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Under Her Spell AS a teenager I would often stay up late at night to watch old films screened by Doordarshan. One such film was Ingrid Bergman’s Notorious. This black and white film with its stark cameos was the start of my obsession with cinema. From Ingrid Bergman, it was but a short step to Roberto Rossellini who directed Bergman in films like Europe ’51 and Voyage in Italy. I learnt that after Voyage to Italy, Rossellini was lauded as the messiah of modern cinema. Any study of neo-realism in films was incomplete without Rossellini. I knew all that but I must admit I was completely ignorant of this Italian director’s Indian connection. Dileep Padgaonkar’s book Under Her Spell takes the reader on an intriguing Indian adventure with Rossellini. Padgaonkar in the manner of a dramatic storyteller weaves a tale based on inputs from Tag Gallagher, Rossellini’s biographer and anecdotes and insights shared by Rossellini’s friends and associates. The character of Rossellini, who loved fast cars and pretty women, lends itself with ease to the dramatic twists and turns of his Indian sojourn. Rossellini, we are told, launched the Indian project without any fan-fare. With typical `E9lan, he simply announced to a spaghetti-eating friend, "we’re going to a wonderland". And so in early December of 1956, loaded with 100 kg of spaghetti, Rossellini arrived in Bombay and checked into the Taj Hotel. With Nehru himself showing interest, Rossellini’s project, aptly called India Matri Bhumi, was off to a propitious start. Buzzing with creative energy, Rossellini shuttled between Bombay and Bangalore, Calcutta and Hirakud, in search of the truth about India. He did not visit Ajanta and Ellora or any of the other tourist attractions because he did not want "clich`E9d images of the country". Not for him the beauty of India, for he felt ‘pretty pictures’ were fatal to cinema. We follow in Rossellini’s footsteps, impressed by his creativity, intrigued by his ‘Latin’ temper and flummoxed by his grand passion for Sonali Dasgupta, a much-married Bengali beauty. But unfortunately, the Indian adventure did not end happily for Rossellini who was hounded out of the country by the so-called moral guardians who denounced his ‘affair’ with a married Indian woman. The only saving grace was that he was allowed to leave India with the film he had shot and of course his lady-love. In the latter part of the book, Padgaonkar recounts how back in Europe Rossilleni put together India Matri Bhumi, creating a ‘poetic synthesis’ bordering on a symphony. For a long time Rossellini spoke about India with ‘great feeling’ and described art in India as an ‘imitation of joy’. The Epilogue describes the death of this charismatic ‘maestro’ who "lived life like a fantasy, superior to reality". Some of Rossellini’s associates believe that he "probably wanted his ashes buried in India because India could alone beckon him in after-life". An interesting read that gives an "Indian" insight into Rossellini’s character as an artist and a human being.
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