10-06-2007, 02:42 AM
Pioneer, Book review, 6 Oct, 2007
<!--QuoteBegin-->QUOTE<!--QuoteEBegin--><b>Hindu gods in Hindi cinema </b>
Indian cinema showcases the country's composite and seldom recognised culture, writes MV Kamath
Filming the Gods, Rachel Dwyer, Routledge, Rs 350
Indian cinema is probably the most analysed, dissected and diagonised aspect of the country's values and culture. <b>Rachel Dwyer, the author of this excellent work, refers to some three hundred odd books and articles on the subject which shows the great interest evinced by scholars in Indian cinema as a means of communication, cutting across religion, language and other forms of societal identification. </b>
More than the media, cinema has had an outreach that defies imagination. Whether it is Raj Kapoor or Amitabh Bachchan, Lata Mangeshkar or Mukesh, they have reached every corner of India by their acting and singing and are known and admired names. And may it be remembered, long before even the print media came into existence, music and dance were the hallmark of Indian culture, though their outreach was limited and largely confined to elite audiences, like a Maharaja's darbar.
With the coming of the cinema, things changed to an unbelievable extent. It is this change, in all its variety, that Dwyer has sought to unveil. Filming the Gods is broadly divided into four chapters. <b>The first deals with mythological films, the second chapter with its devotional equivalent. The third chapter is devoted to the study of the Islamicate film. 'Islamicate' is a contrived word implying 'something corresponding to'. Presumably, 'Islamicate' means something corresponding to, but not necessarily Islamic in character -- a subtle differentiation.</b>
<b>And the last chapter deals with the religious and the secular in Hindi films.</b> <b>It is remarkable how the Indian cinema followed the 19th century art, such as that of Raja Ravi Varma, whose paintings, for example, of Lakshmi and Saraswati still define the average Hindu's conception of the two goddesses.</b>
Certainly, art in the centuries preceding the coming of the film mostly reflected mythology and devotion, whether through raslila, yakshagana or Bharatanatyam. When MS Subbulakshmi played the role of a devotee, dancing to the song, Krishna ni begana baroh, audiences would be dazzled. There was, then, a certain inevitability in the production of the earliest films like Raja Harishchandra, directed by Dadasaheb Phalke.
In the first place, stories did not have to be invented: Mythology presented them for the asking. In the second place, whether mythological or devotional, audiences identified themselves easily with the films based on known characters in Puranas. Vishwamitra and Menaka needed no introduction to Indian -- predominantly Hindu -- audiences.
It is well to remember that long after India gained Independence and with the growth of an increasingly sophisticated audience, films based on Ramayan and Mahabharat could still invite large audiences belonging to all castes, creeds and religions. This could happen only in India. No wonder among Phalke's more notable films were Kaliya Mardan (1919) and Shree Krishna Janma.
What is interesting to know is that in the early years of Indian cinema, only Hindu audiences appreciated Indian films, while Parsis, Muslims and Christians preferred 'foreign', notably British and American, films -- the reason, perhaps, being the mythological or devotional nature of Hindi movies. One can hardly expect Muslims to go to a cinema theatre to see V Shantaram's Sant Tukaram which ran to full cinema halls for over 52 weeks in Mumbai. <b>But even the early mythological films had their novelty and thus attracted audiences in far away places in Burma, Singapore, Malayasia and east Africa.</b>
Of course this may be partly explained by the fact that these places had a substantial Hindu population. The mythological film followed the silent one, but nearly all the early talkies whether in Hindi or any south Indian language had a mythological base. Telugu had Bhakta Pralahd, Tamil had Kalidas and Gujarati Narsi Mehta. Social themes were to follow. It is said that the first Marathi talkie, Shyamsundar (1932), directed by Bhalji Pendharkar, reportedly crossed all lines -- religious or lingual -- and the singing of Balgandharva and Master Modak, reports Dwyer, quoting sources, drove everyone "Hindu, Parsi or Muslim, crazy".
Then came devotional films. 'New Theatre' made Chandidas (1932). Devaki Bose directed Puran Bhakt (1933) and Meerabai. These were followed in Maharashtra with Shantaram's Amar Jyoti, Duniya Na Mane, Aadmi, Padosi and Do Ankhe Barah Hath. Prabhat's and Shantaram's devotional films were concerned solely with Maharashtrain saints like Tukaram, Jnaneshwar and Sakhubai.
<b>Dwyer's study of the Islamicate film has a special appeal. It is significant that while in the early stages Muslims were not very much in the picture, with the coming of Hindi cinema, Muslims came very much into their own with many of the writers like Agha Kashmiri, Akhtar Mirza, Saadat Manto, Salim Khan and Javed Akhtar making it to the top. Many of the top female stars were also Muslim, including Gohar, Noor Jehan, Suraiya, Nargis, Madhubala, Meena Kumari and Waheeda Rehman.</b>
Dwyer insists that while other genres of Hindi cinema have cyclically emerged and disappeared, its dominant variety since the 1940s has been the omnibus 'social' theme. Remember Achyut Kanya (1936), Sujata (1959), BR Chopra's Naya Daur (1957) and Yash Chopra's Dhool Ka Phool (1959). In Rangeela (1995), the hero Munniah could have been either a Muslim or a Hindu. The point is that our film producers have been largely 'secular' in their outlook. In Veer Zaara, Sikhs negotiate between Hindus and Muslims and the Pakistani girl, Zaara, goes to India to take her Sikh nanny's ashes back to her homeland.
Academic though this study is, it is very revelatory of India's composite and seldom recognised culture. It reflects the essential unity of the land and the ethos of the country.
