Born on 1st January 1952, Shaji Neelakantan Karun is an Indian film director and cinematographer. His debut film Piravi was widely hailed as the “most stunning feature film debut” from India since Satyajit Ray burst onto the international film scene with his masterpiece, Pather Panchali.
Shaji N Karun continued to win national and international laurels with his subsequent films too. But there are many who feel he is yet to receive the recognition he deserves in his home state.
Currently heading the panel to draft the state’s first-ever film policy, Shaji talks to TNIE about his artistic journey, “review bombing”, and a lot more.
Edited excerpts:
Review bombing is the most discussed issue in Malayalam cinema now. What’s your take on negative film reviews?
A certain amount of time is always required to identify great works of art. Experts hold active debates after music concerts and painting exhibitions. The same should be the case with cinema too, but we have no time for it. Amateur criticism has become common as we now watch cinema from our living rooms and bedrooms. Because of this ever-increasing familiarity, many of the current genres of critics do not subscribe to the level of genuine criticism required.
Do you think a review can actually sabotage a movie?
A movie has a lot of aspects to be reviewed. The aesthetics of film content should be discussed. But do we do that? Like filmmakers, film critics too need to evolve.
Anyone with a mobile phone can now become a journalist, filmmaker, or a reviewer. Such is the level of democratisation happening in society. Does this have to do with the changing times?
History has provided us with numerous references on rights and wrongs. Vincent van Gogh died in penury. Now, however, the price of a single painting by him is equivalent to the state’s budget. He was rediscovered by a set of people capable of understanding his eminence. We need such people. Only time can conceive art. The system to address time too differs. The energy that we derive from an original artwork varies from that derived from its replica. We ought to be prepared to explain this difference.
There are varied opinions on censorship. People like Adoor Gopalakrishnan are against the idea of any kind of censorship while some others advocate censorship. What is your position?
When I was a member of the censor board, we received a movie in which an eight-year-old is raped and the corresponding horrific visuals recorded using a camera pinned to the man’s shirt. The person who submitted such a movie for censoring is definitely not an artist. In today’s scenario, such disturbing content is widely available on mass media.
Such a situation is not exclusive to Malayalam movies... Kim Ki-duk’s movies too are explicit in content, yet enjoy massive popularity here.
Yes. It’s a peculiar situation in Kerala. Here, there is a cultural camouflage. A person in a white dhoti and shirt is not what he seems to be. He is a made-up man.
Can you elaborate on this Malayali psyche?
Kerala is one place where the strength of consumerism has been proven time and again. The government has no money, but the common man has a lot of money. People are comfortable in themselves but do not bother much about those around them. It is all about oneself and not the other.
You have received international recognition right from your first movie Piravi. But you are yet to receive recognition in Kerala like how Adoor or Aravindan has… Has it bothered you?
I have always got recognised abroad. Once, Sushma Swaraj, who was the Union Information and Broadcasting Minister then, couldn’t get an appointment with Cannes Movie Festival president Gilles Jacob. But I got an appointment immediately when I went there. Later, when the minister arrived, she did not recognise me (chuckles). But there is no need to feel bad about it. I have enjoyed a lot of moments in the company of people who admire me. Hence, I don’t need to be resentful about what I did not get.
Piravi is one of the most celebrated movies internationally. Could you take us through its making?
I started off as a cinematographer, doing movies for several directors including G Aravindan and K G George. A cinematographer’s first job is to wait for the right light to capture the moment aptly. Waiting patiently has always been my forté (smiles). There were only 20 minutes of dialogue in the movie. I got Rs 7 lakh as loan from NFDC to make the movie, and I finished it in Rs 5 lakh. Though I did not receive any state award, I have three national awards for the ‘best’ movie (smiles).
There were many who believed the movie was based on the Rajan case, giving rise to another criticism that you had depoliticised a highly political issue?
I have time and again made it clear that it was not based on the Rajan case. The movie is about custodial deaths. People said custodial deaths were not a possibility then. But how many such deaths have happened since then?
There was some criticism against Piravi at that time that it was pro-Hindutva...
The symbolic representations (such as kindi — a pitcher with long spout) used in the movie may have led to such criticism (Smiles).
You are a political being, but your movies do not portray typical political themes. Was it a conscious decision?
The basis of politics is pain. The basis of all my movies is also pain. I have tried to portray pain in its different shades. Good things too happen through pain, the world over. It is through pain that wisdom is garnered. I have introduced references to pain at numerous points in all my movies. It is there in Vanaprastham, Kutty Srank etc. Politics is about addressing the pain. I have always laid strong emphasis on the politics involved therein.
A large section thinks there has always been a deliberate attempt to deny you your rightful place in Kerala. Do you concur?
It is said that when the then Pope recalled Michelangelo to complete a work, the former declared himself to be the custodian of the artwork, and hence was permitting the latter to complete the work. The artist, in return, said he created ‘God’, and only thus did the ‘Pope’ come into being! (Smiles). In the field of art, there could be many such debates. If I allow myself to be bothered by anything and everything, I would never be able to do my next movie. I have always aimed to forget the movie I have completed. If I don’t forget, it becomes a baggage. I am able to do the next movie only because I don’t have such baggage (Smiles).
Has it got anything to do with you being in the Aravindan camp?
Camps have always been part and parcel of the industry. In Bengal, we had Satyajit Ray and Ritwik Ghatak, yet we don’t tend to see them as part of some camp, right? Ultimately, it is your work that matters.
Of your contemporaries, you’ve worked with Aravindan and K G George, but not with Adoor. Is there any specific reason?
