Kerala 2008 – Press Mentorship Program

Day 06

Gargi H.: Coen Brothers Again!
Rohini Kumar: An Ode to Love, Life and Death ("The Imprints")
Dileep M.M.: Face to Face with Fr. Joseph Pulinthanath, the director of "Roots"
Amathul Wardha: An Interview with P.K. Nair, former founder director of National Film Archive India
Vaibhav Vats: Colonisation's Children ("Machan")
Ananya Dutta: An interview with Uberto Pasolini
Sithara Vijayan: Much Awaited Postcards ("Postcards from Leningrad")
Rima Mathew: An Allegory of the Dominant and the Submissive ("Two-Legged Horse")
Manish Golder: A Burkinabe Story ("The Law" / Tilai)
Swetha Antony: Looking Back at IFFK

Coen Brothers Again!
By Gargi H.

We've seen much of their magic. They did many different things with their films. Exposed us to many different aspects of life. We were wondering what it would be like in 2008 to know what they have to say. The title Burn After Reading was appealing. The name did suggest a deep content.

We entered a picture hall named "Dhanya". The mention of the picture hall is just to let you know that the picture was projected in the wrong aspect ratio: the microphones and other projection equipments visible on the screen. It disappointed us at the beginning.

But as the movie picked up its pace, from a view of Earth from space to the CIA building, it got interesting. The plot revolves around Osbourne Cox (John Malkovich) being kicked from office, his wife, Katie Cox (Tilda Swinton) having a strange affair with a married man, Harry Pfarrer (George Clooney), gym assistant Linda Litzke (Frances McDormand) who needs facelift surgeries, her weird and naïve colleague, Chad Feldheimer (Brad Pitt).

It starts like a typical Hollywood CIA thriller. It moves in that pace for a while, with deeply moving music almost of a classical genre and intense shots. As the storyline shifts to the desperate and lonely Linda, it suddenly has an underlying comedy layer to it. And when Chad enters, the movie completely assumes the mood of a spoof.

When Linda sits with Harry on the park bench and he suddenly feels that she is a CIA agent, the moment brings in the absolute absurdity of all the misdeeds and misunderstandings. The camera moves around with Harry frantically when he imagines everyone in the park is spying on him. Later this happens to Linda too. She feels she's the one being spied on, after Harry leaves. CIA, NSA, it's created so much false fear around you.

The use of music in the film is very special. It contradicts the situations at many moments, which I found very pleasant. This contradiction adds a lot to the comic element of the film.

This movie is completely different from the movies that were done by the Coen brothers. Absolutely surprising.

Gargi H.
© FIPRESCI 2008

"The Imprints":
An Ode to Love, Life and Death
By Rohini Kumar

The Imprints by M.G. Sasi (India) pays homage to the well-known Malayalam writer Nandanar (1926-74). The film opens with a striking montage about the writer's traumatic journey. Driven by lust for life, this prolific writer ultimately succumbs to the lure of death. Contrary to the life of the one who inspired it, the film resonates with the idea "Fight or Perish."

The characters of the film are drawn from several stories of Nandanar. The protagonist Gopi (played by debutant actor Govind Pathmasurya) is an adolescent son of a Kathakali artist (a traditional theatrical art form of Kerala). After the death of his father, his elder brother turns his back on the family, pushing them further into despair. Driven by the struggle for survival, he is not sure of his enemies and what to fight for or against. Poverty and joblessness haunt Gopi, and his only source of emotional and sensual comfort is the village snake girl, Meenakshy. When all the other doors close before him, it is she who prompts him to take up a job with the army. Obviously, he has no other choices before him to come out of the trap. And he is forced to become a soldier, in his war against poverty.

Against the backdrop of war and resultant economic misery, the film is set in the 1940s in a remote Kerala village, a little world that Gopi is yearning to escape from. One image that recurs throughout the film is that of a hand that moves as if trying to reach out for something beyond, for life and love. In its narration, the movie makes judicious use of Kathakali performances, recitals from the epics and other folklore, to add poignancy to the situation, which at the same time connects it with the mythical. These elements also provide the film with a local feel of the period and the milieu.

