Ek Tha Tiger (India (Hindi) 2012)

January 12, 2018January 12, 2018 / Roy Stafford / Leave a comment

A Cuban interlude in a Hindi film

Ek Tha Tiger introduced the pairing of Salman Khan and Katrina Kaif as ‘super spies’ in a Hindi cinema blockbuster for Eid 2012 that became a big commercial hit. It’s interesting to re-visit now that the sequel has been similarly successful after release during the Christmas period of 2017. Though both films are instantly recognisable as mainstream Hindi cinema (or ‘Bollywood’ if you prefer) there are some interesting aspects of both films – and the films themselves have significant differences.

Tiger and Zoya meet in Dublin

In this first outing, Indian RAW agent ‘Tiger’ (Salman Khan) is sent to Dublin where an Indian scientist is working at Trinity College and potentially vulnerable to surveillance by Pakistani agents of ISI who could steal valuable data from him. Tiger and Gopi (Ranvir Shorey) attempt to make contact with the scientist but only get as far as his part-time housekeeper Zoya (Katrina Kaif). Tiger falls quite heavily for Zoya but is attacked by Pakistani agents. Perhaps it’s a SPOILER but I can’t really discuss the film without revealing that Zoya is herself a Pakistani agent. The Dublin sequence ends without revealing what finally happened, but Tiger clearly hasn’t forgotten Zoya and eventually sets out to find her at an Istanbul conference. From here on the two decide to run away together despite knowing that neither security service will rest until they have been silenced in case they compromise their employers. In the last section of the film they are discovered in Cuba.

This very sketchy outline perhaps suggests the kind of ‘romance thriller’ that is often termed ‘Hitchcockian’ since it became that director’s most favoured format, most famously perhaps in North by Northwest (1959) with Cary Grant and Eva Marie Saint. This might sound an unlikely reference but there are actually a number of parallels. Like Hitchcock, director Kabir Khan (whose background appears to be in documentary) has an eye for exciting action sequences in well-known settings and Ek Tha Tiger makes excellent use of Dublin city centre with a remarkable supertram fight sequence. Istanbul is the second well-exploited location and full use is made of old Havana for both romantic and action sequences.

The Dublin dance sequence sees Zoya (Katrina Kaif) as part of a pipe band.

Most Indian popular films are ‘multi-genre’ and here the two elements of the romance thriller are joined by the extension into fight sequences from international cinema. The other familiar genre tropes refer to the use of music in Indian blockbusters. There are, if memory serves, two traditional choreographed dance sequences. One which effectively pauses the action in Dublin and a final credit sequence in a fourth location, not identified. Possibly Morocco? In addition there are other songs accompanying, for instance, an extended montage of the couple enjoying the delights of Havana. This is a typical example of how more recent Hindi films have preserved the idea of six songs promoted separately to the film, but reduced the number of ‘performance songs’. Ek Tha Tiger runs for 132 minutes, perhaps 30-50 minutes less than the traditional masala film of earlier periods.

The Pakistan-India history of conflict is reflected in the fights in the film – the conflict is differently handled in the second film. I was intrigued that Havana was used as a location. It was still seen mainly as a tourist destination, but I was impressed that the two central characters did get into the more interesting parts of the city (watching a boxing match for instance) and I did detect a different ‘feel’ to the way in which the narrative was working compared to Anglo-American representations of the city.

Having watched both ‘Tiger’ films over a couple of days, I think I prefer this earlier film. (I’ve written about Tiger Zinda Hai (2017) on ‘The Case For Global Film’ blog.) Partly, my preference is because Ek Tha Tiger involves more ‘romance’ and fewer explosions. It has what seems to be a lighter touch and feels more coherent.

