Kerala 2008 – Press Mentorship Program

Day 04

Gargi H.: Three Monkeys Indeed
Swetha Antony: An Ode to Death
Vaibhav Vats: Dreams Fall Apart
Rima Mathew: Interview with Huseyin Karabey
Rohini Kumar: Images of Life, Life of Images
Ananya Dutta: Moving Images or Still Life?
Dileep M.M.: 50th Anniversary of the Federation of Film Societies of India
Manish Golder: The Beautiful Empty Frame

Three Monkeys Indeed
By Gargi H

"Let's make an old story to a film really slow that it becomes an art house film!"

When you see an overly acclaimed film, you are prejudiced. You start thinking it must be good or bad, according to the judgment of the people whom you are hearing from, and your judgment about the people who are talking about it. I heard Three Monkeys (Üç Maymun, Turkey, 2008) was good from many different people. I wanted to know why.

Three Monkeys starts with a very slow-paced sequence of a car climbing up a road and vanishing in blankness. The background music is minimal. I was awestruck. This must be good, I said to myself. And as the director began narrating a story, I realized it was just the beginning that was awesome. But yes, the colour tone was good; the pace is the kind of pace I generally appreciate. All that added value to the film.

When the film starts dealing with a circle of incidents that happen in a family of a chauffeur who decides to take the blame for a fatal accident caused by his master and goes to jail, it started sounding like a fairytale which said if you do wrong things, it triggers a loop that never ends or ends up really bad. And when the film starts talking of lust that happens between two people, it invariably tries to say that it was the woman's mistake. It goes to the extent of making you feel she is a disgraceful woman.

How does the director actually do that? The chauffeur had a younger son who died maybe years ago. This son is a symbol of family relations and values as far as I understand. There are sequences when the dead son appears as a surreal image in the film. Apparently he appears only to the other son and the dad and only when they realize the mother had slept with someone else. The mother seemed to have betrayed the family so she doesn't remember him at all, even if she must be the one who might have delivered him and brought him up.

We've had these kinds of story ideas since the time men started writing stories and women didn't. If you have nothing new to say, but reinforce the values and morals which have been questioned for centuries, why should you spend time and energy making such an expensive film? I don't understand.

As to why the audience liked it so much, I feel they always appreciate the old wine in a new bottle. If we analyze the film/literature culture here in Kerala, we understand that the most appreciated artists here are the ones who try to bring a difference in form, not content. The form-content discussion is forever on, still.

Three Monkeys was directed by Nuri Bilge Ceylan from Turkey. I wish the director had a better vision of women.

Gargi H.
© FIPRESCI 2008

An Ode to Death
By Swetha Antony

Enticed by the soul-stirring music and enthralled by the exquisite snow-capped mountains of Tehran, we begin our journey with a green-eyed agent whose boss is a husky voice on the wireless, a cool guy with a great sense of humour. It is hard to digest that this is a journey to the next world, the handsome agent the spirit of death, and the husky voice, God. Farzad Motamen's Music Box unfolds itself through such characters, earthly and ethereal.

A mythical rendering about death and God, the film tells the story of Ali, a twelve year old, who lives with his father and grandfather and yearns for the love of his dead mother. We are plunged into the mystery when Agent Maleki appears before the boy and begins talking to him. From that point his life takes a new turn. Now he can sense death. He fights with it when it comes to his grandfather and reconciles to it when it is his own turn.  His fearless acceptance of the inevitable is gifted with love and life.

The film begins on a suspenseful note unconventional in terms of its plot, but brilliant cinematography, striking dialogue, and evocative music add great charm to its treatment. It is indeed difficult to render the abstract notion of Death and God, but the film has done justice to it. In fact it completely avoids the dark aspects of death, and instead even makes it seem desirable.

The compositions and camera movements portray Maleki as always surrounded by an aura of mystery, as does the way his expressions are also captured. The music is also very effectively used to highlight Ali's love and innocence. The conversations of Maleki with Ali and God are tinged with humour and insight. For instance, to Maleki's observation that humans are strange creatures, Ali replies "At least we are that."

