The Short Fictional Journey - Part 1
(My foray into the short fiction format)
The short fiction
movie format, like the short story its counterpart in literature, is a very
powerful mode of expression; and a tricky one too. The maker will have to be precise,
the luxury of meandering or dwelling on multiple aspects of the subject matter
does not arise, the extra detailing might have to be cut off; and many a times like
in a typical O. Henry style, a twist in the end is what is longed for. Mention
the word short film and the 1962 black and white film from The Netherlands 'Big
City Blues' directed by Charles Huguenot Vander Linden, the 1964 French movie
'An Incident at Owl Creek' directed by Robert Enrico or Julian Bigg's Canadian
film '23 Skidoo', immediately pops up in one's mind. So, do the films of the
Dutch film maker Bert Haanstra or the one and only Norman McLaren, the prolific
Canadian short film maker.
But
the short format, like the documentary genre of movie making, is always the
bridesmaid and not the bride. These films are normally shown before the main feature
length fiction movies. Once a director makes a feature length fiction film, a re look at the shorter format is hardly the norm for him / her. Normally, we see
a Andrei Tarkovsky short,
a Satyajit Ray short or a Roman Polanski short mainly because we have first
seen their feature length films and now want to grasp their graph that lead to
the longer format. There is hardly a 'market' for short fiction films.
Worldwide, only a few organizations like the National Film Board of Canada
funds and promotes such movies. Even in the Indian National Awards ceremony,
the short film awardees are always seated in the last rows behind the longer
films awardees!!! And yes, graduation films in film schools are most often
shorts.
'Gotala',
was my graduation film at the Film & TV Institute of India - a film school
situated in Pune, Maharashtra. Three years in this school had got me roasted by
freedom, liberty, European cinema, Louis Bunuel, G. Aravindan and Natyashastra.
'Gotala' was a culmination was all these. Briefly, the film was about Lord
Krishna coming down to earth through a film poster to woe a married woman and
take her back to the heavens, leaving behind a distraught husband and a puzzled
group of rigid secretive religious fundamentalists called 'Pandurangists' who seem
to be in a perennial state of waiting for a glimpse of their beloved lord.
The
year was 1990. It was a time when the Shiv Sena, a political party in Maharashtra, had already identified itself with the 'Hindutva' agenda, leaving
behind its anti South Indian plank. The shift had enabled it to form a
government in Maharashtra from 1995-1999. Three years of my childhood was spent
in Mumbai, earlier called Bombay, in the early seventies. That was when the Shiv
Sena's earlier avatar was almost at its peak. I still remember the expression
on my father's face, as he often narrated stories on how he and his South
Indian office colleagues escaped the wrath of the violent anti-south Indian
protesters. Two years after 'Gotala' was made, the Babri mosque in Ayodya was
demolished by a frenzied mob - some would say in a systematic way; and the
subsequent Mumbai riots occurred - the Sreekrishna Committee report indicted
the Sena Sena for its role in the later.
Niraj Sah, Manisha Kamath in 'Gotala
None
of these super serious elements are or were supposed to be reflected in 'Gotala'. The highly motivated
group of fundamentalists in the film are planning a major secretive operation for
which they wait to seek for an appointment from Lord Krishna, who unfortunately
for them, is more interested in romancing with a bored earthly housewife. It
was a surreal story that bordered on parody and the burlesque. So, I decided
not to shoot the film on real locations, instead decided to build a surreal set
in one of the studios at FTII.
Central
to this set was a wide road. On one side of the road at one end was a house
which just had a door and no walls. Opposite it was a stall that sold
cigarettes and paan, near which the ancient poet and saint Sant Tukaram sat and
prayed piously to Lord Krishna. By the side of the other end of the road were
the waiting 'Pandurangists', sitting on a few steps that led to nowhere. That
side of the road ended with a painted perspective ridden scenery of the theatrical kind - it had a picture that seemed to suggest the extension of the road set. All events
in the film - happening in the episodic but non-dramatic narrative structure - occurred
on and around this road.
The
30 minute film was shot in black and white 35mm film stock. We had an option to
shoot in colour, but it would have had to be in 16mm stock and for twenty
minutes. Thanks to classmate Rajiv Katiyal, I got two National School of Drama
graduates to act in my film, Niraj Sah and the late Nirmal Pandey. A day before
the shoot, Nirmal even composed a multi-lingual post-modern song for the film
extolling the virtues of their beloved lord that which was to be used as an
anthem for the 'Pandurangists'. In the end of the film Lord Krishna goes back
to the film poster along with the lady he romances with. The poster takes off
to the skies, on to space where an astronaut is amazed to see it. Will immense
help from my cameraman Mathialagan in executing the special effects, it was fun
recreating the outer space within the walls of the studios.
