Punjabi: A man of cinematic vision

Joyeeta Dutta Ray, Contributor/Jakarta

In the city of Surabaya, a little boy of eight once propped himself up on a stool, peeping through the windows of a cinema hall, watching a Hindi film for three hours at a stretch.

The movie was a free screening for the military. But the impact it made on the men in uniform was little compared to the impression it made on the boy. As he walked away, a fiery zeal lit up his eyes. He promised to himself that one day, he would be a part of that world.

At the age of 15, the boy left Surabaya for Jakarta. It was the first step to realizing his vision. By the time he grew up, he was well up the ladder. Raam Punjabi now is a name every Indonesian in the country is familiar with.

"I am the luckiest man in the world", the movie maestro says today. "My hobby is my business!"

Raam Punjabi's life is what movies are made of, literally and figuratively. Affluence is his second name. Perseverance is his road to fame. Although he inspires awe and respect from most quarters, his journey has not been without thorns. His credit lies in the way he has pushed them away.

"Before 1989, Indonesia had no television industry to speak of," Punjabi starts. "Movies were limited. In the early 1960s, Western movies were banned. Only Russian and Hindi movies were shown on television. There was no dubbing. One had to follow through subtitles." Yet, whatever little he was exposed to stayed with him.

When Punjabi decided to venture out in the field, he had big plans. He teamed up with a director and decided to oversee production. "I did not know the `ABC' of production then. I placed my trust in the director and blindly hung on to his every word."

They planned an ambitious project titled Mama for the 70 mm screen together and gave it their all without a thought to the finer aspects of filmmaking such as a strong script or technical details.

The result was a complete disaster that left him virtually bankrupt. To anybody else, it may have been the last venture. To Raam Punjabi, it was the first valuable lesson.

Punjabi gathered himself and proceeded to figure out where he went wrong. "I felt the need to understand every aspect of filmmaking. I began doing my own editing, looking into every technical detail, and creative aspect."

With every challenge, his attachment and fascination grew. The sum total of his new-found learning encouraged him to attempt a second film in 1974. Demi Cinta (For the Sake of Love) became a runaway hit. Since then Raam Punjabi has made six films every year.

In 1993, the pace slackened when the government decided to take over the reigns of the business. Fundamentalist views corked shut his creative ideas. Rigid thinking robbed him of any freedom.

But determined to conquer new territories, Punjabi opened the first cineplex in Jakarta -- Planet Hollywood -- and chose to specialize in the production of movies.

"The government is still unreceptive", he says. "There is no unity of thought. Viewers have a point, fundamentalists have a different perspective, analyst's views are not in sync, international needs are on a separate wavelength. The government has never understood what movies the country needs" he laments.

He has reason to be regretful. Last year, Punjabi made a movie Buruan Cium Gue (Kiss me Quick). The film was greeted with serious controversy, despite it being passed by the censorship board.

"The film ran into deep trouble. Indications were given to have it withdrawn from screening. I did so after three weeks, before the government could ban it, simply because I did not want to split the verdict between the politicians and the censor board."

The decision says much about Punjabi's sensitivity. He re- edited and re-shot sections of the film and released it again recently under the new title that translates to the subtler One Kiss.

When Punjabi branched out into television, restrictions did not end there. "Recently, a broadcast commission was set up to advise the station on what ought and ought not to be done. The criteria differed for foreign and international films.

Television has banned kissing. The fact is TV or movies cannot be connected to the local culture. Movies must flourish in their own realm to tell a complete story, reflecting the good, bad and ugly.

It's an environment that has a mix of people. The virtuous or the good cannot exist in isolation. Why should a human being need to be a perfect?" he quips.

Punjabi continues, in the same context, "Like every product, movies need packaging to attract viewers. Even medicines for children need to be sugar-coated to be attractive.

"The audience does not like to be treated like students. Messages need to be conveyed discreetly, not blatantly. Viewers are highly intelligent. They should be left to judge for themselves."

He has a tough job on his hands. "The press has given us the icon of pioneers. That means whatever we do becomes a benchmark."

Punjabi's production house is indeed a benchmark, churning out a series of successful Indonesian serials that have revolutionized the small screen.

Some are being exported to other countries. A serial for children, Bidadari (The Angel), which has been running for four years in a row here, has inspired a Hindi serial in India under the title Sone Pari.

Punjabi's convictions have turned everything he touches into gold. Perhaps the only thing more valuable than his possessions is his heart, a fact that only his close aids know about. If you ask for his finger, he is known to hold out his hand.

A man inspiring a whole nation is bound to inspire his family first. While his children nurture dreams of stepping into his shoes someday, his wife and relatives are integral leaders in his team.

"In the beginning, local products were not anywhere in the reckoning. Now nine out of 10 blockbusters are ours. Indonesians must know that we are here to stay."

His vision for the future is as big as his dreams. "There are some basic criteria in life -- eating, working, playing ... my aim is to make movies figure among them. We are planning four feature films this year. There are no distributors so we will go straight to TV stations. The risk is all ours."

With his background has he contemplated opening a film school in Indonesia? The idea hasn't escaped Punjabi. "I have been talking to the city governor for allocating land but nothing is happening. If it doesn't, I will go ahead and do it myself! We will hone new talent. The technical and creative side will take time. But we will do it!"

Do it he will, as he has always done. Raam Punjabi is a man who has lived life on his own terms. When he sets his mind to it, few are allowed to get in his way.