CULTURE FESTS AND GOAN PUBLIC RESOURCES

The International Film Festival of India (IFFI), which concluded a few weeks ago, seems to have traveled a long way since 2004 when it was first held in Panjim. The Festival did not have either a smooth start or a smooth sailing over the years. It does not help matters that the Festival is marked every year by numerous side-shows along with the screening of films. The hectic last-minute preparations and the arguably extraneous events on the side have always caused logistical and organizational problems apart from seriously inconveniencing people living in or traveling to Panjim. It wouldn’t be too much to say that every IFFI sees the city hijacked by the festivities.

The problem with IFFI and Panjim is not unique. In fact the case is symptomatic of the way in which Goan resources are used, or overused, in order to host national and international galas. The success of such events should not be judged by the good or bad press they receive, but rather by how much these festivals can give back to Goans.

One needs to ask if the promotion of extraneous activities like music concerts, food streets, and other amusements right in the middle of the town promotes a ‘film culture’ in any way. If one consults older news reports it becomes evident that while the government of Goa and the organizers of IFFI claimed to be promoting ‘film culture’, the emphasis was rather placed on IFFI’s potential to bring in the tourists and developmental projects. In other words, IFFI was sold to Goans because it would help the tourism industry. The tourism industry and many of the culture fests think of Goa as a veritable carnival-provider. In fact, more often than not, the imagination of the culture fests in Goa gets trapped within the Goa-equals-fun-times clichés they operate in, thereby losing their intellectual and educational value.

Thus, right from the get-go, IFFI was wedded to the goals of the tourism industry. In fact, many argued that local and international members of the film world would be attracted in coming to Goa precisely because of its natural beauty and tourism-related infrastructure. As far as Goa is concerned, this is where the problem lies. Like mining, tourism is also an extractive industry; it puts pressure on public infrastructure if handled badly. One wonders why the Goa government and the organizers of IFFI, like the Entertainment Society of Goa and the Directorate of Film Festivals, prefer to add to the existing chaos.

One doesn’t understand why the organizers want to have more tourists given that the number of delegates is quite high. This year’s IFFI saw about 7500 delegates registering, a staggering number for a small city like Panjim to accommodate. Why can’t the Festival be more about an engagement with good cinema, and the residents as well as the traffic in Panjim spared the inconvenience and imposition of catering to the tourism industry on such a massive scale? The Festival wants to attract a crowd that has very little to do with films; a crying shame considering the 2016 edition had some very thought-provoking films. In fact, the tourist hoopla – food stalls, music programmes, and children’s activities – created such nasty traffic jams that many cinephiles missed the film shows.

Like literature festivals which have writers and artists in attendance, a film festival is also about the people who make films – writers, actors, directors, and technicians. IFFI 2016 was able to rope in many accomplished personalities renowned for their work internationally. These persons often conducted master classes and were available for interaction after their movie was screened. My impression is that most of these persons were willing to interact with anyone who was interested, young as well as old; sadly there were just a few to engage with the visitors.

Thus, the Festival – or any other such festivals – should be primarily a learning experience for all. Many young Goan filmmakers and cinephiles have written about their experiences that allow us to see the value of culture fests. These young Goans have written how being part of IFFI has allowed them to broaden their interests, expand their horizons, and be more engaged and interested in the happenings of the world. In other words, world cinema opened up the world to them! It is precisely because of such value that IFFI adds to the lives of young Goans that it would be worthwhile to have the festival, despite its numerous problems.

Many delegates at IFFI 2016 were of the opinion that this year’s edition was by far the best organized, and in many ways rightly so. However, the continued dependence on Goa’s tourism image to sell the Festival suggests that a lot needs to be done. Considering that the Festival has been around since 2004, 12 years is a lot of time to get one’s priorities right. And it is only by emphasizing on the learning potential of the Festival and its usefulness to the lives of young Goans (rather than the mindless carnival that is offered) that the Festival – indeed other such festivals – would be meaningful to the people, culture, and history of Goa.

