makes you want to watch it again, for the experience that it gives you. That partly explains why the movie is running to packed houses even today. A huge chunk is repeat audience. Little wonder that rumour mills have already declared this as the biggest grosser in Kannada cinema history. A whole blog has been dedicated to the movie. Wikipedia also has an entry on the film.

To me however, Mungaru Male will remain one of the finest pieces of poetry on celluloid.

Appreciating Flowers - A Girish Karnad Play

Sandeep — Sat, 31 Mar 2007 00:31:07 EDT

I haven't followed any Girish Karnad plays after the horrendous Agni Mattu Male (The Fire and the Rain). But it is nice to learn that his plays still enjoy enormous fan following in the circles that matter.

To my knowledge, Karnad has written at least three plays after Agni Mattu Male. All three have expectedly received rave reviews from the obvious quarters. Here's another review from Uma, which sounds balanced. Let's see how.

I haven't read or watched the play but Uma is kind enough to give a nice synopsis of the entire plot. What emerges is the familiar confusion, perversity, and grotesqueness that's writ in most of Karnad's plays.

The plot interestingly sounds similar to a small episode that occurs in Ta Ra Su's Kannada masterpiece, Hamsageethe. The episode deals with a priest of a Devi (generally, Goddess Parvati) temple whose devotion to the Goddess is unparalleled. The climax of this episode is when the Goddess herself saves the priest from shame and ignominy. The priest ends his life after learning this. This is touchingly told in the novel. Given Ta Ra Su's mastery over the pen, it moves you to tears.

~~Not that Karnad has been inspired by, or has copied from this.~~ It turns out, he actually borrowed from a folktale set in Chitradurga, the same setting for Ta Ra Su's Hamsageethe. I introduced the comparison by way of a parallel.
In Girish Karnad's world, this similarity is reduced to pornographic levels. From Uma's post:

One day a courtesan, Chandravati, comes to offer prayers at the temple. The priest is attracted to her. One day, when she does not appear in the temple, he goes to her house to find out the reason for her absence. She tells him that she is having her menstrual period. When he visits her house again, after two days, she has had her cleansing bath. She invites him to decorate her naked body with ropes of flowers, the way he has always been decorating the Lingam.

Flowers follows the same pattern of denigration like in his earlier plays. Notice how the Lingam is trivialized completely, lewdly, so there's no doubt in the viewers' mind that the Lingam is after all, just a Penis. Thereby mocking the sensitivities of millions of people. More on that later.

From this blog, I find further that Karnad has borrowed the Chitradurga folktale in its entirety. Whereas Ta Ra Su's narrative ends on a sympathetic, positive note, Karnad beats it obscenely out of proportion.

After he returns to the temple that night, the King delayed by an urgent commitment arrives late at midnight. The priest has to now perform pooja on the main god. But he now has to use the same touched and corrupted flowers to decorate the God. At that time his two Gods, the real God and courtesan both collide and appear as being one. King is left with awe and lots of questions unanswered. Seeing long hair projecting out of the Linga, the King fumbled asks the priest with wonder and also fury 'Does God have Long hair'. Priest with a firm tone answers "If you believe that God has long hair, he will have". Hence this way the play throws a tricky question to audience on what God is?

This is a complete perversion of the folktale. In the original, the Goddess steps in to defend the priest, who has served her with single minded devotion throughout his life. The priest in turn, realizes that while he has debauched his devotion, the Goddess has yet stepped in to save him. Which is why he kills himself. As you read the tale, you're stunned by the priest's strength of character. Such subtleties are lost on the Girish Karnads of this world who tout their works on the basis of a carefully-crafted perversion.

This original story poses a natural problem to Karnad because it has a Goddess. Difficult to twist it to meet his ends. Therefore he substitutes the Goddess with a Lingam, a highly suggestive symbol derived entirely from the Western deceptive interpretation of the Lingam as Phallus. Lo! You can almost visualize a progressive reviewer penning accolades on these lines:

...Further, Karnad's brilliant use of the Lingam also suggests, perhaps, homoerotic tendencies on the part of the protagonist.

