Winners and washouts

As a member of the Fipresci Jury at the London Film Festival '99, GOWRI RAMNARAYAN notes that it is the responsive audience which makes the festival come alive.

A HIGHLY original debut feature at the 43rd London Film Festival (LFF,Nov 99) was "The Cup" by Khyentse Nornu whose remarks, as he introduced the film, were as engagingly funny as his film. You did recall his rueful words: "When I show too much of the truth people think I exaggerate", as you watched the plot unfold in a Tibetan monastery-in-exile in the Himalayan foothills, the remote stage for riotous comedy when the World Cup fever hits the boys preparing for their religious ordination." Nocturnal truancy leads them to a TV set in a local shop, but the delirium demands that a satellite is rented into the monastery for the Finals. From the naughty youngsters, to their harassed martinet Geko, and the benevolent abbot who knows that giving in is as necessary to discipline as control the characters are shaped with a sure and dynamic control.

What made the film unforgettable was the pain behind the laughter, a yearning for the motherland racked by genocide, where over 10,000 monasteries had been destroyed after the Chinese invasion. The camera's reverence for the religious and social rituals of the refugees made profound contrast to its playful treatment of the football theme. The images which lingered were of fingers folded in prayer rites and the powerful resonances of the chants, through which we had chuckled at the impish pranks of the boys.

At the other end of the spectrum was another feature debut. "American Beauty" by acclaimed British theatre director Sam Mendes, was a black comedy which chilled you with its bleak satire on suburban life in that consumerists Eldorado. Glossy finish and stylish narration apart, the camera weaves in gossamer threads of fantasy to invest some of thevisuals with a visionary quality, totally alien to the petty disillusionments of the principal characters, played with assurance by the seasoned and the fledgeling. Kevin Spacey stands out for his rollicking performance which amazingly retains the nuances, in a role that demands immersion and objective detachment. He is both aggressor and victim in the collapse of family ties and values, He watches the rot with a cool resignation.

The gags are truly funny, as the one in which Spacey, determined to build a body to be proud of displaying to his daughter's classmate for whom he has developed a crush, asks for advice from two gay joggers. Annette Benning as the wife, devilled by the succeed-or-die syndrome makes a perfect mate in self -absorption. The neighbourhood peeping Tom and drug pusher turns out to be the daughter's saviour - he never forgets that there is an aesthetic side to the seamiest experience.

LFF also had its share of washouts like "Nang Nak" from Thailand. Disappointments included another first feature, the much hyped "Onegin" based on the autobiographical verse novel by Alexander Pushkin, directed by Martha Fiennes. The picture postcard quality of the painstakingly created period settings and costumes, not forgetting the lighting effects, is not enough to rouse the flames of passion. Ralph Fiennes as the Byronic hero is more poseur than prey to complex forces of emotion. Liv Taylor's unusual looks and bold strength made the story credible.

There was a keen non-Indian audience interest in films from India, even when they were not topclass efforts. Films like "Ende Swantham Janakikutty", and "Samar" (dismissable as dij' vu Benegal but a revelation in a first time encounter with the director ) had eager viewers. Benumbed after three solid hours of "Babasaheb Ambedkar", I was surprised to see that the viewers had not left the hall. More, they wanted to know more about the caste problem. A Greek journalist told me she was deeply moved and a Brazilian film student confessed that thefilm opened a new world for her!

My own reaction had been that director Jabbar Patel had produced a mishmash without character and style which needed drastic surgery to survive. The film was neither documentary nor feature. The sly intrusions of raucous songs didn't fool me into accepting them as essential for evoking ambience. The use of English was a bad mistake. No one spoke it convincingly, even as an Indian patois. It only made the film sound pretentious and artificial. Handicapped by the foreign tongue, Mammooty could only convert fire into wood.

Overburdened by research, the film tried to say everything and said little to purpose. Worse, this film about India's boldest iconoclast turned craven; it falsified the picture by glossing over the controversies which had not shown Ambedkar in the best light.

ABCD by the NRI Krutin Patel mingled thoughtfulness and gaucherie in handling the bewilderments of young Indians in the American diaspora. The film drew a packed, enthusiastic hall.

