IN CONVERSATION
Music as a metaphor
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With his latest film "Morning Raga" just released, playwright Mahesh Dattani tells GOWRI RAMNARAYAN about the highs and lows of filmmaking.
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The dream team of Mahesh Dattani, Shabana Azmi and Rajeev Menon.
"The bug has bitten me and I will be inflicting my films on you in the future," laughs playwright Mahesh Dattani, in his Bangalore flat, jutting into high branches where birds orchestrated afternoon ragas.
Dattani's elation over his own "Morning Raga", scheduled for release (October 29) set the mood. His warblers are Sudha Ragunathan and Bombay Jayashree, but hadn't he got veteran Shabana Azmi to train in Carnatic music, and newcomer Prakash Rao to learn the violin for the film, which uses music as a metaphor?
He talks about his venture with excitement undimmed.
How does a convent educated Gujarati, writing and directing English plays, choose a Carnatic musician as protagonist in an English film he calls "Morning Raga"?
I've grown up in Bangalore. I'm more comfortable in the south Indian Kannadiga milieu. I got acquainted with Carnatic music when I learnt Bharatanatyam. These classical arts had a deep impact on me. Not that my gurus or I had any illusions about my becoming a great dancer! But I understood in some inexplicable way that when you work not just with your body and mind, but also with your spiritual self, art becomes a transformational experience. English theatre didn't have this dimension. I felt its lack for the first time when I wrote "Where There's a Will". Dance became a passion in the sense of understanding bhava and arriving at the essence of what you're saying. My play "Dance Like a Man" was a transition for me. And Carnatic music stayed with me though I'm no expert, in fact I don't even listen to it much.
Why "Morning Raga"? Unlike Hindustani music, the Carnatic system doesn't have strict time schedules for ragas.
The concept of "Morning Raga" came to me when I was working on post-production music for my first film "Mango Souffle". My music director Amit Heri's French beard and wild African shirt made such a contrast with the silk sari and temple jewellery of the purist Carnatic singer who came for the recording! A chasm yawned between them until suddenly, the music integrated them. That's when I thought of the past and the present integrating through music. My story had classical Carnatic musician Swarnalata, losing her violinist friend and her own son in a bus accident while on her way to realise her ambition of performing in the city. The friend's son becomes a techno trance musician, and returns to the village to persuade her to sing for him. The idea of waking the gods with music appeals to me, though it has not been explored in this film.
Why Shabana Azmi? Are there no south Indian actors to play the Carnatic singer? Did she agree readily to enter this "alien" milieu?
The part required an actor who would not make melodrama out of being confronted by the past. I use a lot of method in my theatre, and felt that with her background in theatre and cinema, Shabana would understand my ways of working. In fact I couldn't think of anybody else in that role. Shabana had reservations, but I trusted her more than she trusted herself. She had lots of questions and worked very hard with her teacher on the Carnatic gamakas and swaras. She got them so well that I'd have used her voice but for the accent, a give away. I don't want to be falsely modest, but it's a part to die for.
As a newcomer, were you scared that you may not be able to control Azmi's own dynamic personality from swamping the character?
One of the scenes had the whole unit applauding her performance. I said nothing. She came up to me and asked what's wrong. I said that I needed her to hold back a bit, not appear as a victim of the past. Let's do another take she said. That's the take I've kept.
I also toned down some of her gestures, like her habit of arching the eyebrow. I've not wholly learnt to hide being intimidated by strong and challenging people, and I'm grateful to her for sensing my discomfort. Nasser is another veteran who has brought layers to his role. He is in the Om Puri-Naseeruddin Shah class. Shabana and Nasser have an instinctive relationship with the camera, their grasp of technique prevents them from falling into the trap of playing for the camera.
What was the most difficult decision for you in this film?
The accents for sure! I believe in looking at people cross culturally, cross regionally, but no caricatures. Don't go for the noise; go for the music even in speech, I said. There was fine-tuning in the dubbing too as I wanted the Andhra-Godavari flavours.
Perizaad Zorabian and Shabana Azmi in "Morning Raga".
But you changed the location from Tirunelveli and Chennai in Tamil Nadu to Andhra. Didn't this change the music too?
The story came first. I needed a river and a bridge. We had to abandon Tamil Nadu because the rivers ran dry that year. Research is vital but I have a problem with focussing too much on verisimilitude. Ultimately the film is not made for Carnatic musicians. It must have universality.
Did the film get you to really stretch yourself? What about your team?
The stretching made it exciting. Also it's heady when you can trust people with your baby. Couldn't have asked for a better team. Though I believe in artistic egalitarianism, I was overawed by the big names. Rajiv Menon (cinematographer) and Raghavendra Rao (producer) made such major contributions. Editor Sreekar Prasad's visual transitions ensured continuity and clarity.
Is it difficult to make the transition from theatre to cinema?
A playwright is not a wordsmith, you know! In the theatre too I tried to create mood and ambience for action, of which dialogue is a part. People say one picture is worth a thousand words. I think one word can evoke a thousand images in cinema. My drafts aimed at cutting down words for visuals.
What were the most elating and the most depressing experience in making "Morning Raga"?
So many.
We'll take one each!
(Laughs) A crucial scene needed Perizaad reacting to Shabana in a close up. When I asked Shabana with some trepidation if she would sit behind the camera to help Perizad emote strongly, she agreed and performed the scene again. After the take, Perizaad broke into tears and hugged Shabana. A moment of elation — this is what artistic spirit is all about, the more you give the more it comes back to you. I was terribly depressed when the river dried up before we had enough footage of the rushing waters. The locals said that the backwaters flow in at different times each day. We had a sentry to alert us so that we could shoot before the waters receded. I realised why people in the film industry are so superstitious. You think you're in control, but everything depends on variables.
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