India Coast to Coast

Il documentario in sei episodi India Coast to Coast è disponibile in streaming grazie a Discovery+. Una puntata è dedicata al cinema. 

(Grazie ad Annie per la segnalazione).

Mapping seven decades of Mumbai's film industry

Se siete in vacanza a Mumbai (beati voi) e volete dedicarvi a del sano cineturismo, nell'articolo Mapping seven decades of Mumbai's film industry, di Sankhayan Ghosh, pubblicato da Film Companion il 16 agosto 2022, troverete alcuni itinerari davvero interessanti con corredo di mappe. Di seguito un estratto:

'If you were to go back in time to the 1940s, this is how the film industry in Bombay would look: Stretching from Grant Road all the way up to Malad, with such off-centre suburbs as Sewri and Chembur serving as important hubs. It's difficult to imagine today. There were studios in Tardeo and Dadar because the studio barons, film stars, directors and composers lived in places like Napean Sea Road and Peddar Road. At the same time, other parts of the city offered nature and open spaces that allowed outdoor shooting. True to the spirit of a city that prides itself for its adaptability, Bollywood shaped and reshaped itself as unstoppable urbanisation devoured Mumbai and real estate prices went up. The centrality of Andheri to the city's film industry over the last four decades has contributed to the idea of the industry belonging to its own bubble, but in its own way, it's mirrored the ever-expanding definition of an ever-growing city, bursting as its seams and surging forward. (...)

In the beginning...

The Grant Road-Tardeo area formed the southernmost cluster of film studios in the city in 1940, known as the original studio road. Jyoti Studios in Nana Chowk is the stuff of legend: Alam Ara (1931), India's first talkie, was shot here; as was (...) the first Iranian sound film. (...)

Eastside Story (...)

In Parel, [in] the Wadia brothers' (...) premises, (...) Wadia Movietone had produced the Fearless Nadia films in the Thirties, (...) but as the fantasy genre ran out of steam, their business fell into debt. When one of the brothers, Homi (who was married to Nadia) went on to begin his own studio, he found the ideal place in the eastern suburb of Chembur. (...) It was 1974. A year later, Raj Kapoor would launch R.K. Studios, an icon for decades before it was gutted by a fire in 2017. Last checked, it has been converted into a premium residential high-rise.

The Queen of Suburbs

When Mehboob Khan was looking for an area for his studio - not as far as Malad, closer to south Mumbai - he found it in a pre-reclamation Bandra. The rest is history. Films like Mother India (1957), Kaagaz Ke Phool (1959) (...) were shot here. Films are still shot at Mehboob, which has kept itself relevant by opening up to events such as an Anish Kapoor exhibition and the Mahindra Blues Festival.

Northward Bound

You would think that the film industry gradually moved northward. But Andheri and beyond, with its bountiful nature and open vistas on offer, was always a part of the its scheme of things. An active cluster was formed in Andheri (East), led by Mohan Studios, where the sets of Mughal-E-Azam (1960) were built and Bimal Roy preferred shooting. (...)

Film industry's final frontier

Further north in Malad was the storied Bombay Talkies. Stars (Dilip Kumar, Madhubala) were launched, state of the art technology was introduced (bringing with it employment for European technicians), scandals broke out (Devika Rani, who was married to the studio founder Himanshu Rai, eloped with the actor Najam-ul-Hassan). When Ashok Kumar, one of the major stars on the studio's bankroll in the early Forties, started his own studio, Filmistan, he chose the Ghod Bunder area in Borivali.

A new Film City

By the end of the Seventies, the studio era was pretty much over. And the game changer was Film City, established by the Government of Maharashtra in 1977 as a one-stop shop for film shoots and constructed in Aarey forest in Goregaon on 520 acres of land. (...)

Andheri Central

With the development of Film City, the film industry was now concentrated in and around Andheri. New clusters were formed. Studios were no more studios but production houses - perhaps with the exception of Yash Raj Films, which has its own floors and facilities. Formed in 2005 in Veera Desai Road, it has for company Balaji Telefilms, Dharma Productions and Eros International. A number of production houses, like Shah Rukh Khan's Red Chillies Production and Farhan Akhtar-Ritesh Sidhwani's Excel Entertainment, are in Khar.

Hustler District

The Aaramnagar compound in Versova has come to signify a new filmmaking culture that has coincided with digital filmmaking taking over celluloid in the 2010s. It's a world unto itself, where bungalows have been converted into film offices and casting agencies, and coffee shops double as working spaces. Director and producer Anurag Kashyap - who could be the patron saint of Aaramnagar - has an office here. (...) The film industry's shift to the north of the city was now complete'.

Writing With Fire in corsa per l'Oscar

Writing with fire, di Sushmit Ghosh e Rintu Thomas, è entrato nella cinquina per il miglior documentario agli Oscar. La pellicola era stata proiettata in prima mondiale al Sundance Film Festival 2021, dove si era aggiudicata, oltre al premio del pubblico, anche il World Documentary Special Jury Award for Impact for Change. Lo scorso settembre Writing with fire era stato presentato a Milano al Festival Internazionale del Documentario Visioni dal Mondo 2021, dove aveva vinto il premio per il miglior documentario internazionale con la seguente motivazione: 

'Il premio internazionale della giuria spetta a un film nuovo e originale - una storia alla Davide e Golia - dove chi storicamente non ha voce, può finalmente farsi sentire e urlare la verità ovunque su internet. I protagonisti sono scelti con occhio sapiente e abilmente sviluppati nel corso del tempo. I due registi dimostrano una notevole sensibilità nel seguire il percorso personale dei personaggi, descrivendo allo stesso tempo il duro ambiente socio-politico in cui si svolge la vicenda. La giuria ha unanimemente apprezzato la destrezza dei registi nel narrare e portare alla luce una storia drammatica di violenza, abusi e ingiustizie usando un tono leggero dove le donne, che combattono contro un sistema secolare di sfruttamento, non rinunciano mai al sorriso, andando sempre avanti, affrontando situazioni e condizioni difficilissime. La giuria ha anche apprezzato il tono e un ritmo di regia che contribuisce a creare un’atmosfera di suspense. Non sai mai cosa può capitare a una donna Dalit, della casta degli Intoccabili, che con il proprio giornale e un canale youtube denuncia senza mezze misure violenze sessuali, corruzione politica e ingiustizie sociali'.

Aggiornamenti del 14 gennaio 2024: Writing with fire purtroppo non ha conquistato l'Oscar.

Vedi anche:

- The triumph and tragedy of the Indian documentary, Rahul Desai, Film Companion, 19 febbraio 2022;

- Filming with fire: behind Indian documentary's biggest year, Uday Bhatia, Mint, 26 marzo 2023.

Sundance Film Festival 2022

L'edizione 2022 del Sundance Film Festival si è svolta dal 20 al 30 gennaio. In cartellone All that breathes di Shaunak Sen, opera che si è aggiudicata il World Documentary Grand Jury Prize. Il 3 febbraio 2022 Film Companion ha pubblicato una lunga intervista concessa dal regista a Sankhayan Ghosh, nella quale Sen, fra l'altro, dichiara: 'I’m deeply interested in the styles of (...) Gianfranco Rosi a lot in terms of how he shoots human, and Roberto Minervini in terms of how he comes out as a kind of hybrid between nonfiction and controlled spaces'. Shaunak Sen on his Oscar-nominated documentary All that breathes.

Aggiornamenti del 26 marzo 2023: All that breathes, in seguito proiettato fuori concorso a Cannes (clicca qui) e a Roma, è entrato nella cinquina dei titoli candidati all'Oscar senza purtroppo aggiudicarsi l'ambita statuetta.

Vedi anche:

- The triumph and tragedy of the Indian documentary, Rahul Desai, Film Companion, 19 febbraio 2022;

- Filming with fire: behind Indian documentary's biggest year, Uday Bhatia, Mint, 26 marzo 2023.

Mammootty: The discreet masculine charm

La superstar del cinema malayalam Mammootty compie oggi 70 anni. Per celebrare l'evento, Film Companion pubblica un lungo articolo nel quale ripercorre la carriera dell'attore. Mammootty - The discreet masculine charm, C.S. Venkiteswaran:

'The variety of roles he has essayed, the diverse acting modes and speech styles he has experimented with, and the untiring efforts he puts into each role, are phenomenal to say the least. (...) A rare and unique combination of magnetic personality, physical charm, longevity of career, diversity of roles and ever-increasing popularity - all make Mammootty one of the greatest actors in Indian cinema. (...) 

