Devdas: Editing Analysis

Click here for a summary of Devdas

The scene I chose is from the Indian tragedy film, Devdas.  It is the final scene of the film where the main character, Devdas, dies out of grief and drunkenness.  This scene has always been my favorite because it is so elemental and beautiful. Here, Parvati is restricted to her home by her elderly husband.  Her step-son informs her of the man outside their mansion who is dying.  He tells her that it is a man from her village named Devdas, who has a half done tattoo of her name on his arm (as it started to rain at the carnival where he was getting the tattoo done).  She immediately recognizes him as her Deva, her childhood love.  Out of sheer emotion, she uncontrollably runs to meet him before he dies.  However, her husband and everyone in the mansion tries to stop her.  The beauty of this scene is captured by different camera angles and aesthetics within the set and costume.  Her flowing saree in the back as she runs, the decorated hallways that surround her, and the bright red trees that shower Devdas as he dies are key aspects that make this scene so beautiful.  The use of close ups, extreme closeups, birds eye shots, and perspective shots help convey the dramatic nature of this scene.  Devdas promised Parvati that he would die at her doorstep and see her for the last time.  As he watches her, blurry, running towards him, he captures his last glimpses of her.  The emotion runs high because of the amount of close ups and extreme close ups present.  There is intense grief and helplessness in both Devdas' and Parvati's expressions.  
The editing of the sound and music were also key to this scene.  The voices of the other people calling Parvati's name were echoing and lower in volume in comparison to the dramatic music.  This was important because it highlighted Parvati's lack of concern for what was happening around her.  She shut everyone off as she mindlessly ran to see Devdas.  
The other element of editing that stood out to me was when shots of childhood Parvati running after Devdas and crying as he left for London were put back to back with shots of Parvati running to see a dying Devdas.  This highlighted the fact that Parvati and Devdas are never to be united.  
Of course, last thing the camera rests on is Devdas' lifeless arm with Parvati's incomplete name tattooed on it.  

Devdas: A Summary

Devdas is a beautiful Indian film that tells the tragic tale of Devdas' and Parvati's love.  Devdas comes from a wealthy family of landowners and Parvati is his neighbor who is not as wealthy.  Dev and Paro are inseparable childhood friends until Dev's father, out of spite for their growing closeness, sends Dev off to boarding school in London.  Upon his return, Devdas is very much in love with an anticipating Parvati.  Parvati has lit a candle in hopes that one day her and Dev will be together.  Their love and romance is highly dramatic and theatrical throughout the film.  When Dev's father finds that Devdas and Parvati are still in love, he is angered.  His entire family insults Parvati's mother and say that they will never get their daughter married to a respectable man.  Out of hurt pride and spite, Parvati's mother arranges her marriage with an elderly, widowed, and extremely wealthy landowner.  After this wedding takes place, Dev becomes a hopeless alcoholic that treads the streets of brothels.  He leaves his home and constantly insults his family members who are only concerned with name and wealth.  Devdas meets Chandramukhi, a beautiful prostitute who has fallen in love with him.  But she is hopeless because she is a prostitute and he is madly in love with Paro. 

 In Paro's new home, she is given much respect from  her step children who are the same age as her.  She is wealthy and respected, however, love is missing.  Her elderly husband tells her that she might be his wife but she can never replace his first wife (who has died).  She also tells him of her love for Devdas, but he expresses anger and locks her in the house.  One day, as promised, Devdas is dying in front of her house because of his constant consumption of alcohol.  While trying to meet him for the last time, Parvati is shut in her house and Devdas dies after seeing a glimpse of her.  He then speaks of childhood memories and childhood love.  

