Tapan Sinha and Feature Film Management

Tapan Sinha behind camera

The diverse film repertoire of Tapan Sinha was evaluated during his lifetime and again after his death. Tapan Sinha’s contemplative yet surprisingly simple films have been judged by their popularity. When his films are shown on television or reach the general audience on DVD, he is again appreciated, even in this new era!

This essay is not an attempt to evaluate Tapan Sinha’s film. Rather, I will try to write about his working methods and the working environment in his sets through the experience of working with him for a short time as an assistant director.

Tollygunge Film Studio and its heritage make us proud. However, today the old Gothic shooting floors, make-up rooms, and some faded pictures hanging on the walls remain as sad indicators of that glorious legacy. With the deluge of mega-serials, incompetent copies of commercial films in Hindi and South Indian languages the culture of Bengali films out of the Tollygunge studios, which used to be synonymous with the Bengali film culture, is now fast becoming extinct with the speed of time.

The legendary New Theatres
(Pic: SMM Ausaja Archives)

I know there is no point in lamenting the old days in an era ruled by the digital and nourished by a shopping mall culture. Yet, the bygone cultural atmosphere in which I grew up and be enriched remains unique. By working with Tapan Sinha, I was fortunately introduced to a glimpse of that tradition.

The director has the final say in filmmaking – and at the same time, it is also true that film is a collective art form. I found Tapan Sinha to balance the two with effortless skill. The day I joined his unit as an assistant director he told me, “Learn feature film management from Balai (Assistant Director).” At that moment, I did not understand what exactly he meant by feature film management. Later, working in his unit, watching him and later as a director myself, I realized how important that skill is in filmmaking, especially directing, be it fiction or documentary. Managing different people – crew, actors, producers; handling various subjects: screenplay, lighting, editing, sound, music, as a director you will want to get the best from everyone in all departments. Only then the quality of your film will be high.

Indeed, there is one person in charge of each of the different departments but as a director you must make sure that you get the best out of each of them. And to get that, the director has to gain the trust of those responsible people, motivate them to give you their best. I saw Tapan Sinha doing exactly this with fluency. I believe that this management skill along with his creativity has helped him to be successful for such a long time.

I cannot resist the urge to write here the unique experience of being in Tapan Sinha’s script reading sessions. Maybe, I will be able to explain with what subtlety a director was able to instil his creativity, emotion within the actors! It was a time when the script of Wheel Chair would be read out, with the lead actors of the film — Soumitra Chatterjee, Manoj Mitra, Nirmal Kumar, Arjun Chakraborty, Laboni Sarkar and Kaushik Sen. They had all gathered in Tapan Sinha’s drawing room. At first the director revealed who he chose for which character. Then he started his reading — the struggle of a wheelchair-bound, partially disabled, idealistic, and stubborn doctor to heal his patients. The story of an inhumane battle to normalize a young girl crippled from neck to toe. Tapan Sinha is reading, not out loud, but each character was slowly waking up in front of all of us, as if moving around in that room. Dr. Mallick seem to be making rounds in the hospital ward in his wheelchair. As if, we could see the patients lying on the bed, their slow movements, the first instance when the crippled girl could move her toes after lying motionless for days!

Soumitra Chatterjee and Laboni Sarkar in Wheel Chair (Source – Sukumar Roy)

Tea had arrived in the middle, but the script was being read for two and a half hours at a stretch! After the end, I could see from the eyes of everyone present that all could visualise the film’s moments, all the characters seemed animate before us.

Long before stepping in front of the camera, Tapan Sinha cast the characters in his films within the minds of his actors. Later during the actual shooting, I almost never saw him playing out any role for any of his main actors. Instead, he told the actors to act according to their own feelings. At the most, before taking a shot, he would sometimes convey the characteristics, mannerisms or typicality of a particular character to the concerned actor. The actor’s own characteristics and that of the character he played together gave the final on-screen presentation a different dimension. Even quite average actors also managed to lend naturalness and believability to their characters in Tapan Sinha’s films for this reason. Simultaneously allowing an actor to characterize freely and embody the essential traits of the character through that actor, seamlessly juxtaposing these seemingly contradictory tasks, is a hallmark of Tapan Sinha’s directorial prowess.

Tapan Sinha and Debika Mukkherjee at the outdoor location of Raja (1975)

Seen up close, I can vouch for how coordinated Tapan Sinha’s working method was. But it was never a suffocating bondage. Work was done in a very normal and relaxed sequence. This is because the time spent at the pre-production stage was quite high and the entire production plan was drawn up then with meticulous details. Not that there weren’t any changes of plan ever. But the possibility of this exchange was thought of in the initial planning itself. Therefore, the director or the unit members never had to complain about the cancellation of any shooting schedule. As a result, the future of a film was never jeopardized by spending much more than the planned budget.