Despite its shortcomings in dialogue rendering and inconsistencies in the performances of the actors, the film, undoubtedly, is a genuine attempt by a young director to capture the dark mysteries of life and survival.

Rohini Kumar
© FIPRESCI 2008

Face to Face with Fr. Joseph Pulinthanath, the director of "Roots":
Celluloid Voice for Those Who Have None
By Dileep M.M.

Celluloid rarely speaks like oral language, because it is basically a language of visuals. So making a movie that speaks an oral or a marginalized language is a daring venture. Let us give a bow to Fr. Joseph Pulinthanath for offering us Roots (Yarwng), a celluloid voice for a marginalized community: those who are evicted in the name of development. This venture by Fr. Joseph sheds some light on the struggles of ordinary people.

What is the motivation for making a film for tribals?

JP: This is one of the oldest languages of North Eastern India. The film is made in Kokborok language. Kokborok is a tribal community placed in social deprivation for long. So it deserves some portrayal in this biggest medium like cinema. I find it much more interesting to tackle their marginalized life and problems. That is the fact behind this film.

Is your movie is an expression of a dying culture?

JP: Yes! I am projecting or expressing a culture. My film can be considered a mirror for many names. We can't express the actual nuances of this language.

So are you trying to provide a platform?

JP: The people of the North Eastern States of India are actually living like refugees in their own land. They are evicted from their fertile lands in the name of the very idea we are talking all the time, development.

People of Tripura are well known for their political awareness. Whether these tribals are politically motivated?

JP: They are not organized. The political parties neglected these areas in the past. Their accessibility is limited.

Tribal areas are famous for their cultivation?

JP: Yes. But their cultivated land, i.e. "Jhum cultivation" [cultivation on the slope of the hills], and at the end products are not marketed yet. There are lots of middlemen who are still exploiting them and eating their profit.

By Dileep M.M.
© FIPRESCI 2008

An Interview with P.K. Nair, former founder director of National Film Archive India:
Sir, Indian Film Lovers Owe to You
By Amathul Wardha

Passion and perseverance for film took P.K. Nair, the founder director of The National Film Archive India (NFAI), to every corner of the country for the treasure hunt of film prints. The film lovers of India owe him a lot for his massive contributions towards preservation of old classics. He is one of the pioneers behind developing a film culture in India. Neither his age nor his fading health stops him from being at every film festival around the country. Some moments with this great personality.

Sir, can you narrate the experience of the journey of an archive curator and director?

PKN: It's a long journey. Before I found archives, I started my career as one engaged in setting up the syllabus, book and film library for the Film and Television Institute of Pune (FTII) in 1961. Officially NFAI was set up in 1965. The main objective of it was to develop a film heritage in our country. There existed a lot of misunderstandings on films among the people and I think it is still continuing to an extent. First we collect the films, winner of national awards and then the world classics were also brought. It helped Indian film lovers to get an exposure on such films. The timeless works of Roberti Rossellini, Vittorio de Sica, Kurosawa and Ingmar Bergman were among the among them.

In India, the foreign films are getting a wider recognition. Do you think that Indian films get the same treatment outside?

PKN: We can't say that it does not get much attention outside. The works of Satyajit Ray are acclaimed universally. There are lots of good films made in India. But there is no authority to promote them among the foreign viewers. Nobody is willing to take such task because it needs a lot of work to perform. A simple synopsis of a film is not enough. It needs a high quality picture, subtitles, credits and cast. There are so many things which have to be well handled. But unfortunately except the NFAI, nobody is ready for taking such responsibilities.

You contribute actively in setting film appreciation workshops for film students. What would you comment on the film involvement of the present generation? What advice would you want to give them?

PKN: Well, they are good enough. But the problem I found they are not giving much importance for the classics. As we can see, present films are having lot of things which these classics used to have. There are lots to study from those films. You have to look around and want to react to it. Life is around you. Catch it and express it well to the viewers, then you can be a good filmmaker.

NFAI is now at a loss in all respects. What are the major reasons for this situation?

PKN: I am very upset to say that now the NFAI lacks a focussed authority. Collections are dwindling due to many reasons. A fine well-equipped hand can handle the issues. But unfortunately, there is nobody there to handle that well. 

