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Less than a couple of months ago, the cinema lovers of India heaved a collective anguished sigh. As per a news report, the National Film Archive of India, Pune, had misplaced, or disposed off, the prints of hundreds of films, both national and international. Amongst the works lost, there were many titles of immense cultural and historical importance, including prints of films by stalwarts like Satyajit Ray, Mehboob Khan, Raj Kapoor, Mrinal Sen and Guru Dutt. More than a hundred silent films are also missing as per the report on the NFAI inventory. Not only this, rare footage from pre-Independence era are also reported lost.
Now, in this context let us imagine a balmy evening in New Delhi celebrating the restoration of a silent film made in 1928. Watching Franz Osten’s Shiraz: A Romance of India, with a live background score by Anoushka Shankar, was nothing short of a layer of soothing salve on a freshly scraped wound.
As per the British Council brochures,
This story, however, is about how to love right. It is as much a story about the love of an emperor for his wife as it is about the camaraderie and love between the said wife and her playmate from childhood. The screening of Shiraz in India makes a meta statement: The memory of what is valuable needs to be preserved, either as one of the wonders of the world or a painstakingly restored silent film.
The film was produced through a collaborative effort involving India, UK and Germany in 1928. Himanshu Rai, one of the founding fathers of the Indian cinema, played the eponymous protagonist. The film claimed to have been entirely shot at real locations and without any artificial lighting. This must have upped its exotic quotient in the West then. Sitting in a New Delhi auditorium in 2017, however, the focus remains on the art of filmmaking and, of course, restoration.
Robin Baker, the Head Curator of British Film Institute, demonstrated the ‘before and after’ of the print as a prologue to the New Delhi screening. As he explained the process, the pain of losing our vast cinematic treasure to neglect grew more acute.
Anoushka Shankar’s live performance accompanied the screening and the notes encapsulated the essence of this 1928 production: Present a story with the minimum loss in translation. Shankar’s composition was, predictably, a mix of East and West and was in sync with the film. Notwithstanding the virtuosity of the sound design, the experience was slightly marred by the bad acoustics of Siri Fort Auditorium. The notes were sometimes too loud for comfort and distracted from the on-screen ordeals of Selima, who’d later become Mumtaz Mahal.
The aftertaste of Shiraz is similar to that of the wine it shares a name with: Exuberant. After the initial gulp, the details, or the plot, recede in the background while the sommelier’s senses are awakened in unison by this burst of experience.
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