Thursday, September 08, 2016

On the emotional viewer and the 'rational' critic

[From my Mint Lounge column]

After around an hour of watching Ranveer Singh as the obscenely privileged but oddly vulnerable rich kid Kabir in Dil Dhadakne Do last year, I leaned across to my wife and said, “I think this guy might be our best lead actor since Bachchan in his prime.”

By the screening’s end, I was already feeling sheepish about this little exclamation. Not because I had changed my mind about the quality of Singh’s performance (a year on, I still think it was one of the highlights of 2015, at least as good as his much-awarded, more “respectable” turn in Bajirao Mastani) – but because, you know, if you’re a critic reaching for the nuanced argument, for a considered view of things, you’re not supposed to make such impulsive pronouncements. Even when you’re expressing a view that has been part-sanctified by time. (“Citizen Kane is the greatest film”; “Nutan is the best Hindi-film actress”.) When you’ve watched so many different sorts of films, representing every creative approach, you know it’s silly to grade them on one scale. You rally against pompous notions about something being summarily “the best”.

But here’s a counter-argument: why should anyone, even a professional critic, be measured or rational when something sneaks up on him and takes a firm grip on his emotions? For a jaded scribe who has written lakhs of words about cinema, it’s good to be reminded that one is still capable of being electrified, in a childlike way, by a film. Or by a scene. Or a gesture. A line of dialogue, a swell of music working in just the right way alongside an elegant camera movement. Once you’re back in the real world (or whatever vestiges of it may be seen in the section of the mall beyond the multiplex’s exit door), you might feel embarrassed about your hyper-dramatic reaction – but that reaction was an honest one.

Some viewers deny their gut feelings, as if the movie-hall were a confessional where one’s guilty secrets are forever to be left behind. This is especially true of genres that produce strong visceral responses, such as horror, slapstick comedy or action. I had a talk about Mad Max: Fury Road and Baahubali recently with someone who had clearly been stirred by both films – and had reacted to all the key scenes in exactly the way the filmmakers had wanted their viewers to react – but who was now saying, weeks later, “Yes, I enjoyed them at the time, but come on, they aren’t good films!” (I’ll save an extended discussion for another time, but for now I’ll just say I don’t understand that sentence.)

In my own instinct-vs-cerebra struggles, there is a personality factor at work. On the scale that has Highly Emotional Viewer at one end and Highly Analytical Viewer at the other, I am much closer to the latter extreme: rarely do I get so engrossed in a film that I stop thinking about its nuts and bolts, stop noticing things like framing or shot composition. It is often said admiringly of an actor, “He was so good that I could see only the character”, but it doesn’t work that way for me – even while enjoying a performance, I never forget who is playing the part, and in some cases my appreciation is deepened by associations with the actor’s earlier work. (As when a director uses a performer in intriguingly complementary ways over a series of films. Or when someone is cast against type: e.g., 1980s girl-next-door Supriya Pathak in sinister roles in Shanghai and Goliyon ki Raasleela Ram-Leela).

Given this boring aptitude for “rationality”, I am all the more mindful of the need to be honest when there is a strong emotional reaction. And as a writer, this is tricky: you have to articulate the whys and hows of your viewing experience, even though you are writing the piece hours or days later, in a dusty room under a malfunctioning tube-light, with your dog pulling at your sleeve.


I started thinking about these matters when I realized that last weekend marked the 15th death anniversary of the legendary film critic Pauline Kael. Now there’s someone who could write wonderful, analytical prose without jettisoning her deepest feelings. In her later years Kael sometimes accused younger critics of being giddy hero-worshippers – but the splendid irony is that in her own best writing she reveals her emotional life, and what excites or appalls her. As just one example, here she is on two of her personal heroines becoming sentimental figures in middle age: “In Pocketful of Miracles, when Bette Davis became lovable and said ‘God Bless’ with heartfelt emotion in her voice, I muttered an obscenity as I slumped down in my seat. I slumped again during Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner, because Katharine Hepburn had become sweet and lovable too […] They have become old dears […] there’s a feeling of dismay, and even of betrayal, when we watch them now.”

The thing to note is that this little rant isn’t the 1960s equivalent of a casual social-media update; it is part of a well-argued piece that serves both as film review (of The Lion in Winter) and a rumination on star personalities. There are hundreds of such moments in the Kael oeuvre, and it’s what keeps her work – the best of which marries passion with contemplation – so alive.

11 comments:

  1. Nice article. In my case, I had the visceral reaction to Mad Max : Fury Road. Very much so. I am just wondering that 10-20 years from now, when the CGI has become old, will it seem as appealing?

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    1. Raj: oh, I doubt that improved technology of the future will make that film seem any less good. While watching it, I was scarcely thinking about CGI anyway - saw it as just brilliant, vibrant filmmaking.

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    2. (Terminator 2 is still just as good to my eyes as it was in 1991 - though there's probably a nostalgia factor at work there too)

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    3. What I meant in case of Mad Max is visual effects are the only asset of the movie, script or dialogue do not have much role. The aim is to visually dazzle the viewer and it succeeds very well.

      Terminator 2 is my favorite as well but I think there is more to it than just special effects. Arnold's character fits very well and the story is also interesting. (Nostalgia factor here as well so I may be biased.)

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    4. I don't agree that visual effects are the only or main asset of Fury Road - I think its pacing and character delineation are very strong. And those things usually go together to make a really effective film: the action sequences become much more compelling if you're invested in the characters, such as Furiosa or Nux, or whoever

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    5. Maybe that's the answer. I could never get invested in the characters so what was left for me were the visuals. Always interesting to hear different opinions, especially in art and cinema.

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  2. Wonderful post Jai,I could so relate to this.Digressing a bit coz you mentioned Pauline Kael,A film critic who for filmmakers like Tarantino & Wes Anderson was as much an influence as the filmmakers they grew up watching.In fact Tarantino shares this moment of self realisation while reading Kael's appreciation of Godard's Band of Outsiders 'It’s as if a French poet took an ordinary banal American crime novel and told it to us in terms of the romance and beauty he read between the lines' - This very line made him realise what is his aesthitic as a filmnaker.He said I liked the film but it was the appreciation of the film by Kael which led to this moment of self discovery.I hope some day we can hear something similar about your writing( yes this is an emotional reaction)

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    1. Meet Modi: thanks. Interesting you mention Kael on a Godard film, because in an earlier draft of this column I had mentioned a few lines from her wonderful review of Weekend, where she went all out about Godard's Joyce-like stature in the film world (he was just 37 at the time) and how his brilliance was paralysing younger filmmakers.

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  3. Really enjoyed reading this piece! I've often felt conflicted about my immediate reaction to a movie after watching it and what I feel about it in hindsight and sometimes after reading a few critical reviews. I tend to "trust" the latter more than the former- Not because its more "legitimate" in any way than the immediate emotional reaction, but because it is likely to be more "permanent"- Because when one remembers anything (be it a memory or movie or moment) after the fact- by default one applies the universe of one's personal experiences and hindsight to that moment - and it gets adulterated forever onwards from the point of occurence.

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    1. thanks Aanchal. So much more to say about this subject (and I have touched on it in other pieces in the past) - it feels strange to have to deal with such ideas in an 850-word column space...

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  4. Nice article Jai.Perkins I think nicely captures the struggle below:

    "Hazards are presented by the relationship between the understanding of a film manifested in our response and enjoyment and the understanding that is expressed in an articulated appreciation. [There is not only a matter] of public rhetoric here, a problem of making one's articulation acceptable and persuasive to others, but there is regularly a more important problem with oneself, of finding words that fit one's sense of the moment or the movie"

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