His is a curious case of phoren birth with a desi twist in the tale. Born in Britain, but based out of Kochi (Kerala), Englishman Tom Peirce has everything Indian about him. From friends-n-family (including his wife Anna Mathews, who’s an enterprising Keralite journo) to subjects of his filmmaking, shots to be canned, locations to be scouted and even the matters of his heart and deep interests, this maverick moviemaker has sworn his love for India like no one. But his umbilical-chord connection with this country was not forged of late. It’s an old bond that has only strengthened with time. “The genesis of the story, however, goes back to the past generations. Ages ago, my forefathers had coalesced a link with Kochi. A company named Peirce Leslie was established in 1859. It was the biggest trading company in South India, uptill the decade of 1970s. My grandfather was a tea-broker in Kochi at one of the biggest and best brand labels — Forbes Ewart and Figgis — in business. The corporate house had actually monopolised their control over tea plantations in whole of South India, including places like Coimbatore, where it also held auctions. I’m the fifth generation descendent from my father’s side. While my grandmother’s extended kith and kin had set their foot in Kolkata and settled down by the banks of River Hooghly. This may date back to as far as the 18th century around sometime in 1770s,” he retraces the footprints of his roots.
Till he was 8, Tom grew up in India. Having spent his formative years in Kochi, the little boy in him quietly came in close contact with the serene ambience of the city in the Deccan region of the sub-continent. “There was some kind of a relaxation nip in the atmospheric air around, which I could sub-consciously absorb through my senses. It’s a world heritage site after all. So, one would automatically feel inspired to be just at the place itself without moving an inch or taking a step ahead,” he says. “Malayalam is quite a tricky tongue to learn but more than perfecting my speaking power, I’ve picked up the ways to write in that language,” he says, in a lighter vein.
It’s true that as a filmmaker, Peirce has travelled across several continents in quest of stories to be reeled on frame, be it in Australia, Europe or Africa, “but India as a nation with its plurality of faiths, lingos, habits, costumes and opinions has always excited and fascinated me to a greater degree,” he says.
“Its fabric of unity in diversity is woven with its divergent hues, folklores, cultural customs and ethnic codes. Yet the Indian palette of different shades seamlessly brews and blends into a single chrome. It profusely proposes a mosaic of variegated ideas which are hitherto untold and unheard of. And I certainly wish to collect those to tell a tale on the 70 mm expanse of my canvas,” he says.
Graduating in Film & Literature Studies from the University of Warwick in 1984, he was offered an apprenticeship with the BBC film unit in Cardiff, as an assistant film editor working on various 16 mm dramas and current affairs programmes.
He gained an entry to the prestigious BPCAD film-school in Bournemouth and his graduation film, The Substance of Dreams, was bought by the BBC for their “Screenplay Firsts” series in 1988.
Peirce returned to India and produced two pathbreaking movies for UK television — Nomad, the first widescreen format commission and Dry Heat, the first film to have a complete digital sound post-production.
“Nomad was an art film made for Channel 4 in 1989. It was showcased around the world and was wrapped up in 10 days flat over a short stint of spot-shooting in North India,” he says. “The significant aspect of the movie is that there was no room for dialogues in the script. And I just chose to visually narrate the saga. Well, it worked that way I guess. A verse by Tagore was also used in the film for metaphoric reasons. It served as a symbolical purpose in the storyline,” he highlights.
From photogenic boatrides in Howrah, West Bengal to street-life vignettes, Peirce’s focus gradually shifted from cramped-confined cauldrons to open-air spaces with every second film under his belt. He conceived each film out of sheer love, passion and dedication. His next title Dry Heat was filmed in Pushkar, Rajasthan. Again he treaded that line of a no-dialogue process which went onto become a mainstay in his couple of flicks to follow later on. And as rightly been predicted, retaining that trademark USP augured well for the fate of his film which had garnered a gleeful acceptance among its audience. Dry Heat spawned a morality play between a foreigner and a sadhu (saint) on grounds of a conscientious dilemma amidst what is ethical and what is sinful.
The intention of his next commendable title One Day in Cochin was to create a drama narrative from documentary elements in order to portray and reflect upon the socio-political scene in Fort Cochin around the 60th anniversary of India’s independence. The movie applies the technical conventions of popular cinema to the everyday reality of life in Kochi. It’s noteworthy that the film was largely shot without lights, mostly using direct or reflected sunlight. However, the treatment of “sound” in the film is a departure from the league of mainstream feature films, since much of the live location soundtrack remains in the recorded version. Similarly, the music reflects the fusion of cultures that makes Fort Cochin so special. For the uninitiated, Kochi is now a principal seaport in India and historically, an erstwhile princely state. It is well-known all over the world for its breathtakinly scenic beaches and sylvan beauty to gaze in appreciation and laze around at leisure.
“Given its soothing ambience, Kochi can be a perfect haven for one’s soul-searching and spiritualism. To my mind, the place instantly rings a bell about its ordinary people and their warmth that is so touching. They serve as curious characters to any given plotline with their peculiarities, quirkiness and idiosyncrasies,” he shares.
Adding further, he says: “Usually, I cast my actors straight out of reality. They are strange in their own special ways and are extraordinarily ordinary. The street-level snapshots haunt my imagination more than a make-believe metaphysical world. Real-life incidents arrest my vision with greater immediacy than a tailor-made story with cosmetic interpretations. While non-actors with a natural flair for expressions and communicating abilities with the camera create a bigger impact than methodical actors, mouthing their rehearsed lines. In the movie One Day in Cochin, I’ve roped in a cache of extant characters who have further replayed themselves on screen within a cinematic structure. I’ve added a disclaimer in the credits scroll to avoid any confusion.” In 2007, Tom had shot the principal photography, whereas in 2008, he wound up with the film’s editing. It took him a full year-and-a-half to make the movie in fits and starts. “In the remaining six-months, we had engineered the sound designing,” he divulges.
Having won accolades at the British independent filmfest in the Best Cinematography category this year in April, and toured the famous Goa film fest (IFFI), Tom intends to showcase One Day in Cochin at the Kolkata Film Festival, come November. A salient feature of his repertoire is that practically all his films are made on low-budgets.
“My projects are not that expensive. I can always assure to recover the basic initial cost of their production,” he maintains. In fact, One day in Cochin was financed by a character from the film itself.
“All directors suffer from a peeping-Tom syndrome. There is always a prospective voyeur behind every pair of directorial eyes, that zeroes in on uncanny events, unusual sights and quaint personalities via the viewfinder of the chronicling camera. At times, I capture my subjects without even letting them know or hampering their activities. It’s a free-flowing tryst with the life’s tales. I remember a couple who would iron clothes, somewhere in the dingy streets of Bhowanipore in Kolkata. The ironing tool and the wheeled vehicle on which they pressed the pile of dresses acted as their breadwinner. And the close-knitted family thrived around it. So that fetched me a unique and interesting composition, and I shot it at site without batting an eyelid. I don’t interfere with my characters or interrupt their normal course of daily chores. I don’t step onto people’s toes, that is. I let them be themselves,” he elaborates.