A screening and a discussion
A screening of 'Not Every Time ...' was organized by Cinéastes, Film Club of the Institute of Microbial Technology, Chandigarh on Friday, February 1, 2008 at 6:00 pm. The screening was followed by a discussion.
The first question came from Harmanjit Singh who had a problem with the long shot (lasting two minutes and forty-two seconds) of Raman, Daughter of Narain Dutt, where she is unable to say anything. He thought this was “Cinematic Rape” and an invasion of her privacy.
This, in a way, set the discussion rolling. I shared with the audience the thinking behind the decision to include the shot, uncut as it appears in the film. What follows is not a verbatim report on that discussion; it is a recounting of my response.
During the editing of the film, this shot was discussed among the team extensively. There were mainly three concerns. A friend accused me of trying to make the audience as uncomfortable as I was while filming. Another commented that what is on the film is a result of a very personal relationship between Raman and me and therefore should not be brought out in the open. A concern was raised about Raman’s reaction to the shot included in the film and the impact that this may have on her. Questions were also raised about the relevance of the shot to the film’s subject; whether it adds to the film; how will the audience decode the silence. It was, then, decided that we must discuss this issue with Raman and other girls and women actively associated with the movement.
I went back to Barnala, and asked them if such a shot should be included in the film. They wanted to leave it to me to decide. However, the filmmaking team wanted to know not only if the shot should be included but also why. Therefore, I screened the shot for them, and asked them to comment. The discussion that followed went on for an hour and a half. They were unanimous on including the shot, uncut. They felt that women in our society are more often than not forced to be silent. This shot brings it out effectively, and therefore, must be retained, they said. They were not really bothered about the privacy issue.
A rough cut of the film was screened at the May Day celebrations in Ludhiana in 2006. An audience of about 4000 saw the film and a pin drop silence seemed to pervade the open-air auditorium during this shot. The audience was invited to comment on the film. As expected, most commented on this particular shot. There were three kinds of comments on this shot: it should be deleted; it should be cut short; it should be retained as it is. What was not expected was the connection between the response and the gender of the respondent: Every woman respondent, without exception, wanted the shot to be retained, and retained uncut. Most men – with four exceptions – wanted the shot to be either deleted completely, or at least shortened. This pattern was further reinforced in subsequent screenings of the rough cut before focused group audiences. It reinforced our conviction that this shot is very effective: not only do women empathise with Raman’s discomfiture, but men among the audience feel a different discomfort. We understood that the silence acknowledges the audience to be thinking beings, and does evoke a strong response. Every one of us has a Raman in us, and this shot brings us face to face with her.
The discussion continued on email. With the permission of writers, I am putting the email messages also on this blog. (The messages were edited mainly to remove typographical errors, and in one case, to remove personal matter.)
From: Sandeep Singh Sandhu
Date: 2 Feb 2008 15:01:55 –0000
Thank you Ami. In fact, you have done a tremendous job. You have come of age in filmmaking. The work is legendary. I have told about it to lots of people.
I got indignant at the words, which the fellow used: "cinematic rape." It was not Sholay that we saw; that we could indulge in discussing nuances of film making after its screening. For that matter, a film festival is already on in Chandigarh
The work involved one of the ghastliest crimes committed in our times. It touched human sensibilities to an extent that we rose above caste, religion, and class barriers to put up a united front. See how the unholy nexus of judiciary, bureaucracy, politicians, and criminals broke in front of the "People's Power."
Your picturisation of Raman is remarkable. I could see agony, anger, innocence, repression, emotion, and sheer helplessness play on her face. She has, through your film, become a representative voice of women in India.
I wish, hope, and pray that the film gets screened at the highest international fora like UNESCO and becomes a landmark document in studies in Indology and contemporary thought on social justice. You have broken new grounds in filmmaking. We in Punjab, were always, bereft of good films. You fill the gap.
Ami, I am always with you. You are man with a cause, and your cause is mine as well.
