Four years earlier, again in Delhi, it was the heinous daylight murder of cultural and social activist Safdar Hashmi by Congress goons in Sahibabad on the first day of 1989 that had cast a long, dark shadow on the film festival.
Four years earlier, again in Delhi, it was the heinous daylight murder of cultural and social activist Safdar Hashmi by Congress goons in Sahibabad on the first day of 1989 that had cast a long, dark shadow on the film festival.
This time around, a threat of a very different nature hovers over the 27th IFFI: if the Planning Commission has its way, the flow of government funds for the DFF will be shut off for good. Will that spell the end of India's annual celebration of the cinematic art? Not if a cola or potato wafers company, with free access to big bucks, steps in and takes over the conduct of the event.
But first things first. Following an "in-depth review" of the functioning of the DFF, the Planning Commission has advised the Information and Broadcasting Ministry "that the expenditure on non-developmental activities such as hosting or participating in national and international festivals should be met out of non-Plan funds". The commission has recommended that the DFF should henceforth look for financial backing from private corporate houses and multinationals.
That, of course, is easier said than done. In 1993, the official IFFI budget was a little over Rs 1 crore. This year, it is double that amount. Certainly not the kind of money that could be the DFF's for the asking. Unfortunately, while the expenditure on the annual international film fete has shot up by a phenomenal 100 per cent in three years, the quality of the event has declined in inverse proportion. "Our festival is far too bureaucratic," laments veteran Calcutta filmmaker and Indian Panorama regular Nabyendu Chatterjee. "And with each passing year, it seems to be getting worse."
But is total commercialisation an adequate solution for the myriad ills that plague IFFI? Many established Indian film-makers privately admit that one positive fallout of a sponsored film festival would be the gradual de-bureaucratisation of the way the event is mounted each year in the midst of controversies, chaos and a cacophony of bitter voices. But none is actually in favour of the Government selling IFFI to the high -est bidder, which is precisely the prospect that stares the DFF in the face.
The Information & Broadcasting Ministry, too, is understandably not at all keen on letting the high-profile event slip out of its financial control. "The trouble," argue DFF sources, "is that cinema, unlike other creative pursuits like music, dance, painting and sculpture, is not treated as art in this country." The film festival, first held in 1952, is designed as a window to world cinema as well as a much-needed platform for the best of Indian cinema, they insist. It is meant strictly for the dissemination of a serious film culture and, therefore, should not be handed over to a private sponsor on a platter. As the I&B Minister Purno A. Sangma professes: "Good cinema has to be encouraged and nurtured and the film festival is an event that opens vistas for Indian filmmakers." So it should be shielded from market forces as far as possible.
In fact, last year, the 26th IFFI in Bombay had come perilously close to being sponsored almost entirely by a leading American cola company which had sought the status of co-host. It was red tape that got in the way. As no official decision could be taken on time, the tempting proposal remained on paper. But it might not for very long if the Planning Commission sticks to its guns.
Time is fast running out for the DFF. The Eighth Five-Year Plan (1992-97) allocation for the directorate was Rs 15 crore, a grossly inadequate sum given the wide range of activities it has to fund every year. The next financial year will, incidentally, be the last one of the Eighth Plan period. So after 1997, the DFF may be left high and dry. With no funds of its own but an array of events to organ-ise. The only option, then, would be to throw IFFI and all other film events, big and small, open to the multinationals. "That may not be such a bad idea," says a young Bombay-based documentary filmmaker. "If the film festival is neatly packaged and marketed by a private sector company, it might just become a much better event than it is today. Inany case, the Government has no business clinging on to a cultural exercise of this kind and making a hash of it year after year."
In 1992, the then I&B secretary Mahesh Prasad had offered to leave the organisational aspects of IFFI entirely to the Film Federation of India, the apex body of the Indian movie industry. But although the industry had for long been clamouring for a greater role in the festival, it agreed to organise the event only if the expenses were borne by the Government. Moreover, the DFF advisory committee, which then included people like Govind Nihalani, Buddhadeb Dasgupta, Shaji Karun and Amol Palekar, protested vehemently against the suggestion. End of story.
Despite all the glitches, what invariably saves the IFFI from being a complete washout are those stray masterworks, especially those in the retrospectives, that light the screen with their brilliance. This year, too, there are films that are worth going miles to see: Marta Meszaros' The Seventh Room, Denys Arcand's,Jesus of Montreal and The Decline of the American Empire, Wim Wenders'Lisbon Story and Theo Angelopoulos' Ulysses' Gaze . The Focus on Iran and some of the films have also kept anotherwise lacklustre event from falling apart.
It is, of course, not just the paucity of funds that is at the root of the DFF's woes. For Mrinal Sen, the fact that India's international film festival has been unable to emerge as a major promotional event for world cinema is a key problem area. "The screening of a foreign film in India does not increase its marketability quite in the manner that a screening in Cannes, Berlin or Venice does." As a result, not many western filmmakers are keen to send their films to IFFI, which incidentally is the first event of its kind in every calendar year, unless the invitation is accompanied by an offer of an all-expenses-paid post-Christmas holiday.
For Saeed Mirza, it is IFFI's failure to acquire an identity, a character, that is the principal stumbling block. "What our festival needs is a fixed location. A Delhi film festival or a Bombay film festival would have an identity of its own unlike an IFFI that travels to a new city every year," says the Bombay-based director whose Naseem , a sensitive, touching and flawlessly modulated statement on the sadend of an era that the demolition of the Babri Masjid in Ayodhya brought about so violently, has won him a large retinue of new admirers.
But for the people behind the IFFI show, admiration has always been hard to come by. Their's is, admittedly, a thankless job: there is far too much to do with too little money and manpower. And it is always a race against time and bureaucratic bottlenecks. There are all those screenings of foreign and Indian films to be supervised all over the country all the year round. And then, there are these film weeks abroad to be taken care of. So by the time the big occasion arrives, they are too jaded to put their best foot forward.
Thus, while IFFI is one of the biggest events of its kind in the world, both in terms of viewership and the number of films screened, it is also by far the most mismanaged film festival. So is it any wonder that 44 years after its inception, IFFI, despite the occasional spark of genuine cinematic brilliance it manages to project on the screen for Indian cineastes, remains just another event. Bereft of an identity, shorn of atmosphere, devoid of class
Tags