A filmmaker who broke many a stereotype, Rituparno Ghosh will be remembered for giving the alternative a chance
“I am overrated because there is a lack of talent around.” When Rituparno Ghosh passed away last week, we lost a little bit of honesty in the creative spectrum. “I don’t like to intellectualise cinema too much,” he told this journalist when as a greenhorn one was trying to place him in the pantheon dominated by Ray and Ghatak. Over the years one realised that he was more like Tapan Sinha and Tarun Majumdar, but since there is no Ray or Ghatak now his image becomes magnified.
But then, nobody can deny
that Rituparno kept the flag of regional cinema flying when Bollywood
was trampling everybody to submission. “In the two decades that
Bollywood ruled India and the Diaspora, Rituparno Ghosh through his
Bengali films gave regional cinema a status and visibility that made it a
force to reckon with,” says Shohini Ghosh, seasoned scholar, who has
followed Rituparno’s career closely.
Rituparno saw
cinema getting demystified on the dining table, as his father was a
noted documentary filmmaker. “I discovered the difference between a rush
print and a final print very early. However, I could not relate to
documentary films as I wanted to be a storyteller... interpreting the
truth, which documentary filmmakers call distorting the truth,” he told
this journalist in an interview.
Ghosh says
Rituparno never had formal schooling in filmmaking and nor did he ever
work as an assistant to any director. “The world of advertising was his
training ground. He self-confessedly learnt about filmmaking by watching
Satyajit Ray’s films. I personally feel that his early work carried the
legacy of Aparna Sen’s ‘36 Chowringhee Lane’ and ‘Parama’. He also
loved the films of Tapan Sinha and Tarun Majumdar, not to mention the
romantic films of Uttam-Suchitra. ‘Noukadubi’ (The Boatwreck) was a
tribute to these filmmakers. On the other hand, he pushed the boundaries
of what is ‘cinematic’ in cinema. This investment in form was an
important development in his later films and was explored most
eloquently in ‘Shob Choritro Kalponik’ (All Characters are Imaginary)
and ‘Chitrangada’. I regret that his untimely passing has cut short this
phase of his cinematic experimentation.”
Seasoned
filmmaker Buddhadeb Dasgupta, who knew Rituparno from the time he took
the script of his first film “Hiren Angti” to him, says his cinema was
all about honest storytelling with good craftsmanship. He gave them the
ray of hope. “He brought the middle-class intelligentsia back to
theatres when the common Bengali was lining up for entertainers churned
out by Swapan Saha and Anjan Choudhury,” says Dasgupta.
Ghosh
says it is important to note that Rituparno’s films revived the Bengali
film industry economically. “His films brought audiences back to cinema
halls. Rituparno had a high regard for popular appeal as long as the
films were skilfully made. Apart from being a filmmaker, he was a
cinephile who loved popular Hindi and Bengali films as much as European
art house cinema. So for him or his audiences, ‘popular appeal’ was not a
synonym for ‘compromise’.”
However, Dasgupta feels
Rituparno didn’t experiment with the form as much as he could have.
“Like many others, he became a victim of popular appeal. In the later
years, particularly with ‘Chitrangada’, he rediscovered his voice. And I
told him to stick to it. But he started making a film on Byomkesh
Bakshi. I told him there are others who can do justice to Byomkesh but
nobody can blend personal with the cinematic as he did in
‘Chitrangada’.”
Female characters were central to
his stories and he read a woman’s mind like no other. “I would say that
Rituparno had an ability to cinematically explore the nuances of
intimate relationships. No other filmmaker in these two decades gave
women protagonists the centrality and significance that Rituparno did.
Bengali cinema in the eighties — with the exception of Aparna Sen films —
was largely hero-driven, but starting with ‘Unishe April’ that
male-centric equation was dramatically altered,” says Ghosh.
Dasgupta
agrees that Rituparno saw a woman as more than just a body. “He himself
was a woman trapped inside a male body and suffered the pain of living
in a society that is judgmental.” But Rituparno never said that. In
fact, he wanted to explore the ground between the two genders or the
matrix of androgyny. He was as much comfortable in a kurta-pyjama as in a
skirt. No wonder the walls at his residence were decorated with many
interpretations of ardhanarishwara. But that doesn’t mean men got
a raw deal in his films. He reinvented Prosenjit, tested Amitabh
Bachchan and who can forget Anu Kapoor’s cameo in “Raincoat”.