Best wishes
Sandeep
From: Harmanjit Singh
Date: Sat, Feb 2, 2008 at 7:20 PM
Hi Daljit,
Along with my mother, my wife and Mrs Mehta, I was there at your documentary screening the other day in IMTech (I was the one who asked you the first question).
My concern about the shot of the girl is two-fold:
1. The camera gaze is an intrusive, penetrative process and as such, and especially in documentary film-making (where one is filming actual events with real people), there needs to be a great deal of caution in showing something about the mental state or expressions of a victim which she herself might not be able to fully comprehend. As journalists, it is all too frequent to find crying subjects and it is mostly useful and expedient to screen evidence of their misery to lend poignancy to the story.
However, in this case, the misery (I felt) was considerably heightened by the very fact of her being in front of the camera. There are two kinds of tears on the documentary screen: one in which the subject is un-self-conscious, and the other, in which one is painfully self-conscious. I hope you will agree with me that the girl's shot fell in the second category. I almost felt that her tears were brought on by the persistent gaze of the camera, persistent to get an obviously shy and immature girl to express her views.
2. Coming to the actual tears of the girl, disregarding the force of the camera, they are then caused by the absence/incarceration of her father and its effects on her and her family. I don't think she understands the wider social ramifications or even the deeper/political motivations of her father and his friends in forming the committee. She is probably most pained by the immediate consequences of his being in the struggle (and being absent from home). And as such, this pain must have heightened by her being asked to say something positive (which she tries to do, for about 4-5 words) about her father and the movement, the very thing about she is probably most understandably hurt.
Social movements in a regressive society take their toll on individuals and their families. To me, the film was part of the movement and as such, its gaze was also a toll committed for its agenda on the girl.
It can be considered a noble or a democratic agenda, but I don't think the girl, at that point, wanted any part of it.
Regards,
Harman.
From: Navprit Saini
Date: Tue, Feb 5, 2008 at 5:31 PM
Dear Daljit,
Thanks a lot for sending me the two mails about the particular shot. I must also thank you for giving me the opportunity to share my views about the shot. I must state that though both the people have very different views about the shot but both have articulated their views really well. It shows their concern and passion for the issue as well as for the documentary itself. I was also present at the screening of your film and listened to the debate about the particular shot also.
Firstly, I must say that I have seen the documentary twice. First time it was at a private screening organised by you at Janaki's place and second time at the IMTECH. The same shot evoked different responses at different times. When I saw it for the first time, I raised almost the same questions which the Harman has raised. For me it was agonising to see the girl in the shot -- her father being in jail for a social cause and her struggle with herself to come to terms with the absence of a father. I remember myself being outrageously concerned about the issues of personal suffering undergone by the family members (in most of the cases these being women) of the activists involved in social causes. I remember that at the first screening there were two contradictory emotions being invoked inside myself.
1) Intensely passionate identification with the suffering of Kiranjit and a sense of proud at the women raising their hands in solidarity in the protest marches.
2) This being ruptured by the extremely uncomfortable face gestures of the "girl in the shot". I almost hated the male activist for being insensitive to his role as a father -- being absent from his daughter's life.
Now let me come to my response at the second screening. The film started. There was continuity in your narrative. A rhythm. I was immersed in the film -- the visuals being played on the screen and the background narrative. Suddenly, this young and frail girl emerges on screen (I recall my own niece of same age and a similar appearance). The girl utters something -- That she is fine, that it’s ok. Then silence. She makes faces. These face expressions are multiple and come really fast -- trying to smile, looking away from camera, looking at you, expecting you to say something, twisting her fingers, disgust on face, attempt to hide the pain by looking away from camera, a funny face... (I laugh and suddenly curtail it as I feel guilty) then again a silence, looking at ground, finally breaking down, attempting to take off mike (or whatever it is called) attached to her kurta. Getting up. Leaving the room. Shutting the door on us. That is how I saw. I was turning sides in my chair. Deeply uncomfortable. Waiting for this girl to stop it. To go away. She had broken my rhythm. She brought in something uncomfortable. (Maybe that's what I also do while sharing a deep personal agony with a friend who is listening patiently, non-intrusively, giving me the space to be uncomfortable.)
