Drama Production Workshop

Tom Cowan, DOP of Samskara, IMAX cinematographer and director of such cult Australian films as Journey Among Women, was at Infinite Souls last weekend. He facilitated a drama production workshop with a group of 12 participants.

The weather was drizzly, blowing hard and the light, blue. "Aashada has started" said Huli Chandru. We have two new young cows on the farm - Gowri and Sarasvati. Zui had also brought the puppies along. So there were 3 dogs and 6 puppies underfoot. The cows got in nobody's way, except when Mushroom danced up a storm around their hooves and they jumped about. "Did they jump over the moon?" asked Kai when I told him this story.

Saturday morning, we all headed to the round rehearsal space. First question to the group from Tom "Think of a character who desires something greatly."

Amjad - Someone desperate for a cigarette and in a place where he can't have one. 

Chandru - A man who desires to put an end to corruption through any means possible

Lekha - A person unfairly in jail who desires freedom

Abhishek - A boy who wants to find his father

Divya - A character who desires magic in her life

Madhuri - An artist who simply can't paint. She desires expression

Etc

Tom picks two stories and the group has 90 minutes to flesh the stories out and crystallize a 3 act structure for each. They will shoot The Artist on Day 1 and The Lost Father on Day 2. The films are cast, art directors get moving, Lekha is DOP for Day 1 and so on. They improv. the 3 act structure of The Artist once, with Madhuri and Tanvee acting. Then Tom says "Let's shoot." 

Shock! 

....but...but..I can't act (Tom:You don't need to)...can we rehearse again? (Tom: No)...how should I react? (Tom: You'll find a way)...ca...can we speak? (Tom: No)..then how...??? (Tom: Let's see)

Here is Tom's process for Day 1:-

1. Shoot a single shot of the whole film (it can be done with proper planning)

2. Review and assess the footage

3. Create a story board for a multi-shot based on the above

4. Shoot the multi-shot keeping in mind light/action/costume continuity (just in case you want to use some of the single shot in the edit

5. Edit

6. Music and titles as need be

By 7.30pm, they wrap the shoot and Tanvee and Madhuri start editing. 

Ashvin had brought in a veritable banquet of food the night before, so the wood-fire oven burns on and some of us party till late in the Magadi night. Some are so terrified of the dark (and perceived leopards, bears and ghosts) that they won't, as Lekha says, "step outside their pool of torchlight" to challenge Ashvin, the source of all their fear. 

Who's scared of the Big Bad Wolf, huh? Huh?

Day 2. In contrast to the Day 1 process, the group along with Tom decide to shoot 2 master takes (from opposite angles) and edit from that material. Abhishek, Zui, Ashvin and Lekha will be acting. As it is a road film, Gypsy the Jeep is to star in it. Folks get ready to rip off its roof for "additional light".

Kuki poignantly beseeches "Whoever takes the goddamn roof off had better put the bloody thing back before it rains." He also says "Zui, let me drive the jeep down the mud road, you won't be able to turn her around." "Dada you have no faith in me!!" protests Zui as she whirls around, Ashvin in tow, and drives the jeep away down said mud road. The rest of us, hats on heads, take position, ready to shoot. Chandru regales us with stories of other shoots as we wait. Of how his tiger got away while shooting Huli Banthu Huli, of how we got chased by a tusker on a narrow trail to Doddasampige during the Devarakadu shoot. 

20 minutes later, no signs of Zui and the Jeep. I call Ashvin. "...er..Kirtana..ummm... there's been a ...well, a bit of a thing. Noworrieswe'llbethereinaminute."

10 minutes later. No, Zui, no jeep, no Ashvin. Second phone call "Er...Kirtana, do you have a small mumtee?"

So we head off to find them.

Around the corner, along the bend - the jeep balancing a foot off the ground on two mud embankments. Ashvin trying to rev it out. Zui hiding behind a lantana bush.

Nagraj the Indomitable (along with mumtee and ghatapara) is summoned. Soon his shadow looms on us as he places his foot on the embankment and thrusts his ghatapara into the mud. At that very moment, our  neighbour, Huchappa, and his herd of goats and 4 cows choose to pass by. Taking stock of the situation, Huchappa flings himself beneath the jeep and begins scooping earth out with his hands. Fortunately, Lekha kept shooting through all this so Zui is immortalized in the Making of The Lost Father uttering those words made famous by millions of teenagers "My dad's going to kill me." 

