An Affair with Bollywood – Commas but No Full Stops

It started as a beauty, still is but now it has become like the moon – a beauty with a little more than required marks on her face. 2012 marks its 100 years – the Cinema of India, better known as Bollywood. 

When I was asked to do an assignment on it (the joys of journalism!), I realized that it was impossible to capture all the aspects of this hundred-year-old huge, majestic empire ruled by the actors, the singers, the versatile and these days, the skin-showers. The first movie I watched in a theater was Hum Aapke Hain Kaun at the age of 5. And since then, I’ve been in an on and off relationship with it. I was never a huge, die-hard fan of Bollywood. I just liked movies in theaters, something to pass time and an exclusive luxury because my parents were never great fans.  I lost faith in Bollywood when I switched to Star Movies, HBO and the likes. Each movie, however big a hit, disappointed me. It was only Lage Raho Munnabhai, Bheja Fry, Khosla Ka Ghosla (comedies all of them, I now realize) that kept a bit of hope alive. Now, when I came to college, I started understanding a bit more. And thanks to Shreya Katuri, a friend and an AC (quite a cliché, but that’s what she is!) of Bollywood, I was back in tune with Bolly again.

The history made me realize that this nation has had ample supply of great cinema. I’m not in any position to review any of Dada Sahib Phalke’s or Save Dada’s works but they gave the shape to Indian cinema, as it is now. The evergreens have given it an augmented definition. And the new comers are, well, distorting and making and distorting again and re-making.

Sadly, no movie can recreate the history of Raj Kapoor’s magnificence or Guru Dutt’s delineation of the tragic mood in his films. There can’t be something as grand as Mughal-e-Azam or something as simplistic as Shree 420. These movies were carved with perfection. Even a comedy like Choti Si Baat or Golmaal displayed excellence. They were not movies which were built around one-liners or funny dialogues like Ready, Damadamm or Bheja Fry-II.

Today, Bollywood is more about who is the highest paid or who has had more relationships etcetera, things which should be of least importance. A bit of fault here is of the audience too who cannot appreciate Sahib, Biwi aur Gangster, Dev D or That Girl in Yellow Boots. They want movies like Bodyguard and Wanted, a supply of which is uninterrupted thanks to Salman Khan. With Ra.One, Shahrukh seems to have disappointed many, but that doesn’t dent the popularity of action movies with really animated fight scenes.

Another audience accepted, at least most of them, formula is sleaze. Saw the hype around The Dirty Picture or Love, Sex aur Dhoka? I watched just the former one and it gave me a headache. Sleaze makes the movie sparkling, no doubt and I’m not a conservative bitch, but right amounts and right portrayal is quite important. And also, the new trend of whorish names with a slutty adjective/activity which you know is here to stay, for bad, when Karan Johar has “Chikni Chameli’.

There is so much more I want to say about Bollywood. But this post can cover only this much or you’ll stop reading. I wish Bollywood has a better class. Nonetheless, I love it. For the music, the colors and entertainment, entertainment and entertainment.

A Little Too Dirty

Ever since I’d heard about Milan Luthria's The Dirty Picture (TDP), I was a little more than excited. Of course the name was attractive but when I Google-d Silk Smitha and got to know about her story, I was thrilled that a movie with such a subject will be made. Then came the promos and the movie had me on the first line of ‘Ooh La La’. The skin show on television was slightly funny but then came the reviews. I mostly relied on The Hindu and the Crest edition of Times Of India and I was mesmerized. I knew I had to watch this movie in a theater.

Very honestly, I was quite disappointed.

I missed the first 10 minutes of the movie – and came to realize later that I wouldn’t have minded very much had I missed whole of the first part. The minute I sat on my seat, I encountered the first heavily punned dialogue. Ignored. As the movie progressed, Vidya’s struggle attracted me. It was impressive to see her dressed like a South Indian but with the boldness of god-knows-where. She looked the enthusiastic, young kid who’d do just about anything to get herself in the industry. Then came her first shot. It was mind blowing, literally. And I still haven’t forgotten the really tacky way in which her tongue moved around. But I ignored that too, thinking that would one just one instance. But what the hell, the first part of the entire movie was filled with the same moves, moans of different pitches and the awkward tongue. She herself had said that this movie doesn’t get vulgar. If you talk about dressing style, well maybe but the moves – downright vulgar. By the intermission, my head was throbbing and I had half a mind to leave the theater right away. But I wasn’t going to waste my money. After the interval, began the story of her downfall. She was definitely affected by the men in her life – Nasseruddin Shah, as ‘Smashing Surya’ and Tushar Kapoor his brother. Love finds her in her biggest hater Emraan Hashmi but he was a little too late. The double standards of these men force her to take an arrogant stand against the world and completely kill her after the face-off of with the newbie Shalaka. Her production venture fails, she has nothing to live for and the last offer she gets is from an adult movie maker. She realizes that Reshma was lost somewhere in Silk’s extremities and commits suicide.

There are no conversations in the movie. Every actor has a set of lines which are double entendres and sound more like dialogue-baazi. Full of innuendos, every line, every move is suggestive. Nasseruddin Shah comes off well as the chauvinist superstar who could make an actress his heroine and his mother at the same time. Tushar Kapoor is the vulnerable male living under the shadow of his brother and has to pay heed to him more than Silk. Emraan Hashmi is the director who hates sleaze but ultimately ends up making a film with a lot of it. As an autobiography, it is probably worth watching but as an independent movie, it pretty much fails. Questions like is this the fate of women who bare all are rendered useless since this movie is primarily based in the 80s. Vidya Balan is a wonderful actress but she overdid it. Her belly was attractive only for the first few minutes and soon became a bag of flesh. Too much cleavage, too much vulgarity makes Vidya fail. The only part where I felt a bit of remorse was when she dies without meeting her mother.

The movie only deserves two stars.