2 States (India 2014)

May 16, 2014June 17, 2014 / Roy Stafford / 2 Comments

Arjun Kapoor and Alia Bhatt as the lovers trying to cross the North-South divide in India

Throughout its long general election campaign India presented itself as ‘the world’s biggest democracy’, consolidating the sense of the Union of India – and that’s how most of us outside the country recognise its identity. But in reality India is not only a physical area the size of 20 European states with three times the population, but also with the same sense of diversity. There are more languages in India than in 20 European states and just as much cultural diversity. 2 States joins a long list of Indian films that use the ‘difference’ between those Indian cultures as a narrative device to add heft to the familiar Hindi romantic melodrama.

The main problem with 2 States is that it is a Karan Johar-produced mainstream film that leaves no convention unused in its assault on its audience. Nevertheless it is interesting as the fourth adaptation of an English language Indian novel by Chetan Bhagat. Two of those films have been hits – the monster hit 3 Idiots (and its Tamil remake Nanban) and the more modest hit of Kai Po Che (the most critically successful). The earlier Hello was deemed a flop. Bhagat is a phenomenon – a graduate of India’s top graduate schools who became a banker but then turned to writing. He has chosen to write in English, the English of the new young professional class rather than the literary English of those writers lauded in the West. His world is not the English public school/Oxbridge of Salman Rushdie, rather the world of the Indian middle-class (not the same as the UK ‘middle-class’) who are at least connected to the mass of the Indian population.

Bollywood star Vidya Balan (from Kerala) at the launch of Chetan Bhagat”s new book 2 STATES at Oberoi Mall, Goregaon in 2009

2 States is the most directly autobiographical of Bhagat’s novels and is presented as a version of Bhagat’s own struggle to marry the woman he loves. The problem is that in India (the book argues) you don’t just have to find someone you love, you have to convince your in-laws and then persuade your parents and your in-laws to get on with each other as well. This is a much greater problem when a Punjabi wants to marry a Tamilian. To be more precise, the problems intensify when the Punjabi boy’s family includes a hard-drinking father estranged from his wife (though still living in the home) and a mother struggling to keep up the lifestyle she thinks the family should have given her husband’s struggling business. Contrast this with the conservative and highly cultured Tamil family of vegetarians and teetotallers whose views on vulgar Punjabis could be seen as condescending. To make matters worse, like many other Punjabi families, this one is based in Delhi – losing roots in a strong community, whereas the Tamilians feel confident in their identity. Elsewhere in this blog we discuss other similar examples of Punjabi-Bengali relationships in Vicky Donor and Bengali-Tamil in Mr and Mrs Iyer. In the different context of a sports film Chak De India! manages to explore a wide range of prejudices against minority Indian cultures.

The abusive terms used (at least as translated in the English subs) are quite interesting. Ananya (Alia Bhatt) when she first meets Krish (Arjun Kapoor) insists that she is a ‘Tamilian’ and bridles at the suggestion she is a ‘Madrasan’. But Krish’s mother uses this term to abuse her. The ever-fascinating Urban Dictionary suggests that the stereotype of the ‘angry black woman’ goes back hundreds of years in India and the ‘angry Madrasan’ is a modern equivalent of this ancient prejudice referring to the ‘demon women’ of the South. The script for 2 States includes the terms Madrasan and Madrasi and also includes representations of the racism of skin colour that is prevalent in India. South Indians are assumed to be darker as Dravidians and North Indian forms of beauty for women assume lighter skin. The irony in 2 States is that Alia Bhatt who is cast as Ananya is light-skinned – which again is worked into the script. Hindi films of the 1970s up to the 1990s sometimes made ‘Madrasis’ into villains. The term was also used to cover all South Indians (it would once have referred to the Madras Presidency in colonial times). The renaming of Chennai has put this prejudicial observation more into focus.

Since the 1990s, Hindi films have travelled to the South for its ‘exotic’ locations, tending to treat Southern India like a tourist destination. 2 States does at least represent Tamil Nadu as a place of work, as well as spectacular settings for romance. I found most of the music for the film to be instantly forgettable but the song which worked for me is ‘Mast Magan’ which includes some of the best images of the Tamil Nadu shoot.