After the drama of the jeep, the rest of the shoot was anti-climactic but nonetheless rendered some quality acting and a timely coughing fit by Divya the DOP. Editing began thereafter. In this case, the choices were largely about point of view. 

By 6pm, the group had 2 short films with music and titles ready to be screened. A small audience viewed them. It was interesting to see what the audience got from the films, how the individual's pursuit of a single thing (the named desire at the start of the workshop) can provide a framework for intersecting stories. And finally - how liberating to be able to tell stories, make feature films without that old fashioned dependence on funds, stars, equipment rental, studios, producers and the million things that perpetuate the myth that the individual is nothing without an army of support. Some participants said they learned more in these two days than in three years of back-benching it in college. Hmmm...

PS - For those who feel for Konarak, folks didn't put the roof back in time, it rained buckets that afternoon and the jeep did in fact get soaked. 

Cooking for the Season

June is the month for mangoes and mango eating. My grandfather would say that we should eat nothing but mangoes during this season, accompanied by glasses of milk. Eww...I can't handle the milk part. But mangoes! Green mango rice with ground mustard and green chillies, mango panna with cardamom and jaggery, mango lassi, mango sasimi, mango kulfi, mango rasayana with fresh coconut, mango gojju...

My mother's family adore the early Raspuris (first to come and first to leave), my father likes Malgoas, Konarak will not be without his Banganpallis (dat old Andhra blood) and our daughter thinks the sun rises and sets with Alphonsoes. But we try not to argue (it's bad enough playing Pictionary in this family) and just get all the mangoes we can and eat them through the season.

We collected two sacks full of huge mangoes from the farm this year. They are perhaps a cross between Raspuri and Badami. Many other plants came to fruit this season as well and the farm was a rhapsody in green. The lemon tree from Arunachal Pradesh that Minam brought to plant at Laddu's grave. The rosemary was in full bloom, perfuming jeans and dogs and anything else that brushed against it. But there were also pomegranates, mosambis, sapotas, papayas, guavas, passion fruit. And my first ever precious avocado! The muse of future salads, guacamoles and prawn cocktails.

Lemon Tree from Arunachal Pradesh

Passionfruit (captured before the cows eat them off the fence)

At least I think they're Mosambis

Guavas

My Solitary Avocado

Rosemary Blossoms

I had so many mangoes at one point that I made a quart of mango ice cream that is serving us well. But the season's hit has been our Ground Coffee Bean and Walnut Cake. On a rainy afternoon, nothing hit the spot quite like a warm slice of this pretty, speckled brown cake with toasty flecks of walnut. I was also aided in pleasure and delight by a book I ask that you all read - "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle" by Barbara Kingsolver, Steven.L.Hopp & Camille Kingsolver   http://www.animalvegetablemiracle.com/

It has inspired me to:

- Shop for local vegetables and ignore those Dragon Fruits and artichokes that I strictly do not need

- Try and grow more edible produce (how hard can it be to grow a tomato?)

- Make mozzarella at home  

- Be determined to raise some chickens (only for eggs, I'm not that brave) before the year is out

- Try to shop at Foodworld less

- Be aware of indigenous produce/ products (see www.vanastree.org/)

Now to the cake...

The beans I used are from Rainforest Retreat in Coorg. http://www.rainforestours.com/ In the spirit of the season and of cooking, I share the recipe with you! Note: The ground beans add a mild crunch to the cake.