(First published in O Heraldo, dt: 21 December, 2016)

KOREAN MOVIES ARE ABOUT THE “STRUGGLE TO SURVIVE”

Many in India have spent countless hours watching Korean films on YouTube – or at least have spent an excruciating amount of time ‘buffering’ Korean films. These films can be said to have a cult following in India; youth in the northeastern states of India thrive on Korean films and music. Therefore, a Korean director being honoured with a lifetime achievement award at the 47th IFFI, 2016 is an opportunity for many to get to know the people behind this prolific film industry, which has churned out classics like My Sassy Girl (2001), Old Boy (2003), and The Classic (2003) amongst others.

Im Kwon-Taek, the octogenarian who has directed over a hundred films has been awarded the IFFI Lifetime Achievement Award this year. Kwon-Taek is considered in South Korea as the “Father of Korean Cinema.” The global popularity and fan-following of Korean cinema owes its existence to the “New Korean Cinema” or “New Korean Wave” that produced commercially-driven films. Kwon-Taek is credited, along with a couple other directors, with founding this movement.

Kwon-Taek received critical acclaim in the 1980s, though he was making films even earlier. Films like Mandala (1981), The General’s Son I, II, & III (1990, 1991, 1992), and Soepyeonje (1993) are some of his well received films.

His influence cannot be denied. The tag of “Father of Korean Cinema” is very true, confirms Jong-Soo Kim, the New Delhi correspondent of Korean Broadcasting System, a media company. But for a man who has worked so much all his life and who is such an influential figure in Korean cinema, Kwon-Taek appears to be an unassuming man. He was kind enough to jot down the names of Indian movies like 3 Idiots and (and the not-so Indian) Slumdog Millionaire to respond to the obvious questions by reporters. He repeated several times that he is ashamed and embarrassed about some of the “immature” films he has made – especially during his formative “immature” days. The lifetime award is an indication, he says, to make more movies.

While the commercially-driven Korean New Wave movement has reached a global audience, boosting the Korean economy and tourism along the way, one is curious as to what these films can tell us about Korean culture. One of the most defining features of Korean films is the ‘twist’ to the story; the unexpected and unimaginable ‘twist’ that Korean filmmakers have been able to add to even the most simple of love stories, for instance. Is this ‘twist’ connected in any way to Korean culture?

Jong-Soo Kim explains, “There is an old Korean saying, ‘You have to listen till the end of the story’.” There seems to be a cultural requirement that the stories Koreans tell – even the most mundane ones – should have a twist at the end. “No twists, no fun,” Jong-Soo Kim states very simply. Korean people want their stories to be ‘fun’ and the ‘twists’ make their stories fun.

What makes Korean films (including K-POP music) so popular? Jong-Soo Kim explains that the films and music is made in a uniquely Korean style that he calls ‘Korean Dynamic Style’. It is the way the Korean artists dress, dance, and generally perform. Korean Dynamic Style is also the manner in which the sets and settings are composed in the Korean movies, he elaborates.

But Korean films are also a serious engagement with the culture and history of Korea. Many of Kwon-Taek’s films are about depicting the traditional culture; a culture that the Korean youth are rapidly moving away from. “You can learn about politics, sociology, or why our youngsters struggle in South Korea today from our films,” says Jong-Soo Kim.

Ultimately Korean films are about how Koreans “struggle to survive” in the world. This is how Jong-Soo Kim sums up the spirit of one of the largest filmmaking industries in the world, which earns over 50 million dollars annually from its domestic films.

(A version of this article was first published in The Peacock, 21 November, 2016) 

GOAN DIRECTORS ON ‘GOAN’ FILMS

Writing for the Open magazine in 2011, Ajit Duara lamented that “Goa…never had a reliable recorder of its history, at least in cinema.” Bollywood depictions, he further explained have been responsible – despite few good movies on Goa – for the lack of serious engagements with Goa’s history and culture. From the time such an assertion was made, it seems that the dearth of both filmmakers and serious engagements are gaps that are being slowly filled. However, it would be erroneous to think that before the present crop of filmmakers there were no films made about Goa and Goans. Indeed, the decades from the 1950s saw a few films like Amchem Noxib (1963, Our Fate) and Nirmonn (1966, Destiny) being produced, which today are considered as classics in Goan cinema.

