The weather, notably rain, is not only a participant in films, influencing the course of the narrative. Many of the oldest stories feature rain and floods, as with that of Noah in the Old Testament and the birth of Lord Krishna in the Mahabharata. But it바카라™s sometimes there only as an implication, without actually affecting the thrust of the story, say like the storm at a bleak moment in ShakesÂpeÂare바카라™s King Lear. Rain is even more useful in films as it creates effects that are strikingly sensuous, making the trope fruitful. But before moving in to Indian cinema, which is the subject of this piece, let me describe a few sequences from world cinema classics to illustrate how the rain has been effectively used.
Among the most famous is Gene Kelly in StanÂley Donen바카라™s 1952 musical Singin바카라™ In The Rain. It is raining and Kelly (as movie star Don LockÂwood) has a car waiting and an umbrella under his arm, but he chooses to send his car away, keep his umbrella folded and get soaked to the skin, celebrating the elements sensitively like a hedonist. But that happens after a tricky problem has been resolved at the studio and is a result of his momentary relief too; it is not simply a reflection of his inner state. A more profoÂund use of rain is in the early parts of Andrei Tarkovsky바카라™s sci-fi masterpiece Solaris (1972). Kris Kelvin, who is due to embark for a distant planet the following day, sits in the garden soaking in a shower and watching the drops patter into an empty teacup, since this is the last experience of it he will have; rain symbolises life on Earth that he is being removed from.
Rain does not only have positive connotations. Marion Crane in Hitchcock바카라™s Psycho (1960) arrÂives at the sinister Bates Motel in the middle of a torrential downpour, to be helped disarmingly into her room by her future killer. Kurosawa shot a stunning action sequence in the rain in Seven Samurai (1954) in which the rain falling vertically heightens the sideways movement of the samurai fighting in the mud. It also suggests the pettiness of personal strife in relation to nature바카라™s impersonal might. While these uses of rain may be 바카라˜metaphorical바카라™ in the sense that rain is used to imply something else, what is nonetheless true is that rain is summoned on screen through its effect upon the senses. It is the passing sensation of falling rain in Solaris, for instance, that makes Kelvin바카라™s last day on Earth such a melancholy affair. What is also important here is the catching of the fleeting moment, since the senses primarily register that.
When we come to popular cinema in India, what we notice is that it does not, by and large, engage the senses. The reason may not be far to seek. World cinema began as a means of documentation through the Lumière brothers. CinÂema was seen as an extension of photography, and hence, a record of reality. That it was also used subsequently to promote illusion (think George Méliès) did not change this, since 바카라˜illusÂion바카라™ is only the other side of 바카라˜reality바카라™. It is our senÂse of the real as perceived through our human faculties that make us distinguish between the two and treat 바카라˜illusion바카라™ as what is imagined or dreamed, corresponding to inner reality.
Cinema in India had a different provenance. D.G. Phalke, when embarking upon his mytholÂoÂgical films, insisted that cinema was manifesting what was known to be 바카라˜real바카라™. The word 바카라˜real바카라™ is perhaps misleading and 바카라˜truth바카라™ may be more appropriate바카라”since the messages of the Puranas and epics were what Phalke바카라™s mythological films were relaying. When Indian cinema moved out of the mythological mode, it still relayed truiÂsÂms from tradition. Where world cinema (as record) was ideally suited to pursue mimesis, i.e.: imitate the world as perceived by the senses, IndÂian cinema generally upheld pre-existent 바카라˜truths바카라™, in effect belittling the evidence of the senses as only pertaining to the transient. It is arguably the same sense of experienced physical reality being less important than such 바카라˜eternal truths바카라™ that is the reason behind India바카라™s laxÂity in record-keeping, something that is the bane of historical research. In popular cinema the belittling of the senses also prevails; rather than the 바카라˜moment바카라™ when a sensual perception is made, it is the eternal validity of the relayed truth that is cherished.