The music box, a parting gift from Ali's grandfather, is used very evocatively in the film. Etched on the lid of the music box is the famous painting, "The Creation of Adam" by Michelangelo — the hand of Adam reaching out to God — a contemplative image about mortality and the divine. This image becomes a leitmotif to foreground death as a continuity of life in another form and not just an end.

The Music Box testifies that even death becomes immortal when it comes to cinema.

Swetha Antony
© FIPRESCI 2008

Dreams Fall Apart
By Vaibhav Vats

The profound pain of the African subject, battered by colonialism and endless exploitation, is beyond the scope of a feature film. Cinema, the writer and director Laurent Salgues seems to say, may capture a fleeting moment, but its limitations can never definitively portray the reality of the doomed 'dark continent'. There is no hysterical portrayal of grief in Dreams of Dust (Rêves de poussière), yet pessimism and grief are etched indelibly in the contour of the characters, like a birthmark.

Dreams of Dust begins with a fabulous long shot depicting the vastness of the dusty African landscape. Mocktar has left Nigeria to find work in the gold mines of Burkina Faso. In Essakane, where he arrives, the gold rush ended twenty years before. Unlike everyone else, gold is not what Mocktar is after. He has come here to try and forget the death of his youngest daughter, who died of malaria. Shamed into humiliation by his wife, who thinks he is incapable of providing for his family, Mocktar has no intentions of going back.  

Dust is a constant presence in the film, and this draws attention to its technical pedigree. Cinematographer Crystel Fournier's intense lens, along with superb art direction and design, are able to create the atmosphere of hazardous peril and impending threat that defines the life of the gold mine worker. Working in small teams overseen by a merciless boss, the workers descend narrow tunnels reaching a hundred feet and more into the sand with flashlights tied to their heads. On the discovery of a gold nugget, the entire team becomes wealthy. In a tunnel collapse, the asphyxiating sand makes rescue impossible. Violence is never far away, as Mocktar's mate recounts his father's throat slit open when he went back home with his fortune. Because in this destitute land, wealth is too conspicuous to remain hidden. 

Salgues' direction combines an intimate understanding of African existence with the detached eye of an observer. In the beginning of the film, Mocktar is in the process of procuring a work permit, when the official asks him for a bribe. Mocktar pauses for a moment and then gives away the money apathetically, and without surprise. Salgues is drawing attention not only to the moral decadence of the ruling class, but also to how inured the African sensibility has become to institutional decay.   

Makena Diop, as the lead protagonist, plays Mocktar with dignity and poise. The background music is sparse yet adequate, never overtly imposing its presence on the narration. The Indian audience that attended the screening at IFFK was startled when a song from the Indian classic 'Pakeezah' is introduced around the hour-mark. Baffled, bemused gasps reverberated in the theatre, after this bizarre, unlikely tryst with Bollywood. A moment later, we realized that in the film, a sizeable bunch of people are huddled around an ancient TV, enraptured and captivated.

This moment, in a sense, captures the diversity of Salgues' enquiry, yet the intimate acquaintance developed with the characters is never abandoned. Salgues' screenplay does not attempt to represent the wider political debates through explicit dialogue between its characters. The harrowing reality of Dreams of Dust finds resonance precisely because the film is aware of its limitations. It is one of the strongest contenders for this year's Best Film award. 

Vaibhav Vats
© FIPRESCI 2008

An Interview with Huseyin Karabey:
"My Unconventional Love letter to Cinema"
By Rima Mathew

He came with a political saga swathed in a love story, saw a lot of passion here — and conquered hearts. "A man of compassion," I would call him. Here is a chat I had with Huseyin Karabey, the director of the film My Marlon and Brando, which is showing in the competition category at the IFFK 2008.

     I was deeply moved when I watched Ayca's strife in My Marlon and Brando (Gitmek: Benim Marlon ve Brandom). I loved the way you treat this issue.

HK: I am always interested in making films on issues I am familiar with. My film is about the life of ordinary people in the place I come from. It is based on my own experiences along with Ayca's. I believe that the overflow of media coverage of any war ultimately poisons the information. That's why I wanted to make a movie that focuses on a more personalized story of individuals affected by the war.

The fact that Ayca plays her own role is very intriguing. How did you meet her?