<!--QuoteEnd--><!--QuoteEEnd-->
<!--QuoteBegin-->QUOTE<!--QuoteEBegin--><b>Hindu gods in Hindi cinema </b>
Indian cinema showcases the country's composite and seldom recognised culture, writes MV Kamath
Filming the Gods, Rachel Dwyer, Routledge, Rs 350
Indian cinema is probably the most analysed, dissected and diagonised aspect of the country's values and culture. <b>Rachel Dwyer, the author of this excellent work, refers to some three hundred odd books and articles on the subject which shows the great interest evinced by scholars in Indian cinema as a means of communication, cutting across religion, language and other forms of societal identification. </b>
More than the media, cinema has had an outreach that defies imagination. Whether it is Raj Kapoor or Amitabh Bachchan, Lata Mangeshkar or Mukesh, they have reached every corner of India by their acting and singing and are known and admired names. And may it be remembered, long before even the print media came into existence, music and dance were the hallmark of Indian culture, though their outreach was limited and largely confined to elite audiences, like a Maharaja's darbar.
With the coming of the cinema, things changed to an unbelievable extent. It is this change, in all its variety, that Dwyer has sought to unveil. Filming the Gods is broadly divided into four chapters. <b>The first deals with mythological films, the second chapter with its devotional equivalent. The third chapter is devoted to the study of the Islamicate film. 'Islamicate' is a contrived word implying 'something corresponding to'. Presumably, 'Islamicate' means something corresponding to, but not necessarily Islamic in character -- a subtle differentiation.</b>
<b>And the last chapter deals with the religious and the secular in Hindi films.</b> <b>It is remarkable how the Indian cinema followed the 19th century art, such as that of Raja Ravi Varma, whose paintings, for example, of Lakshmi and Saraswati still define the average Hindu's conception of the two goddesses.</b>
Certainly, art in the centuries preceding the coming of the film mostly reflected mythology and devotion, whether through raslila, yakshagana or Bharatanatyam. When MS Subbulakshmi played the role of a devotee, dancing to the song, Krishna ni begana baroh, audiences would be dazzled. There was, then, a certain inevitability in the production of the earliest films like Raja Harishchandra, directed by Dadasaheb Phalke.
In the first place, stories did not have to be invented: Mythology presented them for the asking. In the second place, whether mythological or devotional, audiences identified themselves easily with the films based on known characters in Puranas. Vishwamitra and Menaka needed no introduction to Indian -- predominantly Hindu -- audiences.
It is well to remember that long after India gained Independence and with the growth of an increasingly sophisticated audience, films based on Ramayan and Mahabharat could still invite large audiences belonging to all castes, creeds and religions. This could happen only in India. No wonder among Phalke's more notable films were Kaliya Mardan (1919) and Shree Krishna Janma.
What is interesting to know is that in the early years of Indian cinema, only Hindu audiences appreciated Indian films, while Parsis, Muslims and Christians preferred 'foreign', notably British and American, films -- the reason, perhaps, being the mythological or devotional nature of Hindi movies. One can hardly expect Muslims to go to a cinema theatre to see V Shantaram's Sant Tukaram which ran to full cinema halls for over 52 weeks in Mumbai. <b>But even the early mythological films had their novelty and thus attracted audiences in far away places in Burma, Singapore, Malayasia and east Africa.</b>
Of course this may be partly explained by the fact that these places had a substantial Hindu population. The mythological film followed the silent one, but nearly all the early talkies whether in Hindi or any south Indian language had a mythological base. Telugu had Bhakta Pralahd, Tamil had Kalidas and Gujarati Narsi Mehta. Social themes were to follow. It is said that the first Marathi talkie, Shyamsundar (1932), directed by Bhalji Pendharkar, reportedly crossed all lines -- religious or lingual -- and the singing of Balgandharva and Master Modak, reports Dwyer, quoting sources, drove everyone "Hindu, Parsi or Muslim, crazy".
Then came devotional films. 'New Theatre' made Chandidas (1932). Devaki Bose directed Puran Bhakt (1933) and Meerabai. These were followed in Maharashtra with Shantaram's Amar Jyoti, Duniya Na Mane, Aadmi, Padosi and Do Ankhe Barah Hath. Prabhat's and Shantaram's devotional films were concerned solely with Maharashtrain saints like Tukaram, Jnaneshwar and Sakhubai.
<b>Dwyer's study of the Islamicate film has a special appeal. It is significant that while in the early stages Muslims were not very much in the picture, with the coming of Hindi cinema, Muslims came very much into their own with many of the writers like Agha Kashmiri, Akhtar Mirza, Saadat Manto, Salim Khan and Javed Akhtar making it to the top. Many of the top female stars were also Muslim, including Gohar, Noor Jehan, Suraiya, Nargis, Madhubala, Meena Kumari and Waheeda Rehman.</b>
Dwyer insists that while other genres of Hindi cinema have cyclically emerged and disappeared, its dominant variety since the 1940s has been the omnibus 'social' theme. Remember Achyut Kanya (1936), Sujata (1959), BR Chopra's Naya Daur (1957) and Yash Chopra's Dhool Ka Phool (1959). In Rangeela (1995), the hero Munniah could have been either a Muslim or a Hindu. The point is that our film producers have been largely 'secular' in their outlook. In Veer Zaara, Sikhs negotiate between Hindus and Muslims and the Pakistani girl, Zaara, goes to India to take her Sikh nanny's ashes back to her homeland.
Academic though this study is, it is very revelatory of India's composite and seldom recognised culture. It reflects the essential unity of the land and the ethos of the country.
<!--QuoteEnd--><!--QuoteEEnd-->