AUTOGRAPH? WON'T MIND ONE.

       When watching a film, one should watch it without being biased and without expectations. But, yes, I feel one needs to be a little lenient when judging a film by a first-time director, for everybody doesn’t make a Pather Panchali for a beginning. My cousin, a very promising film student recently made a thoughtful remark. She said, having realized how insanely difficult it is to make a full-length feature she has become less critical about films. Very true.

      
        Upon immediate reflection (immediate, because I think passing a confident judgement about a film after watching it once is plain stupidity), Autograph is certainly a watchable film, made watchable largely by its last thirty minutes including the very tastefully composed song – ‘’Amake amar moto thakte dao.’’ Srijit Mukherji’s first is an attempt worthy of encouragement. He has tried to be different, but not for the sake of being different. The attempt seems honest enough, and certainly bold, for he has chosen a seminal matinee idol starring film to base his work on, Satyajit Ray’s Nayak. From there begins the weaknesses.

     
        Three characters form the core of the film - a fading superstar, a wannabe serious film director (bearing touches of Kamu Mukherjee’s character in Nayak), and his live-in partner. The director Shubhrojit Mitra (Shubhro) (Indraneil) is determined to make the film of his dreams, a remake of Nayak with touches of Ingmar Bergman’s Wild Strawberries. And he won’t make the film without casting today’s ‘Nayak’ – Arun Chatterjee (Prosenjit). Arun’s secretary naturally does not take Shubhro’s attempt seriously and keeps him waiting. Meanwhile, Arun is going through a different rough patch. His recent films have been hits, but his producer has been claiming credit saying the films are working not because of Arun alone, but due to other factors. This understandably insults his ego. On impulse, and to prove that he can carry a film wholly on his shoulders, he decides to do Shubhro’s film, also producing it. He is also impressed by Shubhro’s aesthetic convictions. Finding a suitable heroine proves difficult when Shubhro realizes that his girlfriend and live-in partner Srin (Srinandita)(Nandana), who’s a stage actress too, is the perfect choice for Sharmila Tagore’s role. Shooting commences and Arun develops closeness to Srin, while Shubro with his new found fame and authority becomes arrogant and manipulative. In an inebriated state, Arun makes certain private confessions to Srin, who records it (unintentionally). Shubhro decides to use that private tape to generate publicity for his film, to which Srin is dead opposed, morally. He steals the tape and circulates it. Srin is devastated (her distance with Shubro had been increasing) and leaves, while Arun is heartbroken and disgusted at the attempt to sell his soul to sell a picture and scraps Shubhro’s film. Shubhro decides to contact a commercial producer who had approached him earlier, and goes to visit him, this time a much selfish and compromised man.

     
       The film heavily relies on Ray’s Nayak for references, which are divided between the events of the film and the film-within the film (conveniently titled – Ajker Nayak). This has been done rather appropriately. While Shankar da and the budding actress are real incidents in Arun’s life, Aditi’s is an interesting case. She appears both in real and reel, for Srin, who plays the role is herself like Aditi in real life. The links are well established. The other minor characters are also interestingly etched out – like the couple in the train, here mixed between a couple in the plane and the couple played by Dhruv Mukherjee and Sohini Pal. Overall, Srijit managed to identify the correct ingredients but couldn’t cook up a delectable screenplay. In the end the same appears too fragmented and too dependant on references. In other words, it isn’t smooth. At times it seems as if its all too shallow, just touching upon events without introspective elaboration. The dream and the Shankar da angle cases in point. In spite of this, the film does look slow at times and quick and jarring at others. One could blame the unstable and whimsical editing for that.

      

        This does not mean that the film isn’t without an identity. There is a bloody good twist at the end (and relevant too) and some other good incidents pertinent to the theme. The character graphs are well planned. Firstly, the budding director. His initial intransigence to aesthetic compromise lasts for a good period, for we even see him arguing with a senior actor to protect the integrity of his convictions. But gradually he becomes selfish with confidence. His emotional bond with his partner and friends is overshadowed by his growing greed to make his film a success by any means. Ultimately we see him reach a point of total unscrupulousness, realizing that he didn’t even hesitate to use Srin to get his job done, or without moral objection stealing and leaking Arun’s private tape. His arrogance is finally grounded when Arun scraps the film, making him realize that he is a nobody after all. Left without choice, he chooses compromise in the end. Shubhro’s character is very real and analyses the extent of one’s convictions. It help us realize the ancient lesson of the importance of keeping one’s feet grounded as the phenomenon of self-overestimation isn’t rare nowadays.

      

Prosenjit in Autograph

        Arun, the ‘man’ and not the ‘superstar’ is better studied here (unintentionally or whatever) . The superstar has sold his body in the past, making artistic compromises, but the man has never sold his soul to make his films work. This well explains the reason why he is a superstar in the first place. To be a star, a lot of self-integrity is mandatory. He has that. Not only that, the fact that he has the guts to confess to his past mistakes sheds further light on the man Arun. This shows that even a star at times loses his head, but the trick lies in how quickly he regains it. He does develop deep feelings for Srin, but very responsibly knowing that she is already involved with another man, steers clear of immorality. He explains that very cleverly to Srin while shooting the last shot of the film within the film (which is well shot).The end of the film, when he pays back his dues to an eatery where he and Srin had visited (also obliging the waiter with an autograph), confirms the integrity of both the man and the superstar.

