50 Years of Manipuri Cinema at the 53rd… | Little White Lies

Festivals

50 Years of Manipuri Cin­e­ma at the 53rd Inter­na­tion­al Film Fes­ti­val of India

14 Dec 2022

Words by Isabel Jacobs

A black and white image showing three people: a woman in a kimono sitting beside a hospital bed, a man in a suit standing, and an older man standing behind them.
A black and white image showing three people: a woman in a kimono sitting beside a hospital bed, a man in a suit standing, and an older man standing behind them.
This year’s fes­ti­val cel­e­brat­ed the rich Indi­an cin­e­ma being made out­side of pop­u­lar Bollywood.

Found­ed in 1952, the Inter­na­tion­al Film Fes­ti­val of India (IFFI) is one of Asia’s most pres­ti­gious film events. Its slo­gan from the Upan­ishads cap­tures a tru­ly glob­al mis­sion: for those who are broad-mind­ed, the entire world is one big family.”

The 2022 edi­tion, with films from all over the globe, fol­lowed this path while show­cas­ing India’s own film cul­ture. IFFI cel­e­brat­ed this year’s 75th Anniver­sary of Indi­an Inde­pen­dence with dozens of new­ly restored clas­sics, Bol­ly­wood block­busters, and a pletho­ra of non-Hin­di lan­guage films.

The Indi­an Restored Clas­sics sec­tion screens Satya­jit Rays mas­ter­piece Sha­tranj Ke Khi­lari (The Chess Play­ers). Ray’s his­tor­i­cal dra­ma from 1977, with a fresh look, remains rel­e­vant in a coun­try grap­pling with its colo­nial past.

Set on the eve of the Indi­an Rebel­lion of 1857, The Chess Play­ers por­trays Nawab Wajid Ali Shah whose sov­er­eign­ty is threat­ened by the British East India Com­pa­ny. While intrigue and unrest mount, the nobles of Oudh lav­ish their days with obliv­i­ous games of chess.

Ray’s del­i­cate, sharp film reflects on the col­li­sion between East and West, tra­di­tion and moder­ni­ty. In a shift­ing soci­ety, new val­ues replace the old ones, leav­ing behind a sense of disorientation.

The dis­in­te­gra­tion of social cohe­sion also dri­ves the spe­cial sec­tion on the Gold­en Jubilee of Manipuri Cin­e­ma, one of the festival’s high­lights. Sit­u­at­ed at the fringes of India’s North­east, Manipur looks back on half a cen­tu­ry of local films, some of them unknown, oth­ers right­ly cel­e­brat­ed at inter­na­tion­al festivals.

Manipuri cin­e­ma has its roots in doc­u­men­tary film in the 1930s. Deb Kumar Bose’s 1972 Matam­gi Manipur (The Times of Manipur) is the first full-length fea­ture film. This sub­tle, unsen­ti­men­tal por­trait of a mid­dle-class fam­i­ly already bears the hall­marks of the pro­gres­sive film lan­guage Manipuri cin­e­ma was to develop.

The Times of Manipur blends musi­cal film, kitchen sink real­ism, and exper­i­men­tal sto­ry­telling — a Manipuri masala. Bose analy­ses the break­down of the tra­di­tion­al fam­i­ly against the back­drop of a rad­i­cal­ly chang­ing soci­ety. Each mem­ber of the fam­i­ly has to deal with the gal­vanis­ing forces of moder­ni­ty in their own way.

Good and bad, old and new are turned upside down. Noth­ing is as it seems, no char­ac­ter pro­vides moral sta­bil­i­ty. Explor­ing the col­lege girl Tondonbi’s dreams of self-ful­fill­ment, this aes­thet­i­cal­ly restrained film can­not con­ceal its fem­i­nist perspective.

Borun Thokchom’s 2011 short The Silent Poet fea­tures the civ­il rights activist Irom Chanu Sharmi­la, who became famous for her hunger strike against the Armed Forces Spe­cial Pow­ers Act 1958. This con­testable law grants the Indi­an army spe­cial pow­ers against Manipuri civil­ians as if in a state of war.

Thok­chom presents Sharmi­la, the fear­less poet, ema­ci­at­ed, weak and raspy-voiced but with a defi­ant mes­sage. Her self-vio­lence is waged in her prison cell as Manipur’s strug­gle goes on out­side. The audi­ence is emo­tion­al­ly pulled to recall the fathers of the Indi­an nation and their fight for free­dom and independence.