The priest in Flowers is thus shown to be nothing more than a debauch and a momentous liar. But in circles which espouse chic causes like animal care, feminism, etc, this play acquires special status. Uma writes:

Their affair continues like this, but one day, on the night of the play, the priest must confront his powerful conflicts - the pull of love on one side, and duty on the other; his love for Chandravati, his love for the Lingam, his loyalty to his chieftain, and his loyalty to his wife.... Nevertheless, it's a beautiful, moving work, with some superbly crafted sentences, a rising sense of conflict, and a fine, controlled plot - the hallmark of Karnad's best work.

I find a near-psychotic obsession with sex, sexual perversions, and the female anatomy in 'progressive' literature as if quality literature can never exist without it. Karnad's own Anju Mallige deals with incest in a way that's pretty lurid, putting it mildly.

As I pointed out in some detail in my series on Karnad's plays, the playwright displays intellectual dishonesty by distorting well-known stories to suit them to preconceived notions and agendas. The famous excuse of busting myths and traditions is not credible because these plays are not based on a solid understanding of the said myths and traditions.

How can Yayati become an existentialist character when the primary sources contain no such thing as existentialism? Even if this dishonesty is forgivable on the grounds of poetic licence (sic), how can we overlook his patently dishonest account of Tipu Sultan in Tipuvina Kanasugalu (Tipu's dreams)?

Karnad's works have survived so far due to a combination of several factors:

The crowd that attends his plays is often ignorant and/or lack indepth knowledge of the subjects of his plays.
The media hype around Karnad as a playwright (I personally admire him as an actor)
The supposedly mysterious quality that surrounds Karnad's works.
Mostly favourable reviews by critics.
His political leaning, which has made him a darling of the secularists: anti-Babri Masjid, anti-Hindutva, anti-Bababudangiri, etc.
All of the above.

His bluff on Tipu Sultan was called recently by SL Bhyrappa and his reaction was typically secular. He called Bhyrappa an agent of the Hindutva forces instead of refuting Bhyrappa's claims.

Related Posts: My Series on Girish Karnad's plays.

Kabul Express in The Hippy, Happier Days

GV Krishnan — Tue, 6 Feb 2007 06:35:26 EST

I was inspired to put my thoughts together by Kabir Khan's Kabul Express, and by my friend and fellow Desicritic T. R. Kini who has been prodding me to share with him fading memories of an overland trip that took me through eight countries, including Afghanistan. Maybe this piece would trigger Kini's own Kabul memories of what he calls his reckless 40-day hitch-hike from Delhi to London in the early 60s.

For those who have seen the movie I would like to say that my Kabul visit (in May 1967) was in peace time and it predated that of John Abraham and Arshad Warsi by nearly four decades. In the 2006 movie the two actors were featured as media men on assignment in Afghanistan following the fall of the Taliban regime. During my trip I was a journalist in between jobs, heading home after three years in England. Unlike John and Arshad in the film, my script didn't include any life-threatening situations while driving through the Afghan countryside.

Those were the good old, carefree days when travel was safer and even regular guys took to back-packing. We had with us a middle-aged wife of a businessman from Norfolk who was bored with golf and country life. She traveled overland with us to get a feel for the world, and send picture postcards home from exotic-sounding places.

There was this Indian couple with a school-going girl. They were going to Bombay for a long vacation. A British student nurse planning to join her boyfriend in Sydney joined us for 'some fun and a bumpy ride' to Bombay, from where she was to take a boat to Australia. And then we had Brian who had bought a 12-seater with our contribution for the trip and set himself in business as an overland tour operator. He was our driver, and it was his first trip, which made us all equally inexperienced.

Pakistan refusal to grant me a visa (because I was Indian) and held me back in Kabul, while the British in the group made it through Khyber Pass into Pakistan, and then on to India via the Wagha border. I had to hang around for four days in Kabul for a plane connection to Amritsar. Ariana Afghan Airlines flew to India only twice weekly.

Kabul in the 60s was a staging post for hippies, hitch-hikers and flower children looking for poppy-sourced bliss. 'Make Love, Not War' was their mantra. They sustained a host of Afghan youths as tour guides, a euphemism for drug peddlers and pimps. Lodges, cheap and smelly, were full. Cafes in town were packed with those who stayed in cheap lodges, but spent their days at a cafe lingering over coffee for rest and recreation, and to use the rest-rooms (toilets).

