My first taste of International Film Festival of India (IFFI) was in 1997 when the festival made its way to Thiruvananthapuram, after being hosted in Bombay, Madras, Delhi, and Calcutta. Back then, I wasn’t yet a journalist —my career in television began just after the festival wrapped up. It was the second time the film festival, in its new avatar as IFFI, was coming to Kerala. The earlier version, Filmotsav, had been held once in the state capital in 1988.
Fresh out of university, with stars in our eyes and cinema in our hearts, I was part of a scrappy band of film enthusiasts who had cut our teeth organising college screenings as part of student politics. The festival was supposedly for the “chosen ones” — arthouse filmmakers, those from the Pune institute, film society intellectuals, and bureaucrats — with their precious laminated passes hanging around their necks like medals of honour.
The streets buzzed with talk of European masterpieces and Bengali brilliance, while film buffs from Pune and Calcutta descended upon our little city like pilgrim-cinephiles. We were young, broke, and working odd ‘intellectual’ jobs, some still active in student politics, but determined to breathe the same air as our film society big brothers. And, well… let’s just say our solution to get entry involved forging the passes, with a bit of creative screen-printing from some local friends. Pre-Google ingenuity at its finest!
The glitter of commercial cinema
We, the same ‘comrades in crime’, had already had a glimpse of the international film festival scene the previous year. We managed to catch a few films from Kozhikode during the inaugural edition of the International Film Festival of Kerala, which coincided with the celebration of 100 years of cinema.
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Polish director Krzysztof Kieślowski and the Iranian director Mohsen Makhmalbaf were the stars of 1997, with retrospective of their films drawing full houses. People were queuing up hours before the screenings began, a new experience for guest directors, who had never seen such enthusiasm. The buzz around Kieslowski’s Decalogue and Makhmalbaf's Gabbeh was palpable, with filmmakers and guests alike taking note of the crowd’s fervour. IFFI then ventured back to Hyderabad and Delhi before finally finding a permanent home in Goa in 2004.
In the meantime, the International Film Festival of Kerala (IFFK) began carving out its unique character, becoming a pilgrimage centre for film buffs, anarchists, students, and activists who cherished the liberal space the festival offered. Over time, the festival in Kerala transformed into a vibrant gathering place for free-spirited individuals, with the younger generation increasingly taking the spotlight. Their presence brought a splash of colour and energy, reshaping the audience and atmosphere in exciting ways. It was no longer an exclusive space reserved for those who had to prove their film society credentials.
A still from Mohsen Makhmalbaf’s Gabbeh, which was screened at the IFFI in 1997
In a way, the IFFI and IFFK began to develop distinctly different characters. While IFFI increasingly leaned towards Bollywood, its superstars, and the glitter of commercial cinema, IFFK carved out a niche as a space for alternative voices and diverse, independent filmmaking.
The shadow of Mumbai attacks
My first experience at the Goa edition of the festival was in 2005, during its second year at the new venue. In its second year in Goa, IFFI stayed true to its acronym, presenting an event that was, at best, average and, at worst, extravagant and unproductive as a glittery award show hosted by Bollywood. The Directorate’s grandiose proclamations of an Eastern Cannes rang hollow. Glamour flickered peripherally, populated by quasi-luminaries draped modestly.
Yet, the film lineup had not yet started aligning with the political whims and fancies of the ruling establishment and its ideological mentors, the Sangh Parivar. However, the fact remains that the Bollywood had never been inclined towards the left or left-of-centre narratives either.
My next edition of the festival was in 2008, when I travelled from Delhi. The Panaji festival complex had been taken over by Vijay Mallya’s Kingfisher, with beer flowing like river Mondovi and the venue transforming into an Oktoberfest-like atmosphere. There was even a Kingfisher Island near the venue, offering open-air evening drinks and food stalls, adding to the festive vibe with live music bands and other performances. However, everything — except the scheduled film screenings — was abruptly cut short by the Mumbai attacks that began on November 26.
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In 2013, the festival felt personal to me, despite attending as a journalist, as there were films by friends featured. Six Malayalam films were selected for the Indian Panorama, with the opening film of the section being Kanyaka Talkiesdirected by K. R. Manoj, a close friend of mine.
Propaganda films find pride of place
The regime-change in Delhi marked a shift in everything. Bollywood moved further to the right, and films began to lean more towards right-wing propaganda, gaining space in every circuit, including festivals.
Ironically, China was the focus country in 2014, while the Russian film Leviathan by Andrey Zvyagintsev made a sensational impact, winning the Golden Peacock. Zvyagintsev had already made his mark in India with his debut film, The Return. But my key takeaway from that festival was Hannah Arendtthe biographical drama directed by Margarethe von Trotta and starring Barbara Sukowa.
In that decade, the scene felt like a time lapse, with the right-wing shift accelerating and propaganda films queuing up to be featured in the Panorama, opening films, competition films, and more. Even Nadav Lapid, the jury chairman from Israel, couldn’t help but criticize the festival organisers for ‘succumbing’ to political pressure, particularly with the inclusion of The Kashmir Files in the competition section in 2022. But nothing changed. The very next edition saw an even more divisive film, The Kerala Storyprominently showcased.
As I step down in Panaji for the 55th edition, it’s clear that the structure of the festival has changed, with towns like Porvorim, Margao, and Ponda now added as screening destinations. This expansion will make commuting for cinephiles from outside the region more difficult.
Anyway, Randeep Hooda’s Swatantrya Veer Savarkar greets me as the opening film of the Indian Panorama. While there are certainly some notable films from the international festival circuits, Aditya Jambhale’s Article 370 — a template film with jingoistic overtones and alleged distortions of historical and political facts — is staring right at me and the Entertainment Society of Goa says, “Hello and welcome, this is IFFI for you in our times.”
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