Response: Visit to the MOMI

The sparkling history of the Museum of the Moving Image was reflecting in the eyes of the excited tour guide, as he explained the past of the museum.  It was used as Paramount Picture's studio before film production moved to Hollywood.  The area was used for various films and television shows in the early production industry.
With a breath of the past, this museum has beautifully portrayed the different elements that have played a part in film production today.  The gradual and ground breaking development that every piece conveyed, made me appreciate the height that film production has reached.  Installations such as the zoetrope and the stroboscope increased my appreciation for the history behind moving images.  Such intricate developments resulted in dynamic productions that include sound and video laced into each other beautifully.
The museum is set up in a detailed, chronological setup.  The dim lighting and the basic colors of each room made it a more comfortable experience.  The interactive installations like the audio recorder was something that I appreciated.  Being allowed to experience such aspects of film production hands on is one way to make a museum more engaging.
My absolute favorite installation is the Feral Fountain, a stroboscope hidden behind a plain white wall.  Besides its scintillating affect, its artistry was mind blowing.  Such an seamless combination of lights, images, and movement is so different when see in the form of a stroboscope.  This was the first time I ever saw a stroboscope and it certainly won't be the last.
Visiting the MOMI again is a must for me, and most importantly, I will visit when it's less crowded just to go stare at the Feral Fountain by myself.

Audio Portrait: The Girly Stuff

The Girly Stuff

Jackson Heights, Flushing, NY: What I Hear

I smell the old Indian man and his screams.   It smells like samosas and chicken curry.  He’s screaming in Punjabi, telling his employee to get the potatoes out of the truck.  It sounds like home.

Every window brings a stream of pots and pans clashing into each other, almost like glass bangles hanging on my wrist, delicately hitting each other. 

A mother cooking for her husband, her children, herself.  She opens jars of spices.   Metal against glass. 

That’s all I hear of her. 

The keynote sounds are like a Bollywood movie playing in surround sound around me.  Every saree store I pass plays a familiar 90s song that fills my ears.  

Sound signals.   They want me to walk in and buy a bright saree sprinkled with enlarged rhinestones. The call me “older sister.”   Beckoning me to look at all the sarees that would look good on me.  Their voices sound like little three year olds, begging me for something.  I don’t even wear sarees. 

Every other car that passes by is blasting modern Indian music.  Obnoxious, auto tuned, Hindi songs with moments of bad English rapping.  I call it “weshtern” music.  It sounds like embarrassment.  Like when you trip on flat ground. 

On the last corner, by the train station, there’s a little kid that’s sucking on a light green kulfi, frozen sweet cream, pistachio flavored.  He keeps sucking on it, slurping the melting cream.  It’s almost like being in the shower and repeatedly taking off and putting on the suction cup hook on the tile wall.  The loofa falls off, but you keep doing it.          

Define a Space

Gnark: After Hours

Artist's Statement: The Process

I believe in bias and all its relevancy.  Everything I convey will be tainted by my perception.  And what I perceive comes from the melding of generations and generations of perceptions that comes from different countries, different people, different societies, different economies.  Everything is different.  I can't remove that from what I create.  And I will not apologize.  I will not apologize because what you are getting is my reality, the reality that expresses freedom and self understanding.  The best creations are those that contain images of reality, of someone's reality.  My reality is my hyphenated self, the self that I am not ashamed of nor am I confused about, nor am I trying to hide it.  I am a Muslim, I am Pakistani, I am Indian, I am American, and so is my art, everything that I create.  Everything I understand comes from the little hyphen between every different identity.  My identity lies in a hyphen and so does my art.

 

I am currently working on a short film about Jihad.  I am working with Muslim youth in the New York college community.  The essence of the film is understanding what Jihad really is.  Is it a word you heard on the news hidden behind the gaudy veil of terrorism?  Is it what you heard your parents talking about? Is it something you read about?  Whatever the case may be, my film deals with the true understanding of Muslims and Islam and if  its really what the news portrays it as.  This understanding and knowledge is absolutely necessary. And what better witnesses than young, American-Muslims who come from various different backgrounds and mentalities?

 

My work is inspired by the candid and what can emerge from the candid.  There are many things that can resurface from my creative pieces; however, the essential and underlying fact is that there is nothing simple and shallow, our observances hold very little validity and are soaked in our temperament.