He entered the scene when major actors of the earlier era were at the fag end of their careers. (...) This was the scene when both Mammootty and Mohanlal entered it in the early 80's. But it was the decade when the Malayalam film industry was witnessing a huge jump in terms of production: from around 80 films a year in the previous decade it rose to more than 110, averaging about 2 new releases every week! It was also a period when gulf remittance to Kerala was on the rise, spurring film production and the growth of exhibition halls. In terms of content, treatment and themes too, this decade proved to be very prolific: films of all kinds - 'art', 'middle' and 'commercial' - and genres - suspense thrillers, family dramas, northern ballads, socials, films based on contemporary events and politics etc. - were being made. All this created a vibrant industry atmosphere that encouraged experimentation with daring themes, introduction of new techniques and technologies, and the entry of more and more new talents: scenarists, directors and technicians, as well as producers. (...) Entering the scene at such a high point in Malayalam film industry, a hardworking actor like Mammootty had ample opportunities to hone his skills, connect with the audience, and to entrench himself as a star in the industry and as an actor in popular imagination. In his first decade itself, Mammootty had the opportunity to work with all the important filmmakers from different generations, and in diverse categories and genres. (...) So much so that in the very first decade of his entry, he had acted in more than 200 films in all conceivable genres - socials, family dramas, mystery thrillers, ghost stories, period films, art films, and also some light comedies. By the end of the decade, he had established himself as a very dependable and successful star with an acting style of his own.

Even in the 1990s when the entry of television rocked the film industry by capturing its most favourite and popular thematic terrains, and hitting the box office by bringing visual entertainment to the audiences' homes, the popularity and stardom of Mammootty continued to grow. Actually, in the case of both Mammootty and Mohanlal the coming of television was a blessing in disguise. Though television captured the most important segment of the movie market - the 'family audience', as far as its entertainment content was concerned, it predominantly depended on cinema for its films, songs, comedy scenes, clips and the umpteen parodies based on that. (...) The burgeoning popularity of Mammootty as an actor and his pre-eminence within the industry are evident from the fact that he acted in as many as 220 films in the 1980's. From 1983 to 1986, he acted in about 35 films every year! In the next decades, along with the general decline in film production, Mammootty films also came down to an average of around 55 films a year. It was also a period when production, turnover and also the number of theatres were on the wane. If the 1990s saw a more mature Mammootty performing with greater ease and in a variety of roles, in the post-millennium years his persona has assumed greater gravitas and grace. A host of young 'newgen' actors were entering the field in the last decades, and superstars like Mammootty and Mohanlal becoming more selective in their choice of roles and films, and so, figuring mostly in mega productions. But even in the so-called 'newgen' films one can see the glare and shadows of these super stars - in the form of references, tributes, jokes, imitations or parodies. (...)

Evolution of an actor 

(...) In most of the films, (...) one can see both these character-types and role models - that of the protector of the weak and women, and as the enforcer of Law - being elaborated in various guises, diverse situations and different milieus. (...) In many of the (...) films in the 80's, Mammootty plays the role of the family man who is caught in domestic and marital conflicts of different kinds (...) strengthening Mammootty's fan base among the female audience. (...) Soon, too many films of the same genre led to a series of box office failures. (...) By the end of 1980s and the beginning of 1990s, we see the actor persona of Mammootty strongly leaning towards hyper-masculine roles, with a slew of commercially successful and thematically engaging films. (...) These films expanded and placed Mammootty on to a wider canvas of narratives that portrayed different and more complex shades of masculine power and conflicts. Compared to earlier films, the narrative world of these macho protagonists expanded from the realm of the individual and the family, to that of society and nation at large, and the paternal/protector figure turned into an authority figure representing the State. These narratives traversed history and legends, and were animated by various shades of desire, valor, love and troubling questions about corruption in public life and crime. These varied roles successfully combined Mammootty's stature as an actor and appeal as a star. What distinguished Mammootty the actor was his continuing engagements with films outside the commercial-mainstream that constantly enriched and expanded his repertoire, and brought him critical acclaim and national accolades. (...) Though not very comfortable in his comic roles, Mammootty also experimented with light comedies. (...) Another feature that distinguishes Mammootty is his ability to embody and voice 'regionalities'. There are several hit films where he plays the role of a hero belonging to a particular locality/region/milieu, and speaks the respective local lingo. (...) While elevating him as a versatile actor, these roles also indicate the pan-Kerala image that he has built up through his career. (...)

Mammootty-Mohanlal duo and the Ambivalence of Malayalee Masculinity

It is impossible to talk about Mammootty and his acting career without referring to Mohanlal, the other super star, his friend, competitor and his alter ego. (...) One, the upright, powerful, masculine and monogamous family man, and the other the playful, eternal flirt and boy next door, vulnerable, polygamous, lyrical and romantic. While one readily sings and dances around trees, the other is averse to it. (...) Such strange equivalence could be read as the expression of the ambivalence in Malayalee male masculinity - one that is torn between the macho and the tender, the masculine and the feminine, the strong and the vulnerable, the rigid and the flexible, the tragic and the comic. Incapable of making any final choice between the two, Malayalee masculine imagination seems to waver between the two, consciously and subconsciously, and indulges in the possibilities and diverse pleasures they open up through these star-duo. (...) As a lone, masculine hero, age and aging go much more comfortably or convincingly with Mammootty whereas with Mohanlal it often looks odd or a little forced, for we always associate him with youthhood, playfulness, and often childlikeness. (...) While Mammootty roles are more often associated with seats of power and authority, (...) Mohanlal plays the common man, the one who is in search of security, life, freedom and love. (...) While the concern of one is to control and conquer the world, the other explores and revels in all its uncertainties and accidents. So, while one offers love and invites our identification, we are in awe of the other and look up to him in admiration. While one is a companion and fellow prankster, the other is a protector or guide. (...)

The Star Persona

(...) In the last decades, stories about loss of masculinity itself becomes a theme in some films. (...) Interestingly, they all tangentially tap on to the Mammootty persona deeply embedded in public minds to poignant effect. So through time, Mammootty persona has not only embodied and enacted masculine charm, power, desires and fantasies, but also its fears, anxieties and uncertainties. Another makeover domain was visible in the new millennium, when Mammootty played several light and comic roles. (...) The incisive self-criticism he expresses in many of his acclaimed interviews prove his commitment to the art and also his relentless effort to reinvent himself. This is also a unique feature that elevates him from other actors of his generation, who tend to get pigeon-holed into certain stereotypes, industry models or generic patterns. As an actor and a star, Mammootty had always tried to transgress these boundaries and to redefine and remake himself. Which is what has always kept him at the top, for so long and for so many'.

Il Cinema Ritrovato 2021

La 35esima edizione del festival Il Cinema Ritrovato si svolgerà a Bologna dal 20 al 27 luglio 2021. In cartellone la rassegna Poeti ribelli e spiriti rivoluzionari: il Parallel Cinema indiano. Nella presentazione si legge: 'Che cos’è il Parallel Cinema? Dopo cinquant’anni, rimane ancora una questione aperta. È un movimento, un genere, una rivoluzione, un nuovo linguaggio cinematografico? Spesso utilizzato in modo improprio come sinonimo di cinema sperimentale, non convenzionale o semplicemente in antitesi al cinema mainstream o populista, il Parallel Cinema è un fenomeno estremamente ricco ed esteso, complesso da definire. La sua genesi affonda le radici nel Manifesto del movimento per il nuovo cinema pubblicato nel 1968 dai registi Arun Kaul e Mrinal Sen. L’anno successivo, l’uscita di un trittico di opere innovatrici come Bhuvan Shome di Mrinal Sen, Uski Roti di Mani Kaul e Sara-Aakash di Basu Chatterjee segna l’inizio di una delle congiunture più creative e radicali del cinema indiano. Questi tre film furono prodotti dalla nascente Film Finance Corporation, ente istituito dallo stato per concedere prestiti a bassi interessi alle produzioni, che avrà un ruolo chiave nella definizione e nelle future declinazioni del Parallel Cinema. Il nostro programma guarda ai suoi anni fondativi (1968-1976), caratterizzati da diversi flussi creativi che scorrono in molteplici direzioni, assorbendo l’influenza delle nouvelle vague europee così come l’ideologia di stampo comunista e l’estetica del cinema bengalese'.

