Showing posts with label Nagraj Manjule. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nagraj Manjule. Show all posts

Sunday, June 26, 2016

LESSONS FROM THITHI, SAIRAT & NIL BATTEY SANNATA / PUBLISHED IN THE HINDU BUSINESSLINE

What Viewers Want

A slow but steady trickle of low-budget, high-quality independent films is finding a space in mainstream theatres across India against all odds – and making money

By Anna MM Vetticad


In the midst of the hype surrounding big-budget Hindi ventures such as Airlift, Fan and Housefull 3, you may not have noticed that little Nil Battey Sannata just completed a nine-week run in some cities. Ashwiny Iyer Tiwari’s directorial debut starring Swara Bhaskar, Pankaj Tripathi and Ratna Pathak Shah survived this long despite virtually no marketing. This story about a housemaid who is determined to give her daughter an education and ambition, triumphed almost entirely on the strength of rave reviews from professional critics and positive word of mouth from the audience since its release on April 22.

Several worlds away from the Agra setting of Nil Battey Sannata is the village where Nagraj Manjule’s Sairat unfolds. A Marathi film on love across caste barriers in rural Maharashtra, it was made, reportedly, on a budget of Rs 4 crore, released all India on April 29, is still going strong in theatres and with over Rs 80 crore already in its kitty from domestic turnstiles according to press reports, is among the year’s highest earning Indian films so far.


As Sairat forges ahead, the Kannada film Thithi – directed by debutant Raam Reddy – has completed seven weeks in Karnataka theatres and has been wending its way across the country. Thithi released in its home state in early May, and hit major urban centres in the rest of India on June 3 armed with strong social-media endorsements from non-Kannada film stalwarts such as Aamir Khan and Anurag Kashyap.

The availability of halls for these films and their box-office fortunes spell happy news for independent and/or small filmmakers. Clearly, a sufficiently significant pan-India viewership is interested in languages other than their own mother tongues and in the experimental winds blowing through the indie circuit across states.

Take Thithi, for instance. Who would have thought that a chronicle of the 11 days following an impoverished, senile villager’s death could result in a whimsical, tragi-comic, sensitively handled social satire? Yet, that is what Reddy’s film turns out to be, as it follows the old man’s family in the run-up to the expensive post-cremation ceremony they are compelled to perform despite the dire economic straits they are in.

This is not the kind of film that invites raucous laughter of the sort evoked by British filmmaker Frank Oz’s Death at a Funeral. Such a comedic tone would in all likelihood have been out of place considering the circumstances of the Kannada film’s protagonists. It makes sense then that Thithi is a quieter, slower film. Part of its charm lies in the fact that it does not fall into the lazy trap of romanticising poverty to evoke sympathy or being condescending towards rural India and caricaturing its inhabitants to tickle the funny bone. The other allure of the gently amusing narrative comes from the cast of non-professional actors who look and perform as if they have walked out of their real-life stories and on to the screen to simply be who they are.

Come to think of it, that is precisely what they have done. Reddy has told the press he cast his three leads – real-life residents of the Karnataka village Nodekoppalu in which the story is set – before he co-wrote the story with his colleague Eregowda who happens to belong to the place; that they observed the trio and life in Nodekoppalu prior to devising the script.

The result of his desire to dip into the real world is a smorgasbord of delightful actors – all from Nodekoppalu – and acutely observed characters. The starting block of this bitter-sweet tale is the cranky Century Gowda (played by Singrigowda), who dies at the age of 101. His uncaring, unworldly offspring Gadappa (Channegowda) wanders aimlessly around the village, showering affection on no one and nothing but his brandy and beedis. Gadappa’s financially desperate son Thamanna (Thammegowda S) wants the family property transferred in his name. The fourth generation in the picture is Thamanna’s horny son Abhi (Abhishek SN) lusting after a pretty and strong-willed shepherdess.

Despite its rootedness in Nodekoppalu, Thithi is blessed with a universality that has won hearts across the world through its seemingly simple yet complex plot and unexpected sense of humour. Last year Thithi won awards at the Locarno International Film Festival, Mumbai, Marrakech and Palm Springs. It scooped up awards in India and abroad this year too, topping it off with the National Award for 2015’s Best Kannada Film.

None of this should in any way suggest that the trials of small-budget independent cinematic ventures in India are over. Far from it. Most still struggle to make the journey from the film festival circuit to a theatrical release. Those that manage to come to theatres have a tough time getting good time slots in prime venues. Big corporates that sometimes pick them up for distribution barely promote them. And barring some individuals, the supposedly ‘national’ mainstream news media based in Delhi and Mumbai – read: the English language media headquartered in these cities – are notoriously indifferent to all Indian cinemas other than Hindi, which serves as a double whammy for non-Hindi indies.

The simultaneous success of the likes of Sairat, Thithi and Nil Battey Sannata this year is a pointed reminder to the media, distributors and theatre owners that they have completely underestimated audience interest in small and/or indie films across languages. Moral of the story: never assume – without checking – what readers and viewers (do not) want.