It’s a surprise that this high profile film was assigned to a novice director. As far as I can see Abhishek Varman had only assistant director experience before he worked on the script for 2 States and then directed it. In some ways it doesn’t matter too much that he does not have that much experience. The story is strong and the performances generally very good from all the leading cast members. There is a ‘bracketing’ narrative in which Krish is seemingly talking to a psychiatrist about the problems with his relationships and the suggestion is that at this point he has already written the draft of 2 States as a novel. This narrative trick features in several of Chetan Bhagat’s novels but I’m not sure it serves much purpose in the film. At other times it did feel that the commercial impetus of a Karan Johar production was painfully visible and without the acting talent on view the story would have sagged. Interestingly the next Bhagat adaptation – Revolution 2020 – looks like it is going to be in the hands of Rajkumar Gupta who made the excellent No One Killed Jessica. I hope that the new adaptation turns out more like Kai Po Che.

2 States is now a ‘super hit’ in India with over 100 crore (1 billion) rupees at the Indian box office and $4.5 million overseas

Song promo for ‘Mast Magan’ sung by Arijit Singh:

Vicky Donor (India 2012)

September 13, 2013 / Roy Stafford / 1 Comment

Ayushmann Khurrana and Yami Gautam, the attractive young leads of ‘Vicky Donor’

Vicky Donor is a successful example of the ‘New Bollywood’ trend. With a relatively small budget and an ‘edgy’ theme it pleased both critics and popular audiences and became a hit. Produced by the Bollywood star John Abraham, it is the work of the pairing of writer Juhi Chaturvedi and director Shoojit Sircar, the latter pair first meeting in the advertising industry. The trio have recently worked on Madras Cafe, a critical success, albeit much more controversial. Since its release was abandoned by my local multiplex chain, I’ll have to wait to see it but on the evidence of Vicky Donor, it should be worth seeking out. Perhaps, like Vicky Donor, it will get an airing on Channel 4 in the UK?

The ‘taboo’ in Vicky Donor is the subject of sperm donation and infertility treatment – a subject for comedy in many film cultures I think and Vicky Donor has been seen as similar to the Québécois film Starbuck from 2011 (now being remade in Hollywood). However, the Indian cultural context is quite different and what we get here is a ‘romantic comedy-drama’. Vicky is a young unemployed man living quite comfortably off his hard-working mother who runs a beauty parlour in the Punjabi ‘colony’ district of Lajpat Nagar in Delhi. One day he is spotted by Dr. Chaddha (veteran actor Annu Kapoor) who runs an ailing fertility clinic which needs to find a new donor of high quality sperm as soon as possible. Dr. Chaddha can tell just by looking at his face that Vicky will have a high sperm count. In one of the sensitive themes explored in the film we learn that Chaddha is looking for his ‘Alexander’ – a sperm donor who carries the genes of the Macedonian general who arrived in what is now the Punjab in 326 BC. This ‘Alexander’ represents what the subtitles call the ‘Pure Aryan’ legacy, a tricky concept for European audiences and many Indians I think. In the context, I would let this go but a serious drama around this issue would be interesting.

Vicky takes some persuading to become a donor but eventually the monetary rewards win him over and the next phase of the narrative deals with his meeting and courtship with Ashima, the rather aloof young woman at his local bank. I confess that I found the first part of the narrative rather slow and hard to get into but when the romance begins it picks up markedly. I realise now that it is important to set up the specifics of the Punjabi community. Vicky lives with his mother and his grandmother – a remarkably ‘progressive’ woman by comparison with her daughter. Ashima is a Bengali, so the second ‘sensitive’ issue is the play on the stereotypes of Punjabi and Bengali life. I was reminded of the Chetan Bhagat novel 2 States where the couple comprise Punjabi boy and Tamil girl. My impression is that Punjabis, Bengalis and Tamils are the most circulated regional identities in Indian popular culture. Interestingly writer Chaturvedi and director Sircar are from Punjab and West Bengal, but they have exchanged genders in creating the two lead characters. I was quite taken with the young couple and I think part of the charm of the film is that they were not stars (though the film’s success has now helped them get more lead roles. Ayushmann Khurrana has come out of TV where he has been a presenter and VJ. Yami Gautam similarly began in TV (ads and soaps) and this was her first Hindi film.

