Adoor Gopalakrishnan is an Indian filmmaker par excellence who shuns the term ‘Bollywood', universal cinematic appeal and the assumption that singing in dancing is part of the daily life in Indian society Adoor Gopalakrishnan is India's most distinguished contemporary filmmaker. Born in 1941, in the southern state of Kerala, he studied filmmaking at the Pune-based Film and Television Institute of India, and soon established himself as one of the leaders of the Indian New Wave of the 1970s and '80s. He has made 11 award-winning feature films and nearly 30 short films. Complete retrospectives of Gopalakrishnan's work have been held at New York's Lincoln Center, the Smithsonian in Washington, D.C., the Paris Cinematheque, and the Munich Film Museum. His many national and international awards include the National Award (the most prominent film award in India), which he has won nine times; the Dada Saheb Phalke Award (for lifetime achievement); the British Film Institute's Sutherland Trophy; the International Film Critics Award (FIPRESCI), which he has received six times; and the UNICEF prize at the Venice Film Festival. The government of India has conferred on him its second highest civilian award, the Padma Vibhushan. France has honored him with the Légion d'honneur and the Commandeur de Ordre des Arts et des Lettres. Gopalakrishnan is currently in Washington, DC, taking part in the Maximum India festival at the Kennedy Center. In an interview, he speaks about his films and Indian cinema, among other topics. You have said that your films are more about the relationship between individuals and the society in which they live rather than on relationships among individuals. Was this a conscious decision from the very beginning...or is it something that evolved in the course of your career? My films are about the individual, his/her family/society and the state. I was not conscious about it in the beginning—say, at the time of making Swayamvaram. But in course of time, there were occasions when I was urged to look at my work critically and a bit detachedly, and the idea became more and more clear. This was anyway inevitable because I have been insisting on myself that there should be no faking in my films and they had to honestly and authentically document the social situation whether portrayed as the subject or as the backdrop. Thus I believe, at one level, each of my films has been a social document as well. Do you feel that this is something that gives your films a universal appeal? An intelligent audience does not like to be told lies about life lived anywhere on earth. It has to necessarily deal with truth and every effort should be made not to mask it (owing to) other compulsions. A genuine work of art appeals to audiences internationally. You are perhaps the first and only one to openly shun the usage of the word “Bollywood” to describe films from India. Can you elaborate and expand on your stand? I am a bit allergic to the term “Bollywood.” Some of the professionals in Mumbai take pride in the fact that it has now become a brand name to boot. Sad, people do not realize that it is a derogatory term. It axiomatically means that Mumbai cannot produce anything original in cinema but simply copy Hollywood. It is quite a servile role that the Mumbai's commercial cinema has carved for itself. And the world outside India thinks Bollywood is synonymous with Indian cinema. What a shame! Now some of those columnists have started calling Malayalam cinema “Mollywood” and Tamil cinema “Tollywood.” There seems to be no end to degeneration. Do you believe that festivals such as Maximum India, that attempt to explore the richness of Indian cinema, at least to a certain extent, are going to be enough to correct the misnomer? Maximum India festival by the Kennedy Center in Washington is calling the Indian film section “Beyond Bollywood.” This would of course tell some audiences that there is cinema in India beyond Bollywood. National Film Development Corporation (NFDC) of India on its website states that it “is the central agency established to encourage the good cinema movement in the country.” Are they doing enough towards that goal? NFDC has been in a dormant stage for some years now. It was meant to function as the central agency for the promotion of Indian cinema. And it did work for some time with this objective. But today it looks like all the expectations have been belied for various reasons. You have made some thought-provoking statements in the past that are often genuine and at the same time controversial. One of the memorable ones goes something to the effect that, “songs in films are like uncooked vegetable pieces in ‘aviyal.'” Would you mind elaborating on the subject of songs and dances in Indian films? Songs have a life all their own. I am not averse to songs. But in films, they are an appendage. In commercial films, you have to have at least half a dozen (fight) scenes — the gorier the better. Dance is also essential in these films — not just the hero and heroine dancing. Each dance should engage a few dozen dancing extras. Unless your film dots on these lines, chances are that your film will find no takers. The audiences abroad get the impression that we silly Indians are singing all the time to the accompaniment of a full orchestra. Would it be farfetched to assume that Indian TV channels to a large extend survive on songs from films and it is to their benefit that an audience is cultivated to watch reality shows? Our TV channels are quite parasitical in their programming. They thrive on film songs sung live as well as showing clippings from the respective films. Children grow up (and grown-ups grow old) watching and listening to these singing sessions — singing competitions have become the norm for every channel under the dubious title, “Reality show.”