HK: I met her years ago, when we were working together in the same theatre group in Istanbul. Later on, when I was thinking of making a feature film, I wanted her to be part of it. She agreed right away. She was very excited to work on her own story. Also, many other people whom I know personally were involved in the film. The taxi driver, for example, who goes to the cemetery, or the artist who is an illegal migrant, and the mother who waits for her son at the border are among them.

What happened in real life to Ayca's love story?

HK (laughing): Hamali and Ayca are friends now. If they weren't friends, this project would not have worked out. A "live happily ever after" love or a tragic ending would have made it impossible. Both decided to be friends, because their love couldn't survive the war. Since travelling became more and more difficult and the possibilities to meet almost impossible, they realized that it was better to stay friends.

Their love was something anyone could gradually become jealous of. The unconventional casting of the hero and the heroine surprised me in the beginning and made me curious, but finally it seems to me that she is the most beautiful actress I have come across.

HK (laughing): I wanted to break the usual stereotypes of the scintillating beauty or the Brad Pitt hero in lead roles. Normally we would like our partners in life look like these role models, which can make our life complicated. It's not whom or why we love, but how we love that is to be considered.

You are a distinguished documentary filmmaker — what motivated you to make a feature film? Was it this particular subject?

HK: Whether it is a documentary or a feature film, what matters is the sincerity in our work. I don't want to categorize myself as a documentary filmmaker or a full-fledged feature filmmaker because I believe that the way I approach the subject decides the style and the genre of the film.

How was the film received all over the world?

HK: I think anybody can easily identify with the issues in the film.  As a matter of fact, it's a universal subject, and that's what makes it powerful. The film has been shown in numerous film festivals all over the world and received so far six international awards. And more importantly, wherever the film was shown, it got an overwhelming response from the audience.

How do you look at the issues in Turkey?

HK: It is the Kurdish-Turkish issue that prevails in Turkey. I am a Kurd born in Turkey. I grew up in a society where I was not considered as being a part of the Turkish mainstream. I was a political activist and jailed for participating in a demonstration for almost one year. I have learned that when people are ignorant, it is easy to provoke them. I should say that nowadays, the situation is improving. People in Turkey and the Middle Eastern countries are gradually becoming aware of the senseless borders and sensationalized political issues

How did you decide to become a film maker?

HK: I have studied economics and was involved in political issues. But then I discovered cinema and I realized that film can be used as a powerful tool. So I switched to film studies. I wanted to make films which deal with the real concerns of the people. With mainstream Turkish films copying the Hollywood style, it is hard to find the real life of Turkey reflected in the movies. There may be thousands dying in a war. But when our beloved is lost, that hurts the most.

Whom do you consider as your role model in filmmaking?

HK: Yılmaz Güney, the Kurdish film director. His works are devoted to the plight of ordinary people in Turkey, a rare one of its kind. His films Hope (Umut) and The Way (Yol) are my favourites. I love watching films which are close to reality.

How do you look at the movies from other parts of the world, and in particular from India? Can we expect to have an Indian theme in one of your next movies?

HK: I am happy to discover such a wide variety of films coming up here. The more you have films in India that deal with issues like communal riots, conflicts between India and Pakistan and cross-border terrorism, the more people will become aware of these problems. But you can only identify with the problem if the issue becomes personal. Whatever the issue, the underlying fact which is similar in them is nothing but a pseudo-superiority we feel about our existence. I don't want to impose anything on the people, instead I want them to discover themselves in my films. I believe that you have to be sincere as a filmmaker. It is then the sincerity covers the mistakes. I can't get involved in projects where I don't have first hand experience.

Experiences in IFFK...

HK: People here are expressing themselves freely, as I could see in IFFK. They applaud when they enjoy the movie, which is hard to find anywhere else. They  are friendly and I feel here at home. I always wanted to come here and have rejected other offers just to be in India.

Rima Mathew
© FIPRESCI 2008

Images of Life, Life of Images
By Rohini Kumar

It was the second screening of The Photograph by Nan Triveni Achnas at the IFFK, and from the long queue of audience and the full house, one could make out that a lot of expectations were in the air. 

