The Film Director?

This is not an article. Just a few notes put together. Not in any particular sequence- just as they come. Not for any kind of theorising, not for laying down rules or enunciating principles, not for any intellectual showing off or emotional outburst. Just plain notes.

The title has a question mark to it. That is as it should be. It is meant to make one ponder, think, perhaps wonder, and ask. For it is good to ask questions. How else will answers be found?

The question then is; What is the function of a film direction.

There are directors and directors. Each has his own individual approach to film-making, his own idea and conception of his work his own fights and limitations.

Since each director follows his own method, approach and aim, can there be any general theory about film direction? Is there as law guiding the film director in his work? Perhaps the only law is that there is no law. The director is low unto himself.

Every art-form has laws, principles and theories to guide the artist. Then, who and what, is a film director that he should consider himself immune, free unshackled? A very interesting, intriguing question.

A still more interesting question: Did laws and theories precede or follow works of artistic creation? Did film-making come first, or the theory of film-making.

The artist creates, then the critic formulates theories from the artist's work and expects the artist to follow those theories. Along comes another artist and tears the theories to shreds with his now work which leads to new theories by new critics. So it goes on, the artist flying on his wings, with the critic at his heels holding him and retarding his speed, or sometimes lagging behind, blinded by the dust of the flying feet. But let's come to the film director.

If directors follow no laws and each has his own individual approach, then, collectively, they must be a mass of confusion. They are. But, by this logic, so are painters and writers with their many styles, schools and "isms."

Can directors be divided into groups? Yes. Put them into four categories; (a) the happy ones (b) the frothing ones (c) the fermenting ones and (d) the rare ones.
 
Those of category (a) live and work in a in a state of bliss. They possess the freedom to ick, steal, lift what they like and use it as they like. They have no scruples, no conscience, therefore, no troubles. They are the happy ones.

Those in category (b) are a very lively, interesting lot. They are forever frothing, bubbling, overflowing. "I did this... I did what... I am going to do such and such... Wait till I've done this and that..." It goes on endlessly. They are always full of vim. They are the ones who are all the time making and revising theories of box-office appeal. They have their sensitive fingers on the pulse of the public - they gauge public taste and set out to satisfy it by any and every means they can lay their hands on.

They are ever introducing new recipes, new permutations and combinations of the same ingredients. So many feet of humour, so many yards of romance, a handful of spices, a bagful of tricks, twists and punches, a few drops of blood, a few tears, some hip-swinging, Lata and Talaat, each thrown in thrice, shaken well and poured out in abundance with the fanfare of publicity, and there you have a hit.

The trouble is it is not always a hit. But once one of them succeeds, the rest follow the gold rush till they begin to flop over each other. Those in this category are in abundance. They go about with loudspeakers.

The third category is respectable. Fermentation is a much more serious affair than mere frothing. It is the first real stage in the process of creative achievement.

This class includes the intellectuals, the high-brows, the snobs, the super-craftsmen, those who want to be known as geniuses. To their credit are great success and dignified failures. The best, the top-most in our country belong to this clan.

Are they film creators? No. They are just film-makers. Reason? The reason is obvious. They are at best translators and interpreters of other people's work. When you see their films on the screens, you are merely seeing through their eyes what was shown to them by others before they made their films.

This kind of director merely gives you another man's view through the sleeve of his own personality. He is entirely dependent upon his writer, for he must have something to translate into celluloid. He does not say anything of his own, yet he gets the credit for saying it. Of course, there are good translators and bad translators. A good translator has to be somewhat of an artist himself. But is the conductor of an orchestra more important than Bach or Beethoven? Is the producer of plays more important than Shakespeare, Shaw or Ibsen? Why then does a film director resume more importance than the author he interprets andw presents on the screen? Should the translator wish for more glory than the original author? Our film director does. And, what is more, he gets it.

Most of these directors get box-office rewards, some get national prizes, some win international awards. Critics shower superlatives on them. Audiences make heroes of them. They win glory and renown, which they do not share with their authors.

Such directors are also artists in their own right, no doubt. They are continually in a state of artistic fermentation, almost bringing forth, almost creating something-but never quite doing it. They are near-creators.

And the last category? To this will belong the creative directors, the film creators, the supreme ones, the rare ones, the ones that will live through posterity, the ones who will leave a stamp on their age, and perhaps, on the generation to come.

These belong to the kingdoms of poets, writers, sculptors, musicians, painters, architects, who give meaning to civilization.

Have we any of this class in our country? Ask me after two years

And now back to the question: What is the function of a film director? The answer will depend on the category you put him into. Then you can proceed to define him and his function.

Taking the last category into view may we not ague: since this century has accepted the cinema as he most dynamic and the most democratic of art-forms, also the most far-reaching in more ways than one, does it not follow that the film director should be one of the most significant factors among all the creative processes and forces of this age and this century? Does, or will, he film director attain this status?

I am merely asking. For it is good to ask questions. How else will answer be found?


This article was published in Filmfare magazine’s 7 November, 1958 edition written by Chetan Anand.

The images appeared in this feature are from the original article.