In the docu-series, “Angry Young Men”, Javed Akhtar (of the famous Salim-Javed duo) is asked whether they consciously created the archetype of the ‘angry young man’, the middle-class hero who rebels against the system. Javed responds that it never occurred to them that they were creating an iconic character that would forever imprint their names in the pages of cinema history. Nonetheless, they borrowed from their own reality. Their own frustrations in the India of the 1970s, however subconsciously, may have informed their creative choices. He asks: “Can artists really create art that is untouched by their own experiences?”
Around the time the Salim-Javed duo was scripting new peaks of cinematic success, there existed a parallel cinema movement too. These movies were marked with overt ideological messaging and influence. A few of them are relevant today for the cinematic representation of real-world events. For instance, Manthan (1976) chronicled the pioneering milk cooperative movement that kickstarted India’s White Revolution. Many other movies offer a peek into India’s turbulent decades of 1960s, 1970s and even 1980s.
While few of them are of archival value today, most were met by lukewarm reception when they were released. It’s easy to guess why. The characters appear like archetypes, the conflicts seem contrived, and the story looks like an afterthought to the preconceived ideological wireframe.
The filmmakers may defend their work by stating they were simply mirroring real-life. But that’s the job of a documentary. A movie is a piece of art, and here, storytelling is more critical than the story itself.
And, this is where Salim-Javed won big. What is Deewar (1975) if not an indictment of the poverty and corruption of 70s India that frustrated young men no end. What is Zanjeer (1973) if not a social commentary about the system’s failure to ensure justice and how it prompted people to cultivate apathy towards what happens in the society just to stay sane.
But the point is that these messages were embedded one level below the storyline. These movies can be relished by a common cinema-goer too. That it also lends itself to a more layered interpretation is strictly incidental.
The Thin Line Separating Art and Propaganda
No art exists in a vacuum, because every creator brings their worldview to their craft. Yet, enduring pieces of art emerge when artists keep their self and ideology at arm’s length.
When ideology dictates art, the story becomes merely a vehicle for that ideology. Characters lose their complexity, instead serving as cogs to push the narrative along a predetermined path.
Ayn Rand is a good example of this contrast. All of her works are ideological. But her writings until ‘The Fountainhead’ were rooted in strong characters. Characters that simply behave according to their own inner compass, not how they ought to have behaved. The Fountainhead is where the cracks started showing up. But the characters still retain some complexity and the story stands tall on its own, despite some glitches. However, in Atlas Shrugged, Rand’s philosophy overwhelms the story. As a result, the book reads like a manifesto rather than a novel. The book has more speeches (directed at the reader) than realistic dialogs between the characters.
In contrast, George Orwell’s 1984 masterfully criticizes an ideology without reducing itself to a polemic. This happened because Orwell focused on the loss of individuality due to forced conformity rather than belaboring on communism (which was his objective anyhow). Yet, his work shined a spotlight on the perils of communism more effectively than intricately argued books.
Significantly, both Rand and Orwell take an anti-communist stand. But, while Orwell is celebrated across political divides, Rand only owns a tiny niche within the conservative spectrum. That 1984 is now claimed by people across the political spectrum is a testament to its enduring quality.
Personal is Personal
There’s this woke notion that artists are morally obligated to use art to perpetuate the social or political ideology. That neutrality in the face of injustice is complicity. That the personal is political.
Indeed, historically, art has moved masses, sparked revolutions and toppled regimes. But even ideologically-inspired works endure when they make the ideology subservient to the larger story or canvas. It’s only when the work lends itself to diverse interpretations that it truly survives.
What’s the surest sign of a young artist? An omnipresent, often brazen, reflection of himself in his work. A young artist is obsessed about his voice. It’s a mark of maturity (not surrender) when he allows characters to develop their own voice, sometimes at odds with his personal beliefs. When he submits to the muse (or inspiration if you will) and lets it take center stage.
What’s the surest sign of a seasoned artist? His work is conspicuous by his absence.
When an artist refuses to let their work be categorized or to take sides in a political debate, it’s not necessarily because they lack conviction. It’s because their allegiance is with art itself, not with any single cause. Ambiguity and complexity aren’t disadvantages; they actually enrich their art. Nuance is not an excuse to avoid a stand, it’s often their way to acknowledge our lives are full of contradictions.
On the contrary, a sense of certainty is fatal to art because it turns stories into sermons. The complexity collapses into a slogan. Such propaganda-led art may have its uses in society. But its longevity and relevance are compromised.
Art for Art’s Sake
In the end, the artist’s biggest responsibility is towards the art itself. Art is not meant to be a tool in an ideological arsenal. In Michelangelo’s words: “The true work of art is but a shadow of divine perfection.”
Art must allow us to reflect on the vast tapestry of human experience. It must console the aggrieved. Inspire the depressed. Provoke the suppressed. It must “comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable“.
That’s the power of art. And, it’s worth doing art for art’s sake.
Musings by Madhav 
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