Dev Benegal's "Split Wide Open" lacked the freshness of his first foray "English August". We have seen the horrors beneath the glitz of city life in Mumbai, explored far more imaginatively, by both mainstream and parallel cinema here.

Slices of theatre history from both sides of the Atlantic, came alive in "Topsy Turvy" (Mike Leigh) and "Cradle Will Rock"(Tim Robbins). Both brought behind-the-stage hassles and heartbreaks which charge the creative act with a magical and explosive power. The former showed us how the Gilbert and Sullivan mix came up with the classic musical "Mikado". Notably, the magnificence of the setting, costumes and scenes from the original show replayed with period splendour intact, did not swamp, but augmented the multi-levelled treatment of the theme, and the people. Poignancy more frightening was evoked by "Cradle Will Rock", which examines the burning controversy over the Thirties play of that name, castigating the oppressive socio-political milieu inimical to artistic freedom. Produced by Orson Welles , the play was cancelled due to opposition from the government sponsor and the trade unions. In a breathless finale, the cast and crew stage an impromptu performance in an, old derelict theatre.

Black attempts to rewrite a more authentic history and against the prevailing Anglo Saxon interpretation found strong voices in Haile Gerima's "ADWA", which celebrates the 1986 Ethiopian victory over the Italians which launched new waves of hope throughout Africa. "Life and Times of Sara Baartman" was an astonishing reconstruction of the travails of a khoi tribal from South Africa, brought for display in the freak shows of Europe as the Hottentot Venus, and studied by scientists who thought she was more beast than human. The deadpan restraint of director Zola Maseko sends shivers down the spine.

What made the London festival exciting was not so much the films as the audience. The taut or bored silences, sighs and chuckles, laughs and hisses of ticket holders brought in a dimension unknown in the press shows. If the film was about the subcontinent, strangers did not hesitate to ask you for more information. Blacks were particularly eager to do this, and to share insights of common experience.

The evening galas brought surreal scenes to hall and foyer - of men in black ties with women in evening gowns, their jewels sparkling in the dim lights, scattered among their sparrow brethren shrouded in nondescript bundles of warm clothing. The "Onegin" premiere even had stargazers milling outside the gates, along with a battery of cameras firing into action as soon as Ralph Fiennes arrived, exuding cheesy savoir faire, while debutante sister Marthas face creased into nervous smiles. "You have a ticket? Lucky you," said film maker Kay Rasool, whowas among them. She had a film "My Journey, My Islam" at the festival.

Many screenings were followed by interactive sessions, when the audience often came up with unexpected queries. As from the woman who asked Martha Fiennes why she had used anachronistic music in the score. At the "ABCD" show, a European film buff asked about the market for a film, which was neither here nor there in terms of a target audience, in India or the U.S. A notable sight was film scholar and festival director, Adrian Wootton, carrying the mike to the stage and introducing the director/actors, with an easy, but dignified camaraderie, and yes,bringing it down again at the end.

LFF 99 awarded two prizes to fresh talent. The Sutherland Trophy for the most imaginative debut film (instituted in 1958; winners include Yasujiro Ozu and Bernardo Bertolucci) went to Lynne Ramsay who, in"Ratcatcher", examined the attempt of a young boy to escape from seedy poverty and deprivation in a style stark and intensely poetic.

The Fipresci International Critics Award for the best first or second feature went to "Boy's Don't Cry". Based on a real life event of a multiple murder in Nebraska by two ex-cons, the film traces the story of Teena Brandon who had enchanted the town as a boy and won loyal friends and a girl friend before her sexual identity was discovered by the gang she hung out with. A brutal rape and killing followed. The film makes no hero(-ine) or villain of its cast, but confronts the problems of sexual identity and social intolerance with a feel for truth, and compassion. A tight script and brilliant response to the complex challenge by the protagonist (Hilary Swank) contribute to the films impact. Kimberley Peirce has done in her first feature what many dream of: made fact intersect with fiction in a tense, sensitive and shattering vision. The work is a cry for the simple human wish, rarely fulfilled, which is the need to be free.

(Concluded)

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