In the larger world, documentary films are generally considered to be an esoteric and unpopular format. But here in Kathmandu, the audience flocking to see the films of Film South Asia 07 held two weeks ago flouted that judgment and attested to the vibrancy and vitality of documentary filmmaking. FSA's line-up of documentary films from (or about) the subcontinent were invariably of the highest quality; and the Nepali entries were, happily, no exceptions.
The impressive achievement of Kesang Tseten in We Corner People is already well-known among film circles here, not least because of his ability to excel within the sometimes suffocating restraints of the NGO-dominated culture of documentary filmmaking. Tseten may have been commissioned to simply document the impact of a bridge construction in a remote village of Rasuwa, but instead he delivers the multifarious voices of the inhabitants whose collective aspiration reconfigures the significance of the project.
Pranay Limbu's entry Forgive, Forget Not! may have garnered the greatest amount of excitement, gauging from the almost palpable sense of electricity in the audience of the packed movie hall. Experimental yet effective, artistic yet punchy, Forgive reenacts the experience of Bhai Kaji, a Nepali journalist detained without charge at the Bhairabnath military barracks for fifteen months in unimaginable conditions, during which he was subjected to frequent torture.
Depicted in the first person, the camera is often hooded, rendering those scenes almost completely obscure save for the edges of his vision and the light that penetrates the black material. Combined with the narration delivered by Bhai Kaji himself and the important soundscape, the scant images we are allowed to see convey on a deep and visceral level the senseless injustice of Bhai Kaji's harrowing experience. Establishing a form and syntax that is original and so successfully exercised, it marks a landmark in documentary film in Nepal.
The potential of documentary films to reveal the human condition in both its beauty and rawness is rarely as effective as it is in Dipesh Kharel's A Life with Slate. This sublime, charming, and winning documentary about the Thami slate-miners of Dolakha follows the work-cycle of the miners as they harvest slate from the rocky quarry and then journey arduously to their clients to deliver their yield.
Trained as a social anthropologist, Kharel's film is about comprehending his marginal subjects, the 'others'. But Kharel somehow delivers something that is far from pedantic. What we get is not just a view into the particular practices of one distinct community, but rather an evocative meditation on human labour, its meaning, and its centrality to the rhythm of life. Scenes like a married couple bickering, two friends lazing, or miners breaking off to discuss political affairs brilliantly capture the texture of their working lives.
The talents evinced by these films and their brimming receptions herald the maturation of a movement that has already expanded beyond the limits imposed by the showcases that we presently have for them.
One hopes these documentaries and others to follow will find the wider releases that they deserve.
