Shyam Benegal is absolutely right in his view that one cannot judge the merits or otherwise of a movie by merely observing a trailer of it. Judgment on any movie, or for that matter a work of fiction or non-fiction, ought to be reserved until one has had the opportunity to go through the entirety of the work. That is what criticism, in that literary sense of the meaning, is all about.
And so it is that we reserve judgment on the trailer of Mujib: The Making of a Nation which Benegal and his team put on display at Cannes recently. Of course, knowing the incredible reputation Benegal has achieved in his career as a filmmaker, one can be reasonably certain that the movie, which we understand is a joint Bangladesh-India production and which depicts the life and career of Bangabandhu, will satisfy large sections of Bengalis here in Bangladesh.
And yet on this issue of movies related to Bangladesh’s history and culture, the Benegal production of the Mujib biopic raises quite a few questions. Or one could simply put it about that with a good number of reputed film makers in Bangladesh itself -- and their reputation has been impeccable -- it would have been a more substantive idea having them or one of them deal with as vast a subject as Bangabandhu.
That of course has not been done and we are now left with a circumstance where the presence of an auteur from across the frontier seemingly conveys meaning to our history, or a presentation of it.
A nation does itself proud when it taps into its own resources while dealing with questions of a gigantic political and cultural nature. It is perfectly all right soliciting the services of men and women overseas, those who are not our citizens, in assisting our nation to get its message across to the world. But that happens when the nation in question is weighed down by a poverty of the intellect, when the landscape is bare of creativity and those who personify such creativity are not there. We do not suffer from such intellectual poverty.
In our times, we in Bangladesh have had the sheer good fortune of watching such defining movie makers as Tanvir Mokammel and Morshedul Islam and Shameem Akhtar go out on a limb to place our heritage and cultural traditions on celluloid. And they have done the job extremely well.
Mokammel’s Rupsha Nodir Banke, Chitra Nodir Paare, Lalshalu, Lalon and Smriti Ekattor remain significant points of reference in our efforts to encapsulate our history through film-making. And do not forget that not many years ago Mokammel’s biopic on the nation’s wartime prime minister, Tajuddin Ahmad: An Unsung Hero, earned accolades from a broad section of historians and scholars as also citizens across the spectrum.
When it comes to Morshedul Islam, who can ignore the artistic content underpinning Amar Bondhu Rashed and Shorot ’71? There are the other points of light in his gallery of creativity -- Dukhai, Chaka, Agami -- which hold forth a healthy picture of the genius of our homegrown movie makers. Or take the instance of Shameem Akhtar, whose endeavours in the field spans decades. In Grohonkal and The Conversation she projects aesthetics at its very best. And if we go back in time, there was Tareque Masud, whose life was riveted to the camera and a culture-driven wielding of it.
How does it happen that we as a state, as a people’s republic, do not see these symbols of historical enterprise and march off abroad in search of foreign movie makers, the questionable goal being giving to ourselves, by association with overseas representatives of creativity, a certain standing on the global stage?
No, we are not being xenophobic. The truth is that Mokammel, Islam, and Akhtar are only part of the broad landscape of intellect-based movie making in Bangladesh.
Reflect on Nasiruddin Yousuff, on the young Mostofa Farooki and on those who have gone to their graves. Alamgir Kabir, Abdul Jabbar Khan, Chashi Nazrul Islam, Subhas Dutta, Badal Rahman, and Obaidul Huq are names that instill in us a sense of pride in our cultural history and its celluloid representation.
The truth is obvious, or should be.
Ignoring our own creative class, and not just in movie-making, patently undermines us before the world. We surely love to have artistes come to our land from India, from Pakistan, and entertain us with their music. But why have we so far been unable to send out our own artistes to Kolkata, Delhi, and Islamabad to give their very best to audiences in those places? We have loved partaking of the music of Hemanta and Rafi and Mehdi Hasan and Abida Parveen.
Shouldn’t all those music-mad crowds in Pakistan and India have by now heard of our very own Abdul Alim and Anwaruddin Khan and Mahmudunnabi and Khondokar Faruk and Shammi Akhtar and Fahmida Nabi and Samina Nabi? To what degree have we sent our Rabindra and Nazrul artistes abroad through institutional arrangements, the better to have foreign audiences in South Asia and beyond imbibe a good dose of Bengali heritage?
Culture has a two-pronged purpose: To dig deeper roots within its own historical milieu and to broaden out into a wider global dimension. From that perspective, it would have enriched us if the biopic on Bangabandhu, as noted in Cannes, were handled by one of our very own auteurs. The reason is obvious, which is that these auteurs have experienced history first hand, are witnesses to the making of Bangladesh’s history, and have been keen observers of the politics and personality of the Father of the Nation.
Who can do a better job on Bangabandhu and on Bangladesh’s history of political upheaval and transformation than one who has been in the crowd listening to Sheikh Mujibur Rahman at the height of his epoch-making oratory? Who will have a better and clearer understanding of Bangabandhu’s use of language, indeed his employment of dialect, the modulations of his voice than a Bangali film maker who has seen it all?
We will of course wait for the Benegal movie to come to us before we pronounce judgment on the quality of the work. Meanwhile, all we ask of those who matter, who make all those decisions related to an upholding of national history at home and abroad, is that they not bypass the many talented individuals who, tested by time and experience, stand ready to do a job just as well as any overseas citizen can.
These accomplished individuals are here at home, in our midst.
Syed Badrul Ahsan is a journalist and biographer.