Outside were parked vehicles, mostly vans and land-rovers carrying number plates of almost every European country. Some of the vehicles displayed placards advertising seats to London for 50 pounds. I visualized Brian putting up a seat-for-sale signboard on our van, on his way back here, after offloading us in Bombay.

Kabul those days had a thriving Indian community. They owned petty businesses and shops dealing in all conceivable items - dry fruit, saris, hardware. Many of them had a back office for unlicensed trade in money-changing and bootleg liquor. I didn't know if it was illegal to deal in currency, for we paid for most the stuff we bought with dollars. But when I wanted to encash a traveler's cheque a shop-keeper, adopting a hush-hush tone, sent me with a middleman to a house some distance away to receive cash in dollars.

But then money changing on the sly was a standard operating procedure shopkeepers adopted in many places. I had a similar experience on reaching Bombay. Everyone I knew usually resorted to a shopkeeper rather than a bank to have our dollar or traveler cheques encashed. Shopkeepers paid a higher exchange rate. Those were days of severe forex restrictions. Those who emigrated to the UK those days were given a foreign exchange allowance of three pounds.

Meanwhile in Kabul I had a spot of bother when I reached the airport to catch the Amritsar flight. I wasn't aware you needed an exit visa to leave the country. An immigration official directed me to a designated police station in the city to get exit visa. When I mentioned my anxiety about missing the plane the official assured me that the plane would not take off that soon and that I had time enough to make the round trip to the city police station. The irony was my tourist visa was to expire before the next scheduled flight to India, three days later.

I needn't have worried. For the plane was still there on my return to the airport with the exit visa. How was I to know that the published schedule for flights out of Kabul was notional and they were routinely delayed? I would like to presume that this time they held up the flight for me on the say-so of the immigration officer. Even after boarding I found my plane, a Dakota, wouldn't leave Kabul so easily. The plane made two false starts on the runway before take-off. Maybe the pilot was being put through flying training at our expense.

Twenty Minutes of Water Was All I Could Take - It's Pretentious

GV Krishnan — Fri, 2 Feb 2007 01:32:32 EST

It's a pity we have banned Deepa Mehta's Water. Unscreened in India, what we get to hear and read about this movie is its hype in the US. When I was there May last Water was playing in San Francisco and theatres in the Bay Area, California, to critical acclaim. Now that it has an Oscar nomination, that too, as a Canadian entry, Water can count on a fresh run in theatres out there.

It's time we released the film in India. We need to respond to such matters, however disagreeable, in an adult-like manner. I wish we judge audio-visual socio-documentary such as Water for what it is, a westernised liberal woman's a celluloid statement rather than as a law-and-order issue. Demos, effigy-burnings and other forms of protest by fringe elements should not deprive our film-goers the opportunity to rubbish the film, on their terms. After all, movies are made for film-goers, not for the rampaging Hindu fringe elements.

I am all for lifting the ban on Water. If they do, I reckon, it would be routed out of theatres within days of its release for want of audience. I had an opportunity to watch Water and I couldn't stand it for more than 20 minutes. It lacks sensitivity. When Water's maker was mobbed out of Varanasi, resulting in its eventual shooting in Sri Lanka, much was made of our intolerance to freedom of expression.

It is not as if no film had been made in India on socially-sanctioned cruelty to child widows. I recall a Kannada film - Phaniyamma - made over two decades ago that handled the plight of our women in such circumstances, with sympathy and sensitivity. The film, themed on widow remarriage, and daring for its time, was based on a book by M K Indira (translation in English by Tejaswini Niranjana).

Water, made in a more liberal age and in a fasionably radical social environment, has high production value. My problem was with the film's treatment of theme. If I were to sum up whatever I watched of Water in one word, it would be, 'pretentious'. The Director appears to relish dwelling on travails of a child widow, at a slow-moving pace, with long, lingering shots of disagreeable rituals, such as shaving the head of a widowed child, all shot in exasperating detail. You don't need to capture in close-ups every movement of the barber's razor over the scalp of a sobbing child.