The final part of the film deals with the fall-out of the revelation of Vicky’s earlier ‘career’. By this stage I was enjoying the film very much and I thought the ending, though conventional, worked well. Overall, Vicky Donor does confirm the emergence of a new kind of Bollywood film. There is more reference to the realism of the lives depicted (at least in terms of regional culture) and the central issue is handled with some intelligence (although there does appear to be a major plot hole in the resolution). There are eight songs carefully integrated in the action, including this one sung by Ayushmann Khurrana that acts as a promo for the film – enjoy!:

Satyagraha (India 2013)

August 31, 2013 / Roy Stafford / Leave a comment

Amitabh Bachchan as the Gandhi-type figure in ‘Satyagraha’

I only see the occasional mainstream Bollywood film on release, but I try to keep up with how the industry is changing so I joined four other brave souls for a lunchtime screening of the latest film to star the ‘Big B’, Amitabh Bachchan. I knew little about the director Prakash Jha except that he is an industry veteran. It was only afterwards that I realised that he had made similar films in the past, including Raajneeti (2010) which has a narrative comprising very similar elements to Satyagraha – and three key stars are common to both films. So, we are dealing here with familiar genre material for mainstream Hindi cinema: corruption in business, politics and the police force and a specific family situation involving possible betrayals of principle etc. My real interest is in whether the material is being presented in a different way, engaging its audiences differently etc. In particular, I’m interested in possible indications that ‘new’ Bollywood or ‘Independent Indian Cinema’ is having an impact on the mainstream.

Manoj Bajpai as the villainous local politician

Satyagraha is being promoted as a ‘political thriller’ that is ‘torn from the headlines’, enabling some reviewers to claim that this is a ‘wake-up call for the nation’ etc. I think that this is unlikely – but the film kept me entertained for its 152 minutes and early reports suggest that it is a hit in India (on 2,400 to 2,500 screens). The title refers to the practice of non-violent activism or resistance to bad government and specifically to the campaigns led by Gandhi. The Gandhi figure in the film is a retired headmaster played by Amitabh Bachchan who is trying to build a school for the poor children in his part of town in a district of Madhya Pradesh in North Central India – the literal geographical ‘heart of India’ (most of the film seems to have been shot around Bhopal). In one of those beloved Hindi cinema conventions, Daduji has a son, a brilliant civil engineer involved in developing the region with new roads. In a prologue we see the son about to be married and welcoming back his childhood friend, an orphan who has been more or less adopted by Daduji’s family. This is Manav played by Ajay Devgn – a very different ‘young man’ (the actor is in his 40s) who has chosen to become an unscrupulous entrepreneur in the telecoms industry. Manav is not very welcome now in Daduji’s household, but he returns when a tragedy occurs. The tragedy and its aftermath also attracts a crusading TV journalist played by Kareena Kapoor. For the media, the story begins when Daduji, finally snapping after the latest insult to poor people seeking their rights, slaps the local government official and ends up in the local cells. Manav with the help of one of Daduji’s former pupils (Arjun Rampal) organises a local campaign to free the old man.

Ajay Devgn in one of several scenes of protests broken up by the local police

Manav’s prowess with mobile phone technology and social media use means that the campaign takes off very rapidly. This aspect of the film can be seen as both a contemporary reference and as an attempt to exploit some of the innovations of earlier similar films that feature social media such as Who Killed Jessica?. It’s also part of the film’s attempt to attract younger viewers with an element of youth rebellion like that in Rang De Basanti. But of course, this is Bollywood – all the technology works instantly on huge screens with perfect pictures etc. In fact there is an enormous amount of product placement which seems rather incongruous when the main thrust of the story at least moves away from the metros and artificiality of most Bollywood towards the poorest part of India. But then, this is billed as a ‘middle-class revolution’, requiring the audience to negotiate that knotty problem around what ‘middle-class’ actually means in modern India. I would say that all the main participants are relatively privileged, but to be fair to the script, the real story is about how this group attempts to take on leadership of the ‘ordinary people’ – and finds it quite difficult to maintain a Gandhian consistency of action. The script brings in questions of communalism as well as corruption and hypocrisy.

