|
Garma
Garam More
|
Art |
|
Hundred Years of Cinema in India By Jaya Ramanathan K. L. Saigal and Jamuna in 'Devdas' (1935)
For most Indians, cinema is integral to their lives; it is not a distant, two to three hour distraction, but a vicarious lifestyle for them. The large screen provides an alternative, an escape from the realities of day-to-day life. The protagonists are totally identified with, the hero is applauded, the virtuous is worshipped and the villain is condemned. The actors and actresses are household names; there is no escaping their omnipresence, from the Paanwala (betel vendor) to the most revered Indian painter - they are all caught up with the magnetism of screen personalities. A study of the vicissitudes of Indian cinema would throw light on the progress of technology, especially cinematography, and the changing political scene and social mores and attitudes. The silent films launched by Phalke, which had titles in English, Gujarati, Hindi and Urdu, by and large related to myths and legends. The stories were familiar to the audience and required minimum commentary. Historicals also proved very popular; Harsh, Chandragupta, Ashoka and the Mughal and Maratha kings strode the silver screen amidst cardboard pillars and in tinsel costumes. Strangely enough, while in the nineties we are still arguing over whether or not 'kissing' should be shown on screen, in the first decade of Indian cinema, with the British paying scant attention to censorship except when the Establishment was attacked in any way; leading heroines of the day kissed their leading men without inhibitions, like Lalita Pawar in Pati Bhakti (1922)! With the advent of Gandhiji came the plea for according a better status to women, the removal of untouchability and a cry for religious harmony. The silent era of Hiralal Sen, Baburao Painter and R. Nataraja Mudaliar came to an end when Adershir M. Irani produced his first talkie, Alam Ara in 1931. If Phalke was the father of Indian cinema, Irani was the father of the talkie. The classic Hollywood musical Singing in the Rain exemplifies the cynicism with which people first regarded the talking movie and this holds good for India too. There were too many gargantuan problems to be tackled; there were no dialogue writers, no lyricists; songs had to be sung during the filming as prerecording facilities were yet unknown. Minimum instruments were used as the instrumentalists had to be camouflaged behind the singer. A quaint story goes that during the filming of a song the actress was getting agitated as the tabla beat was too fast. Finally the shooting had to be stopped and a hapless tabla player was pulled out of the pool where he had been hidden. "What can I do," he cried, "a fish got into my dhoti (loin cloth)". But the talking film had come to stay. Considering that even the silent film had a preponderance of songs, the talkie came to be more of a single; the heroes and heroines sang their way through the three-four hour movie. Histrionics and appearances counted less; a singing talent was all that mattered. To this day the Indian film song has a unique thrall. The music director, the song writer and the playback singers have an unparalleled status in India's cinema. If Bombay was the hub of early cinema the other centres were not far behind; Calcutta and Madras with their own patriarchs were also making path-breaking films. Chandidas a film glorifying the Bhakti movement and castigating casteism, directed by Debaki Bose in 1932 for New Theatres, was lauded for its use of background music and dramatic narrative. K. Subrahmanyam's Thyaga Bhoomi (1939) and Seva Sadan both advocated women's rights and self-dependence. Seva Sadan also introduced to the world through the silver screen, the great singer M.S. Subbalakshmi, who came to be immortalised for her role in and as the poet-saint Meera both in Hindi and Tamil. While it is almost impossible to even list all the luminaries of Indian cinema over ten decades, the Wadia Brothers deserve special mention, before going into the different genres. JBH and Homi Wadia were the forerunners of the stunt film - the thirties was a period in Indian cinema when 'Wadia' and 'Nadia' were synonymous. Australian by birth, Mary Evans came to India with a dance troupe. She was asked to do a number for JBH's Noor-e-Yman; she changed her name to Nadia. "Besides being a lucky name, it rhymes with Wadia", she is reported to have said, and through various circumstances she became stunt actress for the Wadias, earning the sobriquet "Fearless Nadia". The Wadias had a fixation for trains and made a number of films titled, Toofan Mail, Flying Ranee, Punjab Mail and so on. Nadia got so used to sitting on roof top of trains for her stunts that she became reluctant to step off and even demanded her lunch be sent up! The true stunt woman, she grappled with a lion, did the trapeze, carried a calf and a man over running trains - it is unlikely there could ever be another actress like Nadia. She married Homi in 1960, and breathed her last recently. David with child actors in 'Boot Polish'
|
When
the
Lumiere
Brothers'
first
films
were
shown
at
Bombay's
Watson's
Hotel
in
1895
or
when
Dadasaheb
Phalke
released
his
epochal
feature
film
Raja
Harischandra
in
1913,
it
is
unlikely
that
either
the
exhibitors
or
the
pioneer
film
maker
realised
they
were
unleashing
a
mass
entertainment
medium
that
would
hold
millions
in
sway
for
the
next
hundred
years;
that
they
were
spawning
an
industry
that
in
years
to
come
would
overtake
the
rest
of
the
world
in
film
production!
The
forties
was
a
tumultuous
decade;
the
first
half
was
ravaged
by
war
and
the
second
saw
drastic
political
changes
all
over
the
world.
Film-makers
delved
into
contemporary
themes.
V.
Shantaram,
the
doyen
of
lyrical
films,
made
Dr.
Kotnis
Ki
Amar
Kahani
-
a
tribute
to
Dr.
Dwaraknath
Kotnis
who
went
out
with
a
medical
team
to
China
and
died
there.
Shantaram's
other
films
were
reformist
but
visually
appealing,
like,
Do
Aankhen
Barah
Haath,
Pinjra,
Chaani.
But
there
were
films
where
pure
artistic
merit
supersedes
social
message
as
in
Jhanak
Jhanak
Payal
Baaje
and
Geet
Gaya
Pattharon
Ne.
South
Indian
films
also
gained
great
footing.
AVM
and
Gemini
were
two
of
the
most
prolific
producers
turning
out
social
drama
in
the
South
Indian
languages
as
well
as
in
Hindi.
While
the
thespian
actor
Shivaji
Ganesan
delivered
mind
boggling
soliloquies
on
screen,
many
of
the
politically
inclined
writers
and
actors
of
the
south
Indian
screen
began
to
use
the
medium
for
reaching
out
to
people.
The
DMK
stalwarts,
Annadurai,
Karunanidhi
and
MG
Ramachandran
did
not
even
resort
to
subtlety.
"Naan
anaittal
adu
nadandu
vital..."
sang
MGR,
(if
I
could
be
the
decision
maker,
the
poor
of
this
world
will
not
suffer....").
The
very
titles
of
the
films
were
chosen
with
care;
Rickshakaran
(Rickshaw
Driver),
Muttukara
Velan
(cowherd
Velan)
and
En
Kadamai
(my
duty)
to
convey
his
identification
with
the
masses.
No
wonder
he
was
hailed
Makkal
Thilagam
(gem
amongst
people).
Just
how
effective
was
the
use
of
the
medium
was
amply
proved
with
the
party
coming
to
power
and
MGR
getting
voted
Chief
Minister
of
the
state.