Ground Coffee Bean & Walnut Cake

8 oz Whole wheat flour

8 oz Sugar or jaggery

8 oz Butter

4 Eggs

2 teaspoons Baking Powder

A pinch of salt

2 tablespoons Ground Coffee Beans

100 grams Walnuts broken into small pieces

1-2 tablespoons curd (you may or may not need this)

Whip together the butter and sugar/jaggery till light and fluffy. Sift together flour, baking powder and salt. Add the eggs to the butter mixture, one at a time, adding a little flour mix each time. Keep beating well till all the eggs and flour are done. Stir in the ground beans and the walnuts. If the mixture is too thick, add a little curd till you have a nice batter. Pour into a greased and floured tin and bake at 250 degrees centigrade until it has risen and a toothpick dipped in the centre comes out clean (about 25-30 minutes). Leave to cool. Or don't! My daughter likes this cake fresh from the oven with a mug of milk on the side. (She doesn't have her mother's problem with milk) Tell me how you'd like it?

dance, dance, otherwise we are lost

You can't kid around with inspiration. Its either there, kicking your ass and reaching so far down, touching places you thought impossible to reach.... or its not. That's the nature of the beast.

Dry months were March and April 2011, when nothing came by, not a thought and I was hard put to dream. And then I saw Wim Wender's PINA in 3 D.

                                                               Pina Bausch in Cafe Muller

Me, I'm crazy in pursuit of what works on stage. Observer, no purveyor of magic. Witness to the make or break of a moment. And die hard groupie of those who dare to be so naked and true that ones heart is larger from the transcendence of what they care, these the absolute royalty of performers, to reveal. Craft is all very ok, but without the added blueness of revelation, I'm just all yaaawwwn. I am willing to experience anything, from school plays to rock concerts, just to witness that moment of liminality, of transparency.

Pina

Pina

Pina

There's no going back. And yes, we must kill every Buddha on the path.

In the words of the artist who made the film about Pina Bausch...

"No, there was no hurricane that swept across the stage,

there were just … people performing

who moved differently then I knew

and who moved me as I had never been moved before.

After only a few moments I had a lump in my throat,

and after a few minutes of unbelieving amazement

I simply let go of my feelings

and cried unrestrainedly.

This had never happened to me before…

maybe in life, sometimes in the cinema,

but not when watching a rehearsed production,

let alone choreography.

This was not theatre, nor pantomime,

nor ballet and not at all opera.

Pina is, as you know,

the creator of a new art.

Dance theatre."

                                                          Cafe Muller - First performed in 1978

Indelible Image # 1: Black and white footage from an early "Carnations" of Pina playing the accordion, topless, in men's underwear.

                                                         Carnations - First performed in 1982

Indelible Image # 50: Pina telling dancer: "You have to get more crazy" and the dancer "trust" falling onto grass, then onto concrete. Rescued from hurt/pain/damage mere seconds before she hits concrete, by able hands.

                                                           From Wim Wender's Pina

Indelible Image # 100: Dancers giving way: Young, fresh, smiling to old, wizened, smiling. Ironic, but funny. As girl turns into woman in the centre of the line, in the shocking pink dress

                                                      Le Sacre du Printemps (Rite of Spring) 1975

It needed an artist who truly loves rock to make this film because it totally valorizes rebellion. And is simultaneously so tender and empathetic to difference, vulnerability, failure. Ah! What a good thing, that.

***************************

I returned to this page many days later. May 25th 2011. 

Two big events in the past month stirred things up.

1. Kuki and I were at the Beatles camp at Infinite Souls. The kids in rehearsal - all wigs, guitars, hats and sun glasses. Zui, at home studying. 

Joan was quizzical, studying metaphysical science...

A Sunday morning call:

"Muma, the bedroom roof has come down. I can see some workers peering in through the hole and I can see the sky."

A parapet wall from the neighbouring school fell on our bedroom roof crashing right through it and effectively destroying both bed and bathroom. 

Bang, Bang Maxwell's Silver hammer....

But no one is hurt or dead. Kiara normally sleeps and purrs on the ironing board that is now on the floor beneath slabs of concrete. Big, pregnant Prudence was in the studio with Zui, as was Kiara.

PC 31 said "We caught a dirty one..."

Rush back into town. Rubble and dust everywhere. Kurzweil keyboard, SCSI drive, RAIDS, Logic Pro, Acid loop CDs, computers, Hugo Boss, silver bangles my grandmother made for me, little boxes filled with beads, nose rings, the arched rosewood mirror my uncle gave me after he and my aunt were divorced. And the sky for a roof. God forbid it rains (before they put a tarp on) and makes for me some Rubble Soup served up in bed.

