Why Pushpak Flew
- Plot: Romance, comedy, villainy, poverty, luxury, all in a king-for-a-day dream-come-true story that premiered at Cannes.
- Director: Singeetham Srinivasa Rao, who did two more outstanding comedies, Appu Raja and Michael Mathana Kamarajan.
- Actors: The insouciance of Kamalahaasan, innocence of Amala and cunning of Tinu Anand with the ice daggers.
- Music: L. Vaidyanathan’s haunting melody. He later composed the title track of the hit TV magazine show, Surabhi.
Why The Artist Shines
- Concept: A B&W silent film about the B&W silent films of the 1920s, with references to many great epics.
- French connection: A French team making a film about era-gone-by Hollywood adds to its unique joie-de-vivre
- Dog: Scene-stealer Jack Russell, Uggie
***
Comparisons are odious and, at a time when Michel Hazanavicius’s The Artist is on an all-conquering wave, it would be churlish to compare it to our own home-grown ‘silent’ film Pushpaka Vimana, or Pushpak as it is widely known. The term silent is of course placed between quotes because Pushpak is not really a silent film. Rather, it is a film without dialogue, managing cleverly to avoid audible speech altogether in a variety of inventive ways. The Artist, being staged as a silent film of a bygone era, uses title cards and also uses a couple of lines of dialogue at the very end and quite appropriately too, since thematically the film deals with the advent of sound in cinema. Unlike Pushpak, The Artist is that old favourite of cinema, a film about film.
I watched The Artist for the first time in London at a preview for BAFTA voting members. At the end of the film, the audience, composed mostly of grizzled veterans of the British film firmament and some battle-hardened film journalists, stood up and gave it a standing ovation. These are, of course, people for whom the awards season is a slog: they have to watch hundreds of films within a short time-span of two months. I was amongst those who cheered the film on wholeheartedly. However, I recently watched the film again in Chennai in the company of some of the finest minds of Tamil cinema who were also watching it for the second time, and we were struck by how easily the film slips into narrative tropes and all-too-predictable cliches. Just one example—you know the dog is going to save his master. That didn’t diminish our enjoyment of the film one whit. Instead, we delighted in spotting the many film references within, including Fantomas, Spione, Vertigo, The Mark Of Zorro, Citizen Kane, The Last Command, Singin’ In The Rain and many more. Indeed it was like watching an undemanding version of Inglourious Basterds, for Quentin Tarantino packs film references far more subtly than Hazanavicius.
The Artist also did me a great service. It prompted me to dust off my Pushpak DVD and watch it again—and I’m pleased to report that the film hasn’t dated at all. Yes, the message that money is the root of much evil and honesty is the best policy is laid on with a trowel but that’s a minor complaint given how wonderful it is on repeat viewing. The collaboration between director Singeetham Srinivasa Rao and actor Kamalahaasan that sparked to life with Raaja Paarvai, and would result in many memorable films later, really flowered with Pushpak. The film remains an everyman’s aspiration dream. The Windsor Manor hotel had opened recently in Bangalore and was the subject of much curiosity. Here, Kamal’s everyman, through duplicitous means, not only enters the hotel but actually stays there. The scenes of him unable to decide between chocolates, or his patent pleasure in the breakfast that’s brought to him, or revelling in the luxury of his suite in general—they are all five-star sensory delights. It was a time when the actor was at his peak, winning the national award for best actor for Nayagan and his wordless performance is as much of a tour de force as Jean Dujardin’s is. Pushpak is also an enduring cinematic portrait of Bangalore, my hometown, as she was then, a far cry from the blighted, crowded, glass-and-chrome crowded Namma Metro urban agglomeration now.
The Indian powers that be in all their wisdom chose Nayagan as their Oscar entry for 1987, perhaps thinking that the Godfather influence might sway Academy voters. On the strength of The Artist’s triumph, maybe sending Pushpak may not have been a bad idea at all as now it has been demonstrably proved that a universal story not requiring subtitles can win and win big.
(Naman is author of Lights, Camera, Masala: Making Movies In Mumbai)
