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Kamara Kamalova | The Grande Dame of Central Asian Cinema

Aditya Monday December 29, 2008

How does one describe Kamara Kamalova? The 'Grande Dame' of Central Asian cinema? And yet, she is as fresh and energetic as a young girl. She smiles with her eyes, a warm smile full of life and hope. Perhaps that is the secret behind her special bond with the youth. The pains and joys of being young come alive in her films - from All Around was Covered by Snow (1995), about the emotions and insecurities of a young girl to The Savage (1988), which speaks of the injustices of the Soviet system through the story of young lovers. Her most recent film, The Road Under the Skies (2006) also has that special element which addresses young people directly, hence its immense success with young audiences from India to Uzbekistan. An exceptional feat for a filmmaker who is in her late 60s. During the wrap-up session at the X Forum of the National Cinematographies of the ex-Soviet Union in 2006, Kazakh film scholar Gulnara Abikeyeva divided the historical evolution of post-Soviet cinema into three stages: the resolution of post-colonial issues in terms of their relationship to Soviet hegemony; the return to the ethnic-folkloric creativity; and the most recent trend of promoting national pride. While she placed films such as those of Sergei Bodrov and Ivan Passer, and Talgat Temenov's box-office hit, Nomad (Kazakhstan, 2005) in the last category, she thought Kamalova's The Road Under the Skies, with its highly decorative style, belonged to the second category. A close reading of this beautiful film, however, shows elements from all of the three above-mentioned stages, since the revival of folkloric culture is another way of showing national pride, which also involves a certain coming to terms with the colonial past. Kamara Kamalova is the most important woman filmmaker of Central Asia. But the road to the top has been a thorny one. To enter the prestigious VGIK (All-Union State Institute of Cinematography in Moscow) in the early 1960s was far from easy for a woman. However, graduation was not the end of her worries. She had to make cartoons, and work for TV before she could make her first film. Circumstances are different today but each epoch brings with it its own problems. With the relative freedom gained after Independence, Uzbek cinema, just as the other national cinemas of Central Asia, is battling with the lack of funds on the one hand and with the hegemony of Hollywood on the other.

The Road under the Skies has all the elements of a classic melodrama. A boy and a girl fall in love. Immersed in the euphoria of their emotions, they forget about customs and traditions. While the boy can walk away from his responsibilities, the girl pays the price of being the subject of malicious gossip and of mothering an unwanted child. And just like in classic melodramas about deceived and deserted maidens, before she is ready to end her life, another man arrives, and by accepting her as she is, saves both her and her child. Despite this melodramatic structure, far from sponging on the emotions of the audience, your film is full of life and hope, carrying the audience into a world of dreams where life can be beautiful despite its pains.  The film is inspired by a legend which is familiar to the Uzbek people, but I was not interested in making a narrative-driven film. I chose a style that was not realistic, but rather naturalistic and surrealistic. I mean stylistically naturalistic, reflecting national customs and traditions and most importantly, rituals. To this purpose, I used our national poetry and music. The subject motivated me. I had never done anything in this style before. I believe that a good subject is necessary to create a good arrangement, but that is only the starting point.

The film begins with the red train planted on the sand with a wide ocean in the background and then the story unfolds as the blind father spins a colourful yarn. At the end, we return to the train as the man who marries the girl helps her and her baby to step inside while he sings a beautiful love song. What does the train signify for you? The literal translation of the Uzbek title of the film is 'Have a nice journey'. The train and the road belong together. Just like the road, which you may take to signify life, the train also goes towards eternity.

The way you present the love story - with Biblical references to Adam and Eve, the apple, the snake and Paradise that eventually is lost to the lovers because of their 'sin' - is very poetic. You also use several erotic symbols (such as the chalice), all of which are a visual feast. At a time when screens are inundated with sex scenes that turn love-making into gymnastics, your approach is very fresh. The scene when the shadow of the girl's playful hand falls on the naked body of her lover was subtly suggestive. But some references may escape people who are not familiar with the customs of the area. For instance, when the man sends a leaf with a blue stone on it down the stream to the girl, I understood this to be a premonition that their love would be endangered one day since for Middle Eastern cultures the blue stone is a protection against the evil eye, nazar. However, some symbols escaped me. For instance, I did not understand why after the marriage, the husband takes a piece of wood from her family's garden, wraps it with a rug and brings it to the house to place it between the two walls of his entrance.  The wood is her trousseau. The man hangs it at the entrance to tell the village that now his house has a woman. It is not empty any more.