This Indonesian film is about a bar singer, Sita, who comes to live with a photographer, Mr. Johan. In order to support her sick grandmother and a daughter, Sita is forced into prostitution. Mr. Johan is at the fag end of his life and has three wishes to fulfil before his death. Both help each other and the story proceeds with their growing understanding of each other. This relationship between two helpless people gives a new dimension to Sita's life and a fulfilling end to that of Johan.

The movie works its way through different shades of human emotions in a poignant manner: the helplessness of a mother who is forced into a profession not of her choice, and the pain that she undergoes, both driven by the love for her daughter. This split within her — what she wants to be and what she is — is embodied in her conversations with her mirror image during moments of pain and inner turmoil.

Through her relationship with the photographer she gradually comes to learn what it is to live in reality, or in other words, she realizes the difference between the image and the real. While Mr. Johan's last wishes are fulfilled, she ends up learning his profession and becoming his successor, as it were. The photographer on his part holds a surprise that is revealed at the end, which turns out to be a story of selfishness and tragedy.

In other words, The Photograph is about Sita's journey from the confusion of the mirror image to the specificity of the photographic image. In the end we find a blank wall with the photograph of her and her teacher on it, a wall which will be filled with the photographs she will take in the future.

Rohini Kumar
© FIPRESCI 2008

Moving Images or Still Life?
By Ananya Dutta

One of the most remarkable facets of cinema is that it is an introspective medium. Films don't shy away from scrutinizing the social impact of the audio-visual medium. The television as an extension of cinema is not spared either. At the International Film Festival in Kerala two competition films evaluate this modern invention from opposite perspectives.

In The Yellow House (La mainson jaune) by Amor Hakkar, the television brings to a family a recorded message from a son who is now dead. A chance to see and hear from him is able to comfort them and reconcile them to their loss. On the other hand, Gulabi Talkies by Girish Kasaravalli speculates that the advent of television into the lives of a fishing community could be connected with a rise in communal tensions.

In The Yellow House, the television is a mechanism of positive change for the community. The fact that electricity is essential to view it drives them to ensure electrification of their home. So the television resolves not just its immediate purpose, but also signals a change for a better life. It unites the family as they sit in front of their set.

On the other hand, the television causes a breakdown in community life in Gulabi Talkies. It captivates the protagonist, Gulabi, who is so enchanted by her television that she neglects her duties and turns up late for work. For one of the characters, Netru, the represented reality of the television is so life-like she attempts to imitate it in her own, with tragic consequences. Initially, it is able to forge new bonds between the Hindu and Muslim communities, but over a period of time it escalates existing prejudices and suspicions.

It is interesting that for both these films the television is not a metaphor for modernity. They are not criticizing or celebrating modernity by implication. The central characters are well versed with that other symbol that defined the 20th century — the automobile. These films are commenting specifically on the television as an audio-visual medium.

Both films comment on the dependence of the device on electricity. In The Yellow House, the family has no access to electricity and so cannot immediately watch it. In Gulabi Talkies, immediately after the television is installed, a power failure prevents Gulabi from watching it. But this dependence has a different meaning in each film. While it means one more obstacle that a family would unite against and overcome in one, it becomes a metaphor for the enslaving potential of the idiot box in the other.

It is interesting to note that both the directors have chosen to film and frame the television in similar ways. In The Yellow House we watch a reflection of the family gathered around the set which cannot work because it is not connected to an electrical socket. This is before the television has worked its magic. Gulabi Talkies closes with two old women staring at the blank screen of a television that they don't know how to operate. This scene occurs after the television has done all the damage it could.

At this festival Gulabi Talkies and The Yellow House are competing for a title, but on another level they are contesting how the television is to be perceived. Whether it has brought into our home images that are so moving that they help us grow emotionally or whether its seductive charms will bring all life to a standstill is a debate yet to be resolved.

Ananya Dutta
© FIPRESCI 2008

Open Forum:
50th  Anniversary of the Federation of Film Societies of India
By Dileep M.M

An open forum observed the 50th anniversary of the Federation of Film Societies of India (FFSI) at the behest of 13th IFFK, 2008. The focus was on the genesis and history of the film society movement in India. Film society activist V.K. Joseph, the Vice Chairman of Kerala State Chalachitra Academy, coordinated the session. In his speech he recalled the rich contributions made by the pioneers of film societies of Kerala.  The session began with K.P. Kumaran, veteran filmmaker and one of the pioneers of the Kerala film society movement, tracing the history and necessity of the movement.