Satyajit Ray바카라™s treatment of the monsoon in PatÂher Panchali (1955) and Bimal Roy바카라™s in Do Bigha Zamin (1953) bear comparison here, sinÂce Ray was less 바카라˜Indian바카라™ than Bimal Roy: he followed western precepts and an aesthetic inspired by Italian neo-realism. In Pather Panchali, the monsoon sequence begins with a drop of water falling on the pate of a bald man angling for fish in a village pond. The man hastily opens his umbrella and departs for home. After this, there are shots of lotus leaves fluttering in the wind, of cattle being led home, of the overcast sky befÂore the shower begins. The mood is pleÂasant and even comic, but not without a touch of foreboding. Ray is essentially preoccupied with capturing a moment in his film, but, at the same time, the moment has far-reaching consequences upon the fortunes of protagonist HariÂhar바카라™s family. We associate the sensations we experience to those experienced by Apu or Durga, and it is only in this context that the sequence imprints itself upon us, enhancing our sense of anticipation and our eagerness to learn the outcome of certain events in the film.
In contrast, the monsoon sequence in Do Bigha Zamin is without sensÂual appeal. Bimal Roy is so distant from the moment that instead of dwelling on the physicality of the rain, he distracts us with an elaborate song and danÂce sequence. The purpose is to illustrate an entire condition바카라”the plight of the farmers who must depend on the vagaries of the elements for their sustenaÂnce, the fragility of their joys and hopes. The argument being made here is not that Bimal Roy fails where Satyajit Ray succeeds, but that the two aim at contrary things. In Ray바카라™s film, the monsoon sequence illuminates a moment when we reflect upon the individual fates that await its protagonists. Change is the essence of Pather Panchali바카라™s discourse, while the sequence in Do Bigha Zamin reflects upon an entire condition. Roy was trying to bridge the gap betÂween popular cinema and 바카라˜art바카라™ film, and used sonÂgs and dances. But one finds the same perceptions prevailing in 바카라˜art바카라™ films as well, i.e. cinema outside the works of Satyajit Ray. Art cinema does not deal with Puranic sentiments, but it still deals with pre-existent truths바카라”derived from social texts. An illustration would be Marxist filmmaker Mrinal Sen바카라™s portrayal of the working-Âclass family during the monsoons in Calcutta 바카라™71 (1971), rain intruding into the living quarters through the roof and a wet dog sharing the family바카라™s gloom. Rain does not pertÂain to a moment here, but to a permanÂent condition seen as typical of the poor under capitalism. Shaji N. Karun바카라™s celebrated film Piravi (1989) is about an old man waiting for his young son to return when the boy has been killed in police custody for political reasons. Shaji uses the rain here to set a conÂstant mood of despondency, but that despondency pertains to the old man바카라™s condition. His son never returns and his condition does not transform. The use of the incessant rain can also be seen here as symbolic of an entire disconsolate condition and it sets a mood commÂensurate with that aim.
The time-honoured use of rain in popular cinema is the lovers바카라™ rain dance whiÂch has more cheerful connotations from thoÂse described above. It is erotic but even theÂre, the experience of rain is not intended to immediately impact upon the audience바카라™s senses as much as convey sringara as the mood informing the narÂrative. The lovers are not responding to a situation when the skies open up as much as to the intimacy growing between them. Rain, in effect, is not an external happening impinging upon the senses, but the manifestation of an essential condition typical of people in love. It would, from the evidence of such films, be difficult to imagine on-screen lovers who have experienced the rain together breaking up. This briÂngs us to the key difference between rain as generally portrayed in world cinema and in IndÂia. Here, it would seem, rain is not an external occurrence registered by the human senses, but the external manifestatÂion of an inner condition or mood, whether glooÂmy, cheerful or erotic.
(M.K. Raghavendra is a film scholar, theorist and critic. Views expressed are personal)
(This appeared in the print edition as 'Rimjhim Girey Saawan')