You have written a lot of articles on films but you have never attempted to write a book of the NFAI. Do you have a plan for it?

PKN: Yes, my articles would be compiled and will be released as a book. The work is going on. I think it will come out soon.

Amathul Wardha
© FIPRESCI 2008

"Machan":
Colonisation's Children
By Vaibhav Vats

Machan deals with the pertinent issue of immigration in post-colonial societies. The inequalities of the world order coerced into existence by colonization remain unchanged, through economic exploitation of the former colonies. For the inhabitant of the developing world, also crushed and betrayed by corrupt, inept governance, the West is a dream of escape from the entrenched sphere of misery and deprivation.

In Machan, a group of desperate slum dwellers believe an invitation to a handball tournament in Bavaria to be their one-way ticket to the West and the prosperity that will solve all their problems. Director Uberto Pasolini uses the true story of 23 men who, in 2004, showed up in Germany claiming to be the Sri Lankan National Handball team. They fooled the German Embassy by forging signatures, got an invite to the tournament and boarded the plane with the intention of never returning.

What's most striking about Machan is how humour is employed to add to a discourse dealing with extremely serious issues. Pasolini is condemning the flawed immigration policies of the West which propagate a free movement of financial capital, but are extremely opposed to similar movement of human capital. Yet, Machan is never self-consciously serious or preachy, and this makes the film similar to Alfonso Cuaron's Y tu mama tambien which dealt with the changing realities of Mexico through the tale of two hormonally charged teenagers.

One of the strengths of Machan is Ruwanthie De Chickera's well-crafted screenplay. Even the peripheral characters are etched with caring and empathy, and there is hardly a line that feels awkward or pretentious. The shooting of Machan in outdoor locales lends an authenticity that complements the energy and swift pace of the narration. The performances of the cast, especially Dharmapriya Dias (Stanley) and Gihan De Chickera (Manoj), show a keen understanding of the hopes and aspirations of the subaltern.

In one of the early scenes in Machan, a friend warns Stanley that he will only remain a second-class citizen in the developed world. He points to his own tattered clothes and asks, "Is this first class, then?" Pasolini has made a funny, deeply moving film about the predicament of those who cannot stay and can never truly escape. 

Vaibhav Vats
© FIPRESCI 2008

An interview with Uberto Pasolini:
"It's Like Directing a Subtitled Film!"
By Ananya Dutta

Uberto Pasolini, the director of Machan (Sri Lanka), doesn't speak a word of Singhalese, but was still able to make a sensitive film about a significant issue in the lives of many Sri Lankans. "It was like directing a subtitled film," he says while acknowledging the enormous contribution of the production staff in resolving the issue. For Pasolini, the experience of making the film wasn't much different than watching a film in a foreign language. The words may not make sense to you, but the way they're said still conveys an emotion.

Since Pasolini's earlier productions have also dealt with serious issues tackled in a humorous way, he knew it was possible to execute this film as well, but once he'd worked on the script, he felt compelled to make the film on his own. That is how the directorial debut of an Italian settled in England happened to be about a fake Sri Lankan handball team.

Pasolini feels that there is something gravely wrong with the current attitude of the immigration policy of the West and felt that the incident of 23 members of the Sri Lankan handball team absconding from an international tournament in Germany would be an ideal pretext for articulating his opinion.

When making a film about Sri Lanka it is impossible to ignore the 25 years of civil war, but Pasolini felt that it wasn't possible for him to give it the kind of treatment it deserved. "I'd rather leave it to the excellent filmmakers in Sri Lanka like Prasanna Vithanage," says Pasolini. But there are subtle references to the issue in the film.

Pasolini is of the opinion that there have been films on the migration of people as refugees and about the lives of immigrants, legal or otherwise, in the West. That is why he chose instead to focus on the lives of people who want to migrate to the West for economic reasons.

Since the details about the real team are sketchy, Pasolini got a free hand in creating the background of every character. The makers of the film spent nine months researching the issue and the lives of the people in Sri Lanka, to create the diverse bunch in the film.

