Ikiru
Tokyo, 2006

A film about social change with a commentary on society was not what I expected - based on what I had read briefly about the film. However, the audio commentary by Stephen Prince was quite educative in helping me understand this film – fulfilling the purpose Francois Truffaut gave to film critics.

The ultimate objective of social activists would be for humanity (or a nation) to embody such principles as they think are appropriate. Gandhi believed in non-violence – he did not approve when people violated the peaceful tenets he believed Indians should embody. It was not enough that his immediate followers would much rather put down their lives than resort to violence. He wanted ‘all of India’ to embody the principles of non-violence. I remain in awe of Gandhi, who, until his last breath, believed in the possibility of this. Ordinary people would have given up – disappointed by the setbacks. Not the ‘Mahatma’. In spite of my awe for Gandhi, I wonder if mass social change can be driven by one person and his / her actions. Ikiru provides extremely compelling thoughts on this subject. It is suggested that social change as a result of one person and his / her actions has restricted coverage. My extension of this thought is that if attempted beyond this coverage, the actions would either fail to achieve the desired results or the objectives will have to be compromised. For mass social change to become a reality, many people, from different walks of life but similar thoughts on social changes, have to co-incidentally come together to form a critical mass. a person can only be ‘one’ of the agents driving this change. Sometimes, extreme co-incidences happen – like the post war years in Japan. The most one can do is work sincerely and earnestly towards bringing a social change in his / her immediate environment – and hope for providence to play a part in creating a critical mass. It may happen. It may not. The only way to know is to play your ‘part’.

Kurosawa is an extremely intelligent director. Watching a Kurosawa film, one is transported to a world of ideas, of motion, of all the aspects of cinema. He is a master and all I can do is watch more of his films and repeat the ones I have already seen.

Pyaasa
Tokyo, 2006

A long forgotten film – last watched when DD telecast it on the occasion of celebrating 75 years of Indian cinema (1987). Pyaasa is about humanity threatened by the materialistic world shown through the story of a struggling poet. Orson Welles said that a film director holds a mirror up to nature. And Guru Dutt surely holds the mirror at astounding angles. The visual and narrative simplicity accentuates the anguish inflicted by a morally corrupt society. One of the most touching scenes is when Ghulab offers all her jewelry to a publisher in return for printing Vijay’s poems. This is not melodrama. The jewelry itself is irrelevant. The honesty of her love for Vijay in the face of morally hollow publisher and his wife is what touches us. It is one of the best film scenes I have seen. Vijay’s anger towards the society and his desire to leave it is so realistic, it touches a raw nerve.

Pyaasa remains as relevant today as it was in 1957, when it was released. A booming Indian economy makes moral degradation and materialism that much more pervasive, that much more justifiable. Moral compromises can be easier to swallow in the context of economic growth – especially when such growth assumes nationalistic color. I don’t condemn the strides India is making in world economy – it has given Indians an opportunity to realize a future that hitherto existed only in dreams. On the contrary, highly grateful for our current station, I wish to question if our future is going to be a mere accelerating extension of our past achievements. Maybe it is time for those of us fortunate to have ridden the Indian economic success to morally enrich ourselves; to be grateful for our riches and uphold our moral values (rather than compromise them further); to give Vijay his due.

Stagecoach
Tokyo, 2006

My view of the 19th century “West” was largely shaped by the popular movies of 60’s – The Good, The Bad, The Ugly; For a Few Dollars More; Once Upon a Time in the West. It was a glamorous land full of macho gun-totting men – some bad and some good. There would be saloons, poker, alcohol, girls and gunfights. The glamour of “The West” was so strong and widely acknowledged that Chiranjeevi made a Western in Telugu, an Andhra Western in the 80’s (the Gult fascination with the “West” is nothing new).

John Ford’s Stagecoach presents a de-glamorized view of the same epoch. Stagecoach shows real places inhabited by real people – some brave, some kind, some vulnerable, some selfish – facing severe hardships of a hostile environment. It shows families and friends, social structures and prejudices, hatred and kindness. Just like any other place in the world. What Stagecoach is most memorable for is its depiction of a world from a long time ago - a world that is lost to us – buried under the scientific “advances” of later years. Like a good period film, Stagecoach holds up the past to us and makes us wonder what we have “thrown-away” as we “progressed” through the years.

A fable from Orson Welles' "Mr. Arkadin"
Tokyo, 2006

A scorpion wanted to cross a river, so he asked a frog to carry him. "No," said the frog. "No, thank you. If I let you on my back, you may sting me, and the sting of the scorpion is death." "Now, where," asked the scorpion, "is the logic of that?" (for scorpions always try to be logical.) "If I sting you, you will die and I will drown." So the frog was convinced and allowed the scorpion on his back. But just in the middle of the river he realized a terrible pain and realized that, after all, the scorpion had stung him. "Logic!" cried the frog as he started under, bearing the scorpion down with him. "There is no logic in this!" "I know," said the scorpion, "but I can't help it - it's my character."

I was mesmerized by Orson Welles' Citizen Kane. I watched it again and again. The more I watched, the more I was fascinated. I am reading an interview-book of Welles by Peter Bogdanovich (This is Orson Welles) and his views on films and film-making are just as fascinating. I wonder how a person of Welles' talent got around struggling for survival as a film-maker. I wonder if the fable from "Mr. Arkadin" has some clues.