MIRROR IN THE DARK: Scenes from Mahanagar@Kolkata and (below) Chokher Paani

For some, it was the best of times. As politics clashed in West Bengal, a group of people saw the changes through their mind’s viewfinders. And as people clamoured for change, they etched those voices in their imagination.

The result is now there for all to see — in a cinema hall near you. As months of political upheavals shook the state, Bengali film directors dealt with the unprecedented developments through cinema. Several filmmakers in recent times have focused on politics in feature films that are a reflection of contemporary times.

Take Shyamal Karmakar’s tentatively titled Chokher Paani that looks at how “a people’s movement against the State” gained ground in the East Midnapore village of Nandigram. It depicts the 2007 bloodbath in Nandigram in which 14 villagers were killed by security forces.

“I don’t belong to any political party. I just wanted to capture honestly how a bunch of villagers fought for their rights and against State excesses,” says Karmakar, a professor at the Satyajit Ray Films and Television Institute in Calcutta who has filmed several award-winning documentaries. “There’s no central character in my film — everyone is a protagonist. Even some of the villagers who were affected by the Nandigram events are acting in it.”

The film, expected to hit the theatres on August 15, is based on a novel by social activist Manik Mandal. “I have spent many years with people in the remotest corners of Nandigram, Singur and Lalgarh,” says Mandal. “My novel and consequently the film are a faithful recording of people’s struggle as I have seen it.”

Karmakar’s work is part of a spectrum of recent films looking at state politics, though each filmmaker has handled it differently. As the state went to the polls, directors dealt with subjects such as industrialisation and displacement, or political turmoil.

The trend was set late last year with the release of three films. Moinak Biswas and Arjun Gourisaria’s Sthaniya Sambaad — which won an award at a New York festival earlier this week — tears into the state of contemporary urban development and private education in Calcutta. Suman Mukhopadhyay’s Mahanagar@Kolkata intertwines three stories delving into urban angst, while the contemporary Maoist movement forms the backdrop of theatre personality-cum-Trinamul poll candidate Bratya Basu’s Taara.

“There must be some intent on the part of a filmmaker to share certain political concerns through cinema,” reasons filmmaker Mukhopadhyay.

Mainstream Tollywood too has been affected by the political gale. Anup Sengupta’s Bangla Bachao, released earlier this year, looks at how a common man becomes a puppet of the political system and a corrupt media. The film has characters such as a chief minister, a birodhi netri (an Opposition woman leader) and celebrity reporters. “All characters are fictional,” stresses Sengupta.

Tollywood actress-turned-Trinamul MP Shatabdi Roy’s Paribartan (Change) is another film waiting in the wings. The name, clearly, is derived from the Trinamul slogan “Paribartan chai” (We want change). Directed by Roy, the film ran into rough weather with the regional censor board as it purportedly had characters modelled on state politicians such as Buddhadeb Bhattacharya and Mamata Banerjee. “I had to drop some scenes. It’s an out-and-out commercial venture set in a political backdrop,” says Roy, adding that the film will be released soon.

Bengal, of course, has a rich history of political films going back to Mrinal Sen’s Calcutta 71 (1972), Ritwik Ghatak’s Jukti Takko Aar Gappo (1974) and other such classics. Much before Gautam Ghose’s Kaalbela (2007), set in the Naxalite days of the 1970s and early 1980s, political cinema had made its mark with Utpalendu Chakrabarty’s Chokh (1983) and Nabyendu Chatterjee’s Chopper (1985).

Cinema, the directors stress, has often had a link with politics. “Cinema can take part in a political struggle — that is probably the ideal kind of political cinema,” says Moinak Biswas, professor, department of film studies, Jadavpur University, and one of the directors of Sthaniya Sambaad.

The film, Biswas adds, tries to address a situation in which the older political language has become “exhausted” but a new language is still to be found. “The film is baffled, angry, bemused — all at the same time — as it looks at the violent changes taking place. But it avoids making political statements. This is because we do not know the ‘answer’,” says Biswas.

Karmakar believes that contemporary Bengali political films are changing radically. “After 34 years (of Left rule), Bengalis seem to have risen in protest against stagnancy and other political ills. So we need a different cinematic language — distinct from the one used in, say, Gautam Ghose’s Kaalbela — to express this change,” he says.

Not that it has been easy showcasing the change. Karmakar, for instance, had to brave several odds while filming in Nandigram. He was threatened by local political workers and dubbed a “Maoist”. Some of his crew members were attacked and a fire engulfed one of the houses where his film equipment worth several lakhs of rupees was stored.

Despite the heritage of political cinema, many believe that the Bengali film industry these days is more tuned in to films on urban themes that appeal to what’s often described as the multiplex audience. None of the films with political themes set the cash registers ringing, though some — especially Sthaniya Sambaad and Mahanagar@Kolkata — won critical acclaim. Filmmaker and veteran journalist Aniket Chattopadhyay points out that he has a political script ready — exploring the “interchangeable concepts of ‘terrorists’ and ‘freedom fighters’” — but is doubtful about finding a producer.

“Producers want to play safe and are loath to fund political films because these might not be viable financial options,” says Chattopadhyay.

And that’s why, says Anup Sengupta, he directed Bangla Bachao. “The audience needs a break from the routine romances and family dramas,” he says. Others argue that Bengali political cinema is now all about gimmicks and has no substance. “Gone are the days when there used to be films like Buddhadeb Dasgupta’s Grihajuddha which engaged the audience and challenged our beliefs. The so-called political films these days are just inconsequential husk,” says Chattopadhyay. Dasgupta’s 1982 film dealt with the Naxalite movement of the 1970s.

Mainstream directors, says Shatabdi Roy, are wary of political cinema because many would rather not take a stand on political issues. “It’s difficult to make a film on Maoism without getting accused of being partial,” she says.

Karmakar too is in a bind. Though he is convinced that the audience will take to his film, he has some misgivings as well. “I believe my film will make people sit up and take notice,” he says. “But I am scared as well!”