A cool new breed of filmmakers. The return of middle-class cinema. Bengali movies going abroad. It all sounds great, nit no one is talking about the precarious revenues or how this new cinema has deepened the class divide in Bengal.
In the final sequence of Meghe Dhaka Tara, director Kamaleswar Mukherjee's 2013 film on the life and work of Ritwik Ghatak and Bengal's socio-politics during the Naxalite movements, the protagonist is brought in a wheelchair to a play he directed with fellow inmates of a psychiatric institution.
Watching with a faint smile, he imagines a little sari-clad girl outside the auditorium. In his mind, he gets up and walks out. The urban surroundings melt into lush fields and the screen, black-and-white throughout, explodes in wet green. The audience watching Meghe Dhaka Tara is on its feet, some tearful, all breaking into spontaneous applause.
There is a new buzz in Tollywood (aspirational for Tollygunge, the hub of film studios in Kolkata). The local press can't stop talking about the new crop of directors, a string of breakthrough films and, of course, swelling budgets. A born-again audience prides itself on multiplexes screening Bengali films alongside Hindi blockbusters and collections looking up steadily.
But why should Bengalis watching Bangla movies in Kolkata come as a surprise?
The so-called Golden Era of Tollywood dominated by Uttam Kumar and Suchitra Sen lost steam in the 1970s. In the 1980s and 1990s, no self-respecting bhadralok would be caught dead even discussing contemporary Bangla films.
Sample the fare that was being rejected. Anurager Choya (A Touch of Romance), a major 1986 hit, featured Tapas Pal, who dominated Tollywood with Ranjit Mallick after Uttam Kumar, and Mahua Roychoudhury, a starlet who committed suicide the same year. Here's the dialogue after the rakish hero bullies the heroine and her gang of girls in Darjeeling, and leaves with a flourish.
Hero: Bolechi na, jake ami chai, take ami pai…Kolkatay giye tomake theek khunje nebo (I told you, I get what I want. I'll certainly find you in Kolkata).
He then snatches her purse and drives off, blowing a kiss in the air.
"Ok, bye-bye, darling!"
Heroine: Eki! Amar bag ta nichhen keno? Ki korchen ki? Amar bag ta… (Hey! Why are you taking my purse? What are you doing? My purse…)
Heroine's friend: Jah! Buke haat diye dyakhto, tor hridoy ta niye chole jaayni toh. (Alas! Touch your heart and tell me if he hasn't taken that too.)
Cut to 1991. Beder Meye Josna (Josna, The Snake Charmer's Daughter) was the biggest release of the year, starring Bangladeshi heroine Anju Ghosh in the title role against Chiranjit Chakraborty (now a Trinamool Congress MLA). Here, Chiranjit, the prince, rescues Josna from goons. On their second meeting, moments before he expresses his love and Josna breaks into a song and dance of acceptance, their conversation goes like this:
Prince: Shono, tumi to bodo akritagno. Sedin tomar eto bodo upokar korlam aar aaj katha na bolei chole jachho. Amar dike ekbar-o takachho na (Listen, you are very ungrateful. I did you such a big favor the other day and you are leaving without a word. Not even looking at me)!
Josna: Je chokher ghum kede nyay, tar dike ki chokh phire takano jaay? (How dare my eyes turn to someone who has stolen sleep from them?)
Among other 'gems' of the 90s were Bhai Amar Bhai (Brother My Brother), Adorer Bon (Sister Darling), Rajar Meye Parul (The King's Daughter Parul), Tomar Rakte Amar Sohag (Your Blood My Vermillion), Kumari Maa (Virgin Mother), Mayer Dibyi (I Swear On My Mother), Swami Keno Asami (Why is Husband Framed), Baba Keno Chakor (Why is Father the Servant)…
While an affront to the sensibilities of the urban educated Bengali middle class, these films did business in the rural market. During those long years, few in Tollywood would have imagined that thebhadralok would return to their films. But since 2005, a new breed of filmmakers and their 'middle cinema' have been bringing back the prodigals and their attendant 'buzz'.