The camera and the filmmaker were giving her the space to be uncomfortable. The scene remains there in our mind after the film has ended. I feel that the scene has less to do with the girl's discomfort and more with our own discomfort with the scene. The girl is powerful -- she is capable of expressing her grief at her father's absence. She leaves the room in pain. She has the ability to walk out. To shut her door on us. Still the girl is there on our minds.
Without uttering a word, she says it all. I feel it’s our own collective discomfort with ‘silence’, which makes us deeply uncomfortable with the scene. I remember that the audience was speaking when this scene was going on -- ab royi, oye ro payi, ha ha ha, kya kar rahi hai, jayegi, oye. gayi. As far as the male activist (the father) is concerned, she brings in the absent male activist and the injustice faced by him more powerfully than the slogan shouting, public protestors who are holding placards showing photos of the jailed activists. She is silent but she is protesting. More powerfully than anyone else in the film.
With warm regards,
Navprit.
From: Daljit Ami
Date: Thu, Feb 7, 2008 at 1:46 PM
Dear Harman,
Hello.
Sorry for the late response. Actually I was busy with other things that it was difficult to concentrate and write.
As a filmmaker I don't have any problem with your interpretation of the film as I am of the view that audience decode visual language differently. They have the right to express their views. I liked your response in the sense that it is quite spontaneous and seems honest. I don't think it appropriate to keep on defending what I did in the film. For me it is a part of learning process and audience's response always give momentum to this process.
Despite my best efforts I can't see my film indifferently as audience. The process of making is always playing in my mind. I have a baggage of memories and unused footage to carry.
Most of the issues being raised now were part of the discussion at the time of making. That shot was the most discussed even at that time. After interacting with lots of people from cross section of society we could understand the visual from different perspective. That perspective is of the most depressed women who had have been deprived of words. Their silence speaks for themselves. I want to share an incident. We were in a village after a public screening of a rough cut. Two senior activists were arguing to chop this shot or altogether remove it from the film as they thought that common man can't understand it. The illiterate lady who was washing dishes side-by left her work midway and demolished their argument like anything. She was at her articulate best and full of anger. She related that silence to her own life and their (activists) contribution in her suffering.
For us this was the demolition of 'common person' myth. We find that every person has an imagery 'common person' in his/her mind that has less common-sense. We decided to test the new build hypothesis. We talked and screened film for villagers, mostly illiterate and were surprised with their sense of belongingness with that shot. Coming back to the issue you raised that camera gaze is an intrusive, penetrative process. While making film we spend lots of time with respondents to make them comfortable. We try to talk a lot about lots of things but not about the issue as we are interested in their un-rehearsed natural response. As a matter of ethics we don't go for responses that are tailor-made to our thesis. We don't incite or provoke them to respond in particular direction. For us any responses are important as we understand that if we decided to ignore criticism it will be dishonesty on our part. As for us building understanding and initiating discussions and debates in society is more important than doing public relation exercise. We build our understanding through our respondents. Without any humility I want to admit that they are our guides. While making this film they forced to unlearn many things, the cinematic grammar is one of those things.
Talking about that particular shot I think it is my relationship with her that she is there for such a long time. In our personal life we share our un-comfort with people who are close to us. As a close person it is my understanding that she is in pain that is rooted in the society. As a social being it is my understanding that this pain is being ignored as 'too emotional' or 'personal weakness.' She is courageous but simultaneously vulnerable. For me the shot is of confrontation between her courage and vulnerability, too. This courage vulnerability syndrome is part of the mass-movement also. Every suffering or difficult moment leaves us, mostly, as mature or learned person and occasionally as shattered. Still the important question remains whether we indulge in suffering to learn or gain something?
