The Dharamshala International Film Festival (DIFF) was founded by filmmakers Ritu Sarin and Tenzing Sonam in 2012. (Image: Istagram)
Gauri Ramachandran
New DelhiNov 18, 2024 16:56 IST First published on: Nov 18, 2024 at 18:48 IST
Film festivals are many things: They are a celebration of craft, they are a place where lovers of the medium build community, they are, very importantly, a place where films get picked up for distribution. They are also the last place certain films see the light of day. Indian parallel cinema may not be dead, but it has become invisibilised by an industry that sees any experimentation as inherently risky, and therefore unworthy of distribution.
Last year at the Dharamshala International Film Festival, I was lucky to catch Harshad Nalawade’s Follower, a film that engages with the terrifying reality of gradual radicalisation in a deeply sympathetic and human way. I was the only one of my friends who sat for the screening. I was excited for them to watch it, at some point. Only that point never came because the film never got picked up. This year, at the same festival, I missed the much-anticipated screening of Dipaker Banerjee’s Tees due to the queues caused by the sheer number of people who wanted to watch it. There is a certain quiet desperation within these queues, especially when they finally bring out the housefull card, because if not now then when, then how.
The parallel cinema movement began in the 1950s with movies like Bimal Roy’s Do Bigha Zamin and Satyajit Ray’s Aparajito. The movement thrived in the early 1980s with critical hits like Albert Pinto ko Gussa Kyoon Aata Hai. It eventually declined, making way for the big-budget big-studio Bollywood films of the 1990s. The Film Finance Corporation that became the National Film Development Corporation seemed to have washed its hands off of making sure that the films that depicted the sociopolitical realities of our young nation reached an audience. Funding for these films dwindled. By the 2000s, another kind of “off-beat” film emerged, like Anurag Kashyap’s No Smoking — not one that necessarily followed the realism and social commentary of parallel cinema of the past, but one that experimented with both craft and message. While these films weren’t necessarily huge box office successes, they were often given a wide release regardless of their subject, and whether or not they are palatable to a wide audience.
The change was stark as we approached the mid-2010s: The emergence of OTT platforms meant that many films that may not draw a large audience with a theatrical release were relegated to such platforms. But at least they were seen. Films going into streaming had a lot more wiggle room with respect to what they could say But with the Information Technology (Intermediary Guidelines and Digital Media Ethics Code) Rules, 2021 and the Draft Broadcasting Services (Regulation) Bill, 2023, norms changed. Platforms have been seen adhering to CBFC norms in India, simultaneously releasing uncut versions in other countries. This paranoia may extend to distribution as well. Of course, revenue anxieties cannot be discounted. But comparing releases from 2004 to 2024, we see similarities — liberal, globalised economies in a multiplexed era — and disheartening differences in the kind of “off-beat” films finding theatrical space.
We may be approaching a time when we’re too callous with what is considered “off-beat”, where any film that isn’t quietly supportive of the current structures, if not wildly appreciative, may be considered so, which means they are already classified as unsellable, which means they may never be showcased to an audience. What this looks like is the state of Indian cinema now, where the only films that get wide releases are either ones with unsubtle political propaganda or masala crowd-pleasers. The cinemas are largely bereft of anything introspective or reflective of the current times, and while some films such as Laapataa Ladies may carry some social messages, the gaze is always towards what can be easily criticised, such as the state of women in rural India in the early 2000s.
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Filmmaking is a particularly brave activity right now, one where you may put in your heart, soul, time and money, only for the film to never get picked up. Film festivals then, come to the rescue, and while the agenda may be to get to distributors, the films get some love regardless. This is why they’re particularly important in India at this juncture. With theatres flooded with lucrative remakes, sequels and re-releases, and a socioeconomic climate hostile to experimental filmmakers, festivals allow both filmmakers and film lovers to imagine an alternative. We may never get back to the times of the parallel cinema movement of the 20th century, but there is a world of brilliant cinema in the country even now, and the anticipation and anxiety radiating from the lengthy queues at these festivals may not be indicative of the scale of success they may reach, but the truth is undeniable: These films long to be watched.
The writer is an LLB student at Faculty of Law, University of Delhi