Pasolini adds that several moments in his film are a tribute to the cinema he has watched and enjoyed. In a certain way, for him, all the films he has made so far have been a retelling of the Italian classic Big Deal on Madonna Street (I Soliti Ignoti, 1958) by Mario Monicelli. Films including The Full Monty and his current venture use Big Deal on Madonna Streets's plot of a group of people collaborating on a common project. Monicelli's humorous treatment of a serious issue resonates in Pasolini's work. "These have been my influences," he concludes.

Ananya Dutta
© FIPRESCI 2008

"Postcards from Leningrad":
Much Awaited Postcards
By Sithara Vijayan

Guerrilla warfare and insurgency have scarred many a soul. Postcards from Leningrad (Postales de Leningrado), directed by Mariana Rondón, unfolds through the eyes of two little children, as they relive the memories of revolutionary life of their parents through their games.

Postcards from Leningrad is uniquely stylized, with the narration shifting back and forth several times as if someone were reciting the events from memory bit by bit. The film begins on a light note but gains rapid progression by highlighting the lives of the revolutionaries with innovative cross-cuttings. One comes across the dialectical analysis of the turbulent times of Latin America in the sixties. The repressive measures as depicted in the film show how the CIA is active in small nations, jeopardizing the usual flow of mountainous life.

The film is engaging in content and form. The visuals portraying guerrilla life contrast with the young voices of the children and their laughter. The children spend their days in a make-believe world, the only way they can remain with their parents.

Mainstream films have dealt with insurgent life and their wars, but Postcards from Leningrad is a refreshing experience for its unique treatment. The children, the two cousins, continue to receive postcards from their parents fighting at Leningrad. They await them knowing well that only postcards will come for them. Leningrad, they realize, is a place from where no dad or mom can ever return.

Sithara Vijayan
© FIPRESCI 2008

"Two-Legged Horse":
An Allegory of the Dominant and the Submissive
By Rima Mathew

Two-Legged Horse (Asbe du-pa, Iran) begins when a man arrives in a barren, filthy place somewhere in Afghanistan. He is in search of a boy to look after his son who lost both his legs in the war. He offers a dollar a day for the boy who can run like a cart horse carrying his son on his back. Among the hundreds of locals, Giah, mentally challenged but healthy, tall, and comfortable to lean on, is chosen to serve as the horse for the spoiled brat. Starting from the first sequence till the end, Samira Makhmalbaf boldly exposes before us an exaggerated account of dominance and serfdom. The boy washes his master, carries him to school, fights for him and even picks up stones for his master to throw at him.

On rare occasions, Giah resists the subjugation, as when he and his master argue about a beggar girl whom they both have fallen in love with. But he keeps returning to the barbaric castigation he suffers, unable to even think about a world of his own. Every morning, he comes out of his smouldering dwelling, an abandoned sewer pipe, turning more and more into a loyal and obedient horse. He is even rented out by his master, bridled and saddled like a packhorse. On the other hand, some of the most disturbing scenes — when the legless boy is left helplessly hanging in a swing, or crawling after Giah — illustrate the perverse interdependence between the master and his "horse."

Usually it's the tenderness and innocence of children that are highlighted in films on them. But Two-Legged Horse reveals the life of two more or less orphaned adolescents, one brutally dominating and exploiting the other — thus becoming a metaphor for the limits of human tolerance, and to what point human beings can be transformed. The juxtaposition of Giah being turned into a horse with shots of a colt and its mother, shows in powerful images the process of this transformation. Still, it must be admitted that the extreme violence of physical and mental torture shown in the film, such as close-ups of Giah's face and feet while horseshoes are being nailed on his feet, reaches a level that is hard for the viewer to endure. Also certain sequences, like the horse race, are superfluously stretched out.

Tolibhon Shakhidi's poignant music gradually raises the level of discomfort within us. The cinematography, capturing superbly the extreme barrenness and poverty of Afghanistan and the stunning performances of the non-professional actors make the film outstanding.

A Makhmalbaf Film House Production, the film raises important questions about the relation between political powers and individuals. The film makes a powerful statement about the way women are treated in Afghanistan. At one point, the master suggests that they simply share the woman they both are in love with. It is the "mentally retarded" Giah who is able to object that "she's not a bread to cut into halves for each of us" — whereas the so-called normal men in this society see nothing wrong with it. Two-Legged Horse is an unusual film which drags you into a profoundly disturbing world of trauma.