K.P. Kumaran said Satyajit Ray paved the way for the film society movement by setting up Calcutta Film Society in Kolkata in 1948. Much later it was Adoor Gopalakrishnan and Kolathoor Bhaskaran Nair who formed the Chitralekha Film Society, the first of its kind, in Kerala. He narrated thus the film societies of Kerala gave exposure to experimental cinema done by the filmmakers from Europe and Japan. According to him the people of Kerala came to know about the life and culture of these countries. He emphasized the importance of the film society movement in the coming years and its contribution for nurturing people's cultural and social consciousness. He also added that no other State, except West Bengal, had witnessed such remarkable progress. He said that IFFK and Kerala State Chalachitra Academy are the glittering examples of the development brought out by the film society movement.

Other speakers included Sudhir Nandgaonkar, President of the FFSI, and H.N. Narahari Rao, the Vice President. Sudhir Nandgaonkar said that film societies can be considered as cultural NGOs and that society screenings should be made open to the public. The youngsters are not attracted to it. H.N. Narahari Rao said that the film buffs should also switch to DVD screening. He praised the role of the film societies of Kerala towards elevating the awareness among the people by showing more good and relevant films. He invited young people to be involved in the movement.

The open forum announced some awards for the best film societies and film activists (film society members). This year the best award has been given to the Montash Film Society in Malappuram. Majeed Mataththil received the best activist award. 

Dileep M.M.
© FIPRESCI 2008

The Beautiful Empty Frame
By Manish Golder

Sita (Shanty Harmayn) in The Photograph is a beautiful young woman, working as a singer in a karaoke bar in an unnamed Indonesian city, supplementing her earnings through prostitution to provide for her ailing mother and daughter Yanni back in her village. One day Johan (Lim Kay Tong), an old troubled photographer, saves Sita from her bullying pimp Suroso (Lukman Sardi) after she is gang-raped and beaten by a group of drunken men. Sita temporarily gives up prostitution and instead earns her living by cleaning and washing for Johan. Sita and Johan grow closer in their inescapable solitude; one reaching out to the other. As Sita discovers Johan's troubled past they bond over emotional turmoil and photography.

Director of photography Yadi Sugandi crafts exquisite frames with saturated tones and diffused light. The beautiful cinematography sidetracks the sleaze and filth of Sita's existence, gently glossing over them, supplanting them with a primarily visual rhetoric.

Drawing inspiration from Johan's profession as a photographer, the camera assumes a primary significance as does a number of still shots from the ageing Johan's collection. Sita's daughter and mother exist within the glass cubicle of the pay-phone; neon-lights, lipstick and a glittery dress in chromatic synchronization. Sita street-walks through dark wet alleys as Johan stares at old photos depicting contrasting emotions — the isolation of twin souls underscored by the composition of the frames.

The gradual intimacy between Johan and Sita is portrayed through a shot of two street lamps against a dawn sky. Johan and Sita reach out to each other through poignant understatements — Johan climbs the attic stair to Sita's room and then quietly recedes into his studio.

The film is replete with visual allegories as in the decimation of a funeral shrine by fire; the veils and curtains in Johan's empty house, the inverted image of Johan as seen through his large-format camera, Johan and his altar on his bicycle through clouds of steam rising from the street. As much as them adding to the effect of the film as a visual treat; The Photograph suffers from an unnecessary and, at times, problematic aestheticizing of events and characters. A particularly jarring sequence involves the strewn body parts of Johan's wife and son; the prosthetics used looking unlike real human anatomy.

The Photograph is a stunning watch — the background score shifting from the lilting and the moving balancing the aural and the visual harmonies. Shanty and Tong are an unlikely twosome; their emoting is fundamental and effective. Director Nan Achnas's film finally doesn't transcend the basic narrative; the gorgeous camerawork is as much to blame for the film's failings as for its deserved admiration.  

Manish Golder
© FIPRESCI 2008

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