And/Or

And/Or

Exploring the Popular Narrative

Vinay Shukla, Direction 1971

Despite being a lover of Hindi films, I have often been dismayed by the kind of films which we are subjected to. As a member of the film industry, I've been saddened to see the magnitude of precious resources and manpower that go into the making of films which try to follow some formula for sure box office success, and fall flat on their faces week after week. Is there something wrong with the basics of popular cinema itself? Is it a deeply flawed, outdated, silly and meaningless form that just believes in putting together some standard elements like a khichdi and hope that people get ‘entertained’? Or is there some merit in its principles which are not understood at all by a majority of film-makers? Is it the form of popular cinema itself which is to blame, or does the responsibility for bad films lie with the manner in which the form is used?

Popular cinema concerns itself with storytelling, which is an art perhaps as old as humankind itself. Long before the printing press was invented, storytelling was institutionalized through the oral histories of balladeers, nomadic singers, priests and travelling folklore narrators. What, after all, is a story and what does it do? I’d call it a segment of life, told in a manner that gives you a sense of the whole. It weaves the truths and experiences of life in such an articulate and engaging manner that the experience is total. It makes us aware of the harmony inherent in our lives, which we are not able to discern and experience because we view our existence from individual perspectives. Importantly, stories also have a utilitarian purpose. It is by now a fact well documented by psychologists and other observers of the human mind that people use myths to deal with the more demanding situations of life. Mythological heroes serve as inspiration – unconsciously and consciously – to move ahead in life, to solve problems. This happens in other stories too – fables, fairy tales, adventure accounts. So, apart from giving a vicarious experience of enjoyment, stories help us in living life.

Stories are like journeys that follow a certain path. They have universal rhythms and patterns, or to put it more aptly, a certain universal structure. This might be because the human mind has a certain universal way of functioning when it comes to assimilating information, processing it and responding to it. However, this structure of storytelling lends itself to the incorporation of varied elements specific to the culture of the land where it has evolved. So, while Greek and Indian myths may be comparable in terms of their essential narrative structure, they are different in the way they manipulate its patterns and in the variety of elements they use. Likewise, the same myth or fable is narrated using different elements in North India and South India.

Like other storytelling institutions, our popular cinema too has a form which is peculiar to itself. This form uses a universal structure, and has incorporated certain elements which are peculiar to India. These are primarily two: songs/dances and melodrama. Anyone who has looked at a random sample of films from the time of Phalke until now will confirm that this form has been a constant. Why is it that the newer breed of filmmakers, with links to western culture, who do not come from the kind of society which is called ‘filmi’, continue to make films that have song-dances and melodrama? Because that is our form of the Indian film.

But to go back to the question: why is film after film a collection of songs and dances, loud melodramatic situations, bombastic dialogue, crude, garish, exaggerated costumes and sets? Why are the same ideas being repeated over and over?

Have there been any film-makers who have used this popular form in a way that we all agree we have liked and enjoyed, and are proud of? What about Guru Dutt’s Sahib Biwi Aur Ghulam and Pyaasa? Mehboob Khan’s Andaz and Mother India? Raj Kapoor’s Awara? Shekhar Kapur’s Masoom? Raj Kumar Santoshi’s Damini? Mani Ratnam’s Nayakan and Roja? Aditya Chopra’s Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge? Ram Gopal Varma’s Satya? Even films not made as commercial or popular films have used this form with some of its unique elements, like Shyam Benegal’s Manthan and Govind Nihalani’s Aakrosh. All of them have treated conflict melodramatically, used songs and dances. And we loved those films because they were meaningful and engaged our imagination. In fact, those elements were very effectively used to enhance the meaningfulness of their themes. They entertained us; they also received universal recognition; some of them even international acclaim.

My analysis is that these filmmakers understood the principles of the popular film form and so, were able to utilize the strengths of these two elements to tell their story. It isn’t that they wanted success at the box office and went about contriving a story with situations that would help them to use these elements. They had a story to tell, and they wanted to tell it in the form of a popular film. And because they had understood the principles well, they were able to use them aesthetically to their advantage.

However, the sad fact is that most film-makers in India do not understand the form. Not just that, they seem to have no intention of trying to understand it either. So, what do they do? They look at successful precedents and attempt to duplicate their popularity and acclaim, by merely imitating the way a successful filmmaker has used the form. In trying to repeat the elements well used by the earlier filmmaker, these makers contrive stories, make up situations to fit these elements in. This, I’d say, is the answer to the question as to why we seem to be subjected to terrible films week after week.

We have to learn to distinguish between the form of popular cinema and the way it is used in different films. Let us not condemn the form itself, only because so many filmmakers use it badly, or rather, misuse it. And, as a corollary, let us also try to find out if sometimes we are dismissing a film merely because it uses the popular form, that is, songs and dances and melodramatic treatment.

The literal meaning of the term melodrama is: a situation in which people behave with too much emotion and excitement.

So, if a character is experiencing intense feelings or emotions, the popular film form accords the use of melodrama to the storyteller to express those feelings. The filmmaker who wants to tell his story using the popular form organically will express the character’s emotions and internal conflicts in melodramatic terms. Unfortunately, however, when most people think of melodrama it is only the vulgar or loud use that they have in mind, because most filmmakers believe that they can use melodrama to create emotions where none exist in the story. I’m sure that almost every film that you’ve seen has an example of the misuse of melodrama. But melodrama is very useful in a film, since it essentially compresses time and place, bringing out the maximum effect in the least time. Like poetry, it tells you the essence of emotion. And it is capable of containing two opposing emotions at the same time.

Melodrama involves you and distances you at the same time. You are pulled in by the intense quality of the character’s expression, but at the same time, since it requires exaggeration and some stylization, it causes alienation. You are able to view it as a spectacle, a tamasha. Whereas, I dare say, a realistic portrayal of such intense emotions does tend to become voyeuristic.

Now for the second element: songs and dances. Satyajit Ray had once remarked with great feeling at the Film Institute that he found the picturization of Hindi film songs very cinematic. Why don’t we just look at our own society? Every occupation – fisherman or postman, farmer or warrior, rajah or jogi – has a song attached to it. Every occasion – birth, death, marriage or separation – is accompanied by a song. Every festival, every season has a song about it. Songs are a way of life for us. If an important occasion is a meal, songs are its spices – leaving the meal incomplete without them.

But one question persists in my mind. How do films which I think are badly made become popular? People go to see them, are happy when they come out, and I am at a loss to explain this phenomenon. So, I watched those films to figure out what it was about them that worked with the audience. And I discovered that it was the form. Much as the story was hackneyed, the characterizations clichéd and the situations implausible, by some chance the filmmaker had used the innate rhythm of the form of popular cinema. If we believe that this form of storytelling is ingrained in our collective unconscious, then merely going through its motions when done well in a story is a very satisfying, even invigorating experience. So, maybe a lot of films which have bad stories and all those other things that dismay us, succeed because of the fluke of the correct use of the form.

I would like to conclude with a quote from Buckminster Fuller: “I don’t want to copy nature. I am just trying to find the principles she is using.”

This article has been taken from Under the Wisdom Tree, the commemorative book of the Wisdom Tree Film Festival held at Pune, 2003.