How many victims understand the cause of suffering or can comprehend the wider social ramifications, their suffering is emanating from? Despite their innocence they suffer. They suffer a lot. Children are the worst hit among any injustice ridden society. It is not a coincidence that Irani, Iraqi and Afgan filmmakers told their stories through children. Individuals suffer in their personal life due to the happenings in public life. How can the sufferings emanating from public life be left out as personal? As filmmaker it is my responsibility to establish connections of personal suffering and social phenomena. It is matter of concern that most of the time we as society has chosen to talk about visible sufferings only. I am happy that you raised the issue and articulated your perspective beautifully.
Hoping to continue the discussion,
Regards,
Daljit Ami
From: Madhvi Kataria
Date: Fri, Feb 8, 2008 at 10:53 AM
Hi Daljit,
I agree with Harman's take on Raman's shot in the documentary.
It was an excruciatingly painful shot and does emerge as the metaphor for suffering. However the disturbingly penetrative quality of the shot catapulted it to forcefully seize the centre stage obviating any individual attempt to absorb the enormity of the issues raised and addressed by the Movement. It pounces on the heart & mind with such ferocity engendering seething & impotent ire simultaneously; which is directed towards the ubiquitous 'unjust system' as well as the documentator for persisting.
However, was that not the point you were insisting on?
Persist and the situations would lend themselves to revealing layers of myriad hues of reality...
Keep up the good work!
Madhvi
From: Harmanjit Singh
Date: Fri, Feb 8, 2008 at 4:39 PM
Thanks Daljit for your and Madhvi response.
It has been an interesting and enlightening discussion. Maybe you can come to Coveda sometime (we meet almost every Saturday around 6.30pm at the New Public School Sec 18 Eurokids complex) and you can share some of your insights in documentary film making...
From: Janaki
Date: Wed, Feb 13, 2008 at 4:40 PM
Dear Daljit,
I really liked Navprit's point that the significance of the long shot of Raman is that it makes us, the audience, uncomfortable.
Just want to add a little more to this discussion.
It is this shot that invites immediate attention from the audience. After attending two such screenings, I wonder whether the shot deflects attention away from the film or brings us to focus on it more forcefully. I am inclined to take the latter view, because it’s the scene which in making us uncomfortable involves us most. Our subsequent reflections on the film are informed by the thoughts that this scene provoked in our mind.
We all work with a certain image of the activist/social worker. We think of them as extremely focussed, in control, committed to the cause; paradoxically we attribute a certain ruthlessness and emotionlessness to this commitment. That is why it is possible for us to admire them and at the same time consider their choices in life unsuitable for us. We tell ourselves we are not strong enough for such a sacrifice, such a commitment. In some ways, we divorce their person from normal life experiences. The significance of that scene in the film is that it breaks such a comfort zone of our thinking.
Without that scene, the other interviews of the film, the fiery speeches and the mass rallies, etc. conform to our notions about activists. It seems obvious to say that activists are also human beings and experience pain, grief etc, but the reality of it hits us only with that shot.
4. This brings me to the point that Harman made. He said that Raman was immature and unable to understand the implications of the struggle her father was involved in. He seemed to have missed the point that Raman was very much like the other girls who grew up with the movement, active in it. I did not see her as any different from the girls who were campaigning, and the girls who spoke about the impact of the movement on their lives, how it has made girls confident, and made a dialogue about violence against women possible in society. She does understand, but her understanding doesn’t mean she can’t feel pain or loss. Harman concluded that since she cried, she couldn’t have been an activist or couldn’t have really understood deeper matters. That is rather simplistic and reinforces the dichotomy of the normal individual/activist. Here he goes further to say helpless family of the activist vis-a-vis committed activist. This view denies emotion to the activist and understanding to the family.
Janaki
From: Harmanjit Singh
Date: Sun, Feb 17, 2008 at 10:42 AM
> I really liked Navprit’s point that the significance of the long shot
> of Raman is that it makes us, the audience, uncomfortable.
Well yes, a prolonged shot of a person in obvious pain was uncomfortable to me. It was because I, as part of the audience, was complicit in her having been subjected to the gaze of the camera (and therefore, our gaze) and in her shot being brought to us.
