I was musing over the state of cinema in India, sitting all alone in a cafe, sipping on a much too sweet coffee concoction when the similarity of the over saturated beverage reminded me of the censorship that has been going on of late, trying to 'over sweeten' our cinema, purify our souls, so to say. A movie that I had watched and rewatched within a 2 month period in 2004 exploded back into memory and made me realise that if I do not write about it now, it is as much a sin as putting up with the censorship in its current state in Indian cinema.
I am reminded of the character of the priest in Giuseppe Tornatore's classic. A subtly vengeful vessel of Gods virtue, the priest is the purveyor of the local cinemas' latest flavour and suggests cuts that he deems necessary to preserve the virtue of the local people. The ring of his altar boys bell signals a scene that needs to be cut by the projectionist - most often a scene that has a kiss. A scene is framed - a bell rings, the movie stops, the projectionist cuts the scene out and throws the discarded film into a corner where it piles up into a tribute of smooches that was meant to be seen but will never grace the screen of 'Cinema Paradiso' - the local movie house in Giancaldo, Sicily. The priest from just after World War II is the same bane that has landed in Indias censor board - regression.
The two principal characters of the movie Salvatore, a young boy and Alfredo, the projectionist live within their shared home of the projection booth. The former is drawn to cinema from a very young age, the other is steeped in it and often quotes classics to sound his opinion. Failing in his attempts to chase the young Salvatore away, Alfredo slowly accepts his presence in the projection booth. While watching Alfredo struggle with the unwieldy old projector with its high nitrate (yes, remember Inglourious Basterds?) devoid-of-kisses films, Salvatore discovers his metaphorical parents - Alfredo being his father and movies nurturing his hunger for cinema just as a caring mother would.
My wish after my love for cinema blossomed has always been to have a theater like Cinema Paradiso in my neighbourhood showing a random mix of movies, albeit my fantasy would have been movies playing as the director intended them to be seen. The audience themselves are a story unto themselves - communicating with the characters on screen as though each of them were an unruly director, claiming the movie for their own. Romance blossoms, friendship gets sealed, wine consumed and the movies play in a pall of overhanging cigarette smoke. An ode to cinema, we see Chaplin, John Wayne and a load of other movies being played in Cinema Paradiso. But the vessel of virtue having established his dictat, the characters may romance to the point of giving each other burning looks but their lips never meet.
Jacques Perrin plays the grown up Salvatore who is pulled back to his childhood village when he learns of the death of old Alfredo, played by Phillipe Noiret. His childhood(young Salvatore played by Salvatore Cascio and the adolescent self by Marco Leonardi) is recounted for us, his love, his angst and his deep relationship with cinema developing and maturing for us to see. What blossoms in the fire of desire is also sometimes lost in the same fire. And we pass through his rites of passage leading into the death of cinema. His love and our love for cinema though are kept burning through Tornatore's passionate recounting of what almost seems like his own young age.
Cinema Paradiso sealed my affinity to cinema in a few simple and some very complex ways. In sharing my love for cinema I have of late been projecting onto a wall at home movies and shows that I love and like to watch, I get delighted in some surprising ways when I least expect it. Even with that, I can barely start to imagine the strong effect that cinema would have had in a post war village with not much in the way of entertainment. A scene that also sealed itself into memory was one where the image being projected is reflected out of a window onto a town wall. A strange feeling in the pit of my stomach makes me yearn for the images that my mind produces to be thrown across such a wall so people may see them, relate to them, encourage them, complain about them, swear at them - and none of those images would be censored. No one person or group of people may be allowed to censor a persons right to express/project their views, their stories, their love onto the wall of viewership. India where cinema has such a profound effect on peoples thinking would benefit a lot if its censor board gleaned the spirit of Cinema Paradiso. In the spirit of saluting cinema, I make this my first post in 'Our Paradise Talkies'.
PT rating - 4 stars and a half