When I wrote this inmy blog, a Singapore-based friend, Capt. Anup Murthy, observed that while Ms. Mehta had every right to make the movie the way she did, she may end up getting only critical acclaim, instead of mass appeal. "Mass appeal type of social movies (if I may use the term) tends to change people or at least change some ways of thinking," said Capt. Murthy.

He reckoned 'critical acclaim' was something that was for niche audience; that got a Page 3 mention, but was otherwise banned from screening in India; that got Americans to pat themselves on the back for being the only civilized chaps on the planet and so on. Striking a serious note my friend went on to say if serious films were to be instruments for changing the way society thinks, it had to be sensitized. Films such as Water were not meant for any entertainment value in any case and should have been used to better effect. He wondered what purpose did exposing, in raw, the unjustified treatment of widows in Varanasi (or anywhere else) serve, other than exposing for the sake of an expose.

Hollywood, Bollywood and Kollywood in the Last Three Decades

Balaji Viswanathan — Tue, 9 Jan 2007 14:21:23 EST

Introduction

Movies are a source of fun for many and a source of inspiration for few. But, to me it is one of the best indicators of the society on a given period. It is one of the best voting mechanisms where millions of voters around the world pay to vote for a concept, an idea and an art. In an individual sense, tell me the movies a person watches, and you can tell the character of a person. Well not exactly. If you take an individual movie there might be a lot of deviation due to the personal qualities of the actors, director etc. But, if you take a list of movies over a huge sample set in an era those personal qualities could get flattened out and what emerges out is a picture that speaks of those who lived that era, their tastes and their mentality and even their history and demographics.

Conversely, movies of a particular era shape the thinking, style & culture of an era. Thus, there is a heavy correlation between movies of a particular era and the contemporary society. Why Americans loved War movies during 40's and 50's (including the all time top - Casablanca), why they loved science fiction in 80s (Terminator, Back to the Future) or fantasies in 2000's (LOTR, Harry Potter due to a greater purchasing power of teenagers and young adults), why Indians loved religious movies till 50's and romantic movies in the 90s reflect the contemporary society and demographics (in the last case due to the greater power of teenagers and young men). For the purposes of this paper, I would like to take the two of the biggest film industries in the world - Hollywood & Bollywood (Hindi) along with a regional film industry in India - Kollywood. There is a strange correlation between the first and last, while the middle one seems to have a converse relationship.

1970s

The late 60s to 70s represent a new era in American and world society. It is the start of the baby boomer generation (people who came after the war had more number of kids and started building up the society) and the presence of so many youngsters started influencing the music and movie industries. Elvis, the Beetles and dozens of other pop, rock music guys changed the total atmosphere of the soft & serene western music. Counter culture develop and hippy became fashionable. In a lot of ways, the movies reflect this contrary & counter culture. While the preceding era had some stunning concept movies like Casablanca, Citizen Kane, Gone with the Wind, To Kill a Mockingbird, this era was famous for its darker movies closing on underworld and darker human aspects - movies like Godfather (1972) & its sequel (1974), Apocalypse Now (1979), Taxi Driver (1976), or even the dark humor M*A*S*H (1970) defined the tradition.

Later in the era, a new generation of movies started to sprout reflecting the scientific advancements of the era that led to the 1980s style. Some of the samples in the category include the Star Wars & Star Trek series of movies.

While, Hollywood film industry was limiting in its dark hits, Hindi film industry was in its peak with its lively bright movies. It defined one of the greatest era, with the new booming generation of actors that broke the tradition from the past. Amitabh Bachchan, Dharmendra, Rajesh Khanna, Zeenat Aman and the young Kapoors took over the rein of the old Hindi cinema and brought life to it. All time hits like Sholay (1975), Andaz (1971), Aradhana (1969), Bobby (1973), Don (1978) & Deewar (1975) appeared in this period and Hindi songs showed a marked difference. Inspired by their western counterparts and some original scores, Hindi films stunned Indian cinema (and most parts of West Asia) with their songs. A lot of people believe that Hindi Cinema never ever reached back its zenith as that era.

While Hindi movies were revelling in its great heights, the southern film industry of Kollywood, followed the tradition of Hollywood. While, its 1950s & 60s movies produced a great style and bright concepts, the 70s era was a peak for darker concepts. Actors like Rajnikanth, Kamal Hasan began their career with darker and psycho concept based movies directed by Balachandar. Movies questioned the individual relationships and pondered deep on concepts like love, family, etc. And a few movies were remade from Hindi film industry and the music quality was going down.