What early Indian sci-fi looked like

Vi segnalo l'articolo Videochats on the Moon, immortality pills: what early Indian sci-fi looked like, di Gayle Sequeira e Ashutosh Mohan, pubblicato da Film Companion il 27 marzo 2021:

'More than meets the eye: early films about invisibility

Most of Bollywood's first few sci-fi outings revolved around the limitless potential that invisibility could unlock for a single person, and the unintended consequences that could follow. Nanabhai Bhatt's Mr. X (1957), considered to be the first Indian science-fiction film, follows a lab assistant who accidentally drinks an invisibility potion. Bad news: there's no antidote that will make him reappear. When there's a spate of crimes in the city, he's the obvious suspect and must prove his innocence. In Mr. X in Bombay (1964), the protagonist gets his hands on an invisibility potion and uses it to solve a problem more pressing than world hunger - his lack of a love life. (...) In 1965 film Aadhi Raat Ke Baad (...) director Nanabhai Bhatt (...) attempts to answer one question: how much harder would it be to solve a murder mystery if the main suspect could turn invisible at will? (...) It's a plot similar to Bhatt's earlier vanishing man film Mr. X. These early films adopted a myopic attitude towards invisibility, with the protagonists often using their newfound powers for selfish reasons rather than the greater good. It took till 1971 for invisibility to serve more altruistic purposes. In K. Ramanlal's Elaan. (...) Mr. India (1987), [is] the first mainstream Bollywood sci-fi film. (...) Another film (...) explored the more nefarious consequences of scientific advancement. In Mr. X [1984], written and directed by Khwaja Ahmad Abbas. (...) In Malayalam film Jaithra Yaathra (1987) (...) invisibility is used to create chaos and for comic ends. (...) Invisibility, unlike immortality, appears to excite no moral questions. A person who lives forever can probably cause a lot of harm, but how bad can a brief disappearance be?

A whole new world: sci-fi set in space

Director A. Kasilingam's Kalai Arasi (1963) has aliens from another galaxy visit Earth and Mohan (M.G. Ramachandran) follow them back to their home. They look like us except for their sartorial preferences. They like tight shorts and safari helmets. Their spaceship has a distinct steampunk sensibility - levers and crankshafts everywhere. You even hear the periodic puff of escaping steam that apparently powers its cross-galaxy travel. (...) There is, however, one fundamental difference between us and them: the aliens are lovers of art to a fault. They've come to abduct talented artists from Earth and make them better ones. Their spaceship has a tiny screen that's a precursor to Google Earth. (...) What's surprising, especially since this is the first science-fiction film in Tamil, is how people react to a UFO. Mohan is with his friends when a spaceship flies overhead. He practically yawns an explanation, saying that experts believe that aliens from other galaxies would visit Earth at some point in time. His blasé friends are instantly convinced, feeling as much awe upon seeing a spaceship as an odd-looking cow. (...) Hindi film Chand Par Chadayee (1967) released two years before the first manned mission to the Moon, which is perhaps what emboldened director T.P. Sundaram to take creative liberties with the subject. (...) For a film that includes ridiculous scenes such as (...) parachute-wearing Moon women dancing above the clouds, the film was astonishingly prescient in terms of technological advancements. A high-ranking Moon citizen and the king of Mars videochat, and even communicate through a Google Glass-like device in which a real-time video of the caller appears on the lens of a pair of sunglasses. (...) The same year as Chand Par Chadayee's release, Martians visited Earth in Nisar Ahmad Ansari's Wahan Ke Log. (...)

Caution, side effects: medical science-fiction

Just as the vastness of space can be liberating, so can the invention of certain drugs that give their users powers. In P. Subramaniam's Malayalam classic Karutha Rathrikal (1967), the soft-spoken Santhan (Madhu) invents a drug that changes his appearance and gives him the ability to kill people. He's unable to make an antidote (perhaps, because of impure ingredients) which leads to his own death. An adaptation of R.L. Stevenson's Strange case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, KR has an ambivalent stance towards the morality of science. We don't actually see much science, except in a comedy track that explains the concept of an antidote. The idea of an antidote becomes extraordinarily important in this subgenre, in which a scientist (typically out of hubris) invents a drug that gives him superpowers. In Naalai Manithan (1989) [tamil] the fate of the world hangs on Dr. Shankar (Jaishankar). After winning the Nobel Prize for inventing an AIDS drug, he creates another one that wakes the dead. Shankar's hubris prevents him from acknowledging the side effects of his immortality pill: violent and anti-social behaviour. Just as in Karutha Rathrikal, a scientist's individual choices shape how science plays out. By taking moral responsibility for his out-of-control inventions, the scientist ends up as the villain in these films. Both Santhan from KR and Shankar from NM die as a result of pushing the limits of human potential. This, however, isn't the case for the Professor (Anant Nag) from Kannada film Hollywood (2002), which claims to be India's first robot film. If the Professor's humanoid robot US-47 goes rogue, it's the robots fault, not his. (...) The Professor simply dismantles the malfunctioning robot. A rogue invention is only a technical problem, not a moral one. The film doesn't ask, like Naalai Manithan does, whether science leads to progress. Why embargo an invention when you could simply dismantle if it's not useful? Not quite human, not quite machine is the vehicle at the center of Ajantrik (1958), considered to be one of the earliest Bengali sci-fi movies. Director Ritwik Ghatak explores the relationship between a small-town driver, Bimal (Kali Banerjee) and his battered taxi by humanizing the vehicle through a combination of visual and sound effects. (...) Is the taxi sentient, or is Bimal projecting his emotions onto it?

Back to the future: films about time travel

In Aditya 369 [1991, telugu], written and directed by Singeetam Srinivasa Rao, Professor Ramdas (Tinnu Anand) (...) invents a time machine. (...) What's interesting is when he [Nandamuri Balakrishna's Krisha Kumar] ends up in an apocalyptic-looking 2504 AD. We see a post-World War 3 Earth, where a radiation from nuclear weapons has made the surface unfit for living. It's practically a desert, and humans live underground in hermetic forts. (...) 'Stomach computers' tell people when to eat. But (...) this isn't interpreted cynically. (...) People in 2504 AD are merely amused that their lives are run by machines.

Science fiction is still an underserved genre in our films. Films like Rahul Sadasivan's Red Rain (2013) [malayalam] explore the instinctive terror we feel for something from beyond Earth, but recent films have continued earlier templates, with a bit more realism. Arati Kadav's Cargo (2019), Tik Tik Tik (2018) [tamil] and Antariksham 9000KMPH (2018) [telugu] are space operas but the science is believable. Fifty years after Karutha Rathrikal, Maayavan (2017) [tamil] explores the question of who we really are if we swap brains with someone else. 24 (2016) [tamil] and Indru Netru Naalai (2015) [tamil] are entertaining time travel films that take us to the past and, hesitantly, to the future of science fiction films'.

The short-lived glory of Satyajit Ray's Sci-Fi Cine Club

[Archivio] Ma com'è che mi era sfuggito questo incredibile articolo di Sankhayan Ghosh? Pubblicato il 9 maggio 2018 da Film Companion, rivela un aspetto segreto e sorprendente (almeno per me) di Satyajit Ray, maestro del neorealismo indiano: il suo amore per la fantascienza. The short-lived glory of Satyajit Ray's Sci-Fi Cine Club:

'The SF Cine Club in Calcutta began its journey with much fanfare. The kind of attention unimaginable for a film club in India, let alone one that called itself 'a club of devotees of Science-fiction and Fantasy films'. Walt Disney, from Disney Land, California, wrote a congratulatory letter; the Prime Minister and President sent encouraging messages; sci-fi literary legends like Arthur C. Clarke (...) and Ray Bradbury (...) sent their best wishes. The Press Trust of India carried a report, it was in the city's leading papers and the news segment in the radio the next morning. In the inauguration ceremony, on 26 January, 1966, people queued up in the portico of the Academy of Fine Arts, to collect their membership cards - at an annual membership of Rs 6. (...)

Brochures and souvenirs were handed out. All design-related work, from the hand-drawn insignia of the club, to conceptualising the cover design of the brochure, to selecting the type of font, was done by Satyajit Ray, whose feted masterpieces (...) had by then established him as one of the greatest filmmakers in the world, and who was a life-long fan of science-fiction and fantasy. Some of the first stories Ray ever wrote were science-fiction. (...) Ray (...) was the President of the SF Cine Club. "A science-fiction addict for close to thirty years," he wrote in the brochure, "the SF Cine Club may very well be one of the first of its kind - here or abroad". It was the same year that Ray went to Hollywood to pitch his sci-fi script, the ill-fated The Alien. But that's another story, a comprehensive account of which is given in Travails with the Alien by Satyajit Ray: The Film that was never made and other Adventures with Science Fiction, the new book by HarperCollins India - which also features previously unpublished memorabilia of the SF Cine Club. (...) Ray, not new to the workings of a film club (he had co-founded the first film society of independent India in 1947), curated the screenings. (...) 

