FilmIndia (1940)

FILMINDIA August 1940 Madan Theatres, I was merely an observant journalist trying to get a hang of this industry. And what did I find then? That several studios were no better than brothels. That most of the actresses were no worse than street prostitutes. That many of the directors were common profligates. That almost all story writers were just prize-fools of the day. That financiers took the girls on as an extr-i interest for their money. That several producers were mere opportunists — at times no better than pimps. That the dignity of labour was not even sighted. That there was no planning, no discipline and even no desire to improve. It was at that time that I swore to devote myself to a crusade of cleaning up things — telling producers what other countries do — and pointing out to one and all the immense potentialities of the film for national and social progress. My first six articles in a daily paper were merely suggestive of the improvements that could be made in PADMA DEVI, chic and smart, as Barua would have her in "Shap Mukti" the Bengali version of "Zamana :' the industry. No one read them and some who did, did not care. I decided to wake them up and I came out with a blunt and unvarnished account of the actual state of affairs then existing in the industry. I called studios brothels, as indeed most of them were then, and their producers, brothel-keepers. They sat up and looked askance. No one had attacked them before in this way. No one had torn the veil aside so roughly before. No one had told them previously what they have been. "Who is this Baburao Patel?" was the question they asked one another, not so courteously, of course. The film people have their own langage which good people of the world do not yet know. I did not allow them to speculate long. I went and met all of them. They were all surprised at seeing a young man doing all this. They advised me, warned me, threatened me and even offered me jobs. They said I wrote beautifully. Why not use the talent for boosting their pictures? It promised to be a more paying job, but I refused — refused the offers and refused to be cowed down. I kept on writing in several daily papers. The producers stopped their advertisements of these papers. And those papers could not afford to lose their revenue. They stopped publishing my articles. For months, I did not know what to do to prosecute my mission. I met a friend and with his help I started a weekly paper "Cinema Samachar," in three languges. It was printed in English, Marathi and Gujerati and within a month it secured a very good circulation. In it I wrote what I liked — the truth always. In it I attacked pictures and condemned them when they pictur'sed obscene items. Within a couple of months "Cinema Samachar'* was boycotted and not a single producer advertised in it, but the paper sold. It sold on the treadle when its ink was wet. Its big sales paid ils way because of its cheap get-up. Often several exhibitors sent in donations on the quiet because they learned to rely on my reviews for their bookings. I was called to the Studios and threatened with physical violence. A dozen times I was man-handled by the Studio bosses and formidable looking sticks were flourished in my face as an extra warning. Again and again they called me and I never refused to go. They were all beginning to be conscious of my merciless and scathing criticism and whenever I went to the studios all were on their best behaviour. Bed rooms attached to the offices of the studios bosses were fast disappearing. My heart and stature grew to see signs of improvement. At last my crusade was having its effect. I was still an outcast but I did not care as long as my paper sold and secured good results. One day a leading producer hit me on the head with a stick and flourished a knife as an extra intimidation. Being young and strong I gave him a sock on the jaw in return, and escaped through fear of being smashed to pulp by his pathans if I stayed there any longer. 4