Allow me to offer you a thought experiment:
Suppose you had a close relative who died in an activist struggle. Suppose I came to you and asked you how you felt about it.
Would you have liked it, as an objective spectator and as yourself, if the camera continued to focus on your face in the aftermath of a great loss, didn't let you leave despite your trying to remove the mike, in
order to fulfill its aims about educating others regarding the activist struggle?
What do you think?
> Just want to add a little more to this discussion.
> It is this shot that invites immediate attention from the audience.
> After attending two such screenings, I wonder whether the shot
> deflects attention away from the film or brings us to focus on it more
> forcefully. I am inclined to take the latter view, because it's the
> scene which in making us uncomfortable involves us most.
But the question to ask is: what is the discomfort telling us? Is it about the questions raised by the movement or about the suffering of a woman who, suffering from a personal loss, is at a loss for words in front of the camera. If the audience is made uncomfortable about certain aspects of themselves because of something they see on the screen, I'm all for it. I actually encourage disturbing cinema.
But this shot is in a different category because it is an exploitation shot, to put it simplistically. The woman's induced, repeat induced, suffering is put on camera to tell us something about her agony.
> We all work with a certain image of the activist/social worker. We
> think of them as extremely focussed, in control, committed to the
> cause; paradoxically we attribute a certain ruthlessness and
> emotionlessness to this commitment.
I actually think most activism is affectively and emotionally motivated; there are the so-called professional activists (certain fund-raisers in NGOs, celebrity activists, e.g.) but that is not the dominant image in my mind.
> We tell ourselves we are not strong enough for
> such a sacrifice, such a commitment.
Precisely because we lack their passion towards their cause. And this passion is not intellectual but emotional.
What we see in this shot is not commitment, but the collateral damage of the movement on an unwitting participant.
> The significance of that scene in
> the film is that it breaks such a comfort zone of our thinking.
> Without that scene, the other interviews of the film, the fiery
> speeches and the mass rallies, etc. conform to our notions about
> activists. It seems obvious to say that activists are also human
> beings and experience pain, grief etc, but the reality of it hits us
> only with that shot.
Actually, no. That girl is not an activist. She is an unwitting participant in the whole affair. Her pain is in part due to this involuntary participation, she is the daughter of an activist whose aims she probably intellectually admires but whose consequences she emotionally cannot endure.
> 4. This brings me to the point that Harman made. He said that Raman
> was immature and unable to understand the implications of the struggle
> her father was involved in. He seemed to have missed the point that
> Raman was very much like the other girls who grew up with the
> movement, active in it.
Just witnessing the movement and participating in some rallies at the express request of activists (as is shown in the film), which was probably the extent of her individual commitment, is vastly different from being actively involved in a movement (like her father was).
The motivations of being ACTIVELY involved are far different from being a cursory participant in a movement. I know the history of, have been associated with, and may sympathize with the NBA and other movements, and in that sense I have grown up with them, but that is very different from putting my life and liberty at stake for the cause.
Raman's father and herself therefore were participants of very different kinds in the struggle. To talk about her suffering as being the suffering of an activist is being disingenuous.
> I did not see her as any different from the girls who were campaigning,
> and the girls who spoke about the impact
> of the movement on their lives, how it has made girls confident, and
> made a dialogue about violence against women possible in society.
I think, frankly, there is no reason to believe that she understands the historical context of caste, gender and class conflicts in society and the need for revolutionary and organizational tactics (which her father probably does).
> She does understand, but her understanding doesn’t mean she cant feel pain
> or loss.
> Harman concluded that since she cried, she couldn’t have been
> an activist or couldn’t have really understood deeper matters.
I never said that.
> Here he goes further to say helpless family of
> the activist vis-a-vis committed activist. This view denies emotion to
> the activist and understanding to the family.
This is what I actually said:
"Social movements in a regressive society take their toll on individuals and their families."
If at all, I have confirmed that activism in a society like ours takes its toll on relationships and the family.
Regards,
Harman
posted by Daljit Ami at
9:04 am
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