    
        Srin is comparatively less studied. She is the cleanest of the three main characters. She too falls for Arun somewhat, but stops short of immorality, all along maintaining her dignity. This aspect is also pointed out in her rehearsals of a Shakespeare play where she utters dialogues reminding us of her determination to remain moral. Another very significant thing is that through Srin’s character, the director has tried to reject certain notions of society regarding behavioural trends in today’s youth. Srin drinks and smokes, mingles freely, is independent, and is in a live-in relationship, yet remains true to her conscience. Srijit has completely tried to dissociate this type of behaviour with morality, contrary to what society largely thinks. He has captured this transitory phase quite well. Other aspects of modern relationships are also probed. We see the water tight Dhruv Sohini relationship, as well as the more spacious, if not ‘loose’ relationship between Shubhro and Srin (as Sohini remarks). The scenes giving a sneak peek into a live-in are playfully shot, though they look pretentious. This may have resulted from the director trying too hard to distance himself from old trends to prove his point.

   
        Technically, the film disappoints. The photography is very unstable. There are a few very good shots – like the overhead shot of Arun atop South City, overlooking the Kolkata skyline, a few indoor shots and the one on the Ganga with Shubhro and Srin on the boat, but there are bad ones too. The handheld camera shots, occupying a large part of the film, jerk too much (causing headaches) and distract the viewer. They were intended to show the playfulness of the couple but Mukherji ends up overdoing it. The screenplay, as I said, appears too convoluted and fragmented. Certain scenes just appear without the viewer being prepared to grasp them. The editing is jarring. Certain scenes are cut too quickly (like the Shankar da and the budding actress parts), while some are longer. There is no overall parity.

   

Uttam Kumar in Nayak

        The acting and dubbing are probably two of the weakest links of the film. The only actor who manages to look okay is Indraneil. He begins very badly but improves along the film. His last few shots are well acted. Nandana’s is the worst performance. Lacking good expression and dialogue delivery, she disappoints badly. In a few scenes she is good though, like the hang out scenes with Prosenjit , the ‘’mone rekhe debo’’ shot, and last shot on the boat with Indraneil. Rudraprasad Sengupta as Shankar Da, if anyone has seen the original, is a big joke. He is weak, whining and unconvincing. Pijush Ganguly, Dhruv Mukherjee and Sohini Pal are very good though. But the dubbing is aaarrghhh!!! Not only does it sound extremely artificial and nyaka, but also contrived and careless. And Prosenjit? Well, let’s face it - he is no Uttam Kumar.Not even remotely close to him. The references to Nayak make the viewer constantly trying to compare Uttam Kumar with Prosenjit, and that is why the latter looks even worse. He pales in front of the one and only Mahanayak and is caught between trying to imitate Uttam and trying to be himself, and that’s ridiculous. He can neither display Uttam’s charisma, screen presence and more importantly, his AURA, nor does he himself have an original stylish demeanour like Uttam. His acting, ultimately when compared, looks at best an inferior caricature. But he does excel – at the end. From the time Arun starts breaking down and becomes vulnerable, Prosenjit the actor is at his best. The zoom into his gradually moist eyes when he sees his private tape on television is excellent to say the least. Ditto for his last two scenes. One can totally understand why Prosenjit, when cast in Rituparno Ghosh or other good films, is mostly given the role of a vulnerable and weak man. For example, in Dosar and Shob Choritro Kalponik, where in both he was really good. He excels in those roles, but not as a Hero. Even in The Last Lear, where he had a cameo as a hero, he looked a complete misfit. Only in the last two scenes, with Pijush and inside the car near the eatery, does he actually look and behave like a star. Prosenjit’s casting is easily a wrong choice. He is a better actor than a Nayak. But on hindsight, was there anybody else to play the role? No. This makes us realize the terrible deterioration of the 'STAR' in Bengal post Uttam, Soumitra and Ranjit Mullick. Only now the picture is looking brighter with Jeet, Dev and company. For this part, I guess the perfect choice would’ve been a younger Sabyasachi mixed with an older Tota Roy Choudhury. Practically though, there wasn’t any choice. Sad.

Uttam Kumar in Nayak

Prosenjit in Autograph

   
          The real Nayaks of Autograph are Debojyoti Mishra and especially Anupam Roy. The music is of a very high standard, though in places it appears forcibly inserted. The songs are catchy. The lyrics are equally good and appropriate. But THE highlight of the film, its only high highlight is Anupam Roy’s song – ''amake amar moto thakte dao.'' Everything about the song is good. The tune is superb, the lyrics awesome, and the arrangement just as good. Not only that, it is inserted in the best place possible and shot beautifully too. In fact, the song gives the viewer a positive aftertaste about the film. It’s as if, the rest of the film never existed, but just that song.

    
          To sum up, Autograph is a good attempt by a first time director. In fact, one can identify how the director matures as the film progresses. The result is that the last thirty minutes are really good in terms of treatment, direction and technique. It is not without its flaws (just like every film in the world), but production of such films is a positive sign for ‘Sasurbari Zindabad’ and ‘Anyay Atyachar’ soaked Tollywood. We have reached the dawn of a new era and the Srijit Mukherjis are the talented prospects who we hope never become Shubhrojit Mitras.

P.S – Passing a final judgement after watching a film once may be stupid. But to watch it again now means spending money again or watching a pirated copy. I neither have the money nor the inclination to watch a pirated copy. This is more of a practical problem, but that doesn’t deny me the right to write at all. Hence the above. However, if I get to see this film again soon and my opinions differ from the above, I shall make the necessary changes.