Santacruz Millionaires

'How many a times must a man turn his head,
pretending he just doesn't see?'

- Bob Dylan, Blowin' in the wind

The controversy generated by Amitabh Bachchan, now reached international media has slightly marred the buoyancy felt by the success of Slumdog Millionaire. The age-old – albiet clichéd – complaint from the mainstream filmmakers that if you glorify poverty in India you could win international awards is actually beginning to irritate now. This attitude is almost fifty years old, first surfaced when Satyajit Roy won accolades internationally for his Pather Panchali. Having nourished this during the 70s, Bollywood almost started believing in that, which is what Bachchan has indiscreetly expressed in his blog. He has a reason to grumble.


Pather Panchali

Historically Bollywood was never concerned about poverty. In the 50s and 60s, the Hindi actors wore suits, smoked imported cigarettes and visited nightclubs in brazen replication of Humphrey Bogart, Cary Grant and Spencer Tracy. Actresses (in order to protect the Indian culture) wore expensive sarees and were content with showcasing fancy hairstyles. Even Guru Dutt displayed poverty only as a stylish ornament for a romantic and principled artist.

Towards the new century Bollywood got more daring in their outlook. Men dropped their suits and took on designer jeans and sports jackets (because their counterparts in Hollywood did the same) and women took on skimpy attires a la Hollywood and entrusted the job of protecting Indian culture to extremist Hindu organisations. Since studios vanished, the filmmakers could thing big for their locations. People in Bollywood films began to live in palatial bungalows, even if they held only government jobs. The attire and lifestyle of the characters got immensely richer not because the story demanded but simply because it looked good in the camera.


Kabhi Kushi Kabhi Gham

Because poverty doesn't look good you know. Who wants to watch a dying farmer's hut anyway? Being far removed from Indian reality, their eyes and ears are glued to the west coast of the states where they seek inspiration for their latest talk shows, game shows and even film stories. Suitably many directors don’t even base their stories in India anymore because it is very difficult to make India look good on screen. These days, their stories are based in New York, London and Australia, with Indian actors of course.

Movies like Kabhi Kushi Kabhi Gham gave a whole new dimension to this phenomenon. The father standing at the lawn in front of his palatial mansion awaiting his son who (wearing designer labels) alights from the family owned chopper and runs towards his father in slow motion at the backdrop of swirling fan blades; Return of the prodigal son never looked so good; and so rich.

Watching these films, the thinking audience wondered, do people live in such places in India? Do such places really exist in India? 'Yes', my wife nudged gently, 'you obviously haven't seen the houses of Ambanis and Birlas.' Well, are the stories of non-Ambanis not worthy enough to tell? And then the film went onto become one of the all time blockbusters.

When the filmmakers struggled so much in choosing attires in line with latest fashion and ran pillar to post for the most spectacular mansion for their protagonist to live in, it is difficult to digest when a lone filmmaker wins international accolades by showcasing actors with dirty loincloths. Those who criticised Satyajit Roy were the fathers and grandfathers of today's filmmakers. Most of them wouldn’t have seen a single film of Roy and hadn't probably visited even the nearest slum from their sprawling mansions in Mumbai. When one doesn't see, the dirty underbelly doesn't exist, and what doesn't exist can't be shown.

A character from Arvind Adiga's The White Tiger says, 'you can take almost anything you hear about the country from the prime minister and turn it upside down and then you will have the truth.' The same can be said about mainstream Bollywood films too.

To be or not to be



Whether it is nobler in the mind to wallow the slings and arrows of outrageous mainstream or to take arms against a sea of mediocrity. May the Bard pardon the liberal bastardisation of his phrase; hopefully he would understand the dilemma that faces the pseudo intellectuals caught on the middle of this river, not knowing which side of the bank to get off at.

Two movies, Jodha Akbar and Taare Zameen Par, watched only recently, presented this essential question. Brilliantly crafted and well acted, both the films have traversed far away from the mainstream Indian formula, yet magically seemed to revel in the formula fare. A tricky act that would emphatically vindicate the quantum theory, both these movies could be vigorously thrashed by someone longing to see serious films in the Indian screens.

The two films in question adhere to none of the mainstream formula elements. Taare Zameen Par particularly attempts sincerely to lift up the quality by consciously choosing a crucial problem plaguing the middle class Indian children and not veering away into duet songs shot in exotic locales. Sensitively shot, spectacularly acted (especially by the child protagonist), the film tackles the issue in direct, non-abstract terms. Indian media, both print and visual, has always endeared groups and personalities to banal proportions generating empty emotions. The film attempts to generate emotions by glorifying the innocence of children but that's pardonable considering the serious plight of the children in Indian homes. Hence, the film's appreciation can come mainly through social criticism. In the sense that the impact it would (hopefully) have on the parents would be immense, regardless of whether their child is dyslexic or not. This hope if realised would vindicate the purpose of the film and deserves all the appreciation. However, films are not meant to be documentaries and hence do not require a social message. Even considering this, content wise, the film self contradicts the objective that it sets to achieve through the sufferings of the lead character. Couple of questions will contextualise this problem: How many Ishan's were there in the final painting competition whose self-esteem would have been damaged because our 'hero' Ishan had to win? And why Ishan winning the first prize was so important to the film, which derides the parent's obsession with first ranks? Cinematically, these questions are irrelevant considering the larger objectives of the film and its makers.



Jodha Akbar on the other hand remains only the second historic to be commercially successful in Hindi. Interestingly the first film Mughal-E-Azam also is about Akbar's family. Well crafted and well acted, the film ironically has all the elements of a formula film yet remaining aloof from the mainstream. To complete the process, it even has a song glorifying the protagonist, referred to as 'entry song' in south Indian films. Apart from this the story is intriguing and captivating for a historic film, perhaps because many wouldn't know the story of Akbar's love of his Hindu wife and the political developments surrounding it. Cleverly scripted, the film attempts to fill the huge void of epic saga genres. Nevertheless, it is difficult to decide whether these two films would change Bollywood. It would be premature to attempt an answer as it was premature when Lagaan and Satya saw the silver screen for the first time though both did indeed change the way films were made.

If Taare Zameen Par was about a village kid whose father was a peasant who can't even pronounce dyslexia, the story would have turned out different. On the other hand - fortunately for the child as well as the audience - the child was a Mumbai kid whose laptop wielding father could be 'concerned' and his mother could browse Wiki on dyslexia. Similarly Jodha showcasing feminist tendencies were not surprising, Akbar reciprocating them were shocking. An illiterate emperor who rarely stepped out of his sprawling castle emanating the sensitivities of a Magsaysay winner was actually plot convenience of filmmakers. How else could you portray a superb sword fight between Jodha and Akbar filled with abundant sexual energy? Ditto about the father affording boarding school for the troublesome child and educated mother browsing the Web about her child's learning difficulties.

But then how can you criticise these things when you believe that such attempts, half- or full-hearted, are dire need of our industry. Would you be severely criticising these attempts brandishing them as insufficient or falling short of international standards, or would you appreciate them for their courageous efforts, engaging outputs hoping that we are on our way to making our own 400 Blows or Ikiru. And why should we be setting such yardsticks that are alien to us? Isn't what is essential is to meet the Indian audience with Indian sensibilities and succeed in that? But who defines what our sensibilities are and how adequate they are? What of attempts to elevate our emotional standards? If art is not going challenge our sensitivities and elevate our social and artistic consciousness what else will? That was again digressing to social criticism and obviously artistic innovations are not bound by that. Are they?

So you get the dilemma.