Copy of a page from the original Shooting Script of Wheel Chair. From Tapan Singher Chalachchitra written by Sankha Bhattacharya (Pic: Facebook)

It is very important to understand how important proper scheduling is. Balai Sen, who worked with Tapan Sinha for more than forty years, used to make the schedule in Sinha’s unit. The mutual understanding between the two of them seemed to be inherent. In my experience of working with Tapan Sinha, I have seen the extension of shooting shifts only for a few days. Usually, he would mostly announce the pack-up half an hour before the end of the shift when shooting indoors because the scheduled work of the day could be completed within that time through immaculate planning! Yet I had never seen Tapan Sinha in a great hurry to finish the day’s work. He would always allow enough time for the cameraman to light, the make-up man to do make-up, the actor to rehearse. I didn’t even see him hesitant to take a re-take if needed. The shooting went on at an effortless, smooth, rhythmic pace. This smoothness was reflected in Tapan Sinha’s film’s simplistic storytelling. I later understood why he asked me to learn feature film management. I realise that the management of feature films is not only the work of the production manager or the assistant director, but the main control is actually with the director!

Arjun Chakraborty and Laboni Sarkar in Wheel Chair

An incident regarding Tapan Sinha’s editing will be relevant here. The editing of the film Wheel Chair was done on Image India Studio’s Moviola machine. Subodh Roy, the editor of many of his films, could no longer edit due to age and illness. So Tapan Sinha was editing with another experienced editor Arabinda Bhattacharya. The edit of a certain scene was not to the liking of Sinha. After much effort, even when he was satisfied, he stopped working long before the end of the day’s shift. He then instructed Balai Sen, “Balai, pick up Subodh from home when you come tomorrow, I will call Subodh and tell him.” Then, as he left the editing room, he looked at Bhattacharya and said, “I think Subodh will be able to identify the problem. His sense of timing is very good.” As Tapan Sinha walked out, Sen’s soliloquy, “I doubt if Subodh-da can be able to operate the machine, he can’t even see properly with his eyes.” I couldn’t help but agree with Balai-da when I visualised Subodh Roy at that time — weak body, almost impaired in the eyes.

Those who have edited or watched Moviola know that it is like a prehistoric mini-dinosaur — the sound of motors, the sound of filmstrips and sound strips running side by side, moving pictures on small blurry monitors, what can’t be seen clearly! To stop the moving film strip there is a pedal at the bottom which is controlled by foot pressure fluctuations. To capture a specific frame eye, hand, foot and brain coordination is needed! Seeing Subodh Roy sitting in front of the machine with a wobbly body didn’t give me any hope. Would he be able to even run the machine properly? But, to my disbelief Subodh Roy did run the machine smoothly, got the frame right, marked it, changed the two cut points, left out a small part of the scene — he was done in half an hour. The newly edited was scene played out, Tapan Sinha saw and rejoiced — “Perfect! Editing is all about timing.” This incident taught me how a director can improvise in a crisis and how to extract as much from a technician as possible. Tapan Sinha knew which work could best be done by whom. This is also one of his special management skills in film production.

Tapan Sinha in a thoughtful mood

A film director must be the ‘driver’ of his film unit in the true sense. Whether you’re a crew, an artist or a production boy — seeing your director turn up fifteen minutes before call-time every day will ensure a director’s commitment. You may feel like you can’t be late yourself for any reason. Call time at 10 in the morning means everyone to be there by 10, lunch at 1 pm means ‘lunch break’ at 1 pm strictly and the shift ends at 6 o’clock means pack-up at or half an hour before 6 pm — Tapan Sinha’s shooting schedule meant that. I saw famous make-up man septuagenarian Shakti Sen sitting in the make-up room every day 15 or 20 minutes before call-time, Balai Sen coming in earlier and fiddling with the script, still photographer Sukumar Roy was also seen to be present before the scheduled time. Gour-da, an old ‘production boy’ who had worked in Tapan Sinha’s unit for forty years, used to come and open the office half an hour before time. Cameraman Soumendu Roy and his associate Purnendu Basu also used to arrive early. And Bablu, the chief electrician, used to come at that time as well.

Tapan Sinha’s unit, thankfully, lacked the touch of Bengali’s so-called anachronism and laziness. At that time in the early nineties, serials, mega serials have infiltrated the Tollygunge studio. Commitment, perfection, discipline- these aspects of Tollygunge film culture which were once revered were soon becoming not so important anymore. Even at such times director Tapan Sinha inspired the unit with his effortless discipline, commitment, presence and the will to excel in whatever work one was committed to. His presence, his lengthening shadow was like an old but upright tree. Those of us who worked with him were proud to thrive under that shadow. We enjoyed the respect of the entire industry towards our unit. Working with Tapan Sinha — reading his scripts, watching him shoot, editing, discussing with him, watching his films — I learned a lot about filmmaking. At the same time, I also understood the fact that the management skills of the director in the process of film production are actually a very important element in realizing his desired creativity.

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