Rima Mathew
© FIPRESCI 2008

"The Law" (Tilai):
A Burkinabe Story
By Manish Golder

Idrissa Ouedraogo's award-winning film The Law (Tilai, 1990) is a tale of a family of Burkinabe villagers and how they negotiate the perplexities of family, kinship and tradition. 
 
Trudging through the arid and bare Burkinabe landscape, Saga (Rasmane Ouedraogo) arrives in his village, following a long hiatus, only to find that the woman, Nogma (Ina Cissé), promised to him, is now wedded to his father. Incensed, Saga decides to leave the village and builds a hut on the outskirts. Nogma and Saga commence an affair which is deemed incestuous by traditional law, a crime for which he faces death. His brother Kougri (Assane Ouedraogo) lets him live only to be his final slayer at the end of the film.

In Idrissa's timeless Burkina Faso, the code of honour is paramount. It transcends filial, paternal and maternal sensibilities — an absurdity emphasized by Saga's murder at his brother Kougri's hands. Long takes and vast empty spaces dwarf the characters — isolated by natural and social insularities. Abdullah Ibrahim's spare music syncs with the cinematic exposition of an inevitable descent into tragedy. The pure abjectness of love and longing finds expression in the minimalist but classical cinematic techniques employed by Idrissa. Saga and Nogma's love nest in a distant village fails to shelter them from calamity. Saga's father's righteous anger is the root of tragedy — it leads to the death of his son as well as Nogma's father Tenga.       

Rasmane imbues Saga with passion and a sense of humour — effective weapons of a rebellious generation. Assane makes Kougri a brooding and pensive mediator. The narrative approaches the climactic sequences with the grace of a loping run, significant in a land where men and women walk enormous lengths to reach one another, a land where interaction among strangers are brief and subsequent courtships are briefer.

Manish Golder
© FIPRESCI 2008

Looking Back at IFFK
By Swetha Antony

IFFK, this annual celebration of film images, is into its 13th edition this year. Where does it stand among other such festivals? What are its hopes and apprehensions? Snippets from a chat with Bina Paul Venugopal, the artistic director of the Festival.

As a film festival, where exactly do we stand now?

BPV: Basically ours is a small festival which is organised with a limited budget. Even the facilities in the theatres are not of international standards. These are limitations. Still it draws huge crowds because of the way it is organised; besides the films, there is an ambience here that draws international attention.

The people of Kerala are familiar with the world of international cinema, but how far has Malayalam cinema succeeded in reaching out?

BPV: I think Malayalam cinema has an ingenious history, a process of growth rooted in our own tradition. This year we did have many films from here. But the crowds are attracted to the films from outside, like Iran or Turkey. Indian films and Malayalam films fail to draw crowds here. Even new attempts are not received well by our own people.

What about the retrospective packages? Do they have enough depth so that the viewer is able get to know about a master?

BPV: Of course not… but it is very difficult to get copies of all the films. Last year, we found it difficult to showcase a filmmaker like Pedro Almodóvar, who has made several films. So, we are forced to show some of their works in the form of DVDs; even if the film prints are available, they do not have English subtitles. There is also financial constraint for increasing the numbers.

The last three years have seen an increase in the number of delegates. Has this affected the selection process of films?

BPV: We have to cater to all sections of people who come here. There are students who might be coming for the first time, people with different kinds of interest in films; all of them have to be considered. Besides films screened in the "World Cinema" section are expensive, and are limited to two screenings. Considering the fact that we have five shows in nine venues, it would be difficult if we compromise on the number of films. Even international festivals like Berlin screen around 300 films.

We are amidst a digital revolution of sorts. DVDs are easily available, we have several options to download films. Has this affected the festival in any way?

BPV: No. For one, I believe most people come here for the experience that the festival offers. Watching a film on the big screen is not the same as watching it at home in DVD format. I think those who love a particular film, can go and buy the DVDs. But it has not affected the festival in any way. What is special about a festival like this is the whole atmosphere that surrounds it. Viewing a film along with the directors and the crew, interacting with them etc are something only a festival can offer. Nothing else can beat that.

Swetha Antony
© FIPRESCI

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