The film club was the product of the efforts of a group of sci-fi crusaders in Bengal in the '60s. It was led by Adrish Bardhan, its secretary, who had approached Ray with the idea. Bengali sci-fi writer Premendra Mitra was the Vice President. Bardhan (...) had been running Aschorjo, the little magazine dedicated to Bengali sci-fi by local authors, from a room in his ancestral house on 97/1 Serpentine Lane (which would also double as the office for the cine club) since 1963. Ray was the magazine's chief patron and contributor, and together they started producing sci-fi radio plays. (...) Bardhan, in the editorial of 1966 February issue of Aschorjo, wrote, "A Monthly magazine, radio and cinema: these 3 paths now will forge the victory of sci-fi." The issue carried an extensive coverage of the inaugural ceremony; a detailed synopsis of the SF Cine Club's next screening would appear in the last section of Aschorjo - which has been archived by the members of Kalpabiswa - a Bengali sci-fi/fantasy webzine. Many of the stories of the cine club are recounted by Ranen Ghosh, an acolyte of Bardhan, in a Norwegian journal about the sci-fi 'movement' in Bengal, that was published last year. He was an integral part of three bengali sci-fi magazines, which came one after the other, Aschorjo, Bishmoy and Fantastic. Ghosh often wrote stories with multiple aliases, taking names of family members. He is one of the few active members of the cine club who is alive. 

How did the seemingly successful SF Cine Club lose its steam so abruptly, and shut down in 1969, 3 years after it had started? Ray got busier. (...) And Bardhan had his own battles to fight - Aschorjo was in financial trouble, and his wife fell sick. "I think Ray also lost interest in it after a point. Otherwise, he would have managed to keep it running," says Ghosh. The audience, he says, also started dwindling. Many members who weren't accustomed to watching English-language films, wouldn't be able to grasp the films. (...) The problems were identified, discussed in the meetings (which Ray didn't have the time to attend), but never addressed'. 

A proposito del volume Travails with the Alien, nel sito di HarperCollins Publishers si legge: 

'Satyajit Ray was a master of science fiction writing. Through his Professor Shonku stories and other fiction and non-fiction pieces, he explored the genre from various angles. In the 1960s, Ray wrote a screenplay for what would have been the first-of-its-kind sci-fi film to be made in India. It was called The Alien and was based on his own short story "Bonkubabur Bandhu". On being prompted by Arthur C. Clarke, who found the screenplay promising, Ray sent the script to Columbia Pictures in Hollywood, who agreed to back it, and Peter Sellers was approached to play a prominent role. Then started the "Ordeals of the Alien" as Ray calls it, as even after a series of trips to the US, UK and France, the film was never made, and more shockingly, some fifteen years later, Ray watched Steven Spielberg's film Close Encounters of the Third Kind and later E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial, and realized these bore uncanny resemblances to his script The Alien, including the way the ET was designed! A slice of hitherto undocumented cinema history, Travails with the Alien includes Ray's detailed essay on the project with the full script of The Alien, as well as the original short story on which the screenplay was based. These, presented alongside correspondence between Ray and Peter Sellers, Arthur C. Clarke, Marlon Brando, Hollywood producers who showed interest, and a fascinating essay by the young student at Columbia University's Graduate School of Journalism who broke the Spielberg story, make this book a rare and compelling read on science fiction, cinema and the art of adaptation'.

A definitive recap of Bollywood over the last decade

Oggi The Hindu pubblica una lista degli eventi salienti che hanno contrassegnato l'industria hindi nella decade 2000-2009. Si spazia dal centenario del cinema indiano, al 50esimo compleanno del regale triumvirato dei Khan, all'ascesa di Ranveer Singh e del favoloso trio Kaushal / Khurrana / Rao. E poi la svolta sociale e patriotica di Akshay Kumar, il successo delle pellicole nazionaliste, il movimento #MeToo, i titoli al femminile che hanno sbancato il botteghino, il clamoroso trionfo della saga di Baahubali anche in versione hindi, i film d'autore e non che hanno toccato temi delicati come l'omosessualità, la polemica sul nepotismo, l'ingresso in scena dei figli d'arte, il ritorno aggressivo dell'entroterra indiano come location, l'avvento delle piattaforme di streaming, la potenza promozionale dei social, e, purtroppo, i decessi illustri. A definitive recap of Bollywood over the last decade, Namrata Joshi.

Malayalam Cinema: Frames of Small Things

Vi segnalo l'articolo Malayalam Cinema: Frames of Small Things, di Divya Unny, dedicato alla recente evoluzione del cinema in lingua malayalam e pubblicato ieri da Open:

'Syam Pushkaran, the writer of Kumbalangi Nights says, “There has been a very conscious attempt to look at the kind of stories we need as a society, and the lives of real people around us. A film like Kumbalangi Nights that speaks of insecurities within a family, selflessness among strangers, a kind of fearlessness in new love, brings to the fore those stories. When we show a man’s vulnerabilities or strip his ego down on screen, we are not trying to defame a gender or a person, but asking if we need to take a hard look at ourselves and our conditioning.” (...)

With homegrown stories told in the most visually intriguing fashion, these films are so local that they are global. You can see, smell and taste Kerala in them. Coconuts being scraped, banana leaves being chopped, fresh tapioca getting fried, pork being sold, fishnets being laid out, paddy being farmed - from foods to festivities, nuns and nurses, from toddy and tea shops, to buses and motor boats, from pointless strikes to churches and mikes, the filmmakers proudly evoke their state’s culture as a backdrop for their stories. (...)

You begin to empathise, answer questions, and marvel at the irony of life thanks to everyday characters within these films who are neither black nor white, but just human. (...)

With OTT platforms these films can now reach a far wider audience thanks to the subtitles. (...)

For many, the evolution of Malayalam cinema is categorised broadly as the pre and post Chemmeen (1965) era. The film on the lives of rural fisher folk in Kerala and social prejudices against them was an adaptation of the award-winning novel by the legendary author Thakazhi Sivasankara Pillai, and became a cinematic benchmark. (...)

For those who have grown up on Malayalam cinema, there’s never been a lack of realism and stark humour. Priyadarshan’s films especially of the 80s and 90s painted the common man in unusual ways. Actors like Mohanlal became the face of that common man. However, it can’t be denied that much of commercial Malayalam cinema till recently was driven by the male protagonist, and his transformational powers. Both Mohanlal and Mammootty were flagbearers of this power for over four decades, and that’s now changing. The ‘Lalettan’ and ‘Mamokka’ (how the actors are lovingly referred) monopoly is slowly fading, spelling the end of an era in Malayalam films. (...)

All the characters are so well fleshed out, one can never predict where the story will lead. (...) Almost dissolving the very idea of a ‘protagonist’ in a film, and thereby setting a new foundation for cinema. No character is on a moral high-ground and you almost feel like you know them'.

Sex, drugs, politics: how the streaming giants are blowing up Bollywood

Vi segnalo l'articolo Sex, drugs, politics: how the streaming giants are blowing up Bollywood, di Steve Rose, pubblicato ieri da The Guardian:

'“The three big ‘no’s in Indian cinema are sexuality, religion and politics,” says Anurag Kashyap. “And in Sacred Games we address all three.” The Netflix series, which Kashyap co-directed, takes viewers to places Bollywood rarely does. (...) A dense, tense crime saga that closely tracks real-world history: political and police corruption, organised crime, religious tension, nuclear terrorism. (...) There is blood, sex, and violence, not to mention a trailblazing transgender character. “You cannot do that in mainstream cinema and have an audience,” Kashyap says. “It’s a given that movie-watching in India is a family experience, a community experience. Families didn’t sit together to see Sacred Games.” (...)

With 1.3 billion people and more than 500 million internet subscribers, not to mention flatlining growth in other territories, the streaming giants have been moving into India big time. Both Netflix and Amazon launched their services there in 2016, taking on larger local rivals such as the Disney-owned Hotstar. (...) Not only are these companies telling stories Bollywood can’t, they are bringing them to audiences Bollywood can’t reach. Sacred Games was a phenomenon in India, but the show was watched by twice as many people outside the country, according to Netflix. (...)

Sacred Games is not the only boundary-pushing Indian show Netflix has released. There is supernatural horror Ghoul, set in a detention facility in a near-future India under martial law due to sectarian violence. There is cricketing drama Selection Day, based on the book by Booker prize-winner Aravind Adiga, and directed by British-Indian Udayan Prasad. On a very different tack was Lust Stories, an anthology of short films by four directors (including Kashyap), all focusing on female sexuality. (...) Amazon has also put out provocative content, such as Mirzapur, a crime saga infused with sex and violence, that would not get past the cinema censors.

