After a few tentative editions held across Kerala, the International Film Festival of Kerala (IFFK) came home to Thiruvananthapuram in the late 90s. Back then, the city was still Trivandrum, Technopark was taking baby steps and I was finishing school. Over the last two decades, the IFFK has become an integral part of the calendar, as immutable a December event as Christmas. My involvement with the festival also evolved over time: delegate, part-time staff, event manager, reporter, filmmaker.
Even as work and marriage swept me away from the city, every December I would head South with the unfailing instinct of a migratory bird. Like all good relationships, the learning curve with IFFK has been steadily upward. Here’s looking at a few life-lessons from 20 years of the festival…
Cinema is a many-splendored thing
For a generation of movie-lovers, IFFK opened a magic door to classic and contemporary world cinema. Eisenstein, Fellini, Kurosawa, Kubrik, Bunuel, Bergman, Truffaut, Kieslowski, Herzog, Almodovar, Wong Kar Wai, Makhmalbaf… Masters, old and new, invaded our mindscapes, forever changing the way we viewed cinema and ourselves. We learnt that meaningful cinema did not always mean long silences and despondent pauses.
Every country had tales of suffering and endurance, protest and penury. But in endurance was beauty, and in protest was poetry. We saw infinite sadness in the eyes of Iranian children, wry humour in East European fortitude. We also re-visited, with enlightened minds, master filmmakers of our own.
We realised that art-house cinema can evoke the same giddying rush of blood to the head, as its commercial version. No seats for the show, despite jostling through crowds and fighting with security? No matter, spread a newspaper on the floor and watch Godard. Can’t get enough of Kim ki-Duk? Catch repeat screenings of his movies, on consecutive days. All’s fair in love and war: for the delegate, IFFK is both.
The real epiphany of cinema is when you watch a people you have never known, from a land you have never seen, speaking a language you cannot understand – and of a sudden, the emotions, layers and unspeakable contradictions of the human condition seem familiar and intimate. For many of us, it was the IFFK that took us there for the first time.
It’s all about the people
IFFK is a fertile meeting ground for cine buffs and film aspirants. Deep friendships are forged: sometimes maintained, sometimes not. Cards are exchanged: sometimes kept safe, sometimes not. It was such a name-card that helped me identify the editor of Dhobi Ghat to be the young film student I’d met years ago at IFFK. Year after year, certified greats of cinema share their thoughts with delegates at seminars and open houses. But the best discussions on filmmaking at IFFK happen on theatre steps and over cups of tea. Sometimes, the dreams that fuel these discussions come true.
Our films were premiered in the same theatre where for years we’d watched and debated cinema. Many are the filmmakers to whom the IFFK gave courage to dream, holding out a promise that dreams do come true.
Unseen but equally important are the folks who put in monumental efforts to give us seven days of cinema. It was my year as festival staff that gave me a peek into the world behind the curtains. Work begins months ahead of the festival, building up to a frenzied pace prior to the inaugural. As a colleague remarked, once the first reel of the first film in the schedule starts rolling, everything else falls into place as if by magic. It is madness, garnished with a common passion for cinema. Working with former artistic director Bina Paul was especially memorable.
Then there are the startlingly normal encounters with celebrities. Jury chairman and French legend Bertrand Tavernier anxiously enquiring if the kasavu veshti went well with his suit; Kamal Haasan breaking off from an interview to confide his nervousness about daughter Akshara dropping out of school; Deepa Mehta running off to mollify her husband who felt neglected in the melee; Jaffar Panahi wondering, in the softest of tones, if social situations in Iran and Kerala were similar, because his movies were so popular here…
East or West, home is the best
For most of the year, young residents of the city have plenty to crib about. The city doesn’t quite cut it when it comes to eating-out options, hang-out spaces and nightlife. But come IFFK, and all is forgiven. The city is at its best, and we love playing host to friends that pour in from all over Kerala and India. It is a matter of personal pride when international celebrities bill and coo about overflowing theatres and rich film heritage of Kerala. IFFK 2009, when home-town boy Mohanlal was chief guest at the inaugural, was unforgettable. For the crowd at Nishagandhi, it was a confluence of all things movie-related that we’d grown up with and loved.
Now, a reality check
As every seasoned delegate knows, there is another side to full houses at IFFK. This was brought home vividly the year I was involved with event management of the festival. A Brazilian film in the World Cinema section was witnessing huge rush at repeat screenings. The lead actress, moved to tears by the wave of appreciation, confided sobbingly that it was the first time that her film screened to a packed house. It was a delicate moment, for I knew well that the film’s popularity was not due to its craft but rather its steamy content. I kept my lips sealed, however, and she went back with warm memories of Kerala.
The show must go on
Over the years, many festival regulars have exited the IFFK stage. Others have withdrawn unwillingly, yanked by unrelenting pressures and responsibilities of life. Nevertheless, the show must go on.
Every festival is a fresh beginning. New delegates pour in year after year, discovering the endless horizons of cinema with unbridled excitement. I see them rushing to catch the maximum possible of five screenings per day, and then stay up late into the night discussing the nuances of filmmaking. You can almost feel the air crackle with creativity and excitement. As the IFFK emerges from its teen years, hopefully the festival will take Malayalam cinema to the world stage just as effectually as it brought international cinema to us. Here’s wishing us many more years of cinema, friendships and dreams coming true.
In focus
IFFK Signature Film
You either love it or hate it: there are no fence-sitters when it comes to the festival’s signature film. Each year, we have a new signature film that exemplifies everything that the festival, and cinema, and life, stands for. Each year, it is greeted by loud boos and louder cheers. It is almost a rite of passage: a minute filled with rowdy reactions from the crowd before they settle down to watch the film peacefully. Every signature film has courted controversy and divided opinion but perhaps none more than Vipin Vijay’s one-minuter for the 12th edition of IFFK.
Top slot
Audience Poll Award
Every delegate has voting rights to select his/her favourite film in the Competition section. Since the inception of this award, it would be hotly rumoured every year that a Malayalam film would win. Every year, the rumours would be proved wrong. This was the case until 2012 when Joy Mathew’s Shutter finally broke the jinx. A hat-trick followed with 101 Chodyangal (2013) and Asthmayam Vare (2014). While some delegates are elated with the turn of events, others mourn that the voting pattern is turning parochial.
[The writer was recipient of the State Award for best TV reporting of IFFK 2006, and scriptwriter of National Award-winning Black Forest which was screened at IFFK 2013.]