Anusuya Ghosh, a clinical psychologist, returned to theaters for Bangla films "some four or five years ago after more than two decades," and has not missed too many since. "Barring Aparna [Sen] and Rituparno [Ghosh], I don't remember anything worthwhile till new directors like Kaushik [Ganguly] or Srijit [Mukherjee] came along."
Virvikram Roy, a college principal in his early fifties, says he gave up watching Bengali films as a student of Jadavpur University during the 1980s. "It was probably 2005 when I went back. Now I consider it my duty to support the new Bengali cinema."
Rudra, a fifth grader at St Xavier's School, made his parents take him twice to watch Mishwar Rahasya, an adaptation of a popular detective novel by Sunil Ganguly set in Egypt. A bunch of college students I meet on Shakespeare Sarani near Chowringhee say matter-of-factly that they "check out at least two Bangla films" every month.
Does the industry see it as a resurgence? "The last 7-8 years has been a great time to be a part of the industry. Things are definitely changing for the better," says Prosenjit Chatterjee, arguably Tollywood's most bankable star, and most familiar to Bollywood's audience as activist Dr Ahmedi in Dibakar Banerjee's Shanghai.
"The industry has responded to the challenge of finding new content, adapting to modern ways of filmmaking and drawing a larger audience. The music has also improved. The budgets have increased and it shows in the quality of production. Thanks to some of these positives, the actors from our industry are getting offers from Bollywood," says Prosenjit.
Having "lived [his] life in the Bangla film industry and seen all its ups and downs," Prosenjit sees a fresh start with the investment in technology, international crew and foreign locations. "As a result, overall visibility of our films has also expanded. Two of my latest films - Jaatishwar and Mishwar Rahasya - were released nationally and abroad for the Bengali diaspora."
Srijit Mukherji, who directed Prosenjit in these two films, is also a believer in the resurgence. After all, he claims that his 2010 debut Autograph was the trigger for this turnaround. "From human relationships shot in budget-friendly half-lit Kolkata drawing rooms, we have taken up adventure capers in Egypt and South Africa. We also see the other 'Woods' taking a huge interest in the resources Bengal has to offer."
They are right. Bengali cinema is travelling outside of the state. In February, Jaatishwar became the first Bengali film to break the single-week ceiling at the box office in Singapore. Chander Pahar(2013), shot in South Africa and the costliest Bengali film ever at over Rs 12 crore, is running well in the US. Corporate producers like Reliance and Viacom 18 have come to Tollywood. The latest entrant is Mumbai's Neeraj Pandey who produced a Bengali 'thriller-drama' - The Royal Bengal Tiger- with Tollywood star Jeet.
As for Bengali actors going into Bollywood, count away: Parambrata Chatterjee (Kahani, Traffic, Highway, Yaara Silly Silly), Rajesh Sharma (Khosla ka Ghosla, No One Killed Jessica, The Dirty Picture), Paoli Dam (Hate Story, Gang of Ghosts), Rajatava Dutta (Kaminey) and Jisshu Sengupta (Mardaani).
But there is more to the resurgence plot, especially if you follow the money. Industry sources put the 'success rate' at 4-6 percent in the recent years for the 80-100 films Tollywood churns out annually.
Ashok Dhanuka of Eskay Movies, which mostly invests in Bengali remakes of Tamil and Telugu films, has been in the business for nearly two decades and remains a sceptic. "There's nothing predictable in the [film] industry," he says. "Since I started making films in the mid-90s, the average production budget has gone up from Rs 15 lakh to over Rs 1 crore. But most films tank."
Indranil Roychowdhury's directorial debut Phoring - the story of a small-town adolescent's self-discovery - was arguably the best Bengali film of 2013. "We can't fool the audience anymore. Hindi films and cable TV have changed the visual culture. The audience demands quality but 75 to 80 percent of Bengali films are simply unwatchable. Naturally, for the amount of money producers put in, there are very little returns."