At the other end of the spectrum was this year’s Delhi Crime, based on the horrific gang rape, torture and murder of Jyoti Singh on a Delhi bus in 2012. (...) Delhi Crime focuses on the manhunt for the six perpetrators, based on the real-life case files. The investigation is spearheaded by a female deputy police commissioner. (...) Powerfully portrayed by Shefali Shah, she is a different kind of heroine to the Bollywood norm: fortysomething, a sympathetic mother but also a formidable leader, who insists everything is done by the book. (...) A pacy police procedural that doubles as a wide-ranging societal survey. Although it is sympathetic towards the police, the series hardly casts India in a flattering light. This is a landscape of institutional sexism, societal indifference, self-serving politicians, endemic corruption, press leaks, power cuts, pollution and badly funded public services. Even to get a forensic team to a crime scene requires twisting arms and calling in favours. (...)

Even in cinemas, streaming giants are exerting an influence on Indian cinema, it seems. (...) Could this be the beginning of a brain-drain in Indian cinema? Could the streaming services start to erode Bollywood? (...) There is something to lose here. For all its inaccessibility, Bollywood is really the only substantial national cinema that has not been co-opted by the US and other foreign players. As Kashyap puts it: “Our biggest strength is our biggest weakness: that we do not need to sell a single ticket to a non-Indian to sustain ourselves.” It doesn’t have to be a zero-sum game, but the streaming companies have created an extra platform for more outward-facing Indian film-makers such as Kashyap. (...) Having been outsiders, they now find themselves in a position of unprecedented power and influence. The game has changed'.

Sultan in Italia

Incredibile, inconcepibile, irreale, ma vero! Lo scorso 6 luglio (e date successive), per la prima volta nella storia, una mega produzione in lingua hindi è stata proiettata in Italia, in versione originale con sottotitoli in inglese, in contemporanea con l'India! Si tratta di Sultan, l'attesissimo nuovo film interpretato da Salman Khan. La sala, il cinema Beltrade a Milano. Altre città: Bergamo e Roma.

Ed è solo l'inizio...

Effetto nostalgia all'indiana. Bollywood sbanca il Beltrade, Simona Spaventa, La Repubblica, 6 luglio 2016:

'Composti e silenziosi, noi in India saremmo definiti "spettatori di tipo A: di classe". Rarissimi laggiù, dove la gran parte rientra nella categoria C, ovvero la "mass audience", il pubblico di massa che al cinema va per urlare all'apparire dei divi, ballare al ritmo delle danze di Bollywood, fare un tifo sfrenato quando si menano le mani: insomma, far festa. Che esista perfino una classificazione degli spettatori (il tipo B sono le famiglie con bambini, per chi se lo stesse chiedendo) la dice lunga sulla popolarità del cinema nel Subcontinente, che vanta l'industria dei sogni più forte al mondo almeno per quantità di film prodotti (un migliaio all'anno), e un pubblico di un miliardo e 200 milioni di persone folle e appassionato. E dove ogni proiezione si trasforma, in sala, in uno spettacolo nello spettacolo. Un rito collettivo che mancava a due ragazzi, Joginaidu Lalam detto Jogi, 23 anni, e Uday Guntupalli, 25, a Milano per master in ingegneria e informatica al Politecnico, che hanno deciso di portare Bollywood anche qui e hanno fondato un'associazione: la Italy Indian Cinemas. Primo titolo, stasera al Beltrade in contemporanea con la première in India (in hindi con sottotitoli inglesi, repliche sabato e domenica mattina), è Sultan di Ali Abbas Zafar, blockbuster con la muscolatissima superstar Salman Khan nel ruolo di un campione di wrestling che da uno sperduto villaggio trionfa alle Olimpiadi di Londra.

«Agli indiani interessano solo due cose: il cricket e il cinema - racconta Jogi mentre il cellulare squilla per le prenotazioni (stasera è sold out) - Per lo sport si va al parco Lambro, ma per i film è complicato: dall'India non arriva nulla, e i film di Hollywood sono doppiati. E poi noi siamo abituati a un cinema di intrattenimento puro, con canzoni, danze e scene comiche, andarci il venerdì per le nuove uscite è un appuntamento fisso, lo sfogo che tutti aspettano dopo una settimana di lavoro». E che anche a Milano vorrebbero in tanti, se si pensa che in città gli indiani sono 20 mila, e poi ci sono pakistani, bengalesi, cingalesi, tutti interessati ai film di Bollywood, e a quelli di Tollywood, Kollywood, Mollywood, la vasta costellazione delle cinematografie nelle diverse lingue dell'India: «A Milano vivo da due anni, ormai mi ci sento bene. Ma mi manca qualcosa. Noi adoriamo le nostre star, mi manca la festa che si fa in sala, con coriandoli, fischietti, urli e balli. Al Politecnico siamo in 400 studenti indiani, voglio che i 200 che arriveranno a settembre si sentano già a casa, non soffrano di nostalgia come me». E se gli fai notare che lui è della generazione che i film li guarda al computer, Jogi sorride: «Ma quale computer? In India il cinema è un punto di incontro, l'occasione per stare insieme. I film bisogna guardarli in sala». La prossima "prima" sarà il 29 luglio col gangster movie in tamil Kabali col grande Rajinikanth, l'attore più pagato del Subcontinente'.

Contro Isis la musica di Bollywood

Vi segnalo l'articolo Contro Isis la musica di Bollywood, di Marta Serafini, pubblicato dal Corriere della Sera il 3 giugno 2016:

'Le chiamano operazioni di psychological warfare, guerra psicologica. Tecniche di disturbo impiegate per far innervosire il nemico e per diminuire la sua forza di propaganda. Secondo i quotidiani di Londra, le SBS, le forze speciali britanniche, e i Jsoc statunitensi stanno utilizzando un nuovo sistema contro i jihadisti. Chiave di volta per far saltare i nervi agli uomini del Califfato è la musica di Bollywood, già messa al bando dai talebani perché considerate blasfema. Risultato, accade che a Sirte, in Libia, dove i jihadisti hanno imposto la sharia (vietando tra le altre cose la musica), da automobili con altoparlanti piazzate vicino ai checkpoint di Isis partano all’improvviso delle canzoni hindu riprodotte a tutto volume. Orario preferito per «iniziare le danze», all’alba mentre i miliziani dormono. Ma non solo. Sulla scia delle operazioni di cyberwarfare lanciate in Libia di recente (...) i militari riescono a inserirsi nelle conversazioni via radio dei jihadisti e, anche in questo caso, fanno partire le canzoni con l’obiettivo di innervosire e disorientare il nemico. «Sono misure che stanno funzionando», ha dichiarato una fonte militare al Mirror. Che ha aggiunto: «Abbiamo anche studiato i loro tempi di reazione nell’individuare la fonte della musica, analizzando i loro punti deboli».' 

Indiancine.ma

Vi segnalo il sito Indiancine.ma, archivio on line di film indiani. Buona visione!

Bollywood e Nollywood

Lo scorso 15 luglio nelle edicole italiane era stato distribuito il dvd Bollywood e Nollywood, nell'ambito dell'opera editoriale Lezioni di cinema pubblicata da La Repubblica/L'Espresso.

Movie Mag e Bollywood

[Archivio] La puntata del 27 novembre 2014 di Movie Mag, programma televisivo diffuso da Rai Movie, era parzialmente dedicata al cinema popolare hindi.

Sharmila Tagore: Filmfare 19 agosto 1966

[Archivio] 

Filmfare, il celeberrimo periodico indiano in lingua inglese dedicato al cinema hindi, inaugurò le pubblicazioni nel lontano 1952. Vi propongo la copertina del numero del 19 agosto 1966, forse la più famosa in assoluto nella storia della carta stampata del subcontinente. Grande scalpore fece Sharmila Tagore, l'attrice che per prima osò indossare un bikini per lo scatto di copertina. Sharmila è la madre di Soha Ali Khan e di Saif Ali Khan. 

Ecco cosa scrive M.J. Akbar nel suo romanzo Fratelli di sangue: ''Sopravvissi al 1967 grazie al bikini di Sharmila Tagore. (...) Vidi Sharmila Tagore in bikini mentre, in stato di grazia, stavo tornando dall'ufficio di Desmond; mi sembrò una ricompensa divina per il mio duro lavoro. Era sulla copertina di Filmfare, la più popolare rivista di cinema indiana. Quel bikini fu una rivoluzione. Era la prima volta che una stella appariva così scoperta, e quell'audacia aprì così tante falle nel senso del pudore della borghesia indiana che alla fine l'antico retaggio s'inabissò senza neanche un piccolo gorgoglio. Ormai anche le brave ragazze delle famiglie per bene potevano apparire sensuali'. 