A man paddling a boat on a lake, wearing a grey jumper and trousers.

The real­i­ties of India’s big fam­i­ly, with its own con­flicts and insta­bil­i­ties, present a chal­lenge. Dis­sent also shapes Ashok Veilou’s impres­sive short Look At The Sky, 2018, based on his father’s sto­ry. An indige­nous film­mak­er from the Poumai Naga tribe, Veilou por­trays every­day life and mag­i­cal rit­u­als in a remote Manipuri village.

Look At The Sky tells the sto­ry of Hai who is cursed by the vil­lagers for not sup­port­ing their can­di­date dur­ing elec­tions. Hai defends his free­dom to vote at the cost of his fam­i­ly being pun­ished by the com­mu­ni­ty. When you’re cursed,” his sons are told, look at the sky.”

Manipuri cin­e­ma depicts India as a glob­al vil­lage torn between tra­di­tion and moder­ni­ty. Dreams clash with social oblig­a­tions. In S.N. Chand’s Bro­jen­dragee Luhong (Brojendra’s Mar­riage), released in 1973, the young doc­tor Bro­jen­dra returns home to realise his moth­er has arranged his mar­riage with a stranger.

Under the pres­sure of his fam­i­ly, Bro­jen­dra agrees to mar­ry the girl only to aban­don her after the cer­e­mo­ny. There are three things beyond our con­trol: birth, death, and mar­riage,” Brojendra’s uncle states, mar­riage is as intri­cate as sand.”

The father of Manipuri cin­e­ma, Chand depicts Manipuri mar­riage cus­toms and female desire in a con­ser­v­a­tive soci­ety with styl­is­tic means bor­rowed from Ital­ian neo­re­al­ism and New Indi­an Cin­e­ma. In one scene, a young nurse tells Bro­jen­dra that women are just the play­thing of a self­ish, arro­gant society.”

Set in a small vil­lage in Manipur, Arib­am Syam Sharma’s high­ly acclaimed 1990 Ishanou (The Cho­sen One), deals with sim­i­lar themes. Adapt­ed from M. K. Bin­o­di­ni Devi’s short sto­ry, The Cho­sen One explores Tampha’s trans­for­ma­tion from a gen­tle house­wife into a vio­lent woman after becom­ing obsessed with a matri­ar­chal sect.

The spe­cial focus con­cludes with two real­ist dra­mas cen­tred around the pre­car­i­ous liveli­hoods of Manipuri fish­er­men. An ethno­graph­ic por­tray­al of Lok­tak Lake, Haobam Paban Kumar’s 2016 Lok­tak Lairem­bee (Lady of the Lake) fol­lows a fisherman’s strug­gle for survival.

Ningth­ou­ja Lancha’s micro-dra­ma Ilisa Ama­gi Mahao (The Taste of Hilsa), 2008, focus­es on the fish­er­man Chaoba’s hopes and dreams. Strug­gling to feed his own fam­i­ly, Chao­ba final­ly catch­es a fish — only to sell it to buy rice.

Manipuri direc­tors, cut-off from major film indus­tries and tech­no­log­i­cal resources, realised extra­or­di­nary visions. In IFFI’s mag­a­zine, Manipuri film­mak­er Hamom Ashish Kumar recalls watch­ing movies in com­mu­ni­ty halls, wrapped in blan­kets to fight the bit­ing win­ter. After din­ner we would run as fast as we could to catch a good place. These movie excur­sions fuelled con­ver­sa­tions on the films for months.”

What unites the Manipuri films screened at IFFI is their pecu­liar take on India’s strug­gle between tra­di­tion and moder­ni­ty. While Manipuri films are often mar­gin­alised, here they can enter a pro­duc­tive­ly dia­logue with both Indi­an clas­sics and con­tem­po­rary cinema.

Break­ing with con­ven­tion­al genre divides, Manipuri cin­e­ma mas­ter­ful­ly bal­ances real­ism and exper­i­ment. Chand’s 1973 film, in par­tic­u­lar, cap­tures Manipur’s unique posi­tion toward social trans­for­ma­tion. Instead of resolv­ing ambi­gu­i­ties, Chand gives his char­ac­ters a voice: Let the mod­ern be modernised!”

The 2022 edi­tion of the Inter­na­tion­al Film Fes­ti­val of India ran between 20 – 28 November.

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