The
film was sent to the Second Mumbai Short Film Festival, as the Mumbai
International Film Festival for Shorts and Documentaries was called then. It
was not even sent for the statutory certification process, as the authorities
in FTII were apprehensive of the 'sensitive' subject. If I were to make this
film in present times, I would have probably been lynched by now - the times
that we live in. For quite some time, I did possess a VHS copy of the film, but
fungus on the tape had made the cassette unwatchable. Despite all these years,
the FTII has not yet digitized many of their graduation film including this
film, which is officially my first short fiction.
Technically,
my first short film was an eight minutes one that I had called 'Happy
Birthday'. The film happened when I was still studying in college in Udupi, in
the early part of 1980s. By then I had attended a few film appreciation courses
in Karnataka led by Satish Bahadhur and Girish Kasaravalli and had thus decided
that I too can make films - that is when a friend promised to lend me his rare imported
VHS camera that his Dubai stationed father had gifted. I wrote the script, for
whatever worth it was and formed a team. Before the shooting, we hunted out for
a marriage video editor and asked him if he could edit the film for us. He
suggested that we shoot the film in a scripting chronological order so that the
film gets edited on camera itself. My cousin Ravi and his neighbor Prasad were
my partners in crime, apart from Ziyad, the camera owner.
Location for 'Happy Birthday' |
The
apparent story was about a priest - working in a different town - who comes
back home on his young son's birthday only to find him dead. Later on, police
investigation reveals that the priest himself is the murderer - the motivation
for which is not clear to me to this date. After the completion of the shooting
Ziyad, if I remember well, on his own took the on-camera edited film to the
same marriage video editor whom we had seen during our pre-shooting days. The
editor volunteered to insert some 'suspense' and 'sad' sounding music happily taken
from mainstream movies whose VHS copies he had in his collection. I was very
upset with the choice of the music, but the technologists had their say, that
day. Fortunately, no copy of the film exists. If it did, the world would have known
that the traditional 'priest' had uncharacteristically worn a posh saturated
red coloured T-Shirt, a brand new jeans pant; and had horned a huge flashy
goggle - all borrowed from Ziyad's
personal collection.
Immediately
after graduating from FTII, I had sub-produced and directed a few 'stories' for
the T.V. cultural magazine called 'Surabhi'. From the leftover money, I
purchased some 16 mm film raw stock and decided to make a short film. The
resultant was a five minute short called the 'The Hot Shot'. I went to Poona
and based myself within the secure confines of the FTII campus and started
working on the production. Film school classmates Manoj Nair and Gauri
Patwardhan too decided to make their own short films. Manoj was still in the
campus and Gauri was based in Pune. Those days, one had to get a permission
letter from 'The Indian Documentary Producer's Association' for the purchase of
film stock. By then I had become one. So, I took permission for the raw stock
purchase of the other two films too.
We
hired a 16 mm camera from National Film Development Corporation (NFDC) Mumbai
and completed our shooting one after another. My production manager for the
'Surabhi' shooting Sirish Joshi volunteered to execute this film too. He
brought in a very talented Marathi stage actor Vinay Edekar. Sirish also
arranged for the interiors of a house in Pune. Classmate Jogendra Panda agreed
to do the camerawork. He had just finished shooting his graduation film and was
thus willing. Post shooting, a super senior from the Institute Chandita
Mukerjee through her Comet Foundation was kind enough to let us use her editing
faculties and thanks to yet another senior working in the film industry Padmanabhan
'Paddy' we completed our sound mix at Aradhana studios. When we saw our films
in the Adlabs preview theaters, we were sure that we had become 'independent'
short film makers.
Vinay Edekar in 'The Hot Shot' |
'The Hot Shot' was about an office going blue collared guy who finds a still camera in front of his house. He clicks some photos and pins them on to his board at home. As he satisfactorily watches them, on the beat of gun sounds mysterious holes appear on the photos - on all of them except the one which has a washerwoman in it. Glad that at least one is intact, he goes back to the washerwoman, clicks many photos of hers and comes back home to pin them on his board. Just when he is satisfied that all is well, the mysterious holes appear on these photos too. Disappointed, he puts the lens cap on and clicks a photo. The resultant blank photo is pinned on to the board. He expects the holes to appear on it. It doesn't. So, happily he starts clicking black photos. More and more of them appear on the board.
The
film had no dialogues and only music. Holes appearing on the photographs all by
themselves was a very unrealistic thing to attempt, in fact it was 'Bunuelistically'
surreal. And normally films deal with relationships between people. Here we had
a relationship between a man and his camera. I was dealing with the absurdity
of process of art. Many times wacky ideas need uncanny forms. It worked, the
film went to the Second Bombay Short film festival, Dhaka Short Film Festival
and a couple other Indian film festivals. 'The Hot Shot' was made with the
leftover money from the TV work that I had done. The idea was that I'll follow
the same production and funding pattern in the later years to make more short
fiction films. But that simply did not happen.
It
took almost twelve years for me to make my next short film of the fiction kind.
(To be continued...)
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