What is the point at which a director loses control over a film? And why does it happen? Does he get so taken up by the process and the logistics that the story falls apart? Or, does he become so enamoured of his own story that he cannot see flaws that even a popcorn vendor can spot? Rajneeti, produced by Walkwater Media and Prakash Jha Productions, is an upsettingly good example of that.
The film, a political family saga, pulls you into a vortex of greed and power from the word go. As events unfold, you marvel at how well the real and contrived complexities of politics have been meshed with the Mahabharata. The casting is a bit off and the make up is bad in patches, but these are minor flaws. By half-time you are into this story of two brothers, and their siblings, and their squabble for the chief minister’s chair in an unnamed North Indian state.
After the interval, the whole thing falls apart. Some of the scenes and situations are embarrassingly contrived — like the one where the mother tells her illegitimate son, played by Ajay Devgan, to come home. Another example is the last half hour. For a film that spends so much effort establishing each character, the last half hour has a large number of twists, including the deaths of key characters none of which is explained. The hurry to wrap up the film is evident.
The second half lets the film down. This is very disappointing coming from the man, Prakash Jha, who has given Hindi cinema some really good films such as, Mrityudand, Gangaajal and Apharan, the last being a personal favourite.
This is not about the success or failure of a film. According to people in the trade, Rajneeti, in spite of its mammoth Rs 64 crore budget, will manage to make money for both producers and for the distributor, UTV Movies.
This is about losing creative control just when the audience trusts you to have it fully. This is about those rare treats, a good film in your own language and milieu that you are proud to say you watched — films such as Omkara, Kaminey, Apharan, A Wednesday to name a few. For each of them, there are an equal number of good films that simply lost direction — Rocket Singh-Salesman of the Year, Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi, Ghajni and (at the risk of getting hate mail) Aamir as some of the recent examples.
Why it happens is anybody’s guess — compromises, budget constraints, release pressure or plain self-indulgence. What could film-makers do to avoid it?
My instinctive answer would be to point to ad film-making. It forces the discipline of crispness in storytelling. Watching an ad these days is as good as watching a film. Think of the ad films for Del Monte sauces, Idea Cellular and Tanishq Jewellery among dozens of others. All of them have a story to tell with songs, dances, music or anecdotes. None of them is selling a product. When was the last time you heard a jingle?
Many of the talented guys from advertising are now finding creative satisfaction and fame on a larger scale with films — Prasoon Joshi (lyricist), Balki (Cheeni Kum, Paa), Rakeysh Mehra (Aks, Rang De Basanti, Delhi 6), Jaideep Sahni (scriptwriter) and Rensil D’Silva (Kurbaan) among others.
But looking only at advertising is obviously not the answer to creative control. Because if that was so, the ad guys would be delivering some great films one after another. But Mehra, the guy who gave us Rang De Basanti also gave us the floundering Delhi 6 and the unfathomable Aks, both great ideas that just never took off. Jaideep Sahni wrote Company, Chak De India and Khosla Ka Ghosla but he also wrote Rocket Singh, which again starts off very well and then becomes increasingly self-indulgent and one-sided. So, ad guys are equally guilty of losing creative control over their products.
The answer to what happens probably lies only in the mind of the film-maker. All that disappointed viewers can do is discuss the film, like this column does.
