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There is no doubt today, with a war and a horrific occupation in place, that we, as a race, are essentially ensconced in violence. Aggression over pacifism and bloodthirst over compassion seem to be the guiding forces of our times. As the world loses patience and continues to aggress, art that imitates life, or speculates on it, naturally needs to reflect a part of that. Is it okay to show violence on screen then, to show rape that is probably the most brutal of violations, physical and emotional, on-screen? The debate has raged and crude and cruder forms of the depiction of violence have dominated screen time and mind space since man figured out how to shoot films and run them on a spool for public viewing. The question always is, how much is too much? And, a little more philosophically, does this portrayal have to make a point?
A casual approach to sexual violence
More recently, Vijay Sethupathy and Anurag Kashyap’s flick Maharaja set the cash registers ringing with a rather contrived revenge drama, gimmicky and replete with non-linear time zones. While redeemed much by the protagonist’s fine essay of a broken father, the brutal violence in the film prompts a visceral physical flinch many a time.
The blood, gore, and casual approach to violence makes one wonder if an assault is actually a living, bile-belching character in the movie. Not to spoil the story for you, but if you shrivel at the portrayal of physical violence on-screen, then be warned that there is also more than one rape in the movie, not even as a revenge play, but just as mentioned before, nearly casual, flick of the wrist; we-can-do-this, therefore-we-will level of numbing.
A still from Tamil film ‘Maharaja’
As a cinematic ploy, it is meant to drive the plot in this film, and as such, stressed upon in entropic flashbacks, suggestive and lascivious facial expressions, post-coital adjustment of clothes, struggles, partial nudity, screams and violence. There is one particularly brutal scene, in another flashback, where the abuser spits on the child victim with such violence, it is definitely a bilious moment in the film. Of course, it further deteriorates into a spiral of more violence, bloodshed and a climatic ending that by then the audience is hoping for, has predicted, or has whispered as a prayer to let the movie end as a relief.
Also Read | A history of violence: In defence of ‘Leo’ and Lokesh Kanagaraj’s penchant for the action genre
Influencing behaviour in society
It has been adequately established with studies that violent behaviour on-screen further spurs violence, particularly among kids. Psychologist Albert Bandura established this way back in the sixties, showing that the more aggressive a film is, the more aggressive children watching it behave.
Other studies have also shown that violence has another way of allowing the practice of it in society, by desensitising the viewer. Desensitisation ensures that response to violence in real life is dulled or dead, allowing it to continue, or worse still, aggrandising it. Violence on-screen has seldom been the agent of change that filmmakers are sometimes deluded into thinking it is.
That very emperor of violence on screen, Quentin Tarantino, packs in a comical factor and an element of theatrical distance between the screen and the audience in his movies. In a press conference in 1994, he said: “Violence is just one of many things you can do in movies. People ask me, ‘Where does all this violence come from in your movies?’ I say, ‘Where does all this dancing come from in Stanley Donen movies?’ If you ask me how I feel about violence in real life, well, I have a lot of feelings about it. It’s one of the worst aspects of America. In movies, violence is cool. I like it.”
While violence as an aspect of life has an undeniable place on screen, we don’t want to watch just romcoms on the big screen or small. It is violence sans stylisation in movies, without the opportunity for redemption, that is problematic; one of the most nuanced depictions of rape on-screen is from the Netflix series Sandman, in the episode Calliope.
In the season finale episode, an out-of-inspiration author on a deadline is bequeathed a mythical Muse, by another author, and he pleads with her to inspire him. She has been imprisoned for decades against her will, and his pleas turn insistent and into demands. In one scene we realise, as he is furiously typing away on his manuscript, through a small bleeding scratch on his face, that he has had his way with her. Unusual for a rape scene, and with none of its usual trappings, but powerful nonetheless and conveys the message forcefully.
Michaela Coel in ‘I May Destroy You’
In another recent streaming series, I May Destroy You, there are multiple ways, subtle and gross, in which sexual violation is portrayed, and the response to it by the system, putting out the message that consent is key in any sexual relationship, and that it may be withdrawn at any time.
Educate, not glorify
Show violence on screen, since we must, to keep our movies real and earthy, but adding mindless violence under the garb of advancing the plot serves no purpose, even eroding plausibility. You could always adapt a more sensitive, right approach, and stylise the portrayal in a way that will not glorify violence, but rather serve to enlighten and educate the audience.