Aggiornamento dell'8 ottobre 2015: vi segnalo l'articolo The first bikini cover, pubblicato oggi da Filmfare. Di seguito un estratto:

'It was the ‘60s and young India was progressing rapidly in all spheres. Along with that progressed the Hindi movie industry and one such example was this controversial yet iconic Filmfare cover of Sharmila Tagore. A memorable cover for which the actress, looking ravishing as ever, donned a bikini with nonchalance and posed for renowned photographer Dhiren Chawda. With this cover, she became the first Indian actress to pose for a magazine cover in a two-piece bikini. The issue hit the stands on the 19th of August 1966 and her bold move went on to create controversies like no other. So much so that it even raised questions in the Parliament. After becoming a raging success in Bollywood, 22-year-old Sharmila shot for this cover just a couple of weeks before she got married to handsome cricketer and royalty, Mansoor Ali Khan Pataudi.

The actress had walked in to the studio and when photographer Dhiren Chawda asked her what she would like to wear, the actress promptly pulled out a two-piece floral bikini out of her bag and said that she’d be wearing that. Years later when asked about what was going on in her mind when she made that decision, she said, “Oh! God, how conservative our society was back then! I’ve no idea why I did that shoot. It was just before I got married. I remember when I showed the two-piece bikini to the photographer he asked me, “Are you sure about this?” In some of the shots, he even asked me to cover my body. He was more worried than I was but I had no qualms doing that shoot. Only when people started reacting strongly to the cover, was I taken aback. I was puzzled as to why they didn’t like the picture. I thought I looked nice. Some called it a deliberate move to grab eyeballs; others termed me as ‘astutely uncanny’. I hated that. Maybe, there was an exhibitionist in me, as I was young and excited to do something different”. 

That year alone she was seen in five movies and gave some of her most memorable performances. Rebellious move that it was the actress set a stone with this cover that sent out a strong message that India too can be sensuous. And how!'.

Bollywood vs. Jihad

Katrina Kaif in Tees Maar Khan

[Archivio] 

Vi segnalo il curioso articolo Bollywood vs. Jihad, firmato da Shikha Dalmia e pubblicato da Reason nel numero di agosto-settembre 2011. Può il soft power di Bollywood contrastare l'avanzata del fondamentalismo islamico? L'8 settembre 2011 Il Foglio aveva pubblicato la traduzione in italiano del pezzo. Di seguito un estratto dal testo originale:

'Islamic fundamentalists have long worried about the threat that Bollywood poses to their puritanical demands. Of late, they have even taken to making videos - rap videos, no less - condemning Bollywood movies as being the product of an infidel culture trying to brainwash Muslims against their own religious values and duties. They have ample reason to be worried. About 3 billion people, or half the planet, watches Bollywood, and many of them live in the Islamic world. By depicting assimilated, modernized Muslims, Bollywood - without even trying - deromanticizes and thereby disarms fanatical Islam. (...)

The kind of Western soft power that proved so crucial in bringing down the Soviet empire - jazz, Hollywood, the Beatles - is arguably less relevant in the struggle against fundamentalist Islam. American culture, despite its alleged ubiquity, doesn't have the same resonance in Eastern countries that don't share the West's ethnic, religious, and cultural background. While hip hop and heavy metal have helped inspire some of the street protesters demanding more freedoms across the Middle East and northern Africa, outside of the hardcore early adopters these cultural subgenres remain more voyeuristic than aspirational. Their popularity arguably stems more from a curiosity about how exotic people in alien countries live than from an inclination to emulate them.

That isn't true of Bollywood. India's flamboyant, campy, kitschy film industry is rooted in heritages, values, aesthetics, and geographies shared with much of the Muslim world. The Middle East is Bollywood's third largest overseas market. Many Bollywood movies now hold their premiers in Dubai. (...)

Disaffected youth throughout the unfree Muslim world see in Bollywood a glimpse of the pleasures, colors, and riches available in a world with more liberty. Among the first businesses to open after the Taliban fell in Afghanistan were movie theaters showing Bollywood films. Even at the height of the Taliban's repression, shopkeepers kept a secret stash of undestroyed film star posters that they would barter for food and goods. (...)

The Muslim country most in the grip of Bollywood mania is Pakistan, India's cultural twin in every respect but religion. The more aggressively that Pakistani authorities have tried to purge it from their soil, the more Bollywood's popularity has grown. During the country's four-decade-long ban on Indian movies, Pakistanis watched them via satellite dishes and smuggled VHS tapes. When the ban was finally lifted in 2008, the Bollywood scene in Pakistan exploded. Not only have Bollywood movies been playing to packed houses, but Indian movie stars are treated like demigods, despite Islam's taboo against idol worship. The latest fad among Pakistan's urban nouveau riche is Bollywood theme weddings in which the bride and groom dress in outfits worn by a particular movie's stars and hold their wedding reception in elaborate tents constructed to resemble movie sets.

It's hard to emulate - and adulate - a cultural form while simultaneously rejecting its message. And Bollywood's message is profoundly at odds with the strictures of Islamic extremism. At the simplest level, women who don Bollywood outfits, even when adapted for more modest sensibilities, are resisting the Islamic strictures that would shroud them in a burqa. At a deeper level, Bollywood movies offer a compromise between tradition and modernity that resonates with ordinary Muslims while subverting Islamist designs.

Take romantic movies. You might have expected Hollywood's more sexually explicit romances to pose a bigger threat to puritanical Shariah law than Bollywood's tamer approach. You'd be wrong. Both Hollywood and Bollywood idealize true love that conquers all. But the obstacles that Hollywood couples face - previous lovers, infidelity, commitment phobia, baggage from broken marriages - have little to do with the concerns of people in traditional Muslim countries. They can relate far more with Bollywood's paramours, whose chief impediment is familial objections, given that arranged marriage is still a revered institution in that part of the world. (...)

Veer-Zaara portrays the tension between the possibilities of modernity and the demands of tradition, offering a resolution that accommodates both. It affirms the right of young men and women - not their parents or families - to decide their own romantic fate. But it does so without demanding the wholesale jettisoning of religion, tradition, or family. Zaara's original journey to India to dispose of her caregiver's ashes conveys her piety, love, and deep respect for her elders, all prized virtues in traditional, religious cultures, Islamic or Hindu. What's more, Veer and Zaara don't simply thumb their noses at Zaara's family and run off to Las Vegas. That would have delegitimized their cause. They pursue a much harder balancing act. Zaara does not dishonor her family or reject its claims on her. But she breaks away from her husband, choosing instead to be single.

Bollywood, then, encourages young lovers to follow their heart by persuading their families of the rightness of their cause, not by turning their backs on them. It seeks to realize romantic love not outside the broader structure of faith and family but within it, at once reforming and affirming key social institutions - a resolution that legitimizes Muslim reformers against Islamist reactionaries. Bollywood is at once both progressive and conservative, a combination that appeals to Muslim youth.

Veer-Zaara was released when Pakistan had not yet lifted its ban on Bollywood. But it became an underground cult hit there anyway. By depicting ordinary Pakistanis, if not their government, as decent, honorable, family-oriented people, the movie flattered one of its key audiences. Pakistani athletes who happened to be in India when the movie was released reportedly watched the film at a special screening and spilled into the theater aisles to dance and clap along when Veer performs an obligatory fantasy dance sequence on a bus rooftop.

There is another key reason for Bollywood's appeal to the Islamic world. Since its inception, some of the Indian film industry's biggest stars, both male and female, have been Muslims. Currently, the three highest grossing male leads are Muslims, all with the recognizably Muslim surname Khan. Bollywood's most respected music composer - A.R. Rahman - (...) is also a Muslim, as are many of Bollywood's best lyricists and screenwriters.

The success of these Bollywood Muslims has profound implications for the emergence of a moderate Islam. They have a very different attitude toward their faith than the one prescribed by radical Islamists. Some industry professionals are more religiously observant than others, and movie gossip circles are always abuzz over which member of the Khan troika is more serious about the faith. It's widely reported that Salman Khan (...) eschews alcohol and that Shah Rukh Khan (...) fasts to observe Ramadan. But ultimately the faith of Bollywood's Muslims is about personal spiritual elevation, not subordination to Taliban-style medievalism. Rahman, the composer, is a devout Sufi who prays five times a day - not because he is trying to popularize Islam's rigid strictures but because, as The Times of India puts it, it helps him "release his tension and gives him a sense of containment."

The best Sufi music these days is arguably coming not from the Mideast but from the Indian subcontinent, thanks in no small part to Bollywood Muslims. By showcasing these artists and their work, the Indian film industry demonstrates to Muslims everywhere that adapting to modernity does not require them to abandon their faith and traditions. In fact, it can be a vehicle for preserving and promoting them.