The old women turning around, singing and dancing reminded me of the chorus in Greek tragedies, but also the sirens in Greek mythology. I did not intend to draw a parallel. These women spread rumours about the girl's illicit love affair.

In certain scenes we move away from the legend and the folkloric costumes to contemporary settings, such as the playground of a school, and see the girls in uniform. But this does not change much of the story. How important is virginity today?  It is still very important.

There is a mature woman in white who appears several times and gives the impression of somehow directing the characters. I was not sure what exactly she represented.  The woman in white represents humanity. She appears in the beginning, in the prologue, which aims to attract the interest of the audience and hints at what will happen at the end. A premonition, one might say.

What about the burning of the effigy? The effigy is the symbol of gossip. Gossip also burns with the burning of the effigy.

Let's talk about your background a little bit. Are you from a family related to cinema? Where does the passion come from? I was born in Bokhara, which was a small town then. I did not come from a cinematic family. My father was a professor of philosophy and my mother, a schoolteacher. We moved to Moscow when I was very young. I saw my first film when I was six, in Moscow, where we lived next door to a movie house. My passion for cinema goes back to those days. I originally studied physics at the Moscow State University but I had friends attending the VGIK and I began to envy them. That is how I took the decision to switch from physics to cinema. I made documentaries at the VGIK and after graduation I joined the Uzbekfilm Studios and started making films. I have made 25 animation films and 10 fiction films.

Having worked in both the systems, the Soviet and now the independent Uzbek, what is your feeling about Uzbek cinema today? After Independence, we had no money to make films. For the past two years the government has been giving us money. But there is a financial crisis, which makes it very difficult for a national film industry to grow. I worked on this film for eight years. It was extremely hard to find the funds for it. In Uzbekistan, films are generally made with government funds. Fifteen fiction films are made each year, of which five are on 35mm. We also make 40 documentaries annually. There are some private studios such as mine. But even if you have a private studio, the government can still fund your film.

What kinds of films receive government funding? The state supports nationalistic films. About me, they have been saying, 'She makes Russian films!!' So here I made a film that was purely Uzbek, based on Uzbek culture and traditions!

What form of State censorship, if any, is exercised? The screenplay goes through the government competition system. Violent films are refused.

There have been incidents reported in the West pointing to the control exercised by the state on artists. They don't control me! If they give me money, I proceed. I do not face the problems encountered by some private companies which make films with private money and then are obliged to ensure that the investors get their returns.

What is the present relationship with Russia in terms of cinema? In the past, we made Soviet movies. We studied in Moscow. Today, former actors make movies, but they lack the experience.

What about the cinema halls? Are they privately owned? Cinemas are owned both by the state and by private companies. But there are very few cinema halls in the capital Tashkent, and none in the rural areas. TV replaces what is missing.

Around the world, audiences are drawn to American culture and Hollywood films. What is the reaction to your films in your country? My films are for the youth; they are dedicated to young people. The reception is very good.

Some years ago, Uzbek films used to draw more crowds than Hollywood films. This is no longer the case. American movies dominate the market. In the old days we used to show good films from different parts of the world, but today there is no money for that. Cheap Hollywood films are bought and shown in theatres. There is a lot of violence in these films. We also show Indian (Bollywood) films.

In some other countries such as Turkey, local filmmakers have been resorting to Hollywood-style blockbusters to win back the audience alienated by art films. Is this the case in Uzbekistan?  Very much so. They try to imitate Hollywood to win back the audience. But to imitate Hollywood you have to have good technology and good actors, which we do not have.

I hope we do not have to wait another ten years for another film from Kamara Kamalova. I am ready but it all depends on financing, which may take very long.

by Gonul Domez

Interview

Supriya Suri's Interview with Muhiddin Muzaffar

Director Muhiddin Muzaffar (1) 2 Min

1. I entered the cinema through the theatre. I was an actor in our local theatre called Kanibadam, named after Tuhfa Fozilova. After working for five years, I decided to do a theatre director course. I graduated with honors and became a director. We successfully staged performances at international festivals.

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