Just as cinema in India saw family dramas—once dismissed—become its most powerful connector with audiences, a similar shift in storytelling is now being observed in Manipur’s film industry.
By Akee Sorokhaibam
There was a time when a curious trend could be observed in the way people talked about cinema in India. Many viewers were increasingly drawn to imported films rather than Hindi cinema. Watching Hindi films was sometimes treated as an insult to one’s cinematic intelligence. Foreign films were seen as more sophisticated, more artistic, and therefore more worthy of appreciation.
Yet cinema history often moves in cycles. The moment Hindi cinema began reconnecting with audiences through emotionally engaging family stories, the same kind of storytelling that had once been dismissed started drawing large audiences back to homegrown films. What was earlier mocked as “mere family drama” suddenly became a powerful bridge between filmmakers and viewers.
Today, a somewhat similar conversation can be heard in Manipur.
Among certain sections of the cinema intelligentsia, a common criticism is that Manipuri films are mostly family-oriented and lack variety. According to this view, the industry seems trapped in domestic melodrama, repeating the same emotional structures again and again.
To some extent, this observation is not entirely wrong. Many films produced locally do revolve around family relationships and social conflicts within the household.
But there is also a practical reason for this. These are the films that bring audiences into theatres. These are the films that manage to recover investments and sustain the livelihoods of actors, technicians, and producers. In a small film industry like Manipur’s, survival often depends on what sells.
What makes Manipuri cinema unique, however, is the way it has survived against difficult circumstances. There was a period when screening Hindi films in the state was banned by underground groups. This created an unusual situation where local filmmakers had to fill the vacuum almost entirely on their own. The industry shifted heavily into the digital video era, producing films with limited resources but strong local engagement. In many ways, Manipuri cinema became one of the few regional industries in India that survived largely on its own audience and cultural context.
At the same time, it would be inaccurate to say that Manipuri cinema has not attempted other forms of storytelling.
The works of Aribam Syam Sharma stand as an important example. Films such as Imagi Ningthem and Ishanou travelled widely across international film festivals and earned global recognition. Imagi Ningthem won the Grand Prix at the Nantes Three Continents Festival, bringing unprecedented international attention to Manipuri cinema. These films are admired for their quiet storytelling, cultural depth, and strong cinematic language.
In many ways, they represent precisely the kind of thoughtful and artistically ambitious cinema that critics and intellectual viewers often claim to desire.
Yet the irony is difficult to ignore. While these films received admiration on the international festival circuit and from critics, they did not always receive the same level of support from audiences at home.
Interestingly, the story of Manipuri cinema itself has attracted attention from outside the state. The documentary Fried Fish, Chicken Soup and a Premiere Show, directed by Mumbai-based filmmaker Mamta Murthy, won the National Film Award for Best Arts/Cultural Film. The film follows a Manipuri film crew during the making of a movie and uses that journey to explore the struggles, passion, and resilience of filmmakers in Manipur. The fact that outsiders felt compelled to document and celebrate this small industry says something about the cultural significance of Manipuri cinema.
And yet, within our own viewing culture, the relationship with our cinema often remains conflicted.
We often say we want better films, more diverse subjects, and more serious storytelling. But when such films are made, they frequently struggle to find viewers. Meanwhile, the very films we criticize for being “too family-oriented” are the ones that continue to sustain the industry.
Perhaps the real issue is not the lack of variety in Manipuri cinema. Perhaps the real issue is the gap between the cinema we claim to value and the cinema we are actually willing to support.
And if Manipuri films are often family-based or domestic, it simply means they are stories built around love—between parents and children, husbands and wives, friends and communities. If cinema reflects life, and life is held together by such bonds, then perhaps the question is simple: what is really wrong with showing love?
(Akee Sorokhaibam is a occasional filmmaker and a hardcore cinephile who breathes behind silver screens.)