Lights, camera, censor

by SUNIR PANDEY

FROM ISSUE # 198 (June 2012) | IN THIS ISSUE
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 Picture this scene from the film Loot. The innovative Haku Kale has been working for months on his ingenuous plan to rob a bank. On the eve of the big day, when every detail should fall into place, Haku Kale arrives at headquarters to find the band of misfits who he carefully recruited and trained fighting like a bunch of schoolboys. In a fit of rage, intensified by wild camera movements, he spews forth a selection of words that can't be printed.

Loot got away without much cuts, but with the censor board becoming stricter, other films might not be as lucky. Before a movie can be released in theatres, producers have to send their reels to the board requesting it to be censored, rated and cleared. If the board finds 'immoral' or 'objectionable' material, it asks the filmmakers to delete the scenes. Unless the filmmakers make the necessary changes, the board won't issue a rating and the movie can't be released.

Nishcal Basnet, who wrote and directed Loot, says, "The profanities used in Loot were situational and completely in line with the characters. Even young children use these words frequently in their everyday lives. I don't think the board is really concerned. It just doesn't want to get into a bureaucratic mess."

Currently the board is made up of seven members, out of whom four are ministry employees and the other three are 'experts' nominated by the government. All expressive content is at the mercy of their scissors.

History tells us that oppressive regimes have always regarded cinema as a tool of social control. In fact, the ideals sought to be protected by our own censors have hardly changed since the Panchayat days. National interest, social harmony, libel and morality are ambiguous terms prone to the interpretation of the ones in power. The censorship of Dasgaja, Aago, Dasdhunga, and Loot proves that such ambiguity remains only to serve political purposes.

Censorship of all creative work finds its way into legislation in the name of maintaining social norms and preventing "untoward" activities. But the censors' tendency to focus exclusively on 'sex scenes' while overlooking depictions of graphic violence suggests that none of them have an understanding of media effects.

Respected filmmaker Bhusan Dahal says, "Why do censors get to determine social evils? Films are essentially a mode of expression and a reflection of society. I think Nepali society has become more violent. We are also increasingly liberal and open about sex and use swear words on a regular basis. Considering sex a taboo and censoring films for their sexual content seem outdated."

However, there is a downside to this trend of making 'real and gritty' cinemas. In an attempt to cash in on the supposed popularity of obscenities, the latest Nepali film, The Last Kiss - A Unique Love Story is littered with profanities and lurid depictions of sex even after censorship. While comments made on its YouTube page are hardly cerebral, they still show that the audience is not as gullible to be impressed by crassness alone. Such tasteless, loud and vulgar films reveal how little these filmmakers understand cinema.

SELLING SLEAZE

TRISHNA RANA

Nepali filmmakers have uncovered a hit formula for creating trailers and designing posters: display as much kissing, sex and skin as possible in less than two minutes or on 81 by 81 inch sheets. Under this formula, story line, central characters and quality are irrelevant. The motto seems to be: sell sleaze and lure audiences to theatres at any cost.   

Chapali Heights tried it and now the producers of The Last Kiss: A unique love story have applied the same technique. Therefore it was shocking to discover that a film promising to be a 'love story' replete with steamy bedroom scenes is actually a psychological thriller with relatively few sexually explicit moments, barring the first song and the occasional use of the 'm' word (which have been bleeped out at the request of the censor board).

However, once viewers get over their disappointment at being misled by promotional materials, they find out the producers are using yet another marketing tactic: senseless and gory violence. Perhaps the increasing aggression and brutality we see in our movies today reflect the volatile state of Nepal. But when audiences are made to sit through two hours of continuous bloodshed, fighting and a never-ending chase sequence in a forest, then something is seriously wrong with the film. 

It doesn't help that The Last Kiss also has a very weak plot, poorly executed climax, clumsy (almost clownish) actors and plagarised background music. In the end, all the characters are killed and the audience is left to wonder why they were put through the charade.  

Makers of films like The Last Kiss Nepali seem to underestimate Nepali moviegoers, both the ones who frequent Guna Cinema, Gopi Krishna and Pushpanjali as well as the multiplex crowd. Kollywood insiders don't realise that growing access to Hindi, English as well as Korean, Tamil, French and underground cinemas has made movie buffs more sophisticated. They can distinguish between good films and films where script, acting, and editing are mere afterthoughts.

Finances and technical knowhow are not the problem, since filmmakers are already shooting in foreign locations, building elaborate sets and experimenting with computerised fight sequences. Lack of original story ideas cannot be blamed either. If writers looked in the right places, they would unearth a lot of stories that need to be told in a country that has undergone a decade long war and finds itself in transition. It's the 'anything works' attitude of industry people and their complete disregard of the public's desire that have stalled Kollywood's progress and why only two or three reasonably well-made movies (like Loot) are produced every year.

Unless producers, directors and actors wean themselves off the 'sex, violence and melodrama' trinity and start respecting their viewers and giving them entertaining, yet intelligent and honestly made films, 'naya' Kollywood, like 'naya' Nepal will remain a delusion

SAAYAD

TSERING DOLKER GURUNG

There are drugs, gang fights and then, a sex video to close the film. That's Saayad in a nutshell; an incredibly clichéd tale about teenage life. Had it only been that, maybe it would have worked to some extent but the director (Saroj Subba) has infused just about every story angle that can be thought of, thus creating a bad tasting mixture.

Nirag (Sunil Rawal) and Yodin (Samyam Puri) are brothers and share an extremely close bond. Yodin is seen as a 'lucky charm' because it is after his birth, that the family starts getting prosperous. So when their parents die, Nirag takes it upon himself to fulfill his younger brother's whim and desire. It is all good until Yodin passes his S.L.C and then enters +2 where his character undergoes a dramatic change. Suddenly, instead of the studious Yodin, the audience is introduced to a more rugged Yodin; a gang leader, a drug user and a sloppy student. The director gives us no reason and there are no incidents which would explain Yodin's drastic transformation.And, it is this transition that didn't sit well with me and it is from this point onwards, the movie starts becoming unrealistic.

Another problem with Saayad is the disjointedness between the first and second half Several sub-plots are randomly thrown and rather than acting as build-up to the climax, these plots seem completely irrelevant and unnecessary (what was the point of bringing Nirag's friendship with Yug played by Babu Bogati into the story?)

Sadly, the acting is also as weak as the script and doesn't save the movie from joining a string of failures that promised to be 'different' and 'new age' Nepali cinema.

Both the leads are played by debutant actors. Rawal puts on a one-expression show throughout the movie and you can't help but wish it was Bogati in place of Rawal because he has greater secreen presence and manages to impress even in his short role. Compared to Rawal, Puri fares better as the younger brother but lacks intensity and maturity in his acting which was required of his performance especially in the second half. Wilson Bikram Rai who has earlier made us laugh in 'Jire Khursani' series, is funny and the most natural performer of all the cast as Ved, a careless, rich and spoilt kid. The rest of the cast aren't noteworthy.

To sum it up, Saayad is a feeble attempt at exploring genres beside the typical love stories that the Nepali film industry bombards audiences with. With better cast and a more polished script, Saayad could have turned into a good one time watch.