The Fading Light of the Silver Screen: How ‘Viraamam’ Immortalizes the Invisible Sentinels of Cinema

In the darkened booths of aging cinemas across Kerala, a quiet, technological revolution has long been underway, one that has rendered a generation of craftsmen obsolete. These men, the film projectionists, were the invisible sentinels of the silver screen, the custodians of light and celluloid who ensured that the magic of cinema reached the audience.

Viraamam (At Reel’s End), a poignant 16-minute documentary by film editor Malavika VN, captures this fading epoch. Recently screened in the competition section of the 18th International Documentary and Short Film Festival of Keralam (IDSFFK) in Thiruvananthapuram, the film serves as both a historical record and a eulogy for a vanishing profession.

The Human Cost of Technological Progress

The heart of Viraamam is encapsulated in a haunting observation by Vincent Joseph, a veteran projectionist at Radha Theatre in Kozhikode: "Film projectionists are like candles. People rejoice watching movies that we screen, while we slowly melt."

This metaphor underscores the central thesis of Malavika’s work: the transition from analog 35mm film projection to digital cinema has not merely been a change in hardware; it has been a seismic shift in the cultural landscape that has discarded the human element of film exhibition. The documentary navigates the emotional terrain of these workers—some who successfully pivoted to digital systems, and others who were cast aside by the industry’s relentless drive toward automation.

Through the lens, we see projectionists recalling the golden days when they were the first to witness world classics from their cramped, dust-filled rooms. In one particularly visceral scene, a former projectionist becomes visibly emotional while clutching the carbon rods of a 35mm projector—an artifact that once provided the essential intensity required to cast images onto a screen, now reduced to a relic of a bygone era.

A Ten-Year Journey: From Student Project to Masterpiece

The history of Viraamam is as much about the growth of its creator as it is about its subjects. Initially conceived a decade ago as a final-year project for Malavika’s visual communications course at St. Joseph’s College, Bengaluru, the footage sat in her archives for years.

"We students had to handle every department—production, direction, editing, and everything in between," Malavika explains. "At the time, I wasn’t satisfied with the final product. It felt incomplete, like a rough sketch of a story that needed more maturity."

It was only after years of professional experience as an editor—working on acclaimed projects such as Madhura Manohara Moham, Vishesham, and the web series Porul—that Malavika felt equipped to return to the material. Teaming up with her husband, the State award-winning filmmaker Goutham Soorya, she decided to revisit the project.

"We worked on the visuals from scratch, re-edited it, and made a totally new work," she notes. The decade-long gap provided the necessary perspective to transform raw student footage into a sophisticated narrative that balances technical nostalgia with the harsh reality of labor displacement.

Chronology of a Disappearing Craft

The genesis of this documentary lies in a classroom introduction. Malavika recalls that her initial awareness of the plight of projectionists came from her teacher, Johnson Rajkumar, who introduced her to the vital worlds of film preservation and restoration.

"I wanted to explore how technological advances impacted their lives," she says. Her research led her to the field during the 2016–2017 period, a pivotal time when theaters across Kerala were transitioning en masse to digital formats.

Her field work involved direct immersion into the lives of these men. She remembers the initial reception she received when visiting these theaters: "It was the first time that someone had come forward to know more about what they did, and they were overwhelmed. What struck me most was the love and passion they all had for the job."

Malavika’s credentials in this space are robust. Beyond this documentary, she has interned with the National Film Archives of India and spent two years working with the Film Heritage Foundation. This background in preservation is evident in Viraamam, as she treats the projectionists not merely as interview subjects, but as living repositories of film history.

Supporting Data: The Impact of Digitization on Cinema

The transition from celluloid to digital (DCP) projection was marketed as a cost-effective and efficient move for theater owners. However, the data surrounding this shift highlights the loss of specialized skill sets.

• Mechanical Complexity: Operating a 35mm projector required manual dexterity, knowledge of optics, and the ability to splice film, maintain carbon arcs, and manage complex mechanical gears.
• The Digital Shift: Digital projection, while providing a standardized image quality, removed the "human touch." The role of the projectionist evolved into that of a server manager, where technical troubleshooting replaced mechanical maintenance.
• Labor Displacement: According to industry reports from the late 2010s, thousands of projectionists across India lost their jobs as theaters closed or shifted to automated digital servers that required minimal human intervention.

Malavika’s film serves as a qualitative counterpoint to these cold, quantitative shifts in the industry. While the economy of scale favored the digital transition, the "soul" of the cinematic experience—the flicker, the warmth of the projection booth, and the tactile nature of film—was sacrificed in the process.

Implications: Preserving the ‘Soul’ of Cinema

The significance of Viraamam lies in its ability to force the audience to confront the human cost of modern convenience. By documenting these lives, Malavika ensures that the history of Indian cinema includes the stories of those who sat behind the screen.

The documentary has profound implications for how we view film heritage. Often, discussions on film restoration focus on the physical prints—the celluloid itself—but rarely on the human beings who interacted with those prints daily.

"I wanted to bring home an element of nostalgia and a sense of loss," Malavika says. "At the same time, I hope it inspires viewers to love what they do."

Conclusion: A Final Act of Remembrance

As we move further into an era of streaming and high-definition digital projections, the physical labor of the past risks being forgotten entirely. Viraamam acts as a vital bridge between the past and the present.

By revisiting the project ten years later, Malavika has not only rescued her own early work but has also elevated the legacy of the projectionists she encountered. The documentary is a testament to the fact that while technology changes, the passion for cinema remains a constant human endeavor. In the flickering light of the projector, these men found a life’s purpose; in Viraamam, that purpose is finally acknowledged and preserved for posterity.

The film stands as a poignant reminder that while the candles may eventually melt, their light—and the stories of those who tended them—should not be extinguished from our cultural memory.