Bang, Bang Maxwell's Silver hammer...

2.In the midst of the carnage, 3 days after the roof crashed down, Prudence littered. 6 gorgeous Basset-dor puppies. Bamboo's puppies :) Life has a maniacal and self obsessed way of carrying bloody well on.

The sun is up, the sky is blue
It's beautiful and so are you
Dear Prudence won't you come out to play

***************************

And so....despite the hole in the roof and lactating Basset Hound, the marvellous KVK Murthy and I read Kat & Pet from Taming of the Shrew. 

And I'm working on a new play :)

Two smiles in almost as many lines is a good thing. Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Why is the Boy with a Suitcase?

Camp Mannheim, March 24th 2011.

Neckarau. An industrial suburb of Mannheim. Schnawwl has a rehearsal space here. The nearest food is the Turkish market or an organic store called Bittersuche. We usually stop at Tattersall and buy sandwiches for lunch.

Rehearsals for Mike Kenny's Boy with a Suitcase. 
Blocking and dramaturgy debates are done...
The nature of a collaboration
How much Indian/German presence is felt
Whether the structure is too German
The third level of performance

And we open on April 10th.   So now is the time to blog.

Andrea Gronemeyer

Or try and spin tops :)

I just realized that this play is completely about the refugee situation in Europe. Attempts to drawn a link between children's migration in India is futile. Everyday in the German news there are reports about boats carrying children into Europe, sinking. Four days ago forty children drowned. Today there is an article about young girls (largely Romanian) who clean car windscreens at the traffic lights in Berlin. They outline a heart in the soap suds and hope that people pay them before the Polizei get them. This is the context of the play.

Naz, the protagonist, is almost certainly from Afghanistan. The refugee camps are usually in Iraq. Smugglers pick up the children and take them to Turkey, where they get on boats and try to make it into Greece, Italy and Spain - EU countries - from where they hope to make it to wealthier EU countries such as Germany and France.

Krysia could be from anywhere. Serbia, Croatia, Romania...

Unimaginable that in Europe's richest countries, it is possible to find children who have so little and still stand to lose so much.

In India, for better or worse, we see the nature of child labour. In Europe it's a dirty secret.

Ode to Huckleberry Finn

When I think of you, I think "river" and "raft" and "Injun Joe". Not for me the mollycoddling of this new "sivilized" edition. Give me your niggas and injuns and their associated truths; Indian Joe has no resonance.

On January 1st 2011 as we rowed a canoe on a lake, it was you who sprang to mind. You, Tom Sawyer and Enid Blyton were my Adyar-childhood heroes and I wouldn't change you for anything in the world. I have no grouse with Big Ears sharing his toadstool with Noddy, or with Fatty's "furriners". I have no grouse with the use of the word "nigga" 200 odd times.

The canoe we took out glided like silk, not stirring a ripple. Brutus the Boxer swam alongside, anxious that we  were leaving him out of the adventure.

In front of us, two pelicans sailed serenely and then lifted as we approached. And the waterlillies...

The night before Renu asked "What is your new year resolution?" and me, previously annoyed by schedules, deadlines, said "To conquer Time". Time never was so slow as on the lake. And you knew that Huck, which is why Aunt Sally's home, couldn't hold a candle to the river or setting out to the West, could it?

Remembering Shanthi's words about taking the dogs and some beers out to the lake every evening. Man, he's you! He's Huck Finn! We want to be you Huck, don't you see?! So to hell with the kill joys. We've got your back.

Rush singing Tom Sawyer?
"What you say about his company
Is what you say about society
Catch the mist, catch the myth
Catch the mystery, catch the drift

The world is, the world is
Love and Life are deep
Maybe as his skies are wide

Today's Tom Sawyer...

No, his mind is not for rent

To any God, or government..."

BURNT NORTON
(No. 1 of 'Four Quartets')T.S. Eliot

I
Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future,
And time future contained in time past.
If all time is eternally present
All time is unredeemable.
What might have been is an abstraction
Remaining a perpetual possibility
Only in a world of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.
Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden. My words echo
Thus, in your mind.
                              But to what purpose
Disturbing the dust on a bowl of rose-leaves
I do not know.