Projectionists step out of shadows, felicitated for their silent contribution to cinema
Unbeknownst to the hooting crowds in the air-conditioned theatre below (Regal was known to be India’s first), Aslam and two other film projectionists would spend roughly nine hours feeding and unloading 35mm film reels on two film projectors—bulky steel behemoths that filled up a room, emitted unreasonable amounts of heat and light. It was a laborious job, to put it mildly.
MUMBAI: In 1970, Mohammad Aslam’s day as an “apprentice operator” at Mumbai’s Regal Cinema would begin at 11 am. There would be four shows, two shifts, beginning at noon. “We were showing only English films, with one Hindi film every year,” said Aslam. “On weekends, we would show Laurel and Hardy films and Tom and Jerry cartoons for children. Those were the days.”
Unbeknownst to the hooting crowds in the air-conditioned theatre below (Regal was known to be India’s first), Aslam and two other film projectionists would spend roughly nine hours feeding and unloading 35mm film reels on two film projectors—bulky steel behemoths that filled up a room, emitted unreasonable amounts of heat and light. It was a laborious job, to put it mildly.
“It was an opportunity and I grabbed it,” said Aslam, now in his 70s. Soft-spoken, dressed in a brown blazer, Aslam is one of three projectionists who have been in the business for 50 years, and who were honoured by the Film Heritage Foundation (FHF) on Wednesday for their contribution to cinema. Sitting in a red folding chair at Regal, waiting to be called up on stage and receive his award, he said he was “overwhelmed”. “I’m still holding on to that opportunity,” he laughed.
The award, planned as an annual event, is FHF’s initiative, a nearly-decade-old not-for-profit enterprise by film archivist and restorer Shivendra Singh Dungarpur to support the conservation and preservation of India’s film heritage. After they announced the award on Sunday—with a message from Amitabh Bachchan—they received nominations from across the country.
Parallelly in a celebration of the single screen theatre (also an endangered species), the award is meant to recognise the men who “spent their lives in darkness to light up ours,” as chief guest Naseeruddin Shah put it.
In the grand march of technology, the job of a film projectionist is just another casualty. “When you had a film projector you needed someone to rewind a reel and thread the projector,” said filmmaker Ashim Ahluwalia, who has supported the awards for “these unsung heroes of the film world”. “You needed the projectionist to change a reel every 11 minutes without the audience noticing the reel change.”
“You needed someone to maintain the focus, change the gate of the film if it was CinemaScope,” Ahluwalia continued. “It was a skilled job. You don’t need people to do most of this anymore. In fact, many cinemas don’t even have projectionists now. It’s entirely automated. Very soon you won’t need people to make films either and all this will feel like a very romantic age.”
Although, whether this is a casualty or convenience is a matter of perspective. Today, the projectionist’s room at any theatre is kitted out with computer stations -- movies arrive on hard discs and are played at the click of a button. Aslam believes that digital technology has enhanced the theatre-going experience. “There’s more clarity in the picture and we now have sound processors providing surround sound in place of transistors.” His own job as a projectionist is a lot more laidback now.
“We used to have carbon arc lamp machines, which we’d have to keep an eye on, because it would go off quickly,” he explained. Carbon arc lamps looked like welding rods and were able to support reels that were no more than 20-minute long. Along with the manpower required to change over film reels, they were also expensive. “Then came the xenon bulbs, which were easier,” said Aslam.
Lakhan Lal Yadav, another awardee, has operated film projectors, both celluloid and digital, for over 60 years at Raipur’s Amardeep Cinema and Raj Talkies. “I witnessed two to three machines come and go,” he said. While operating the older machines, getting distracted came at a cost. The audience would complain about light and sound if he wasn’t working at high alert at all times. “It’s become convenient with computers; they don’t need men to function.”
“A bitter truth about our industry is that the people who work the hardest to make a film are the least appreciated,” observed Shah. To somewhat correct that, FHF is also awarding ₹50,000 to each as cash prizes funded by the now defunct New Empire cinema’s former owner Roosi K Modi, Book A Smile and Ahluwalia.
On the sidelines of the event, Modi underlined the absence of exhibitors at an initiative like this. Ahluwalia said: “As a director I have a great love for celluloid, having shot three projects on film stock. I share a love of the older traditions of filmmaking [with the founders of FHF]— just things like the idea of going to a movie theatre and watching a 35mm film projected on a big screen. This idea of the movies we took for granted is disappearing.”
Aslam and Yadav understand the magic of celluloid, but are also overwhelmed by this honour, and continue to seek the shadows. “I’m illiterate, I’ve been doing this since I was 20,” said Yadav. “Now the kids are married and grown up, so to stay occupied, I will do this for as long as I can.”
“Change is for the better,” added Aslam. “Technology is evolving all the time. You can’t stop it, you have to go along. I continue to learn.”