This isn’t a masala film if by that term we mean a mixture of romance, action, adventure and comedy. It sticks largely to the central narrative which commentators have suggested draws heavily on the ‘real world’ story of the campaigner Anna Hazare – especially as a hunger strike is included. The songs in the film are mainly integrated into the storyline – in the muted romance moments and as part of the large public events. This means that the traditional appeals to the audience, beyond the central social issue, come from the ‘large’ performances by the film’s stars. Amitabh Bachchan pulls out all the stops and is certainly worth watching. Kareena Kapoor struck me as miscast – but then casting a female Bollywood star as a glamorous reporter is now so clichéd in films like this that the role seems impossible. The most intriguing casting is that of the chief villain, the local politico played by Manoj Bajpai who was so good as the gangster leader in Gangs of Wasseypur. Here he gives a highly coloured performance, complete with what looks like a jet-black wig. He even has a comedy henchman. Having said that, in a mainstream popular feature, the villain needs to be distinctive and he fulfils the role well.

I don’t know whether the film will prove to be an example of how traditional Bollywood can hold on to its ‘all-India’ audience while it tries to please the younger, better-educated metro cinemagoers with more radical stories. Bollywood Trade suggests that its prime audience seems to be in those regions outside the metros – in Central India. Meanwhile Sharukh Khan in Chennai Express cleans up across the Hindi cinema universe. Perhaps I’ll try to catch it.

Here’s the title song for Satyagraha:

London Indian Film Festival #2: Bombay Talkies (India 2013)

August 5, 2013March 18, 2014 / Roy Stafford / Leave a comment

Naman Jain as the boy performing as Katrina Kaif in Zoya Akhtar’s segment of NOMBAY TALKIES. (AFP PHOTO / VIACOM18)

Bombay Talkies is a portmanteau film celebrating 100 Years of Indian Cinema and featuring four short films by leading Indian directors. The film led the Indian presence at Cannes this year and as it has been widely discussed in the trades and festival reports I was keen to see it. I enjoyed all four short films but the final section – a kind of musical salute to Bollywood featuring a host of stars – didn’t really work for me.

The four directors chosen (or did they volunteer?) for this enterprise seemed to me to fall into two camps. Karan Johar and Zoya Akhtar represent a kind of Hindi cinema ‘royalty’. Johar almost personifies Bollywood with his creation of Kuch Kuch Hota Hai in 1998 and his work on subsequent spectacular blockbusters with Yash Chopra productions. Zoya Akhtar has been slightly lower profile but she is the daughter of writers Javed Akhtar and Honey Irani and sister of actor Farhan Akhtar as well as working in a variety of roles as writer and director.

Nawazuddin Siddiqi as the failed actor in Dibanakar Banerjee's segment

Nawazuddin Siddiqui as the failed actor in Dibakar Banerjee’s segment

The other two directors represent various forms of ‘new’, more independently-minded Hindi cinema. Dibakar Banarjee has directed four films including Khosla Ka Ghosla (2006), which I enjoyed very much and Shanghai (2012) which has been critically-acclaimed but annoyingly not released in the UK. Anurag Kashyap has become the principal figure in ‘Indian Independent Cinema’, especially after the popular success of Gangs of Wasseypur (2012).

All four short films have a connection to Hindi cinema in some way and in particular to commercial filmmaking in Bombay. Johar’s story hinges on the emotional impact of ‘filmi music’ whereas Akhtar’s story is about childhood dreams fuelled by adoration of a young star (Katrina Kaif). By contrast, Kashyap’s story deals with a different kind of fandom associated with the iconic figure of Amitabh Bachchan. Banerjee’s film, which for me was the highlight, focuses on an out of work actor (played by the charismatic Nawazuddin Siddiqui, arguably the hottest star in Hindi cinema at the moment) and his accidental involvement in the shooting of a scene from a typical Bombay movie.

