How a fledgling Goan film industry is reinventing Konkani cinema

The film culture in Goa has experienced renewal after a few Konkani films had impressive runs

Bardroy Barretto’s native village of Galjibaga, in the southern reaches of Goa, would host the movies only a couple of times a year. This was understandable given even the local bus ferried only twice a day there. The same two ragingly popular Konkani films, Amchem Noxib (1963) and Nirmon (1966), were showed alternately throughout the 1970s and 1980s in an open ground with a hired projector, usually after sunset. The excitement in the lead-up was so all-consuming that by the time the show actually started, Barretto, in his tweens then, often ended up sleeping through it. “We would spend hours making up our own stories looking at the posters and lobby cards,” says the filmmaker, referring to his brothers and other children in the village.

If that boyhood exercise was responsible for sharpening Barretto’s storytelling senses, he has since paid proper homage to it. Screenings of Nachom-ia Kumpasar, his 2014 debut feature, have been travelling to theatre-less towns in the state. Not only did the film highlight the unsung contributions of Goan jazz artistes to Hindi cinema music, but its impressive outing in festivals and subsequent selection as the Indian Oscar entry also brought Konkani filmmaking to the attention of cinephiles outside the region. In fact, so little was known of the industry, lead star Palomi Ghosh had initially turned down the role. She compares the small-budget musical now to “Forrest Gump”, because like the iconic American movie character, “it just keeps running”.

Konkani cinema has received a boost recently, going from producing one notable film every year or two to releasing half a dozen prominent titles each year. Barretto appears to have cracked the code to meaningful filmmaking that can draw in the majority of what is a tiny market: just about 500,000 Konkani-speaking moviegoers. His slick venture was achieved inside Rs 5 crore, invested by 100 “producers” chosen from among family and friends, who each paid between Rs 25,000 and Rs 5 lakh. Most have been paid back. “We wanted to make this appear to be a commercial success, so it becomes a movement rather than a one-off film.” 

Encouraged by this new distribution model, more local producers and directors are sending their films on the road, to church halls and football grounds. Multiplexes, which demand 60 per cent of the yield and offer unappealing timeslots, are avoided in favour of cultural venues such as the Maquinez Palace in Panjim, Ravindra Bhavan in Margao, or the Hanuman Natyagruha in Mapusa. Screenings of Konkani hits take place in pockets of the Goan diaspora in London and West Asia, too. Still, these films are as yet labours of love rather than modes of money-making. “The industry is at a place currently where if a film is good, it can break even,” says Nilesh Newalkar, a builder-turned-producer who financed a 2015 remake of Nirmon. 

The landscape is quite different from 2004, when the decision to move the International Film Festival of India (IFFI) to Goa elicited objections that the state had no film culture at all. The festival resulted in the forming of an Entertainment Society of Goa, opening of new screening spaces, and workshops and film clubs that are frequented by aspiring filmmakers. Where films were funded mainly by builders who had financial and political weight, some formalisation is being observed as filmmakers and financiers set up production houses including Barretto’s Goa Folklore, Swapnil Shetkar’s Go Goa Gollywood and Miransha Naik’s Thin Air Productions. Shetkar made the comedy, Home Sweet Home (2014), and its sequel, while Naik is the director of Juze (2017), a hard-hitting film about the experiences of a young migrant labourer in Goa.

The 2017 Konkani film, Juze, by Miransha Naik won acclaim in the festival circuit

Isidore Dantas, Pune-based historian of the Goan community, is working on an update to his Konknni Cholchitram, a detailed account of Konkani filmmaking first published in 2010. The number of films has gone up from 36 to 84. Not long ago, Dantas helped salvage a piece of Konkani film legacy, quite literally. He was gifted a single reel of the first ever Konkani talkie, Mogacho Aunddo (Love’s Craving) directed by Jerry Braganza in 1950, which was solid as a brick and wrapped in newspaper. Barretto helped him pass it on to the Film Heritage Foundation (FHF), which has painstakingly softened and restored the frames. More reels of the film, made when Goa was still a colony, are likely available with the Braganza family, reckons FHF founder Shivendra Dungarpur, but they have “not been too keen” in helping.

Native Goan cinema may still be small scale but Goa has been represented often in other cinemas. However, as the anthropologist Robert Newman writes, “None of the versions of ‘Goa’  — religious, political, touristic, or cultural — which spread round the world were ever fashioned by Goans themselves.” Goa, in his estimation, has been mythologised by Bollywood just as Hollywood caricatured Hawaii. Perhaps as a consequence, Goans long for stories that are closer to their reality and told in their first language. When such a film comes along, they watch it multiple times. YouTube comments suggest the audience is also brutally honest, and calls out certain films for “lacking Goan flavour” or “trying too hard to be like Bollywood”.

A frame from a single reel of Mogacho Aunddo, the first Konkani feature film, salvaged and restored by the film heritage

Nachom-ia Kumpasar ticked enough boxes for Joaquina Mascarenhas, a resident of the Latin quarter Fontainhas, to pay to see it more than 150 times. The 62-year-old with a contagious laugh scans show listings in Herald every day for possible announcements, and walks alone to the cinema place. She meets other fans there, whose viewings are in the high double-digits, says Raymond Fernandes, who manages ticket sales for independent screenings. “People have liked the film so much that they gift tickets to others.” 

A truck equipped with a projector, screen and speakers is sent around with eight volunteers to set it up. The old and young alike attend. During intervals, a quick round of housie is played to make an evening of it. 

The films have evolved in form, too. While early works drew heavily from the popular tiatr by interspersing love stories with many songs and a comedy track, the newer films have social and historical themes. Music, however, remains important to a film’s success, observes Mumbai-based filmmaker Nilesh Malkar. “There is a singer or musician in every Goan household.” The plots of his Konkani features Soul Curry (2017) and Kantaar (2019), both starring Jackie Shroff, featured music. Equally, many say, there are bad films being made with budgets as low as Rs 5 lakh that are hurting the reputation of the industry. 

Jackie Shroff and Ester Noronha in a poster of the recent Konkani release, Kantaar

Rajendra Talak made Aleesha (2004) and O Maria (2010) when few others were making Konkani films. The phone rings every few minutes in his well-appointed cabin in the Entertainment Society of Goa office, where he is currently vice-chairperson. In 10 years, he says, “Goa will have a release every month,” helped by government schemes like financial assistance and awards. 

Other pioneers offer a word of caution. In the early 2000s, Laxmikant Shetgaonkar used his theatre background to write and make short films, with the larger hope of starting a Konkani film movement. After winning praise for his debut, A Seaside Story (2004), based on how tourism effected changes in life in his village Morjim, he launched village screenings. His first full-length feature, Paltadacho Munis (2009), bagged the FIPRESCI Prize at the Toronto International Film Festival, and generated enough buzz to be able to outrun Hrithik Roshan-starrer Kites at Goa’s multiplexes. To ensure the survival of local filmmaking, Goa, like Maharashtra, will need to reserve prime slots in multiplexes for Konkani cinema, he observes. His next film, a periodical, has been slowed by lack of funds.  

Goa’s is among the better film finance schemes, in director Naik’s view, but the government does not offer timely funds. He is yet to see any money for his 2017 release (Juze), which he ended up self-financing. Naik has had to translate his next story, scripted for a Konkani audience, into Marathi. “I decided this because of my producers. The impact would have been better in Konkani,” he rues. Even as the state is poised to celebrate Konkani Film Day on April 24, the government will need to do more for the show to go on.