Tollywood does not release trade figures yet. Suman Mukhopadhyay, whose debut film Herbert won a national award in 2005, says there is no box office data outside the multiplex market. "Most producers have other motivations (such as gaining social status or channelling unattributed cash flow) for putting in the money. Since they don't bother about losses, you never know how much money sinks behind the visible success of a few films."
A House Divided
What is real about the resurgence is the deepening of the class divide in Bengali cinema. Indranil says, "Film budgets have gone up but there is not enough fresh content, particularly in the mainstream mass segment."
Apparently, there are two cinematic worlds on either side of the Howrah Bridge. "Films made with a certain sensibility cater largely to Kolkata's multiplex audience. Films made for the rural audience have no takers in the city. The Howrah Bridge is a metaphor for this divide," explains Suman.
Big producers, confides Dhanuka, often run a film meant for rural release in a few theaters in Kolkata. "Just jabardasti! It does not earn a penny in Kolkata but helps the box office in the districts where people are impressed that a film is running for so many weeks in the big city. On the contrary, multiplex films do not bother about the rural audience and focus on collecting entirely from the cities."
The very occasional arthouse films by the likes of Buddhadeb Dasgupta and Goutam Ghosh are meant for the festival circuit. But for the rest of Tollywood, there is no attempt yet to bridge the different segments of what is anyway a limited market. The formula therefore goes like this. Medium budget commercial cinema, usually Tamil and Telugu remakes, such as what Dhanuka makes, are solely targeted at the rural mass audience. Low-budget ensemble cast parallel cinema is for niche urban crowds. The high-budget middle-of-the-road commercial cinema, which could have strived for a pan-Bengal audience, is happy to cater only to the multiplexes.
Srijit, the poster boy of Bengali middle cinema, does not agree. "Due to the increasing purchasing power of the average Bengali and the influx of consumerism and digital revolution, the villages have started merging into mofussils, and mofussils into cities. I am proud that everything from mainstream pulp such as Paglu and Rangbaaz [remakes of Telugu films Kandireega and Chirutha] to my films is being made."
But Indranil points out that most movie theaters in the districts are in a shambles. He says, "Yes, multiplexes are coming up but single-screen theaters are disappearing, making it difficult to reach a broad spectrum of audience." By 2011, half of Bengal's 840 or so single-screen theaters went out of business. "It's a vicious cycle where poor maintenance forces cheaper pricing of tickets at Rs 20-30, which make a theater further unviable. The rural middle class don't visit these tattered halls, so the owners cater to the lumpen audience's demand for crass entertainment."
This trend cannot be reversed without serious investment in infrastructure. Until then, actor-director Anjan Dutta does not see any demand for aesthetically richer mass cinema. "If my films have an urban sensibility, I would aim for a pan-Indian urban market. Rather than taking my film to Burdwan, I would take it to Bangalore."
Suman points out that even theater groups have stopped travelling to the districts. Anjan agrees. "Just like they prefer the loudness of jatra pala (rural drama troupes) to the subtleties of theater, the rural mass wants star-cast based entertainment from films. On the other hand, the script has become the real star in our kind of urban cinema where even the stars are reinventing themselves."
Prosenjit is a case in point. When he was the biggest draw in those bleak decades of Tollywood, he was 'Posenjit' to his average fan who still struggles to roll the 'r'. With Rituparno Ghosh and later with Srijit, he has delivered a series of nuanced performances - from Chokher Bali (2003) and Dosar(2006) to Baishe Srabon (2011) and Jaatishwar (2014) - re-establishing himself as an actor. Will he ever return to those song-dance-action routines now?
"Yes, previously I did many commercial films but now I mainly do urban films. That does not mean I will not do any commercial films for my rural audience if good scripts come my way. I'm open to strong content but the production budgets should be justified. At the end of the day, I want to see my producers smiling."
Dhanuka smiles. Prasenjit has not done any 'mass' film since he starred in Dhanuka's Vikram Singha: The Lion is Back (a remake of Telugu film Vikramarkudu) in 2012. "He was the only reason that film flopped. It did not work between him and the audience. I doubt he'll take that risk again."
But if accomplished actors abandon mass movies, will producers like him be left with only 'stars' who do not make the cut? Dhanuka is unperturbed. His audience has simple demands, he says.
In fact, the release of Yash Raj Films' Gunday dubbed in Bengali this month is a much bigger threat for the likes of Dhanuka. The mass movies of Tollywood are mostly remakes and the heroes are styled after Bollywood. While everyone in the industry is talking about trade ethics, the fear that the original will easily elbow out the duplicates is palpable.
Return to the money trail
Theater director-actor Bibhash Chakraborty attributes Tollywood's resurgence to three factors. "The public [commercial] theater died in Kolkata in the mid-1990s, creating a void for a section of the urban audience. In the next few years, the TV serial boom in cable channels gave Tollywood a lot of work. Then a lot of money suddenly became available." New funds and a new mindset is what set this Tollywood generation apart, according to Chakraborty. "In the 1950s, it was my dream to make movies. But I settled for theater. Today, theater directors like Suman [Mukhopadhyay] have the enterprise and the funding to take the plunge."
Suman, however, has his grouse with the new producers. "Most of them want to gain some social status or park some easy money, they have no real stake in the industry." The economic liberalization brought the first flush of funds. Then, money started flowing from the booming chit fund companies in the state.
Since the Sharada group went bust for its chit fund scam last year, Suman is not the only one who thinks that the well will dry up soon. Indranil says he'd be happy if producers truly bothered about losses. "That'd ensure a degree of professionalism. I foresee the majority of today's 80-90 producers leaving the industry in the next 2-3 years when they can't deny how bad the bottomline is."
That is also the timeframe for Shree Venkatesh Films (SVF), Tollywood's biggest production house, to make the most of its lucrative deal with Star Jalsha, a movie channel. SVF reportedly bagged Rs 90 crore from the channel as an advance for telecast rights of the 50-odd films it would produce in three years. (After promising an appointment twice, SVF director Shrikant Mohta eventually declined to meet me.)
Nobody talks about it openly in Tollywood, but it is difficult to escape the almost monopolistic clout of SVF, launched in 1996 by cousins Mohta and Mahendra Soni who outgrew their family business of making rakhis. Soon after joining the industry, SVF backed feted filmmakers Rituparno Ghosh and Aparna Sen and came to dominate the mass and award segments. By 2008, they were onAnandabazar Patrika's annual power list. Its website claims that the production house has helped the Bengali film industry restore its "lost glory".
SVF apparently gained its massive political clout only after the regime change in Bengal. The Left Front's intellectual past meant it was inclined to patronize theater, rather than mainstream commercial cinema. But Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee loves to line up Tollywood stars on her stage. Her latest brigade rally on 31 January featured the who's who of the film industry.
"One of Mamata's ministers is at every party hosted by Venkatesh. The one-sided deal with Star Jalsha came through an understanding with the ruling party that controls the network of cable operators across the state. The fourth player in this power arrangement is the largest circulated Bengali daily that never gives a bad review to any Venkatesh film," complains a Tollywood veteran at a recording studio.
Indranil won't be drawn into any of that. "Right now, Venkatesh is professionally the most equipped. Viacom and Reliance have come, but I won't bet my money on corporate producers. Unlike in Bollywood, here they have to create new content with an understanding of everything Bengali. Also, in Bollywood, the corporates succeed because of creative producers like Anurag Kashyap who nurture a film like Lunchbox."
Anjan, in fact, looks forward to playing such a role. "I would love to mentor projects, maybe as an executive producer. But the content is getting predictable; we need more exciting ideas. Ritu[parno] focused on the middle class. My Bong Connection (2006) explored new areas [NRI angst] in that bandwidth. We are not being able to sense the pulse of today's Bengal. Depoliticization hasn't helped either."
The challenge ahead, agrees Suman who has helmed theater and films, is to resolve the confusion in middle cinema. "It's getting monotonous in the convenience of dealing with and catering to the cozy Bengali middle class."
Indranil says he is serious about bridging the urban-rural gap. And he is happy that Kamaleswar Mukherjee's Chander Pahar (Mountains of the Moon), the story of a Bengali youth's adventures in Africa in the early years of the last century, is doing good business in small towns. "It tells the hall owners that more and more middle-class audiences will walk in for good cinema if they invest in their properties." That perhaps answers the infrastructure-audience riddle. The overriding factor, as Prosenjit puts it, is content. "When content draws larger audience, infrastructure will follow."
For now though, a whispering vixen demands to know in the promo of SVF's latest dark comedyAbhishopto Nighty (The Cursed Nightie): "Oscar ashbe? (Any chance of an Oscar?)"
There is a new buzz in Tollywood (aspirational for Tollygunge, the hub of film studios in Kolkata). The local press can't stop talking about the new crop of directors, a string of breakthrough films and, of course, swelling budgets. A born-again audience prides itself on multiplexes screening Bengali films alongside Hindi blockbusters and collections looking up steadily.
But why should Bengalis watching Bangla movies in Kolkata come as a surprise?
The so-called Golden Era of Tollywood dominated by Uttam Kumar and Suchitra Sen lost steam in the 1970s. In the 1980s and 1990s, no self-respecting bhadralok would be caught dead even discussing contemporary Bangla films.
Sample the fare that was being rejected. Anurager Choya (A Touch of Romance), a major 1986 hit, featured Tapas Pal, who dominated Tollywood with Ranjit Mallick after Uttam Kumar, and Mahua Roychoudhury, a starlet who committed suicide the same year. Here's the dialogue after the rakish hero bullies the heroine and her gang of girls in Darjeeling, and leaves with a flourish.
Hero: Bolechi na, jake ami chai, take ami pai…Kolkatay giye tomake theek khunje nebo (I told you, I get what I want. I'll certainly find you in Kolkata).
He then snatches her purse and drives off, blowing a kiss in the air.
"Ok, bye-bye, darling!"
Heroine: Eki! Amar bag ta nichhen keno? Ki korchen ki? Amar bag ta… (Hey! Why are you taking my purse? What are you doing? My purse…)
Heroine's friend: Jah! Buke haat diye dyakhto, tor hridoy ta niye chole jaayni toh. (Alas! Touch your heart and tell me if he hasn't taken that too.)
Cut to 1991. Beder Meye Josna (Josna, The Snake Charmer's Daughter) was the biggest release of the year, starring Bangladeshi heroine Anju Ghosh in the title role against Chiranjit Chakraborty (now a Trinamool Congress MLA). Here, Chiranjit, the prince, rescues Josna from goons. On their second meeting, moments before he expresses his love and Josna breaks into a song and dance of acceptance, their conversation goes like this:
Prince: Shono, tumi to bodo akritagno. Sedin tomar eto bodo upokar korlam aar aaj katha na bolei chole jachho. Amar dike ekbar-o takachho na (Listen, you are very ungrateful. I did you such a big favor the other day and you are leaving without a word. Not even looking at me)!
Josna: Je chokher ghum kede nyay, tar dike ki chokh phire takano jaay? (How dare my eyes turn to someone who has stolen sleep from them?)
Among other 'gems' of the 90s were Bhai Amar Bhai (Brother My Brother), Adorer Bon (Sister Darling), Rajar Meye Parul (The King's Daughter Parul), Tomar Rakte Amar Sohag (Your Blood My Vermillion), Kumari Maa (Virgin Mother), Mayer Dibyi (I Swear On My Mother), Swami Keno Asami (Why is Husband Framed), Baba Keno Chakor (Why is Father the Servant)…
While an affront to the sensibilities of the urban educated Bengali middle class, these films did business in the rural market. During those long years, few in Tollywood would have imagined that thebhadralok would return to their films. But since 2005, a new breed of filmmakers and their 'middle cinema' have been bringing back the prodigals and their attendant 'buzz'.
Anusuya Ghosh, a clinical psychologist, returned to theaters for Bangla films "some four or five years ago after more than two decades," and has not missed too many since. "Barring Aparna [Sen] and Rituparno [Ghosh], I don't remember anything worthwhile till new directors like Kaushik [Ganguly] or Srijit [Mukherjee] came along."
Virvikram Roy, a college principal in his early fifties, says he gave up watching Bengali films as a student of Jadavpur University during the 1980s. "It was probably 2005 when I went back. Now I consider it my duty to support the new Bengali cinema."
Rudra, a fifth grader at St Xavier's School, made his parents take him twice to watch Mishwar Rahasya, an adaptation of a popular detective novel by Sunil Ganguly set in Egypt. A bunch of college students I meet on Shakespeare Sarani near Chowringhee say matter-of-factly that they "check out at least two Bangla films" every month.
"The industry has responded to the challenge of finding new content, adapting to modern ways of filmmaking and drawing a larger audience. The music has also improved. The budgets have increased and it shows in the quality of production. Thanks to some of these positives, the actors from our industry are getting offers from Bollywood," says Prosenjit.
Having "lived [his] life in the Bangla film industry and seen all its ups and downs," Prosenjit sees a fresh start with the investment in technology, international crew and foreign locations. "As a result, overall visibility of our films has also expanded. Two of my latest films - Jaatishwar and Mishwar Rahasya - were released nationally and abroad for the Bengali diaspora."
Srijit Mukherji, who directed Prosenjit in these two films, is also a believer in the resurgence. After all, he claims that his 2010 debut Autograph was the trigger for this turnaround. "From human relationships shot in budget-friendly half-lit Kolkata drawing rooms, we have taken up adventure capers in Egypt and South Africa. We also see the other 'Woods' taking a huge interest in the resources Bengal has to offer."
They are right. Bengali cinema is travelling outside of the state. In February, Jaatishwar became the first Bengali film to break the single-week ceiling at the box office in Singapore. Chander Pahar(2013), shot in South Africa and the costliest Bengali film ever at over Rs 12 crore, is running well in the US. Corporate producers like Reliance and Viacom 18 have come to Tollywood. The latest entrant is Mumbai's Neeraj Pandey who produced a Bengali 'thriller-drama' - The Royal Bengal Tiger- with Tollywood star Jeet.
As for Bengali actors going into Bollywood, count away: Parambrata Chatterjee (Kahani, Traffic, Highway, Yaara Silly Silly), Rajesh Sharma (Khosla ka Ghosla, No One Killed Jessica, The Dirty Picture), Paoli Dam (Hate Story, Gang of Ghosts), Rajatava Dutta (Kaminey) and Jisshu Sengupta (Mardaani).
But there is more to the resurgence plot, especially if you follow the money. Industry sources put the 'success rate' at 4-6 percent in the recent years for the 80-100 films Tollywood churns out annually.
Ashok Dhanuka of Eskay Movies, which mostly invests in Bengali remakes of Tamil and Telugu films, has been in the business for nearly two decades and remains a sceptic. "There's nothing predictable in the [film] industry," he says. "Since I started making films in the mid-90s, the average production budget has gone up from Rs 15 lakh to over Rs 1 crore. But most films tank."
Indranil Roychowdhury's directorial debut Phoring - the story of a small-town adolescent's self-discovery - was arguably the best Bengali film of 2013. "We can't fool the audience anymore. Hindi films and cable TV have changed the visual culture. The audience demands quality but 75 to 80 percent of Bengali films are simply unwatchable. Naturally, for the amount of money producers put in, there are very little returns."
Tollywood does not release trade figures yet. Suman Mukhopadhyay, whose debut film Herbert won a national award in 2005, says there is no box office data outside the multiplex market. "Most producers have other motivations (such as gaining social status or channelling unattributed cash flow) for putting in the money. Since they don't bother about losses, you never know how much money sinks behind the visible success of a few films."
A House Divided
What is real about the resurgence is the deepening of the class divide in Bengali cinema. Indranil says, "Film budgets have gone up but there is not enough fresh content, particularly in the mainstream mass segment."
Apparently, there are two cinematic worlds on either side of the Howrah Bridge. "Films made with a certain sensibility cater largely to Kolkata's multiplex audience. Films made for the rural audience have no takers in the city. The Howrah Bridge is a metaphor for this divide," explains Suman.
The very occasional arthouse films by the likes of Buddhadeb Dasgupta and Goutam Ghosh are meant for the festival circuit. But for the rest of Tollywood, there is no attempt yet to bridge the different segments of what is anyway a limited market. The formula therefore goes like this. Medium budget commercial cinema, usually Tamil and Telugu remakes, such as what Dhanuka makes, are solely targeted at the rural mass audience. Low-budget ensemble cast parallel cinema is for niche urban crowds. The high-budget middle-of-the-road commercial cinema, which could have strived for a pan-Bengal audience, is happy to cater only to the multiplexes.
Srijit, the poster boy of Bengali middle cinema, does not agree. "Due to the increasing purchasing power of the average Bengali and the influx of consumerism and digital revolution, the villages have started merging into mofussils, and mofussils into cities. I am proud that everything from mainstream pulp such as Paglu and Rangbaaz [remakes of Telugu films Kandireega and Chirutha] to my films is being made."
But Indranil points out that most movie theaters in the districts are in a shambles. He says, "Yes, multiplexes are coming up but single-screen theaters are disappearing, making it difficult to reach a broad spectrum of audience." By 2011, half of Bengal's 840 or so single-screen theaters went out of business. "It's a vicious cycle where poor maintenance forces cheaper pricing of tickets at Rs 20-30, which make a theater further unviable. The rural middle class don't visit these tattered halls, so the owners cater to the lumpen audience's demand for crass entertainment."
This trend cannot be reversed without serious investment in infrastructure. Until then, actor-director Anjan Dutta does not see any demand for aesthetically richer mass cinema. "If my films have an urban sensibility, I would aim for a pan-Indian urban market. Rather than taking my film to Burdwan, I would take it to Bangalore."
Suman points out that even theater groups have stopped travelling to the districts. Anjan agrees. "Just like they prefer the loudness of jatra pala (rural drama troupes) to the subtleties of theater, the rural mass wants star-cast based entertainment from films. On the other hand, the script has become the real star in our kind of urban cinema where even the stars are reinventing themselves."
Prosenjit is a case in point. When he was the biggest draw in those bleak decades of Tollywood, he was 'Posenjit' to his average fan who still struggles to roll the 'r'. With Rituparno Ghosh and later with Srijit, he has delivered a series of nuanced performances - from Chokher Bali (2003) and Dosar(2006) to Baishe Srabon (2011) and Jaatishwar (2014) - re-establishing himself as an actor. Will he ever return to those song-dance-action routines now?
"Yes, previously I did many commercial films but now I mainly do urban films. That does not mean I will not do any commercial films for my rural audience if good scripts come my way. I'm open to strong content but the production budgets should be justified. At the end of the day, I want to see my producers smiling."
Dhanuka smiles. Prasenjit has not done any 'mass' film since he starred in Dhanuka's Vikram Singha: The Lion is Back (a remake of Telugu film Vikramarkudu) in 2012. "He was the only reason that film flopped. It did not work between him and the audience. I doubt he'll take that risk again."
But if accomplished actors abandon mass movies, will producers like him be left with only 'stars' who do not make the cut? Dhanuka is unperturbed. His audience has simple demands, he says.
In fact, the release of Yash Raj Films' Gunday dubbed in Bengali this month is a much bigger threat for the likes of Dhanuka. The mass movies of Tollywood are mostly remakes and the heroes are styled after Bollywood. While everyone in the industry is talking about trade ethics, the fear that the original will easily elbow out the duplicates is palpable.
Return to the money trail
Suman, however, has his grouse with the new producers. "Most of them want to gain some social status or park some easy money, they have no real stake in the industry." The economic liberalization brought the first flush of funds. Then, money started flowing from the booming chit fund companies in the state.
Since the Sharada group went bust for its chit fund scam last year, Suman is not the only one who thinks that the well will dry up soon. Indranil says he'd be happy if producers truly bothered about losses. "That'd ensure a degree of professionalism. I foresee the majority of today's 80-90 producers leaving the industry in the next 2-3 years when they can't deny how bad the bottomline is."
That is also the timeframe for Shree Venkatesh Films (SVF), Tollywood's biggest production house, to make the most of its lucrative deal with Star Jalsha, a movie channel. SVF reportedly bagged Rs 90 crore from the channel as an advance for telecast rights of the 50-odd films it would produce in three years. (After promising an appointment twice, SVF director Shrikant Mohta eventually declined to meet me.)
Nobody talks about it openly in Tollywood, but it is difficult to escape the almost monopolistic clout of SVF, launched in 1996 by cousins Mohta and Mahendra Soni who outgrew their family business of making rakhis. Soon after joining the industry, SVF backed feted filmmakers Rituparno Ghosh and Aparna Sen and came to dominate the mass and award segments. By 2008, they were onAnandabazar Patrika's annual power list. Its website claims that the production house has helped the Bengali film industry restore its "lost glory".
SVF apparently gained its massive political clout only after the regime change in Bengal. The Left Front's intellectual past meant it was inclined to patronize theater, rather than mainstream commercial cinema. But Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee loves to line up Tollywood stars on her stage. Her latest brigade rally on 31 January featured the who's who of the film industry.
"One of Mamata's ministers is at every party hosted by Venkatesh. The one-sided deal with Star Jalsha came through an understanding with the ruling party that controls the network of cable operators across the state. The fourth player in this power arrangement is the largest circulated Bengali daily that never gives a bad review to any Venkatesh film," complains a Tollywood veteran at a recording studio.
Indranil won't be drawn into any of that. "Right now, Venkatesh is professionally the most equipped. Viacom and Reliance have come, but I won't bet my money on corporate producers. Unlike in Bollywood, here they have to create new content with an understanding of everything Bengali. Also, in Bollywood, the corporates succeed because of creative producers like Anurag Kashyap who nurture a film like Lunchbox."
Anjan, in fact, looks forward to playing such a role. "I would love to mentor projects, maybe as an executive producer. But the content is getting predictable; we need more exciting ideas. Ritu[parno] focused on the middle class. My Bong Connection (2006) explored new areas [NRI angst] in that bandwidth. We are not being able to sense the pulse of today's Bengal. Depoliticization hasn't helped either."
The challenge ahead, agrees Suman who has helmed theater and films, is to resolve the confusion in middle cinema. "It's getting monotonous in the convenience of dealing with and catering to the cozy Bengali middle class."
Indranil says he is serious about bridging the urban-rural gap. And he is happy that Kamaleswar Mukherjee's Chander Pahar (Mountains of the Moon), the story of a Bengali youth's adventures in Africa in the early years of the last century, is doing good business in small towns. "It tells the hall owners that more and more middle-class audiences will walk in for good cinema if they invest in their properties." That perhaps answers the infrastructure-audience riddle. The overriding factor, as Prosenjit puts it, is content. "When content draws larger audience, infrastructure will follow."
For now though, a whispering vixen demands to know in the promo of SVF's latest dark comedyAbhishopto Nighty (The Cursed Nightie): "Oscar ashbe? (Any chance of an Oscar?)"
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