The Central Board of Film Certification (CBFC), wrongly attributed in colloquial terminology as the “Censor Board”, is the antagonist in this story. The board has a documented history of squabbling with filmmakers over what stays and what needs to go from their films.
Take the case of independent filmmaker Leena Manimekalai, who was stifled by the CBFC’s regional board in her attempt to obtain certification for her feature — Maadathy, An Unfairy Tale , a film about a girl from the Puthirai Vannar caste.
She had to eventually approach the Film Certification Appellate Tribunal (FCAT) for clearance. “Their (CBFC) job is only to grade the films, and certify them if they are only for adults or also suitable for children with or without guidance. Anything else is abuse of power,” says Manimekalai.
Leena Manimekalai
The art of gatekeeping
While her assertion is accurate, Section 5-B of the Cinematograph Act of 1952 — which Manimekalai calls “a colonial hangover” — also grants the board powers to deny certification to a film on grounds like “...the film or any part of it is against the interests of the sovereignty and integrity of India, the security of the State, friendly relations with foreign States, public order, decency or morality, or involves defamation or contempt of court or is likely to incite the commission of any offence.”
Where this becomes a problem is in the constitution of panel members (who are nominated by the Central Government) reviewing the film, and their interpretation of the law and society’s moral conscience.
MM Mathialagen was the CBFC’s regional officer in Chennai when actor Vijay’s Mersal (2017) was released amid controversy. Fingers were pointed at him by an aggrieved political party for letting director Atlee slide with the now infamous “GST scene”.
“The problem is that we are not evaluating a commodity, which has a length, breadth, height and weight. We are evaluating emotions and it has no measurement values. So, the same scene is perceived differently by each member of the reviewing panel,” he says, adding that it makes more sense to have somebody who “appreciates art” as panel members, including the regional officer though he/she is a career bureaucrat.
But the reason behind Paris Paris ’ troubles with CBFC is as confounding as it can be. The Tamil remake of Kangana Ranaut’s Queen , Paris Paris — directed by Ramesh Aravind — was refused a U/A certificate by the board which, the producers then alleged, demanded unrealistic cuts.
Kajal Aggarwal (extreme right) in a still from ‘Paris Paris’
What made the situation more puzzling was that the Kannada and Malayalam remakes of the same film obtained U/A without a hitch.
Perception skills
“U/A makes a lot of difference to the filmmaker and producer in terms of satellite rights,” says Aravind, who clarifies that the problem is now behind them. “The issue is sorted. We went to the revising committee and they were wonderful. They suggested three minor changes which the producer and I were okay with,” he adds.
What Aravind cannot understand is how the CBFC could object to a scene-by-scene remake of a film which won a National award. “We were surprised. Nothing in this film deserved that kind of scrutiny,” he says.
- Headquartered in Mumbai, the CBFC has regional offices in Chennai, Cuttack, Guwahati, Kolkata, Hyderabad, New Delhi, Thiruvananthapuram and Bengaluru.
- CBFC regional office offers a two-tier review system for filmmakers applying for certification: Examining committee and Revising Committee. Nominated members and the regional officer sit in on both examining and revising committees.
- The chairperson of CBFC may also be a part of the revising committee, depending on availability and significance.
Someone else who has previously won a National award, and who is currently facing stiff opposition from CBFC, is director Raju Murugan. While Murugan, or any member of the crew that made Gypsy , has yet to openly make a statement, industry sources say that the film was refused certification by the examining committee due to the political nature of its content.
The regional officer of CBFC Chennai, M Leela Meenatchi, was not available for comment but Muthukrishnan, deputising in her absence, cited Section 5-B’s provisions, and had this to say: “It ( Gypsy ) is still under process. We have forwarded the film to a revising committee. I cannot divulge more details.” Should the revising committee also prove cumbersome, Murugan has the option of approaching the FCAT, failing which he will need to depend on the Indian judiciary as a last resort.
Subtle trick
“Sensitivity is high in Tamil Nadu. Even small issues can be taken seriously. There is also (an unwritten) code of conduct... to show what type of content, to what extent and how. If filmmakers toe that line, there won’t be a conflict,” argues Mathialagen, justifying the interference in films with political content. He adds, “Tamil filmmakers are not subtle with their messaging. It needs to be subliminal and not the in-your-face kind. There is no creativity in spoon-feeding the audience.”
A still from ‘Maadathy, An Unfairy Tale’
Filmmaker Karu Pazhaniappan concurs on the sensitivity part. “Not all content is okay in all states. For instance, the word ‘Pandi’ has been used to characterise Tamil people in Malayalam films. It is denigrating, and so if a Malayalam film was to be dubbed in Tamil, the CBFC here would raise an issue,” he says.
More than words, depiction of violence and content perceived to be of a sexually intimate or titillating nature has often borne the brunt of the gatekeepers at CBFC. And while Pazhaniappan’s statement, perhaps, technically explains why the cleavage of a female actor is “censored” in Tamil films, and not so in a Bollywood film, it still defies logic.
No feedback policy
There is a solution to this predicament, one which is prescribed by law but never adopted by the CBFC. Rule 11 in the lesser known Cinematograph (Certification) Rules of 1983 stipulates that the CBFC as an agency has to “assess public reaction to films”.
“...and for that purpose, the Board may hold symposia or seminars of film critics, film writers, community leaders and persons engaged in the film industry, or such other persons and also undertake local or national surveys to study the impact of various kinds of films on the public mind.”
The oft-levelled criticism against the CBFC is that it is perhaps under-estimating the pulse of society whose moral conscience it is supposedly safeguarding. So, why does it not pursue the above prescribed option? The response is symbolic of the state of Indian bureaucracy.
“There is no time. When I was the regional officer, I had to review up to four films a day,” says Mathialagen, who adds a final word on this issue, “The directors and writers are working on emotions, and the officials are working on rules and regulations. These are parallel lines. They will never meet.”
