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Nothing but the ire of the mediocre It is utterly ridiculous to ask for a moratorium on non-Kannada films, which shows a paranoia about outsiders VIJAY NAMBISAN Posted online: Indian Express - Thursday, December 23, 2004 There is
(something) to know about prescribed action and about action that is
prohibited, as also about inaction; the way of action is mysterious
— Bhagvad Gita, IV, 17
Artistically, any neutral observer would say there have been very
few high points in Kannada film history. Karnad, Kasaravalli and the
two Nag brothers are the only artistes of stature who are native to
the state. The marquee names from Karnataka—Rajkumar,
Vishnuvardhan, Ambarish and Rajkumar’s sons—are mediocre actors
who have had their moments. These latter are the men leading the
agitation against exogenous cinema.
To say they and the producers and directors who cast and re-cast
them are responsible for the state of Kannada cinema is to state the
obvious. If the movie-going public, especially in Bangalore, wants
to see Hindi, English and Tamil films, if income from Kannada film
ticket sales has fallen despite prices being higher than ever
before, if there are fewer jubilee hits, the fault must lie with
these men. It is up to them to change things. Hard work is needed,
and a complete transformation of standards. It is not too much to
say that the Kannada film industry requires a paradigm shift. Its
doyens have, in Kipling’s words, power without responsibility: the
prerogative of the harlot through the ages.
No one who even pretends to good taste and is not paid for it can
comment on Kannada cinema, because he or she is not likely to have
watched much of it. I can vouch for this, having witnessed the
process at first hand. Occasionally on a Sunday my wife, who is a
native of Karnataka, will announce she is going to watch a Kannada
movie and oust me from my front row seat at the Premiership match.
But half an hour later she invariably says, ‘‘I can’t take any
more.’’ The producers and directors seem to take their cues from
the very worst of Hindi, Malayalam, Tamil and Telugu cinema—which
is pretty low. The acting is atrocious (unless Karnad or Anant Nag
is playing a ‘character’ part, or an outsider such as Suhasini
has a role). The themes usually represent the most reprehensible
aspects of our medievalistic feudal system. Or else they have jeans-
and shades-clad youths pretending to be Americans. But the endings
here are just as feudal and medievalist.
The thing to do is to make better films. Agitating for a
three-week suspension of non-Kannada films is like asking for a
protective tariff. The joke going around Bangalore is that e-mails
in English will be delivered three hours late, English-language
newspapers three days late, and English-language software three
years late, plus whatever Bill Gates sees fit to add on. Since S M
Krishna demitted office as chief minister, the IT industry has lost
its clout, but the software trade still has a presence in Bangalore.
It is a cosmopolitan city with strivings towards a cosmopolitan
culture.
And that is what the Kannada chauvinists object to. Look where
you will in Bangalore—which is not Karnataka by any means—and
the names that catch your eye are foreign. Foreign, that is, by the
definition of people like Vatal Nagaraj, the head of the Kannada
Chaluvaliga Sangha, which is the group that goes around tarring
signboards in English and running riot in Kentucky Fried Chicken
outlets. They don’t like the fact that Bangalore’s wealth—and
Bangalore is incomparably the richest city in the state—is
controlled by non-Kannadigas.
Surely then they should be promoting Kannadiga entrepreneurs.
Narayana Murthy, head of the biggest Kannadiga-owned company, tries
to do that. Precious few else do. It’s not the fault of outsiders
that they find a fallow field to exploit. Bangalore is not
Karnataka. But everywhere in the south of the state you find the
same attitude. I live in Kodagu (Coorg) district, one of the richest
in India despite the slump in coffee prices. The roads are in an
execrable condition. The power supply often fails without the excuse
of a monsoon. The rich Kodavas, though they revere their martial
traditions, do nothing but whine about it. (They have enough
financial power to upset governments, but they cannot get together.
Instead they complain about the Malayalis who run the district’s
commerce, because they themselves cannot sully their hands with
over-the-counter business.)
The film actors now agitating for a three-week moratorium on
non-Kannada films are asking for what, in essence, is cultural
legislation. This is something which has come into fashion in the
last 15 years, ever since the BJP got a foothold in national
politics. Anyone who loves language for its own sake, or the
language of cinema, dance, painting and sculpture, must oppose it.
Why? Because there is no end to it. Legislate against films from
outside, and next you will be legislating against software from
outside, as the joke goes. And painting, and books, and sculpture.
This year is the birth centenary of a giant of Kannada literature,
Kuvempu. It is an insult to his memory to mark the year by agitating
for ‘‘Kannada, only Kannada’’ and by definition against all
‘outsiders’. The indigenous chevaliers themselves tilt against
the Nehruvian model of the national economy. But that is what they
tilt towards, to adapt a pun.
It is a refusal to face reality. The fact is that Kannada cinema
cannot plumb greater depths. It is up to Rajkumar & Co., those
who want films from outside the state put off for three weeks, to
change the situation.
Vijay Nambisan is a writer and journalist
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