 (This article was first published in The Hindu Businessline on June 25, 2016)

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Previous instalment of Film Fatale: The Diary of a Frustrated Indian Film Buff


Related article by Anna M.M. Vetticad:

Interview with Pankaj Tripathi: “Modi is the traditional Hindustani hero, Kejriwal is the common man”


Photo captions: Stills/posters from (1) Thithi (2) Sairat (3) Nil Battey Sannata

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Sunday, May 22, 2016

SUBTITLING & DUBBING IN INDIAN CINEMA / PUBLISHED IN THE HINDU BUSINESSLINE

The Diary of a Frustrated Indian Film Buff

Hollywood has tapped India’s non-English viewers for years, but domestic industries remain half-hearted in their bid to reach viewers outside their home states

By Anna MM Vetticad


This is not so much a column as it is the diary of a frustrated, furious Indian film buff.

March 2016: I note that Marathi director Nagraj Manjule’s Sairat will be in theatres in April. The wait for his second film began the day his first – the much-acclaimed inter-caste relationship saga, Fandry – was released in 2014.

April 29: Sairat is here and as usual, booking websites and newspaper listings do not specify whether it has subtitles. I do what most viewers clearly cannot – I phone Manjule, who confirms it has English subs everywhere outside Maharashtra.

April 29 evening: I am at a PVR for another film, so I decide to book a ticket for Sairat. I am cautious as always since there have been occasions when I was informed by directors and senior multiplex chain staffers that a film was subtitled, only to find no subs when I watched it. So I double check with the booking counter executive. Sairat is not subtitled, he replies.

I tell him what the filmmaker told me. No subs, he insists. Could he ask a senior? Please? None is available, he says, adding that if a show of the film were on at that moment, he would have dashed in to verify this himself. Bizarre. He should not have to do that, I say.

Could you return tomorrow, he asks? No, I cannot spend an entire hour on another day driving all the way here and back, for information that should be on his computer right now. Time is not a joke.

I ask for a phone number I can later call. He manages to locate a senior and confirms that this hall is indeed showing a subtitled Sairat. Whew! I book, after 30 minutes wasted over this inexplicable inefficiency.

April 30: I am moved by Sairat’s inter-caste romance with its remarkably light touch despite the grim subject. I recall the previous day’s casual multiplex employee and wonder, for the nth time in my life, why it takes such an effort to be a committed viewer of films across Indian languages.

Rewind to February: Tamil director Vetri Maaran’s Visaaranai is out. I’m still drowning in my love for Kaaka Muttai, the film about two little Chennai slum dwellers that he produced last year, and I have been looking forward to this one. Again, no mention of subtitles anywhere. I am swamped with work so I avoid the rigmarole of calls to Maaran and so on.

May 8: I catch a subtitled Visaaranai at Delhi’s Habitat Film Festival. I am floored by this gut- wrenching story of police torture. It has just won the National Award for Best Tamil Film. It deserved Best Film. Sadly, most of India does not know that.

Over a decade since Holly
wood made it standard practice 
to release Hindi, Tamil and Telugu dubbed versions of all their
 big-budget, sci-fi/fantasy action adventures and thrillers simultaneously with the English originals, India’s industries are still waffling in their efforts to reach out to audiences outside their home states.

Bahubali’s well-strategised pursuit of a pan-India viewership in 2015 was unusual. S.S. Rajamouli’s film was made in Telugu and Tamil, dubbed in multiple languages and aggressively marketed across the country, not just in southern India or to Telugu expats. Result: Rs 500 crore domestic gross collections, the highest ever for an Indian film (source: forbes.com).

That said, Bahubali was inherently mass-oriented. Many makers of low-budget, niche and/or indie projects say crowds are unlikely to flock to dubbed versions of their films, and their natural viewers tend to prefer subtitles over dubbing anyway.

Fair enough, then subtitle. And if you do, let the world know you have!

May 16: Exasperated by this long-running problem, I phone Maaran to vent some steam. My questions to him apply equally to Tamil, Hindi, Telugu and India’s smaller industries.

First, is subtitling expensive? Answer: the cost of subtitling the average Tamil film is about Rs 50,000.

Not a forbidding figure, which makes you wonder why all Indian films are not subtitled outside their home territories. The clichéd response from producers is that collections beyond a film’s traditional audience are minuscule.

Most producers lack the vision to see that subtitling makes their films accessible to non- traditional audiences, which could translate into their stars becoming more familiar and thus more attractive to audiences and producers outside their home turf over time, which in turn would lead to more inter-regional exchanges of acting talent, more pan-India audiences for all Indian films and ultimately, a better spread of all languages outside states in which they are usually spoken. Unless you reach out to others, how will you reach them?

As puzzling as those who do not subtitle their films are those who do. If you made the effort, you are obviously interested in new markets. Why then would you not let the public know your film is subtitled?


“It is a simple matter of communication,” says Maaran, “but most exhibitors (theatre owners) don’t do it and distributors don’t push them since they are targeting the diaspora. Any non-diaspora audience that comes in is a bonus. What can producers do?” At least talk to them, please.

It is hard to believe that distributors have to move mountains or spend millions to convince exhibitors, e-booking sites and listings collators to merely mention that a film is subtitled. It is hard to fathom unenterprising exhibitors, since every ticket sold benefits them. And it is hard for a tormented film buff to understand why common sense does not prevail.

(This article was first published in The Hindu Businessline on May 21, 2016)

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Previous instalment of Film Fatale: Wherefore Art Thou, ‘Madrasis’?

  
Photo captions: Posters from (1) Sairat (2) Visaaranai

Photographs courtesy: