Indeed, the Films Division of India, set up in 1948, and its counter parts in Pakistan, the Department of Films and Publication and Bangladesh’s department of the same name, Sri Lanka’s Government Film Unit – all set up in the year immediately following each of these country’s Independence, made the purpose all too clear. Propaganda, funded and driven by the government, was taken to its cinematic height in 1930s Germany by Leni Riefenstahl’s Hitler iconography during the Berlin Olympics in 1936. While Southasian rulers never did commission grandiose projects such as those, early documentaries tended to be prescriptive and certainly, lacking in the technical brilliance Riefenstahl’s work reluctantly inspires, despite the discomfort and outright revulsion of the subject matter – the glorification of Aryan supremacy – engenders in those viewers who refuse to get mesmerised.
It has taken about six decades for Southasian non-fiction cinema to reach a comparable level of artistry. The craft of film-making has, all too often, been sacrificed at the altar of subject matter, with commendable topics justifying poor cinematic handling. After all, goes the argument, if one is committed to eradicating poverty, stopping human rights violations, enhancing women’s rights and ending child labour, a little out-of-focus footage, bad editing and monotonous interviews are par for the course. What a departure, though, from the grand tradition of Dadasaheb Phalke, considered the “father of Indian cinema” who almost a century ago, made a two-minute film “The Growth of a Pea Plant”, documenting, with an imported camera, the humble pea’s growth for about a month and a half. That 1911 short film, proved that audiences were ready to experience the quirkiness of daily life, if the cinematic presentation was interesting enough. Not all documentary filmmakers, though, were as visionary as Phalke.
The non-fiction film categories are more often than not, very similar to print stories and news features. Campaigns and movements for social justice, human rights or the environment, profiles and recreating events, investigating half-buried truths, exposing little-known facts is what has preoccupied documentary film makers of the region. In the 1980s, propaganda by the government gave way to propaganda by donor agencies eager to document their good works for posterity. However, notwithstanding the money available for ‘development’ films, politics and anti-establishment stances defined the landscape. Telling stories of the marginalised, bringing to light the plight of the down trodden – this is the stuff of documentaries in the latter half of the 20th century. Scant wonder then, that many of these documentaries were vulnerable to censorship. For, if an untold story is revealed, especially visually, there must have been reasons for it to have lain buried all that time. The attempt to muzzle these films is equally unsurprising. Anand Patwardhan’s 1978 classic Prisoners of Conscience on the condition of political prisoners in India before, during and after the Emergency; following close on the heels of Utpalendu Chakraborty’s Mukti Chai (1977) about the long-standing lack of civil liberties and Gautam Ghose’s Hungry Autumn (1974) about the West Bengal famine that year, were all subject to censorship. An Indian Story, 1981, Tapan Bose and Suhasini Mulay’s hard-hitting investigative film about the ghastly Bhagalpur blindings, clearly showed the culpability of the police who had blinded 34 under trial prisoners. These films were shown to a larger audience and on television only after court intervention following long legal battles.
More recently, Shubhradeep Chakravorty’s 2007, Encountered on Saffron Agenda? (to be screened at FSA 09) which explores the murky business of ‘fake encounters’ in Gujarat carries on the tradition of hard-hitting documentaries. Protests by Hindu fundamentalist groups against the screening in many parts of India, in fact drove home the links between Narendra Modi’s government and the staged ‘encounters’. The recent (September 8) magisterial inquiry report indicting the policemen responsible for the cold-blooded murder of Mumbai teenager Ishrat Jahan, points further to collusion by the State government. Rajesh Jala’s Children of the Pyre (to be screened at FSA 09) is a forceful narrative of the lives of children in Benaras’ Manikarnika Ghat, with some horrific scenes barely making it through the censors. Korean filmmaker Yi Seung-jun’s compelling 2008 Children of God ( also to be screened at FSA 09), which brings alive the spirit of children who make their living among the dead at Aryaghat on the banks of the Bagmati, has similarly disturbing visuals.
Documentary films in other countries of South Asia have also long had a contentious relationship with their Censor Boards. Mushtaq Gazdar’s classics They are Killing the Horse (1978) and Ten Days of Lamentation (1981) made under martial law imposed by Gen Zia ul-Haq, are powerful social commentaries, using metaphorical imagery to comment about sensitive socio-political issues. Across in Bangladesh, Tareque Masud’s 2002 Matir Moina (The Clay Bird), which talked about his own experience in madarassas, was initially banned on the grounds that it would hurt religious sentiments.
Yet, the very act of censorship has strengthened film-makers across the region, for, an attempt to silence is proof that the film has something important to reveal. And these stories are being told with increasing finesse. The overtly political apart, even “fun” films can attract the ire of censors of all kinds. Bahareh Hosseini’s ‘Afghan Girls can Kick’ (2007), (to be screened at FSA 09) about the first-even female football team in Afghanistan, cannot be screened in the country due to threats from religious extremists.
But it is not only the dramatic that makes an impression. Film South Asia, the pioneering documentary film festival that showcases non-fiction films about and from the region, has come of age in its 12 years of existence. In this year’s FSA, documentaries from and about small-town India, tell poignant stories of aspiration and courage. Pankaj Rishi Kumar’s ‘Punches and Ponytails’ (2008) which explores the life of female boxers, is a touching tale of vulnerability of two young women in a highly competitive and violent sport. Likewise, Faiza Ahmad Khan’s ‘Supermen of Malegaon’ (2008) is a hilarious tale of making Hollywood spoofs on a low-budget; while ‘Out of Thin Air’ by Samreen Farooqui is another superbly told tale of Ladakh’s fledgling film industry. From in depth and sensitive glimpses into the lives of migrant workers, in Kesang Tseten’s In Search of the Riyal, to Ben and Cosmo Campbell’s The Way of the Road, which provides a sneak peek into life after a road comes to Rasuwa, films made in 2009 capture real concerns of ordinary Nepalis.
Eclectic subjects and finely crafted films, many embodying visual poetry, and elegiac, hunting music, are proof that documentary film-makers, though cash strapped, are not all succumbing to churning out donor driven ‘development’ films limited to show-casing particular projects or pet topics like HIV/AIDS or the girl child. Fortunately for the discerning audience, stimulating documentaries that are as gripping as they are entertaining are increasingly dominating the screen.
Laxmi Murthy is Associate Editor, Himal Southasian Magazine, co-organiser of Film South Asia 09 (17-20 September)
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