1980s

The 1980s were a markedly different style in that it was subdued and the movies were light. The movies and people still showed the reminiscences of Beetles-Boney M culture that reflected in their trousers, their hair-styles and even the back ground music of the movies. 1980s in Hollywood followed the late 70s scientific era with its own good movies like Terminator (1984), Back to the Future (1985), ET & the most of the Star Wars & Star Trek series. Except for these occasional hits, this era is almost forgettable from a collector's perspective.

Hindi & Tamil movies in the era continued their bright nature movies and brought more comedy into the system. Tamil film industry particularly brought its peak in humor with all the major actors bringing their own variety. Rajnikanth with his Thillu Mullu (1981) and Guru Shishyan (1988) was in his highs only to be beaten by Kamal Hassan bringing his best humor performances in Aboorva Sagodarargal (1988), Pesum Padam (1988) and Michael Madana Kama Rajan (1990). But, in terms of concept and magnificence this era was a passable one for all these film industries.

1990s

The 90s marked a significant and the greatest era for the Hollywood industry. It brought the greatest concept movies like Shawshank Redemption (1994), Schindler's List (1993), Forrest Gump (1994), Saving Private Ryan (1998), Cast Away (2000), Braveheart (1994) & late in the era movies like The Matrix (1999), Gladiator (2000) & A Beautiful Mind (2001) - extending into the millennium. Some of the all time blockbusters like Jurassic Park (1993), Titanic (1997) crowned the box office while interesting action movies like Speed (1994), Mission Impossible (1996), MIB (1997), T2:Judgement Day(1991), True Lies (1994), The Mummy (1999), Charlie's Angels (2000) and total humor like The Mask (1994) & There's Something About Mary (1998). The extraordinary variety, stunning concepts, crowning actors (Cruise, Hanks, Crowe & Schwarzenegger) and directors marked this greatest era for Hollywood film industry.

While, Hollywood was peaking, Hindi industry was almost tanking. It was a bare shadow of its earlier past after the great actors & music directors left. The movie industry now started focusing purely on romance & family centric movies. Some the greatest in this era include Hum Apke Hain Kaun (1994), DDLJ (1995), KKHH (1998) & KKKG (2000) and they were all romantic movies. There were not many concept movies or awe-inspiring block busters.

While Hindi was tanking, Tamil cinema rose to its peak just like Hollywood, in its own style. The humor of 80s were given way to concept, action and block buster movies. Director Shankar produced three of the all time greatest concept movies in Tamil - Gentleman (1993), Indian (1996) and Mudalvan (1999) followed by Mani Rathnam's Roja (1993), Alai Payude (2000) & Bombay (1995). Actor Rajnikanth produced two of his sensational movies Dalapathy (1991) and Badshah (1994), while Kamal Hassan produced 3 great movies in a sequence of 4 years that were nominated for Oscar foreign film official entry from India, including Devar Magan (1992), Kurudi Punal (1995) & Indian (1996) and then later for Hey Ram (2000), apart from his great action in the remake of Mrs. Doubtfire in Hindi & Tamil. From the middle of decade, an upcoming actor Vijay produced some of the best romantic movies like Poove Unakaga (1995), Kadaluku Mariyadai (1997) and Tullada Manamum Tullum (2000). The movies were also in spectacular style, color and awe-inspiring settings like those of Kadal Desam (1996), Minsara Kanavu (1997) & Jeans (1998). Inspired by the scores of the great music director A. R. Rahman and some great concepts, Tamil cinema for the first and only time dominated the Indian film industry and dozens of its music and movies were remade in Hindi and other languages.