Adoor has always made his own choices. Both of us are from the same school. As far as I’m concerned, there are flowers of different hues in this world. We can’t insist that all should look alike. We are two different individuals. Instead of thinking in terms of division and multiplication, we need to think in terms of diversification.
You’ve worked a lot with G Aravindan. How would you describe the experience of working with him?
For me, communication with him has always been a smooth affair. In Aravindettan’s movies, I would get just a four-page script. There would be no detailed screenplay.
You and Aravindan shared a close bond — two reticent people who communicated beautifully between themselves through their work. What was your chemistry with him like?
Aravindettan was such a talented individual — a cartoonist, singer and painter. The way he saw the mornings and evenings were unique. He could visualise stories behind each of his frames, just like I did. Communication between us was hence relatively easy. In the course of our travels together for the shooting of a movie, he was in the habit of telling me about his next movie.
Which role do you enjoy the most — director or cinematographer?
Both entail different experiences. After I became a director, no one has ever called me for cinematography (laughs).
You chose Mohanlal for the titular role in Vanaprastham. What was the reason?
I have been the cinematographer for many movies starring Mohanlal and was well aware of his level of commitment. He’s an actor who likes to internalise the director’s delineation of his character and makes it a point to check with the director whether he was able to do justice to the role.
You once said watching Mohanlal act is a mesmerising experience...
He’s an actor who has never ever claimed to have delivered a good performance. That part, he leaves for the others to endorse. It aptly captures his innate belief that he has the potential to do much more. The chemistry between him and Kathakali artists was one of a kind. He’s one actor whose work cannot be recreated. Even he may not be able to do so again.
You have also done a movie with Mammootty. Was their stardom the reason for choosing them?
It was Mammootty’s suggestion that we do a movie together. The movie won seven national awards. But he didn’t get an award. It was a movie that he did with a lot of commitment. It may be because it had already bagged seven awards that it wasn’t considered for an eighth. Interestingly, the movie didn’t get a single award in Kerala (smiles).
You said Mohanlal’s biggest asset is his commitment to the art. What, according to you, is Mammootty’s primary asset?
His good looks are his biggest investment. That’s a huge asset. It all depends on how we make use of that factor. In my movie, I have comprehensively made use of it.
It was during a Left government tenure that you were made the chairman of the Chalachithra Academy. You now head KSFDC under another Left government. The irony, however, lies in the fact that it was during these Leftist tenures in Kerala that you were denied awards.
I tend to find answers to many things on my own and I choose to remain satisfied with it. That’s how I survive. If needed, I can ask for many recognitions. But I deliberately choose not to do so because I believe they should do it on their own. Coming to think of it, the Nobel Prize for Peace was never bestowed upon Gandhiji (smiles)!
Filmmakers too have chosen to ignore you, especially official bodies like the Chalachithra Academy.
True. But I’m someone who can live with other people’s shortcomings (smiles).
Compared to many of your contemporaries, you are not the rebellious or aggressive kind. Could that be a reason for being sidelined?
We can look at it from a different perspective too. Those on the other side are supposed to recognise and reward talent. Maybe they just don’t have the capability to do so.
Among today’s moviemakers, can you name anyone who has caught your attention?
Blessy is someone who does so much. His visual language and human passion clearly reveal the scope to do much more.
What about filmmakers who indulge in ‘art’ movies?
I think many ‘art’ filmmakers were wrongly influenced by a few movies screened at film festivals. They fail to recognise their own platform. Certain references need to be duly rejected. It’s like a sculptor carving out a sculpture by chiselling out the unwanted portions. That’s the most difficult part. Many fail to do that.
Could you expound further on this?
Their grammar is mostly in tune with that of Western movies. The native energy is thus lost. The pace of everything — recording, editing, mixing — changes. Movies made here are now being influenced by content, grammar, and thoughts derived from them. We tend to copy them blindly. In the process, we make mistakes and end up not developing our own visual language.
During your tenure, you started IFFK with a ‘touring’ concept, according to which, the festival would travel through the state. Today, it’s confined to Thiruvananthapuram. Do you feel the original purpose of the film festival has been mislaid?
Initially, there were some logistical issues like obtaining the physical print, getting customs’ clearance and then sending it to other festivals. It would be easier to do this from Thiruvananthapuram. Now, with prints available online, it would be easy to hold the festival in other places too. It was originally conceived as an International Movie Festival of Kerala, keeping viewers from across the state in mind. The concept was that the festival should travel across the state.
Around 10,000 people come together for the festival once a year, more like a Sabarimala pilgrimage. They come, watch movies and hold a few conversations, and go back. They will meet again only next year. There’s no organic growth involved here.
You’re heading a panel on framing the state’s film policy. What are the key aspects of the proposal?
The movie industry is yet to be recognised as a full-fledged industry in itself. There is no transparency on funding. Producers appear and disappear. In any other industry, there would be a fact-check on the person and his background. Earlier, there were attempts to convert black money through cinema. Across the world, banks have been supporting filmmakers. There is a lack of discipline here. The primary aim of bringing in a film policy is to ensure transparency.
A major allegation about PuKaSa, Library Council, and Federation of Film Societies of India is that most of these are Left-leaning...
Ideally, there should be no political leaning of any sort. But most people working with these forums are Left-leaning. The opposing side, on the other hand, is not even receptive to such ideas.
You once said that SFI and DYFI activists were a sure presence at the screening of G Aravindan movies but that they no longer attend arthouse movies...
These days, you won’t see them anywhere in the vicinity, even for movies made by SFI or DYFI (laughs).
What are your film plans?
I’m planning one on artist Amrita Sher-Gil. It’s a movie that looks into her artistic perspectives, a movie that sheds light on the painful process of her self-expression. A Mexican artist would be playing the protagonist.