It must be noticed that cinema emerges as a popular international art form only when various nations embrace democracy and urbanisation as a symbol of social progress. Additionally, cinema was the bridesmaid of capitalism, carousing down the darkened aisles of movie theatres to seduce devoted working-class viewers through fantasies of consumerism and prosperity. It was not just an entertainment medium but also a powerful tool in the hands of the ruling intelligentsia to normalise the divide between the rich and poor, the rural and urban, and, finally, the patriarch’s ‘benevolent’ hold on a free market economy.
Cinema was the ultimate democratic ritual. Nobody forced you to make or watch the filmic spectacle. Nobody needed to be even slightly educated or trained to make or watch a film. Nobody cared about cinema being the only urban high-skill industrial activity sustained by non-salaried workers. Cinema was just seen as mythical stories narrated within formulaic orders by super-starry iconic demi-gods. No wonder the release of a film is celebrated too, with expectations and juicy gossip for all its devotees to lap up like ‘prasadam’ served in religious places.
Quite like we know that casting one’s vote is not the mantra for political stability and economic progress, the ceremonial ritual of cinema continues despite being a loss-making proposition for 85 per cent of its producers. European film-makers have virtually given up large-scale film-making, allowing an open road for the internet and cyber entertainment but Indian producers and audiences don’t seem to be giving up easily.
One major reason is the lure of the multiplex, the definitive symbol of high capitalism.
But pause here. Only about 2,000 of the 13,000 screens in India are in multiplexes. The magical dream of cinema is interwoven here into a lifestyle virtually unaffordable by most. One has to only observe the thousands of selfies clicked by middle-class moviegoers in these opulent plazas to give themselves some meaning. Little do they know that the exhibitors make their real profit selling overpriced popcorn, unhealthy colas and parking tickets. The film is a bait to consume the ‘prasadam’.
As long as dreamy film-makers continue to see their film-making as a meaningful ritual, theatre-oriented cinema may last a bit longer. But when skewed real-estate value makes the screening of films unviable, you will see the overnight transformation of these theatrical spaces into more shops and arcades.
Enter Netflix, Amazon Prime, Hulu and a host of new direct-to-home movie producers with just one transponder somewhere in the stratosphere. Very soon Walmart, Flipkart and Ikea shall enter this domain. Audiences shall realise that those selfies clicked in the backdrop of Gucci and Dior outlets have not really elevated their lifestyle. So, by providing low-cost entertainment to large numbers of online clients, the new exhibitors have simply refreshed old-world business tactics. Feed a worm, catch a whale.
Just imagine one crore television viewers, each paying ₹1,000-odd per year, per channel. These cyber theatres have no real-estate costs or the nightmare of dealing with plastic trash. Just imagine a production house that’s just a website that doles out contracts, visualises set designs and even issues firing orders for non-compliance. Just imagine algorithms evaluating scripts which could be eventually filmed by video-bots. The democratic spirit that brought billions of dreamers across the world under one darkened roof seems to have withered away. The expensive theatre-going ceremony sends impoverished viewers back to their homes to dream-watch HD movies with Dolby sound and order ‘prasadam’ on Swiggy and Zomato.
Fortunately the sad story does not end here. The rigid time format in analogue, such as a two-hour feature film, is being challenged by the digital version, with new stories set in virtual and augmented realities. The new millennial has chosen to seize life and her stories into their own hands as they browse all kinds of screens. This new digital experience, fortunately, does not confine itself to telling stories about gangsters in alleyways and goblins in the sky but boldly enters the world of designing prosthetic aids for amputees, providing virtual chemistry labs. Film-maker Alejandro Inarritu’s VR experiment Carne Y Arena depicts the plight of refugees stranded on the US political border.
This contradiction is the revolution. A small beginning is being seen with YouTube, Vimeo, Facebook, QQ and other sites hosting millions of film-makers globally to showcase their works, even those filmed and edited on mobile phones. The cinematic ritual has now been personalised but at a collective level. Next, with the assistance of augmented reality applications we can directly interact with this virtual reality through hyperlinks and navigate the storytelling process in our own ways.
The new democratic discourse seems to have finally arrived with one missing link, the ‘prasadam’. I always wondered why film industry bosses served food to everybody working on sets. Why is free food not served in the banking or transport industry? I wonder whether by eating this ‘blessed’ food, the thousands of unpaid workers and starry-eyed aspirants, actually consumed themselves? Having seen the tragedy of these unpaid, underemployed dreamers as a fellow film-maker and mentor, I pray that this ritual ends so they can open their eyes to what the new digital world has to offer. Can Wikicinema, the new narrative created by, of and with the people, take us away from the old-world ritual of darkened theatres and popcorn-crunching to transform every netizen into a creative production house?
K Hariharan is professor of arts, KREA University