Rani Mukerji and Randeep Hooda in the Karan Johar segment. The careful composition tells you everything about the marriage.

The two ‘inside’ films have Bollywood gloss and stars – Rani Mukerji for Johar and Ranvir Shorey for Akhtar. Johar’s film seemed the most unreal and contrived, although its presentation of an unhappy marriage and the intervention of a young gay man has possibilities. Akhtar’s film would possibly win the popular vote with its focus on a small boy, who doesn’t want to play football as his father suggests but wants to dance in films instead, is certainly very enjoyable. The opening shots of the other two films immediately take us out of the artificial world of Bollywood and into the ‘real India’. In Banerjee’s film, the central character wakes from his bed on the balcony of his apartment, overlooking a flyover and a major road. Inside the stifling apartment is wife and daughter help him prepare to go out to look for work. I was intrigued to see that the film is based on a short story by Satyajit Ray (Patol Babu, Film Star, 196? – does anyone know the publication date of the story), but on reflection it does feel like it has connections to Ray – or at least to a literary take on Indian popular cinema in the 1960s. Banerjee is a very interesting director but I was saddened to see him make rather disparaging remarks about ‘regional cinema’. This was in response to a direct question about how the 100 Years of Indian Cinema seemed to ignore regional Indian cinemas, focusing primarily on Hindi language cinema. Banerjee was taking a Bengali story and transposing it to Bombay. I think I read that Siddiqui used a Marathi accent, but I’m not sure if any Marathi dialogue as such appears in the segment. Anyway, you are wrong Mr Banerjee, various regional cinemas continue to prosper despite the attempted hegemony of Bollywood.

The long train journey to Bombay in the Anurag Kashyap segment.

Kashyap’s film starts in a similar milieu in the centre of Allahabad with a young man ‘working’ the crowds on the street when he is summoned home where his father is ill in bed and wants him to go to Bombay as he once did for his own father. The son’s task is to meet another, more successful older man from Allahabad, Amitabh Bachchan, and persuade him to bite into a local delicacy, a murabba – a form of preserved sugared soft fruit such as a plum or mango, carried in the film in a large pickle jar. He must bring the half-eaten sweet back to his father who believes that he will then be able to connect directly with the great man. Allahabad in North East India is around 24 hours by train from Bombay so it is a major trip for the young man who is very well played by Vineet Kumar Singh. In some ways his arrival in Mumbai is similar to that of the hero of Satya – Anurag Kashyap’s first script for Ram Gopal Varma in 1998.

The final part of the film is the appearance of a host of Bollywood stars in what I thought was a fairly unimaginative dance sequence. The saddest aspect of this was the use of a series of archive clips from earlier decades of Hindi cinema, many from prints in very poor condition, some appearing to be old VHS copies, heavily pixellated. I can’t imagine what the Cannes audience made of this. Still, if it acts as a wake-up call for rights owners to get off their backsides and start to use some of the money wasted on current productions to restore the classics it might be a good thing.

I hope that Bombay Talkies gets a UK release so that audiences can see the mainstream and more independent directors under the same conditions.

Hears the murabba song by Amit Trivedi for the Anurag Kashyap segment (be warned, it’s very catchy!):

Yeh Jaawani Hai Deewani (India 2013)

June 7, 2013October 25, 2014 / Roy Stafford / 4 Comments

The four friends on the trekking holiday – a composition that clearly attempts to resemble a conventional holiday photograph. From left to right: Ranbir Kapoor, Deepika Padukone, Kalki Koechlin and Aditya Roy Kapoor.

Here’s India’s biggest film of the year so far, a Karan Johar production no less. The Hindi title translates as ‘This Youth Is Crazy’ – not really very helpful as a title as the film is bang-centre mainstream and conventional. I decided to see it partly because I’ve been impressed by two of the leads, Ranbir Kapoor and Kalki Koechlin, in previous films and partly because I wanted to try to keep abreast of where mainstream Bollywood is going. I enjoyed the film but the central story is probably not strong enough to sustain the running time of around 150 minutes and the second part of the film seemed less successful than the first.