None of this satisfies hardcore Islamists, of course. But their vitriol at (...) Bollywood's many (...) transgressions has little resonance with the industry's Muslims. Shah Rukh, who has one billion fans across the world, in fact has made it something of a personal crusade to take on clerics who question his faith or try to impose on him their rigid version of Islam. "Jihad [meaning 'inner struggle'] was supposed to be propagated by the Prophet himself," the actor told CNN-India. "Now two versions of Islam exist. There is an Islam from Allah, and very unfortunately, there is an Islam from the Mullahs." 

But at the same time Shah Rukh criticizes extremists, he uses his stardom and artistic platform to convey the legitimate concerns of ordinary Muslims to the rest of the world. For example, his 2010 film My Name Is Khan depicts the indignities to which American Muslims have been subjected post-9/11, especially through racial profiling. As if to prove his point, immigration officials at Newark Liberty International Airport detained and questioned Shah Rukh for several hours when he came to America to promote the movie.

America's reliance on hard power stems from a subconscious fear that, without it, there will be nothing left to counter the spread of Islamic extremism. But hard power's inevitably blunt application makes distinguishing between extremists and nonextremists nearly impossible, thus alienating the very people America needs to enlist on its side. Pakistan has borne the brunt of Washington's hard power, from the constant drone attacks to the infringements on its sovereignty during Osama bin Laden's killing. And the more America has deployed its hard power, the more that anti-American sentiment has grown among ordinary Pakistanis. (...)

But even as Pakistan's resistance to America's drones and raids has grown, its resistance to Bollywood's soft power has crumbled. The extremists who find sympathetic audiences when directing fire and brimstone toward the Great Satan are powerless to prevent Pakistanis from consuming Bollywood blasphemies'. 

Spazio: ultima frontiera del cinema indiano?

Aishwarya Rai in Enthiran

[Archivio] 

Sto per offrirvi una vera chicca. Nel luglio 2011 Aelfric Bianchi pubblicava per Forma Cinema il breve saggio Spazio: ultima frontiera del cinema indiano?, nel quale analizzava il rapporto fra fantascienza e produzione cinematografica popolare. Di seguito un estratto:

'Koi... Mil Gaya. (...) Raro esempio di convergenza tra successo di pubblico e alto apprezzamento della critica. (...) Ponendo in atto un'intelligente ed equilibrata mediazione tra istanze artistiche ed esigenze di mercato, non rinnega i tipici stilemi della cinematografia popolare, (...) ma li padroneggia con sapienza e originalità e li sfrutta come mezzo di trasmissione di un messaggio forte, impegnato e impegnativo, in linea con la tendenza della nuova Bollywood, che (...) si avvale proprio degli stereotipi dei masala movies per veicolare contenuti difficili a platee tradizionalmente poco inclini ad accogliere novità troppo rivoluzionarie. (...) Koi... Mil Gaya rielabora elementi di un genere definito come la science fiction alla luce della sensibilità e della cultura indiana, in perfetta adesione all'eclettico sincretismo che caratterizza - a tutti i livelli - lo spirito del Subcontinente. Esemplificativo in tale prospettiva è l'espediente adottato per giustificare la venuta sulla Terra degli extraterrestri, richiamati da un segnale radio molto particolare: la sillaba mistica Om, ripetuta, in infinite varianti, da un mirabolante elaboratore elettronico.

Tale fu il successo del film, pur così anomalo nel panorama bollywoodiano classico, da generare un sequel, Krrish, (...) lodato dalla critica e accolto con straordinario calore dal pubblico. (...) Questo secondo capitolo (...) è assurto al rango di autentico fenomeno di costume, giustificando appieno l'etichetta di cult movie. Un colossal per molti versi epoch-marking, a buon diritto considerato capofila di un filone nuovo per il cinema indiano, ma assai popolare in ambito hollywoodiano: il Superhero movie. (...) 

Krrish può vantare ormai diversi epigoni, ma anche un illustre antesignano: Mr. India. (...) Il film, tra i maggiori successi degli anni Ottanta e ancor oggi oggetto di un'affezione tanto intensa da sfiorare l'adorazione religiosa da parte di folte schiere di fan, è il primo Superhero movie indiano e, sorprendentemente, a dirigerlo è Shekhar Kapur, il regista che, con Bandit Queen, inaugurò un'autentica rivoluzione copernicana nel policromo ma in ultima istanza immobile mondo di Bollywood, imprimendo una svolta epocale che avrebbe indotto molti registi commerciali a rinunciare ai suoi più tipici stilemi, a cominciare dalle canzoni e dalle coreografie faraoniche, senza tuttavia astenersi da un utilizzo mirato e funzionale del linguaggio e dei valori del pubblico tradizionale. Un autore poliedrico e proteiforme, (...) che ha saputo acquisire grande notorietà anche in Occidente, (...) ed evidenziando sempre una incoercibile e talora persino violenta carica innovatrice e dissacratoria. (...)

Alla logica commerciale del mainstream sembra invece sottrarsi il film Deham, (...) del veterano Govind Nihalani.  (...) Il film coniuga fantascienza e impegno sociale. Amara e dolente riflessione sui conflitti economici, politici e culturali tra mondo capitalistico e paesi poveri e sulle loro conseguenze potenzialmente devastanti, si allinea piuttosto all'ideologia della nuova Bollywood. (...) In una cupa e soffocante Mumbai del 2022, Om Prakash, un giovane disoccupato, è indotto dalla disperazione ad accettare l'offerta della Interplanta, una multinazionale che opera illegalmente nel settore dei trapianti su commissione di ricchi clienti: vendere i propri organi in cambio di una vita agiata per la sua famiglia. Falsificando il proprio stato civile per firmare il faustiano contratto (la società per evitare complicazioni giuridiche ammette infatti soltanto donatori single), pone le basi di una progressiva e inesorabile discesa agli inferi: alla frustrazione della moglie Jaya, costretta a fingersi sua sorella, si aggiunge la sconvolgente scoperta che le parti asportate verranno sostituite con elementi artificiali, trasformandolo in un ibrido uomo-macchina, un cyborg. Dominato da atmosfere fosche e intriso di un claustrofobico pessimismo, Deham ribadisce la propria estraneità al circuito nazionalpopolare adottando la lingua inglese. (...) Nonostante l'accoglienza tiepida del pubblico e della critica, anche in virtù di scelte stilistiche non sempre convincenti e di effetti speciali rozzi e artigianali, il film rappresenta comunque un esperimento di grande interesse e originalità, documentando altresì la crescente attenzione dedicata da Bollywood alla science fiction'.

Il flusso inverso dei cervelli secondo il film Swades

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Vi segnalo il lungo articolo Arrivano i nostri! Dal brain drain al brain gain: il flusso inverso dei cervelli secondo il film Swades, pubblicato da Crepuscoli Dottorali il 2 novembre 2012 a firma Aelfric Bianchi. L'autore, nella sua interessante analisi, affronta il tema della diaspora indiana e della sua rappresentazione nella cinematografia popolare in lingua hindi, soffermandosi su due titoli in particolare: Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge e Swades. Bianchi cita anche Lagaan. Di seguito un estratto:

'All’iniziale diffidenza, se non addirittura manifesta ostilità, nei confronti dei “traditori” NRI [Non Resident Indians], alla cui cultura ibridizzata erano contrapposti i valori puri e incontaminati dell’autentico desh agricolo, subentra una loro progressiva rivalutazione, che finisce per farne l’elemento portante di tutto un filone. Scherniti e derisi in una prima fase in quanto imitatori pedissequi dei “corrotti” costumi occidentali, (...) essi assurgono negli anni al ruolo di eroi positivi, capaci di contemperare nel migliore dei modi modernità e tradizione, importando in contesti “altri” proprio l’attaccamento ai principi e agli ideali patri che in passato erano accusati di aver rinnegato. 

A sancire l’inizio di questa nuova tendenza è senza dubbio Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge, (...) autentico cult movie ancor oggi amatissimo dal pubblico indiano. (...) La trionfale accoglienza da parte del pubblico indiano (locale ed espatriato) di Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge (...) è alla base del proliferare di film incentrati sulle figure di NRI visti nella loro duplice dimensione deshi e foreign, come portatori di un nuovo benessere ma al contempo strenui difensori dei valori più genuini della terra d’origine. (...)

