A film festival in a town that has no cinema hall! Film personalities trooping into the State that happens to be the only one with a Capital that does not have an airport. Showing films on Sunday when even the local newspaper vendors go on a holiday! Well, the Directorate of Film Festivals pulled off a scoop of sorts by successfully organising the three-day Indian Panorama Film Festival in Kohima, the under-appreciated Capital of Nagaland. A first for the State which is yet to have a big budget blockbuster on its resume, the festival at the State Academy hall near Japfu Hotel had a mix of the short and the long, some films being as little as 10 minutes, others three-hour-long sagas! The filmmakers ranged from an FTII student to National Award winners. The themes too ranged from an animated tale of a crown prince to the woes of drought-hit farmers, from the heroes of the World War-II to honour killing.
As varied as the fare on offer were the audience. Some were cineastes, who had come from other jewels of Seven Sisters, as also Mumbai, Pune and Delhi, others whose knowledge of cinema was limited to two names: Amitabh Bachchan and Shah Rukh Khan. They said them in the same breath too; probably much to the joy of the fans of King Khan, and great consternation of those who believe real cinema starts when Bollywood fantasies fade.
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With six feature and eight non-feature film entries, the locals came in, not in a flood, but in trickle. At times the trickle happily gave way to a stream, much like those one sees in the hills in these parts of the country. Free entry mattered little. But a bit of advance publicity helped. A woman at the local keera market where dog meat and frogs bring up a meal, was happy to see a big advertisement of the film festival in a local daily. She wanted to keep the tiny photos in the ad as a personal souvenir. And maybe catch up with a movie or two.
]Just like the young girls from a local college who came after an introductory lecture by Bhupendra Kainthola, the director of NFA . After watching the opening day shows, a local guide happily went down memory lane, recollecting that once there was a cinema hall in Kohima. It was called Robby. It even played Hindi films. Then one day, it was bombed. And the show was over. Only to resume more than two decades later with this film festival, said to be the brainchild of the Information and Broadcasting minister Ambika Soni. Incidentally, the festival is part of a strategy to take films to remote parts of the country.
Last year, DFF organised a similar festival in Shillong. And others are likely to come up in other Northeast States. Among the enthusiasts waiting for their turn under the sun, oops, on the celluloid is Manipuri filmmaker Haobam Paban Kumar, whose poignant “The First Leap” got rave reviews at the fest. He later conceded he could barely wait for a similar fest in his home State, if only peace could prevail. Well, Kohima had both: peace and fest!
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At the fest, big names like Anurag Kashyap, Dibakar Banerji, Sharmila Tagore, Neetu Chandra went missing. Some quoted prior engagement, others fell foul to travel related issues. Much like the DFF director, S.M. Khan. The Kohima cinemagoers though could not be too bothered. Some were eager, others mostly curious. Some had not seen a big screen in their life, and wanted to make the most of the rare opportunity. Others were better informed and wanted to study the works of the some of the best filmmakers from Bollywood and beyond, and have a more informed opinion about their own level of craft. It all started with “Distant Rumblings”, a film so beguiling, so humbling.
Set in World War-II when only the valour of some selfless soldiers prevented the marauding Japanese contingent from advancing further, the Chielie-Sakhrie film had many moist eyed. Then of course, came Anurag Kashyap's “Dev-D”. If “Distant Rumblings” with its very local connect – Nagaland with its famous Battle of Kohima and the latter day war cemetery features prominently – Anurag's film was greeted by more chairs than people. Many stepped out, had a cup of tea. But as the word spread that the film was a modern-day take on Saratchandra Chattopadhyay's timeless saga, they came back. The hall again had more feet, less seats.
It might appear an every day or every week story for those used to houseful boards at cinema halls in metropolises, it was a no mean achievement in a township that had its last remaining cinema hall consigned to painful flames more than a generation ago. And films usually mean DVDs of Korean movies! For locals, the fest was both novelty and education. And the two frequently overlapped.