분야
hwp No mans life can be encompassed in one telling. There is no way to give each year its allotted weight, to include each event, each person who helped to shape a lifetime. What can be done is to be faithful in spirit to the record, and to try to find ones way to the heart of the man . . .
And now we are approaching the city, the squalor of the little shanty dwellings around the outskirts, the shadows of large factories . . . And as we move nearer, coursing over the parched terrain, the tiny fields of cultivation, strands of sound are woven through the main titles, borne on the wind, images from the life we are seeking:
British: "Who the hell is he?!", lower class British: "I dont know, sir." . . . "My name is Gandhi. Mohandas K. Gandhi." . . . A womans voice, tender, soft: "You are my best friend, my highest guru . . . and my sovereign lord." . . . A man (Gandhi): "I am asking you to fight!" . . . An angry aristocratic English voice: "At home children are writing essays about him!" . . . the sound of massed rifle fire, screams . . .
EXTERIOR. CITY. DAY.
And now we are over the city, coming in toward a particular street in the affluent suburbs of New Delhi . . . there are a few cars (it is 1948), and we are closing on a milling crowd near the entrance to one of the larger homes.
We see saris, Indian tunics, a sprinkling of "Gandhi" caps, several tongas (two-wheeled, horse-drawn taxis) . . . the shreds of sound continue - American woman, flirtatious, intimate: "Youre the only man I know who makes his own clothes." Gandhis laugh . . . The sound of rioting, womens cries and screams of terror . . . An American voice: "This man of peace" . . .
And as the titles end we begin to pick up the sounds of the street . . . an Australian and his wife, a BBC correspondent . . . all in passing, as the camera finally closes and holds on one young man: Godse.
EXTERIOR. BIRLA HOUSE. DAY.
Godse steps from a tonga as the crowd begins to move toward an entrance-way at the back of a long wall.