 

Tra le numerose pellicole imperniate su personaggi di Indiani non residenti nella madrepatria, accomunate dai sermoni di acceso tono patriottico, dalle inderogabili sequenze di danza e canto e dalle scene di matrimonio, potrebbe a un primo sguardo confondersi anche Swades: We, the People. Sebbene ne condivida la tematica di fondo, tuttavia, questo film (...) se ne differenzia in maniera radicale sia sul piano prettamente stilistico e formale sia a livello di impalcatura ideologica. Nonostante la presenza di Shah Rukh Khan (...) e gli elogi unanimi della critica, ricevette un’accoglienza piuttosto fredda da parte del pubblico indiano, assurgendo invece a vero e proprio cult movie presso le platee di NRI disseminate nel mondo. (...) Ancora più evidente è il tentativo di contemperare le istanze tipiche del blockbuster (il cui successo è riconducibile a una vasta gamma di fattori, a cominciare dal costante superamento di nuove frontiere sul piano della spettacolarità, dall’offerta di un’esperienza cinematografica immediatamente gratificante a livello sensoriale e dalla capacità di intercettare i gusti, le tendenze e le opinioni più diffuse nella società) con quelle dei film “d’arte” e di superare la tradizionale incompatibilità con il mercato occidentale. (...) Swades (...) rivela nella sceneggiatura la propria diversità. (...) Al pari di Lagaan costituisce un’opera esemplare della svolta epocale ormai in atto nel cinema di massa indiano, raggiungendo un pubblico assai vasto senza cedere alle facili lusinghe dei grandi titoli commerciali, in genere poco amati dalla critica, maltrattati nei discorsi quotidiani degli spettatori “critici”, ritenuti superficiali e semplicisti nella rappresentazione della realtà, ma soddisfacendone comunque i gusti e i desideri e sottraendosi in tal modo al destino della maggioranza dei film “impegnati”, spesso visti soltanto in Occidente perché neppure distribuiti a livello locale. (...) Da non sottovalutare è poi l’assenza in quest’ultimo film di un “nemico” vero e proprio, subito riconoscibile come tale: il “male” risiede infatti nell’ideologia retrograda, nell’arretratezza e nella rassegnazione, ed è quindi un nemico interiore e senza volto, dai contorni non facilmente definibili. (...)

Il processo di cambiamento interiore del protagonista è indagato con finezza in profondità, a differenza di quanto avviene nella grande maggioranza dei film popolari hindi, che, riducendo o addirittura azzerando l’enorme varietà di identità sociali, regionali, etniche e religiose di cui si compone la società indiana, mirano piuttosto a creare una sorta di Eden omogeneo e uniforme, carente di riferimenti alla storia e all’attualità della nazione e popolato non tanto da “uomini reali”, quanto piuttosto da archetipi, modelli perfetti e tipi fissi, sostanzialmente stereotipati (l’Eroe e il Cattivo, l’Eroina e la sua Migliore Amica, il Padre Affettuoso e la Matrigna Crudele). (...) Grande attenzione il regista dedica inoltre all’analisi psicologica dei personaggi secondari, i quali non si limitano a incarnare semplici “maschere”, ma risultano investiti di una marcata impronta specifica e individuale. (...) 

La questione stessa delle caste è affrontata con inusuale garbo e in maniera assai approfondita, senza l’enfasi retorica - e la sostanziale superficialità - che caratterizza molti film bollywoodiani di tematica “sociale”: Mohan [il protagonista], pur opponendosi alle discriminazioni e ai pregiudizi implicati da un sistema che ritiene ingiusto e arretrato, fonda le proprie argomentazioni su motivazioni razionali, argomentandole e discutendole nello spirito di una critica costruttiva, evitando condanne iperboliche e spettacolari e mostrando sempre e comunque rispetto nei confronti di opinioni che non condivide ma che sa bene essere radicate da sempre nella mentalità indiana. Improntata al medesimo realismo è anche la rappresentazione pratica della miseria che si cela sotto la facciata luminosa di una nazione in continua e inarrestabile crescita e delle iniquità di cui essa è permeata. Esemplare in questa prospettiva è la sequenza della proiezione all’aperto di un vecchio successo bollywoodiano (...), con lo schermo che divide non solo simbolicamente gli abitanti del villaggio in due (i membri delle caste inferiori essendo costretti ad assistere al film da dietro), almeno finché non si celebra il miracolo salvifico del cinema, capace di abbattere ogni barriera e di unire tutto il pubblico, sia pure per un istante, in un entusiastico coro di approvazione. Senza dubbio una così atipica e massiccia presenza di agganci alla realtà sociopolitica contemporanea (...) può aver turbato spettatori avvezzi a cercare in prima istanza l’intrattenimento puro e una sorta di rifugio ideale per i propri sogni, contribuendo a determinare l’accoglienza non certo trionfale riservata a Swades. (...) Alla luce di simili premesse, può apparire per certi versi legittimo definire Swades come una sorta di anello di congiunzione ideale tra il filone cinematografico dedicato agli indiani espatriati e i film sociali e progressisti del periodo nehruviano. (...) Emerge dunque con chiarezza l’estrema complessità di un film che si presta a diversi livelli di lettura, capace di coniugare, pur con qualche pecca, intrattenimento leggero e denuncia sociale, spettacolarità e realismo, spirito patriottico e assenza di retorica. (...) Con Swades Gowariker ha saputo senza dubbio rinnovare un modello ormai ritenuto superato, affrontando con sensibilità temi cari a molti registi del periodo post-indipendenza, in particolare a quelli bengalesi: l’oppressione dei più deboli, le diseguaglianze sociali e gli stenti degli strati meno abbienti della popolazione indiana. Parallelamente, ha dimostrato come sia possibile sfruttare un filone consolidato, quello appunto imperniato sulla figura del NRI, in maniera originale. 

Significativa è in quest’ottica la scelta di Shah Rukh Khan nel ruolo di protagonista, in quanto l’attore deve molta della sua immensa popolarità anche fuori dai confini del Subcontinente alle sue numerose interpretazioni di indiani espatriati, a partire dal già menzionato Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge. Non a caso la sua prova si è meritata il plauso unanime della critica, che ne ha lodato l’intensità e la misura, a loro volta piuttosto inconsuete nella carriera di King Khan, avvezzo a far convergere su di sé l’attenzione degli spettatori, spogliando i suoi personaggi di ogni parvenza naturalistica per rivestirli di cliché di successo sperimentati, dalla postura fortemente evidenziata alla dizione enfatizzata e lontana dal normale parlato quotidiano, alla drammatizzazione del comportamento fisico e affabulatorio. In Swades, al contrario, la sua recitazione è composta e controllata, scevra di gigionerie anche nelle situazioni dove ci si attenderebbe un suo atteggiamento da “mattatore”. E non è da escludere che una simile anomalia possa a sua volta aver inciso sullo scarso successo commerciale del film, almeno presso il pubblico locale, favorendone al contrario gli ottimi risultati conseguiti in Occidente, non solo tra i migranti indiani. A differenza di quanto accade in numerose pellicole appartenenti al medesimo filone, inoltre, Shah Rukh Khan interpreta qui una figura più complessa, meno ancorata agli stereotipi tradizionali: Mohan incarna in sé, infatti, proprio quell’ambivalenza (...) perlopiù assent[e] nei personaggi dei film commerciali. Lacerato da dubbi e da contraddizioni, fino all’ultimo è preda del dilemma della scelta tra due alternative, nessuna delle quali è del tutto soddisfacente. La sua decisione di tornare nella madrepatria è l’esito di un lungo processo interiore e in quanto tale non si riduce a un mero atto aprioristico, alla conseguenza “naturale” della piena positività associata nel cinema popolare all’eroe. Il suo antagonista non è esterno; risiede piuttosto dentro di lui, nelle sue paure e nelle sue incertezze. Il “nemico” che si oppone al lieto fine non è il terzo vertice del classico “triangolo amoroso”, tanto sfruttato dall’industria bollywoodiana; e nemmeno è, secondo una tendenza assai diffusa, un NRI “cattivo”, che, con le sue perversioni e i suoi vizi, rappresenta l’esatta antitesi del protagonista; bensì è costituito dal suo stesso “lato oscuro”, da un bagaglio di sentimenti contrastanti così “reale” e dunque così estraneo al modello canonico. Con la sua definitiva risoluzione, Mohan non si limita certo a incarnare l’auspicio che al brain drain subentri il brain gain, facendo leva sulla nostalgia, e magari sui sensi di colpa, degli indiani espatriati, ma si spinge oltre, giungendo a indicare una via in grado di superare l’antinomia tra vecchio e nuovo, tra tradizione e modernità, tra Oriente e Occidente, pacificando i due estremi e dimostrandone la possibile coesistenza, in linea peraltro con un pensiero che antepone da sempre l’unità alle differenze'.