There
is a school of thought that feels that his preoccupation with
homosexuality in the last few years and his inner struggles somehow
limited his canvas, but Ghosh sees it differently. “The ‘inner struggle’
you speak of did not belong to Rituparno alone; it belongs to all queer
people. As for the ‘preoccupation with homosexuality’, would this
question be asked of Guru Dutt or Satyajit Ray, as to why ‘again and
again’ they were preoccupied with heterosexuality? Making good films has
nothing to do with the director’s sexual preference or that of the
characters in the film.”
For the mainstream media
his eye for detail didn’t go beyond the strap of Aishwarya Rai’s
undergarment in “Raincoat” and Shefali Shah’s anklet in “The Last Lear”,
but Rituparno had a constant urge to look for grain in the chaff. Ghosh
cites an example. “During the climactic sequence in ‘Shubho Mahurat’
(which is a loose adaptation of Agatha Christie’s ‘The Mirror Cracked’)
the murderer arrives with a box of poisoned sweets. If you look closely
at the box you will notice that it has been re-packaged because she has
bought the sweets and meddled with them before taking it over to the
person she wants to kill. This is an innocuous detail that many may not
even notice but it’s there for those interested. The idea came from the
actress Sharmila Tagore, but Rituparno embraced it because he thought
that’s exactly what the character would do!” Konkona Sen once admitted
to this journalist that Rituparno’s ability to listen to his actors
during the course of shooting was more than her mother, Aparna Sen.“She
would listen to inputs of her actors during the workshops but Ritu da was open to ideas even when the shot was ready,” she said.
Like
his films, he had this ability to give space to the other point of view
even if he wouldn’t agree. When one pointed out the inconsistency in
Aishwarya Rai’s accent in “Raincoat”, he said it was his fault as he was
not familiar with the vernacular. Similarly, when everybody was
drenched in colour he gave black and white a chance in “Dosar”. “When we
got colour as an option, black and white ceased to be an alternative,”
he said. He would go to any length if he had a particular actor in mind.
Deepti Naval told at the time of the release of “Memories in March”
that he changed the Bengali portions to Hindi because her Bengali was
pathetic. “He could have cast any other actor but he wanted me. So when
one asked him if he brought in Hindi film actors for pan-India
acceptance, he quietly asked, ‘Do I need to do this? I cast them because
I see my characters in them.’”
Ghosh reminds
Rituparno was not the first one to cast Hindi film actors. “Satyajit Ray
worked with Waheeda Rehman and Simi Garewal. Sharmila Tagore acted in
Ray’s films when she was one of the top actresses in Bombay. Mrinal Sen
also worked with Bombay actors and therefore to level this charge
against Rituparno alone is unfair, if not pointless.”
Dasgupta
doesn’t agree but Rituparno is often credited with reinterpreting
literature on celluloid. For him cinema and book literally meant the
same thing — boi. “We must interpret literature according to the
times we are living in. I did it in ‘Chokher Bali’ where I didn’t agree
with the way Tagore ended the novel. I kept an unresolved ending.
Similarly, I adapted O Henry’s story in ‘Raincoat’ differently from the
novel,” he had said.
While reinterpreting the
dynamics of extramarital affairs, he was never judgemental about the
subject and refrained from dubbing the woman as an adulteress or the man
as debauched. He was keen to explore the different facets of
relationships. “Showing extramarital affairs in Indian films is no
longer taboo. Where Rituparno made a path-breaking contribution is that
he gave dignity, centrality and respect to queer sexualities and this he
did as writer, director and actor. The courage he has displayed in
doing this is unsurpassed,” says Ghosh.
To somebody
who grew up on a diet of Hindi cinema, one found a bit of Guru Dutt and
Sanjay Leela Bhansali in him. “I am not sure but these are two
filmmakers he found interesting — for very different reasons,” says
Ghosh.
-Anuj Kumar
- Courtesy 'The Hindu'
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