இந்திய திரைபடக்காரர் கோவிந்த் நிகால்னி உண்மைகள் செய்யும் பாலா வண்மைகள் செய்யும் இந்திய திரைபடக்காரர் கோவிந்த் நிகால்னி நமது மானுட வாழ்வியலின் உண்மை மற்றும் வண்மை ! CONTINUED FROM PART 1 Govind Nihalani set up another elaborate party sequence a few years later, but this time his focus was on a failing marriage, in what was to be, his most ‘literary’ film. Obviously inspired by Ingmar Bergman’s Scenes From A Marriage, Drishti (1990) was written by novelist Shashi Deshpande and explores different phases in the lives of an upper class Mumbai couple that starts off by celebrating their eighth wedding anniversary with the said party. Like in Party, this isn’t the joyous occasion it first appears to be. Already, through the ugly squabble between Sandhya’s (Dimple Kapadia in her career’s best performance) friend Prabha (Mita Vashisht) and her ill mannered husband Ramesh (Vijay Kashyap), the breakdown of the protagonists’ marriage is foretold. Before long, Sandhya is in a casual relationship with a young classical singer (Irrfan Khan in one of his earliest film roles), Nikhil (Shekhar Kapur) confesses to his relationship with a younger woman and eventually walks out of the marriage. But that’s just the first act. Dimple Kapadia in Drishti Dimple Kapadias performance in Drishti is rated as one of her finest Adopting almost the same structure as Bergman’s masterpiece, Nikhil first asks for a divorce and then tries to persuade Sandhya to reconsider their relationship. She refuses, quoting Kalidasa’s Shakuntala and her regret about Shakuntala going back to Dushyant despite her humiliation at his hands. Ultimately, they both move on in their respective lives and meet again a few years later, this time as friends who were once companions. Drishti was a truly modern film, made on the cusp of India’s economic liberalisation, before infidelity was discussed casually and divorce became an acceptable phenomenon in urban society. It wasn’t the only time the filmmaker tackled a bad marriage. In a film that stands apart from the rest of his career, Nihalani directed Shashi Kapoor’s son Kunal’s launch vehicle Vijeta (1983). Not a conventional star-son debut, and yet, the tale of Angad, a confused adolescent, a failure at school and disappointment to his father, who joins the NDA, becomes a fighter pilot and proves himself a hero in battle, appears strangely discordant in the filmmaker’s graph. The jingoistic-patriotic tenor of Vijeta is a mere ploy to facilitate the young man’s coming-of-age, but nowhere else in the director’s oeuvre do you see such overt nationalism and melodrama. Yet, it’s thoroughly enjoyable for its outstanding aerial photography and the sensitive handling of the troubled relationship between Angad’s parents (Shashi Kapoor and Rekha), which eventually arrives at a semblance of stability in the wake of their son’s success. It’s also his most conclusive, neatly resolved film. Allcdcovershazaarchaura Hazaar Chaurasi Ki Maa won a National Award for Best Hindi Film When Nihalani adapted Mahasweta Devi’s novel into Hazaar Chaurasi Ki Maa (1998), he modified the original ending where the protagonist, Sujata Chatterjee, dies of a burst appendix in a party (another exemplary use of a celebratory evening to highlight the superficiality, hypocrisy and callousness of the upper classes—watch out for Bhakti Barve’s splendid cameo as a Gujarati socialite). In the filmmaker’s vision, Sujata internalises her son’s activism late in life and enlists herself at a social welfare centre, where she displays her commitment to the cause by preventing the murderer of a former Naxalite leader from getting away. It’s a forced end to a wordy, demanding film, which takes us back to a time when educated youth from well-to-do families were ready to risk their lives for the disenfranchised. Yet, it is essentially the mother’s (Jaya Bachchan making a comeback after 17 years) story rather than young Brati’s (Joy Sengupta). She loves her youngest born dearly, but realises upon his brutal death that she barely knew him. She rediscovers him through all the people he interacted with during his involvement with the movement and eventually finds herself. Sadly, one can’t say much about Nihalani’s post-Hazaar Chaurasi work, because most of it has been forgettable (his take on the Gujarat carnage, Dev (2004), included). What sticks firmly in the head instead, is Lahnya’s searing angst, Mike Lobo’s drunken pathos, Mohini’s self-flagellation, Sandhya’s self-discovery, Sujata’s awakening and above all, Nathu’s haunting guilt. Ardh Satya (9) Actor Om Puri has defined Nihalanis cinema from Ardh Satya to Tamas THE DARKNESS OF TAMAS The crowning glory of Govind Nihalani’s career and the film closest to his heart was Tamas (1987), an adaptation of Bhisham Sahni’s eponymous novel and two of his short stories. Nihalani was born in Pakistan and his family moved to India after the Partition. Interestingly, when he first read Tamas and wished to adapt it to the screen, he had occasion to meet the then Prime Minister Mrs. Indira Gandhi and asked her if the government would support a serious cinematic work about India’s Partition. Mrs. Gandhi reportedly told him the government’s stance would depend on the political atmosphere of the time. Predictably, when Tamas was telecast on Doordarshan (though it was originally shot as a feature film, it was too long for a theatrical release) protests erupted after the first episode. On the misplaced assumption that the serial was anti-Hindu, a case was filed against Nihalani and he received death threats. Fortunately, after the High Court and Supreme Court quashed the petition against him, the telecast was resumed and it is a relief to know that such a film got made, had a nationwide telecast and is still in circulation on DVD. For, there hasn’t been a better cinematic representation of the Partition, or a more compassionate document of the human condition. A saga woven around the days and weeks leading up to the independence, Tamas has a timeless, universal quality for its understanding of human vulnerability and powerlessness in the face of disruptive forces. Nathu (Om Puri) doesn’t know the pig he’s been asked to slaughter will be planted before the local mosque to incite communal violence. In fact, the audience too doesn’t know who the real culprit is, because between political parties, religious leaders, government functionaries and the elite of society, all are complicit in such conspiracies and most of them come out unscathed. Those who get sacrificed in the name of lofty ideals, communal pride, national honour etc. are nameless commoners like Jarnail Singh who speaks passionately from the town square about the idea of one India, the local school teacher who reveres Hindi and Urdu texts with equal fervour and is shattered when the mob sets his library afire, Nandu the dim-witted helper in a rich Lala’s house who is left behind to guard the place and gets casually kicked down the stairs, or the Sikh women who walk to the community well with God’s name on their lips and plunge to their deaths. Yet, amidst the worst mayhem are stories of courage—women guarding their helpless neighbours, families offering refuge to strangers—and hope—the birth of a new life drowning the noxious cries of ‘Har Har Mahadev’ and ‘Alla Ho Akbar’. Nihalani channelled his worldview, his understanding of life, and his lament on humanity into Tamas. filmimpressions/home/2012/04/people-we-like-govind-nihalani-part-2.html Even if it were the only film he ever made, he’d have vindicated himself as a creative artist.
Posted on: Fri, 16 Jan 2015 07:59:43 +0000
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