Friday, December 23, 2005

Exploring the resilience within

Dhruv Dhawan, a young filmmaker based in Dubai, has an explosive tale to narrate with his film From Dust. Filmed in Sri Lanka, it tells the story of people who were prevented from rebuilding their homes following the devastating tsunami. The film makes its world premiere at Diff on Monday. Rajeev Nair meets him




IN A world of uncertainties, hope can be a cliché. It almost stands as an excuse for inaction or a promise never meant to be honoured. Like a lazy man’s only resort, hope is that word one easily falls back on — to feed optimism but breed inertia.
Why, Dhruv Dhawan’s self-realisation from the making of From Dust, his first feature, is that he found his ideals and idea of hope terribly shaken. He says he lost his false idea of hope and having known the truth, it hurts. Yet, as bottom lines go, he too finds a silver lining. But that is for the viewer to discover as the film makes its world premiere at the Dubai International Film Festival on Monday.
From Dust, essentially, is a documentary though it does not figure under Diff’s Destination Documentaries segment. And it is made by a predominantly Dubai-based director — Dhruv had lived more than two decades here. He builds his story based on reality, and in doing so, he learnt a lot more about filmmaking than what his master’s degree at the New York Film Academy could have ever taught him.
A take on post-tsunami reconstruction and rebuilding in Sri Lanka, From Dust, included in Diff’s Cinema from the Subcontinent segment, was practically shot as a one-man operation by Dhruv. A graduate in cultural anthropology from the US — he took the course as a route to documentaries because many accomplished documentary makers are anthropologists — Dhruv was moved by the news of the devastation the tsunami had unleashed in Sri Lanka. Somehow, he felt that while the media was covering the event hands-on, a few vital elements were going missing, perhaps untold, or unnoticed. That was the pain and pace with which an affected population would go about to build their lives again.
When, in mid-January, he eventually decided to travel to Sri Lanka with his camera crew to make a documentary, he had his “treatment” ready. He had roped in a former colleague from New York as cinematographer, and they spent the first few days on recon. His colleague fell ill, couldn’t find his inspiration, and flew out. Dhruv almost dropped the documentary, when on the first-month anniversary of the catastrophe, he walked to the beach and saw children lighting candles in memory of the dead.
He started filming. And he never looked back.
That night, he also met one of the three protagonists of From Dust — Ravi, who had lost his father and sister but managed to save his mother. He lost his home, and was looking to pick up his life from the rubbles of destruction. Dhruv moved with him into a camp for the displaced, and there, in the night, his documentary started getting a firmer shape. He shared the nightmares of the children, the camaraderie of the camp-dwellers, and discovered a depth to his tale.
He also discovered two other protagonists: Cyril, a fisherman who lost his home and has now been relocated some 10 kilometres away from sea, and Cameron, an acupuncturist from Australia who flew in to assist the devastated population.
Gradually, From Dust found its true character — it wasn’t going to be another documentary on tsunami survivors. It was to tap and probe further into what Dhruv describes as how the “bureaucratic response exploited a natural disaster and converted it into an opportunity.”
The film is a tribute to the human spirit alright, but it is also an investigation into “why the rebuilding process has been slowed down by design.” Dhruv is not revealing any further except that his work discusses the government’s decision to restrict buildings 100 metres from the sea. The rest, he says, will come alive on screen.
Dhruv isn’t a stranger to the terrible suffering of humanity; he was in New York on Sept.11, 2001. He watched the destruction from the rooftop of his apartment and also filmed the shocked and frenzied reaction of people on the ground. But he says the scope of the tragedy was so overwhelming he couldn’t internalise it.
Subsequently, he returned to Dubai and was working as a corporate filmmaker. He has done films for Dubai Media City and Tecom, and also did the Diff 2004 commercial. The tsunami disaster shook him completely. “I knew there were going to be many stories arising from the situation. I didn’t know what.”
He sought them out in Sri Lanka, trying principally to capture the spirit of resilience of the people. His journey took him further afield. Initially, at times, he was scared of the implications of the journey, of his responsibility to his crew. That wasn’t to be once he began shooting on his own. Assistance only came from his driver, Niranka, whom Dhruv taught to record sound.
His 71-minute documentary is culled from 68 hours of footage filmed over 10 months canned through a very fly-on-the-wall approach to filmmaking. Dhruv would “shoot” without a tape for days together so when he comes back and actually shoots, his subjects wouldn’t bother to look or feel the camera. Not having a full-fledged crew too helped. The film was eventually edited in Dubai by Nirmal Chander.
Dhruv has brought in Cyril to be part of Diff and to interact with the audience and share his real-life experiences. In Cyril’s truth lies the film’s strength.
Cyril is only representative of a bigger picture. Can Dhruv’s bitter truth, told through the lives of Ravi and Cyril, make a difference? If yes, the filmmaker would have scored a lasting triumph that goes beyond the confines of cinema as mere art. Cinema would then become closer to life, no, life itself.