I have often seen monkeys eating the eggs of the whistling thrush, a bird that nests between a roof extension and a window awning in my house in Nainital. Perhaps in the current scenario, it is blasphemous for me to state this observation as monkeys are attributed with divine qualities and presumed to be vegetarian. Hard evidence may not be enough to save me from being accused of having a perverse imagination.
The recent controversy around Tamil film Annapoorani – multiple cases have been lodged against the makers and Netflix by “Hindu” organisations for hurting religious sentiments and promoting “love jihad” – is a clear illustration of how self-appointed watchdogs of our “culture” and “religion” can intimidate even multinational corporations, leave alone individual filmmakers and producers. The film had a theatrical release last December, after getting a censor certificate, but the uproar after its online release resulted in its removal from Netflix and an apology from the makers.
The film’s theme is an attempt at promoting Hindu-Muslim unity as well as questioning culinary conventions and mindsets. The plot involves a Master Chef competition and a Hindu vegetarian woman’s dilemma as a participant: She has to cook a non-vegetarian dish. Her competition and love interest, a Muslim, convinces her to break the shackles of convention and religion and leave her vegetarianism behind, resulting in her winning the competition. For a pro-vegetarian mindset like mine, the plot may seem unsavoury, but my taste in films and personal ethics are not the point.
When Netflix first came to India, it was welcomed by viewers hungry for legally available eclectic and international content. And when the platform began producing Indian content it seemed to many filmmakers that they would finally have the space to make films and shows that were not constrained by narrow ideas of regional morality because content on streaming services does not need censor certification. The onus of the nature of the content lies with self-regulating bodies within these corporations.
However, it was soon apparent that the “bold” and “pathbreaking” tags new content was saddled with were euphemisms for an increase in sexual content and gratuitous violence, with crime and the underworld being the primary themes of many shows and films. Nonetheless, it felt extremely liberating to have a space that was immune to the vagaries of political, moral and religious policing – an extension of the independent filmmaking space but with huge budgets and greater reach in terms of worldwide viewership.
It was logical for corporations to try and cash in on the vast number of potential subscribers in India and catering to the wider masses became a priority over making niche content. Soon, OTT platforms were available on various devices and anyone even in the remotest part of India could access their content on mobile phones. With the burgeoning of subscribers, streaming platforms mushroomed overnight and the market was flooded with digital content, a dream scenario, it would seem, for the Indian viewer.
While there has been content that has broken the mould, in general, successful formulae have been reformulated and it is hard to distinguish one platform from another. Also, the platforms began inviting established production houses, those commercially successful in films and television earlier, to produce their shows. In short, a space that had seemed ripe for interesting and independent content has been taken over again by the usual players.
The other fallout of the wide reach of these platforms is that they have come under the scanner of the self-appointed vanguards of our moral fabric, fringe elements who are dictating censorship of the content, even going so far as issuing personal threats to the heads of these corporations. After some initial resistance, the platforms have taken a step back and are succumbing to the diktats of these bullies. Not to do so would risk expulsion from the Indian market. Individual producers who have a personal stake in the material they are producing might be ready to stick their necks out in such a crisis, but a corporation run by employees whose creative accountability is far lower than their commitment to profit would be unwilling to do so. In fact, many multinational corporations, like Twitter and Facebook, which one thought were immune to regional political and social pressures have also given in and bent the knee.
Streaming services are free to run uncensored versions of films online, according to the Cinematograph Act and the IT Rules, 2021. However, most platforms do not want to take the risk of doing so and Netflix, after being embroiled in several controversies, has bowed to censorship and has stopped streaming uncut Indian films globally. It is also expected that the Indian government will consider getting all streaming platforms into the purview of censorship soon.
The Constitution of India while guaranteeing freedom of expression, set up the Central Board of Film Certification in 1951. The aim was to “preserve and restore the rights of both artists and the public by introducing a balancing mechanism.” Even though cuts recommended for a film by the board members are subjective, and are not invulnerable to political and social proclivities, the decisions can be challenged to some extent and the process of censorship is within a structure. While a few filmmakers through the years may have felt dissatisfied with the CBFC’s decisions, there was no atmosphere of open hostility, fear or personal censure.
In the present scenario, any group or fringe element can unofficially dictate censorship leading to an atmosphere of guardedness, fear and hesitation. This has caused streaming platforms to shun content that they perceive to be even remotely controversial. Filmmakers are therefore forced to self-censor, starting with the process of ideation, if they want to get their work across to the world. There is no greater disservice to the cause of art or cinema than this.
When fear becomes a habit, it is hard to overcome. Perhaps when I see a monkey eating bird eggs again, the filmmaker in me will avert her eyes.
Bela Negi is a writer, director and producer