The first half is told in a flashback to eight years ago when three friends from school each now in their early twenties are about to set off for a trekking holiday in the Himalayas. Aditi (Kalki Koechlin) then meets a fourth acquaintance from school, Naina (Deepika Padukone), who decides at the last minute to join the trip. Studying medicine, Naina is trying to escape from her image of being the school nerd. The two young men Bunny (Ranbir Kapoor) and Avi (Aditya Roy Kapoor) rather ignored her at school and the trip is Naina’s chance to prove them wrong. After the intermission, the film moves into full-on wedding mode. To be fair, it’s not quite the wedding we were expecting but in narrative terms it’s not really exploited that much. What was also disappointing for me was that whereas in the first half there was some grounding in ‘real India’, albeit for middle-class youth, the second half is typical Bollywood indulgence in glamour with overseas shoots and a beautiful Udaipur palace location. Throughout both halves, the colours are bright, the dancing impressive and the music often deafening (especially in a relatively empty cinema for an early evening show).

Nevertheless I found the film interesting. It does what Bollywood ‘coming of age’/romance/musicals should do and offers mainstream entertainment that is fresh and palatable for most audiences. Ranbir Kapoor and Kalki Koechlin are wasted because they aren’t asked to be different enough. Deepika Padukone takes her opportunity well but Aditya Roy Kapoor is also not given enough to do. I’m not giving too much away if I say that the film’s resolution is what we expect but that it is undercut by a composition that sees Bunny/Ranbir’s face in close-up gazing towards the audience over Naina/Deepika’s shoulder with an ambivalent expression. The ending (on New Year’s Eve) also sees one of the characters in isolation – with a drink problem and a failing business. This doesn’t seem conventional at all.

Hunting round the reviews I found some interesting comments. Bollywoodtrade pointed to what were claimed as links to 3 Idiots. Bunny does in fact follow a similar career path to one of the three students and he carries around a letter for the first half of the film that he produces at Intermission time and which changes the narrative. There is also a succesful engineer in the film – a ‘moneybags’ set up to marry someone. I’m not sure that there is much else but the comparison is interesting Chetan Bhagat’s novels seem to offer much more depth in their ideas – even if some of the film adaptations don’t take them too far – and I don’t think that Yeh Jaawani Deewani will prove to be as influential as 3 Idiots. However, the bollywoodtrade review makes some other points. It’s a review drawing on a screening in Indore with ‘real audiences’ and the reviewer quotes the approval of an older man approving of the message that ‘marriage should come before career’. The review also suggests that the film is successful because the ‘wedding season’ is in full swing in India (and it’s true that, much like Monsoon Wedding, there is some focus on what goes into the wedding preparations). On the other hand, the film is seen as in some way ‘progressive’ or ‘modern’ in that the younger male and female characters discuss physical relationships quite openly – and that they drink in the manner of Western young people (too many spirits for my taste). This latter isn’t new of course, whisky drinking was a feature of Hindi cinema in the 1960s – but it was usually a sign of a dissolute life.

As a contrast to this, AccessBollywood, a blog by an ‘entertainment writer’ in Chicago, takes the film to task for its sexism. Kathy Gibson suggests that the film switches gear away from Naina in the first half to focus on Bunny in the second half. She thinks he’s a bit of a jerk and that the narrative should remain focused on Naina. I agree with her overall view of the film and as I’ve indicated already, I think that Deepika Padukone has the best-written part and she handles it well. There is a sequence towards the end of the film when Naina persuades Bunny to stay and watch a sunset rather than dashing off (he’s been to lots of places and done lots of things, perhaps he should chill a bit more?). There is a running discussion about following dreams and deciding what to do with your life which I found quite affecting. This was good writing and the actors were capable of building on that but the script overall didn’t seem to know where to take it. One of the failures for me was not using Kalki Koechlin to the full. This woman has got a lot to offer but at the moment it seems to be independent cinema which knows how to exploit her talents to the full.