Current Era (2000-2007)

The current era starting from the millennium marks a considerable difference to the earlier era for Hollywood. The rise of technology and teenage kids gave way to immature teenage fantasy movies to take center stage in this era. Movies totally divorced from reality like the Lord of the Rings series, the Harry Potter series, Charlie & the Chocolate Factory and slightly more sensible Spider Man series & Pirates of the Caribbean started to dominate the era. While the sequels for Mission Impossible, X-Men, Terminator and the film adaptation of The Da Vinci Code were totally disappointing, movies like Crash could have been made better though it stood out a lone concept movie of the era. Though, we are just halfway through the era, it has already started to tank and the quality of movies have reached the nadir with directors focusing on teenagers & immature young adults to produce their blockbusters. Samples like Lady in the Water (2006) showed how badly a movie could be made.

The Tamil movie industry in its marked correlation with Hollywood is also digging its grave in a stark contrast to the earlier decade. Totally rubbish new heroes and actresses who know the least of acting started to dominate an era of imbecility and stupidity. The occasional concept movies like Autograph (2004), romantic ones like Roja Kootam (2003) and action like Ghilli (2004) have yet to cause a considerable shift in the era. Great actors like Rajnikanth, Kamal Hassan, Vijay and legendary directors like Shankar have rubbished themselves with some utter senseless moves in this era.

While both Hollywood & Kollywood have totally fallen off, the silver lining is seen from the rise of Bollywood, in its greatest era. While the earlier era were pure romantic movies and cheap thrills focusing on the local audience, Bollywood of the current era rose to satisfy the intellectual aspirations of educated guys both in India and abroad. As an example three great movies of Hindi history - Black (2005), Paheli (2005) & Swades (2004) competed for the Oscar entry last year, just like what happened in 1994 in Hollywood - a virtual clash of the Titans. Swades was one of the most perfect movies ever made in Hindi should rub shoulders with the likes of Shawshank Redemption & Casablanca, led the pack though it was surprisingly let down by its audience. However, two of the other greatest movies that were also made in the era - Lagaan (2001) and Rang de Basanti (2006) got great approval from the audience and showed how good movies could be made. The humor mixed concept movies like Munnabhai series (2004 & 2006), Salam Namaste (2005) & Dil Chahta Hai (2001) showed the new face of Hindi cinema with its dazzling colors. Some cool block busters like Dhoom (2004), LOC:Kargil (2003), Bunty Aur Babli (2005), Don (2006) and soft romantics like Veer Zaara (2004), Parineeta (2005) gave color while Fanaa (2006) was a letdown - though well made, was illegal in its concept.

Summary

Film industries show what an era of people like and an indication of their tastes. Like business cycles, movies too have their high and low eras, sometimes coming alternatively. Movies of an era (roughly a decade) have some global similarities and eras could abruptly start and end with some stellar era leaders. And there is also a great correlation between movie industries, the complementary relationship between Hollywood & Kollywood and their converse relationship with the middle guy - Bollywood.

Movie Review: Ondanondu Kaladalli

Sandeep — Mon, 18 Dec 2006 09:58:48 EST

As promised, here's my review of Shankar Nag's debut movie. Apart from paving the way for Shankar's trailblazing career as both actor and director par excellence, this film has in its own small way, retained a cult-like reputation. A one-of-a-kind film in Kannada cinema, almost no other Kannada film has managed to achieve its class in terms of script and narration. I can only recall two miserable failures that attempted this kind of cinematic storytelling: Bharjari Bete and Gandabherunda. The latter was a pathetic inspiration of Mckenna's Gold.

Directed by Girish Karnad, Ondanondu Kaladalli (trans: Once upon a Time) is clearly inspired by Kurosawa. It is a simplistic tale of two warring Nayaka tribes in Karnataka. Shankar Nag essays Gandugali, the young warrior pitted against Permadi, played by the excellent (late) Sunder Krishna Urs. Ondanondu... is stylish, fast-paced and moving, all at the same time.

As the film unfolds, we're told to the tale of two warring brothers who have murdered their elder brother, and divided his kingdom equally between themselves. As is compulsory, each brother now wants the whole kingdom for himself, and appoint mercenaries to that end. They fight regularly, on appointed days but none of these battles reach any decisive outcome.

All that changes when Gandugali break rules and herds off the Permadi's cattle. This sets the tone for much of the subsequent fighting. Gandugali is shown as a kind-hearted mercenary who refuses to kill a humiliated Permadi. As the film progresses, both Gandugali and Permadi are double-crossed by their respective masters. They get together, much in the same way as Talienkov and Scofield in The Matarese Circle and kill the feudal chiefs.