And if there is a growing bunch of Goan filmmakers making unique movies that have a deep appeal amongst the Goan populace, what are the conceptual and intellectual issues that Goan directors face? In other words, what makes a film ‘Goan,’ assuming that there is a thing like a ‘Goan’ film? “Honesty,” emphasizes Bardroy Barretto, the director of the much-loved Nachom-ia Kumpasar (Let’s dance to the Rhythm). Barretto’s labor of love brought alive the jazz scene in Bombay, and the immense contribution of Goan musicians in fuelling that industry, including Bollywood music. Barretto feels that the cinematic language of Goan films is “trying to be Bollywood,” thereby suggesting that it needs to move in a different direction. He explains that the honesty in the story comes in the form of having “enough subtext of Goa” in the form of the level of detailing done by the filmmaker. By taking care in developing the character – such as the spoken language used in the dialogues – makes the film authentic to the culture, Barretto feels, for it is “only then that the film is worth for other audiences.”

“I don’t know if films can be constrained within regions,” says Dnyanesh Moghe, director of the film Digant (Boundless). Moghe is not interested in labels, it seems. He reasons that the problems that he depicts in his work – those of identity, freedom, the suppression of self-expression, and spiritual problems are universal. Like the title of his film, Moghe also sees himself as boundless: “I am a global citizen. I don’t believe in nationality, though I am an Indian.” Of course, Moghe does not deny the influence of Goa in the creative process. But he emphasizes that it is only incidental: “Stories come to me from my surrounding, which is Goa.”

Laxmikant Shetgaonkar, director of the critically acclaimed Paltadcho Munis (The Man Beyond the Bridge), feels very strongly that “language” is more important in understanding the categorization of films. “There is nothing called ‘Goan’ cinema,” he asserts, “there is either Marathi, Konkani, or Malayalam cinema.” Rajendra Talak feels that Goan cinema – or “regional films,” according to him – “highlights issues connected to Goa. They depict the culture of Goa.” All his three films Aleesha, Antarnaad, and O Maria focused on the problems of the mining industry, music practiced by two generations within a single family, and the property and land disputes respectively. In fact Dharmanand Vernekar, another Goan director feels the same that Goan films depict the issues that come along with “Goenkarponn – the Goan identity.” “Good cinema,” he says, “should portray what is happening in society. It cannot simply be fiction.”

While we can see a difference of opinion on the topic of what makes a film ‘Goan,’ many of the Goan filmmakers interviewed feel that movies sacrifice much to the altar of commerce. As Goan filmmakers there is also the implicit responsibility of exploring the authentic lives and culture of the people of the land. For instance, many of the new movies released in Goa have an aesthetic drawing upon the Christian-inflected culture of Goa, indeed set in Christian cultural milieus; churches and wayside crosses, therefore, are not just religious marker but also markers of culture featured prominently in films. This is significant as much of the cinematic portrayal of Goa imagines this state as influenced by Southern European and Christian culture. Such a process can be seen, no doubt, in the countless Bollywood films set in Goa, but this appears to be a different process. Filmmakers in Goa are drawing on the popularity tiatr artists, a Konkani art form that draws on, and is set in a Christian cultural milieu. “I agree that there is a pattern,” says Shetgaonkar, wherein the films that are popular draw on Christian cultural markers and those that don’t do not find throngs of crowd watching the films twice or thrice.

Barretto, Shetgaonkar, and Moghe all agree that commercial concerns dominate in such creative choices. “We have stopped looking at films as an art-form. Films are like commodities to be bought and sold.” Practical and pressing compulsions like financing the film, necessitates compromises, says Moghe. Barretto, Shetgaonkar, and Moghe feel that such a creative choice of either prominently using tiatr artists or Christian culture has nothing much to do with the fact that Goa’s encounter with the Christian religion and the culture that it spawned over the centuries.

It is interesting to note, in this context, Moghe insisting that the story needs to be told with “honesty”. The Goan directors feel that Goan filmmakers have the potential to deliver stories that are authentic to the culture – provided that there is a fidelity to the nuances of the story. They feel that the difficulties the filmmaking industry presently faces will go away through a refinement of the creative process. 

(A version of this article was first published in The Peacock, 20 November, 2016)