So, overall a fun night out but perhaps don’t try to read too much into Yeh Jaawani Deewani. On a technical level, however, it’s clear that Bollywood entertainment is in safe hands.

BIFF 2013 #12: Mughal-e-Azam (India 1960)

April 17, 2013 / Roy Stafford / Leave a comment

A hand-painted poster for the film from: http://www.scoutnetworkblog.com/2012/02/8476/bollywood-poster-art-gets-a-shot-in-the-arm/

The second of Bradford’s presentation of some of the landmark films of Indian cinema, Mughal-e-Azam, is a little easier to write about than Kalpana, but only because it conforms to aspects of Hindi popular cinema. As a production it is out on its own. The print we watched on Pictureville Cinema’s big screen was the 195 minutes print held by the BFI and last screened widely during the BFI’s Imagine Asia season in 2002. The print was in pretty good condition and appeared to be colour stock. The mainly black and white image thus had that grey-blue appearance. There are two key sequences in the film in colour, one just before the Interval (which therefore had a colour title) and the other at the end of the film.

Mughal-e-Azam is perhaps best described as an epic ‘historical romance’. The gigantic production is reputed to have taken ten years or more to bring to the screen – so long in fact that Indian cinema had already begun its conversion to CinemaScope and Technicolor by the time it finally reached cinemas (this explains the black and white Academy ratio format with colour inserts). It was for a long time the most expensively produced in India and the money is certainly there on the screen. I’ve never seen studio sets quite as lavish as these. The story is set in the court of the third great Mughal Emperor, Akbar who ruled most of India from 1556 to 1605 (the empire would be at its most extensive under Araungzeb in the later 17th century). Many commentators have noted that this was roughly the same period as Elizabeth I in England and there is certainly an Elizabethan drama feel to the film’s narrative which deals with the Emperor’s unruly son Salim who is sent away to war at age 14 as a cure for his indolent lifestyle. On his return as a warrior he defies his father over his love for a ‘maid’ – a dancing girl in the court troupe. He refuses to give her up, claiming that his love is greater than his need for power or glory. But eventually he goes to war against his powerful father with all the consequences of family feuds amongst the powerful. The Emperor is played by the magnificent patriarch Prithviraj Kapoor, the father of Raj Kapoor. Dilip Kumar is Salim and the girl, re-named by the Emperor as Arkanali (‘pomegranate-blossom’) by the beautiful Madhubala. Salim’s mother the Rani (Queen) is played by Durga Khote.

The black & white Academy frame – avoiding ‘colourisation’ in the DVD.

It’s not difficult to see why the story – or at least the context since the film narrative is myth rather than historical fact – is so important in terms of Indian national identity. The film actually starts and ends with a map of India hovering over a model layout of an Indian landscape (strangely clunky in a film where set design is otherwise fantastic). The map seems to speak as ‘Hindustan’ about its history. Not only did Akbar reign successfully for so long but he also promoted at least the sense of religious tolerance. His marriage to a Rajput princess and the inclusion of Rajput warriors as his close advisers and guards allows the film to portray both Islamic and Hindu ceremonials and rituals. (The Rajputs were the great warrior caste of Hindu India and provided the majority of rulers of the ‘princely states’ in Northern India.)

In many ways this is the kind of narrative – and the kind of film – that were it a British or American film, I would probably avoid at all costs. Why then was I held for over three hours? I think it is a mixture of the exotic (no matter how global in outlook you wish to be, the exotic always has an allure), the spectacular (the sets in colour and with the myriad of reflecting mirrors are superior to anything else I’ve seen and many sets match the almost expressionist qualities of Kalpana), the beautiful dialogue (even in translation the Urdu poetry works), the history and the star performances. But above these, perhaps, is the music and the dancing. I think there are around a dozen songs – more than in contemporary Hindi cinema. By the end of the film I think I was hypnotised by Lata Mangeshkar’s singing and Madhubala’s dancing.

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Hindi Cinema – Bollywood