Below the surface simplicity, the film scores in depicting the principal characters of Shankar Nag and Sunder Krishna Urs, better known for his chilling portrayal of villainy in later films, notably in Antha. The duo is shown as a welcome departure from the principles of brute force and winner-is-always-right, when they restore the kingdom to the son of the slain king, the rightful heir.

This movie catapulted Shankar Nag straight into mainstream Kannada cinema, which he ruled in his own way for about two decades. It also won him a national award, a mere byproduct of his performance. His Kannada accent in the movie is hard to imitate, is almost flawless, and doesn't come across as learned. He doesn't score too high on acting but makes up for it with energy. The countless combat scenes are any viewers' delight, and some sources say the film is one of the first (if not the first) to show Kalaripayttu on screen.

Ondanondu remains a favourite among millions of Kannada film watchers and Shankar Nag fans. In one stroke, it gifted Shankar Nag to Indian cinema and gave us something to savour repeatedly. You can watch it several times without getting bored, or enough of it. Like Sholay.

Movie Review: Accident

Sandeep — Wed, 26 Jul 2006 03:35:45 EDT

Dharmadhikarige Jai... Dharmadhikarige Jai...

Dharrrmmaadhikarige Jai.... Dharrrrmmmaadhikarige Jai!

A refrain that remains fresh in memory from one of the classiest Kannada movies ever made. I was twelve when I first watched Accident on TV. It was telecast as part of the mostly-boring "Award-winning movies" charade on a Sunday afternoon on Doordarshan.

The only experiences that remain from that age are the refrain and a sort of chill that persisted for days. The chill resurfaced when I watched it last night, but without the same intensity.

Accident was a trendsetter in many ways than I can recount in this space. Made in 1985, the movie stands out for its realistic depiction of corruption and the hopeless struggle against it. The movie simply stops after raising questions: the viewer is left to find answers, a rare achievement by that genius of a director, Shankar Nag.

The plot is unbelievably simple, which I think, is one of the main reasons for its success. A powerful politician's son and his friend, son of an Ad agency owner live the wild life. Both are drug addicts, a consequence of parental negligence. One night, in a drug-induced euphoria, they mow down several people sleeping on the pavement killing all except one.

A cop and a journalist investigate this case. The journalist, essayed brilliantly by Shankar Nag, treads the forbidden path. Meanwhile, Dharmadhikari, the junkie's politician-father returns to the city and steps in immediately, to "protect" his son. He sends the cop, Mr. Rao on "leave." He presents his illiterate servant as the culprit who caused the accident.

I won't reveal anything else.

Accident is perhaps the first film that presented the politician-media nexus uncomfortably close to reality. It showed also, for the first time, how easy it is for people in power to manipulate the law in any manner they choose. Shankar Nag succeeds in imprinting a pessimistic message: to struggle against it is not only impossible but futile. He puts these words in the cop's mouth: "Don't try to pound a wall that is impossible to break."

The movie's screenplay is its greatest strength. Background music is ruthlessly stripped: the only sounds you can hear in no specific order are, car tyres screeching, television blaring, an overturned metallic bucket creaking, bullets sliding inside a pistol, a typewriter clacking, a camera clicking, a dog barking, feet running, conversation, laughter, screaming, cheering, and silence. Shankar Nag never devotes a second more than what is required for a scene. I suspect Ram Gopal Varma has taken several leaves out of Nag's book. Accident infuses heavy doses of realism. Deepak, the killer on the fateful night, stops at a medical store to buy Mandrax. The Wikipedia entry on Mandrax states that

Smoking marijuana laced with methaqualone has become a major problem in South Africa, rivalling crack cocaine as the most abused hard drug.... When smoked, usually mixed with marijuana, it causes an intensely euphoric rush.

The actual "accident" shot that follows this purchase is a logical consequence and one of the best action scenes. It still is hard to watch the scene without flinching. Shot at night, Nag has made brilliant use of light, darkness, and blood to imprint the gruesome act indelibly in our minds.

Dharmadhikari, played with sinister coolness by Anant Nag, wins in the end but pays a price for it. Watch the movie to learn what the price is.

It's a pity Shankar Nag is dead.