Nepali Films: Back to Square One

Nepali film producers waste good money and celluloid, but are unable to keep the cinema buffs attention from straying.

It is just one of those ironies that Nepal´s most successful film star is Manisha Koirala, but Nepali films are the last thing she is associated with. Although Ms Koirala´s silver screen journey did begin with a Nepali film, she knew what she was doing when she moved to Bombay six years ago. Today, she is one of the most saleable actresses in Bollywood whereas her onetime colleagues still wallow in the uncertainty of ´Kollywood´, Kathmandu´s shineless film industry. By her own admission, Ms Koirala has not seen her debut film, the eminently forgettable Pheri Bhetaula (Till We Meet Again).

Nepalis love cinema. Theatres are put up wherever the road reaches, and where conventional halls are not practical, video houses do good business. In the remotest of mountain hamlets, pictures of film stars vie for space with posters of deities and family portraits. Film magazines do good business all over and everyone can hum the latest hit tune. Unfortunately, most of this fan following is reserved for Hindi films; Nepali filmmakers have not been able to take advantage of this infatuation.

All that had seemed about to change when, in 1991, the action-packed family drama Chino broke all box office records. There were declarations that after decades on the road, Nepali cinema had finally arrived. Prior to Chino, which featured Nepal´s established stars, Shiva Shrestha, Bhuvan KC and Kristi Mainali, well-received Nepali films had enjoyed only modest success.

Following Chino´s success, businessmen of all hues plunged headlong into film production. There was a flood of releases. Whereas the number of productions had averaged two to three a year previously, a hundred Nepali films hit the market in the last five years.

There was overkill, and no one was watching out for quality. And so, as suddenly as the boom began, it was over. Kollywood has taken a nose-dive since last winter.

"There has been a total reversal," says Indra Prasad Shrestha, president of the Nepal Film Association, the body which looks after the interests of producers, distributors and exhibitors. "Previously, a producer would collect two million rupees, on a film, and now it is difficult to raise even fifty thousand."

Why has the industry experienced such a sudden up and down? The ´up´ is explained by producers wanting to repeat the success of films like Chino and a few others. That was a film which understood that the Nepali public—fed on a steady diet of Hindi films for 40 years—had to be given comparable themes and quality. And so the producers provided the familiar "father murdered, brothers separated, reunion and final retribution" theme and ensured that the film´s finished quality compared with that of a Bollywood product.

The ´down´ is explained by the fact that there was over-production, poor quality, and an inability to recognise trends and technology change. The gaggle of producers had only money to spend. In fact, ´speculators´ might be a better term to describe their carpetbagger motives and absence of cinematic experience. To almost the last, they failed to match Chino´s standard, and killed each other through competition. They stuck to the old Bombay formula (which had worked so well for Chino) when Bombay was already into a different genre of wellmade films with good story lines—Roja Hum Aapke Hai Kaun, and Rangeela.

Besides Bombay´s sophisticated competition, the Nepali film industry also fell victim to the sudden spread of satellite television, which is a phenomenon of the last five years. The fact that you could watch torsos wriggling to music without leaving home kept quite a large number from the theatres.

Training Ground

Bombay has long been both a boon and a bane for the Nepali film industry. Manisha Koirala was not the first Nepali aspirant to enter Hindi filmdom; dance director late Gopi Krishna and singer Udit Narayan Jha preceded her. B.S. Thapa and Prakash Thapa, known to be among the better Nepali film directors, trace their roots to Bombay, as do numerous film technicians working in Kollywood. But, while Bollywood has long been a training ground for Nepali film professionals, this association has not been without its drawbacks.

The staple Kollywood Nepali in is but a Hindi masala movie adapted rather crudely to Nepali; couched in a different language, locales and customs, and complete with the ingredients that typify Hindi masala movies, macho heroes, nubile heroines, lecherous villains, parted siblings, revenge, bloody brawls, romantic romps on degraded slopes), and divine intervention.

Reliance on India goes beyond plagiarisation of themes and importing technicians. Producers still have to flock to Bombay for processing and mixing facilities. Even film songs, one of the principal factors that determine whether a film will run or not, are recorded in Bombay using Indian playback singers and orchestras, as this turns out to be cheaper than flying singers over from Kathmandu.

Not that films that break the mould have not been made. Two are notable from among the hundred that were produced during this period. Prem Pinda, the first Nepali period film won both critical and popular acclaim, and almost as impressive has been this year´s release Rajamati, a Newari-language film which draws on a folk tale of love. Prem Pinda was directed by Yadav Kharel, known for his ´relatively qualitative1 taste. However, the man behind both these films is well-known actor and director Neer Shah. Mr Shah is critical of the bent of Nepali film producers: "The Nepali audience is used to Hindi formula films. If we are intent on copying these formula films, even though we have neither the resources nor the technology, it is no surprise that our films flop."

Not dissimilar are the sentiments expressed by a downtown Kathmandu theatre manager. "The Nepali films being produced nowadays offer the same stuff and are not worth watching," says the manager. His hall had continuously screened Nepali films for the past three years. But when he decided to show Rangeela, one of last year´s biggest Hindi hits, its success was something no one could have imagined. Rangeela had a long run of five months and even left the Nepali landscape full of girls wearing red knit berets a la Urmila Matondkar, the film´s heroine. According to some, this response is explained by the fact that the audience had been starved of sophisticated cinematography, unavailable in the Nepali releases.

Poor quality is also explained by several other factors. Most films are shot in 16mm and then blown up to 35mm for screening, which severely affects visual quality. Professionalism is lacking because  the  pay packet  is slim,  for technicians and stars alike.

Shiva Shrestha, the most successful Nepali actor, with 18 Nepali and 23 Pakistani films to his credit, receives around NRS 70,000 per film, which can be considered paltry. He supplements his income by running a family farm in the eastern Nepal town of Biratnagar. Young and pretty Melina Manandhar is popular with Nepali producers. Her fee stands between NRS 30,000 and 40,000 but she admits doing many of her films free of cost as favours for friends. She is a part-time model.

"Indeed, what can you say about the glamour pretensions of a film world where you can see a star buying vegetables at the local vendors?" asks a Hindi film fan.

The reason the pay is low is that the market is limited, confined as it is to 148 theatres within Nepal and a few in the Nepali-speaking areas of India like Darjeeling. Last year, the Nepali theatres screened 20 Nepali films, compared to the 124 Hindi films.

Besides, the films are not made for a paying audience. Audiences who would appreciate a good product have stopped going to the cinema, says director Deepak Rayamajhi. "We make films for the lower classes. Films made for the middle class would bring the producer immediate financial ruin."

Spilt Celluloid

Still, it is not proper to underestimate what the Nepali producers have achieved. The industry is sizeable, and employs about 10,000, comparable to the film worlds of Australia, Bangladesh or Sri Lanka.

Says a Nepali magazine editor, "Our tragedy, right at the beginning, was to begin by trying to copy Indian films, when we knew we could never match the money, the glamour, the technology. If we had had a Satyajit Ray to point us in the right direction back then, maybe the audience taste would have developed in a different direction. But it is all spilt celluloid."

Since Aama, the first black-and-white film produced in Nepal in the mid-60s by the Ministry of Communication, the Nepali film industry has come a long way, but is in desperate need of a fresh formula. And, even today, there is no Nepali Satyajit Ray in sight.

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