Notes from a filmmaker's diary

Memories of a film move you, so much that you vibrate with her emotion, within her world. You want to be one with that world. It resonates within you and outside you, thus evoking a sense of longing for that world. How many times have I heard the music of Truffaut’s “Stolen Kisses” and have just pined to see it?

A film also needs some time to grow on you. Depending on the subject and treatment of the filmmaker it may take a finite time to draw you into it. Very, very few films have achieved this from the first scene and first line. One good example is “Pulp Fiction”. There is something (I still don’t know what) in the mood of the film that makes you love her from the first shot. This technique of instant intoxication is present in many Hollywood films, which casts its spell from the opening frame. Very often it is used - although not always inspired by the narrative - to grab the audience’s attention from the first scene. This is also one of the popular techniques of screenwriting practiced in Hollywood.

Film is the science of repetition, of doing that exercise over and over again until you feel satiated and de-satiated. I wrote, re-wrote, read, wrote and re-wrote that script but still that elusive something is missing.

Memory and grief have a strange connection. You are thrown back to past memories in your most weak and fragile times. Somehow that memory saves you from further dilapidation.

Characterize the space and let the actors enter into that space. Many good filmmakers like Bresson will use space to convey an emotion which no actor or music can. It contributes very significantly to the “world of the film”, through some psychological genesis.

A good film has a tendency of finding its audience.

Are true creators really lonely people or they just revel in their own glory? A true artist has no right to shun himself from the rest of the society. He owes them too much to remain divorced.