Dhobi Ghat (Mumbai Diaries)

Some films are so evocative of place that it is possible to smell the rain as it hits the pavement, taste the air blowing off the ocean, and sense the buzz of humanity on the streets even when music supplants background noise. Dhobi Ghat (2010), helmed by first-time director Kiran Rao is one such film. Mumbai (Bombay) is shown to be moody, subtle, overwhelming, treacherous, squalid, and gorgeous, and the film is at its best when the focus of the film is not the characters, but the city itself, which functions as the humming background note in a vibrant ensemble of characters: Munna (Prateik Babbar), Shi (Monica Dogra), Yasmin (Kriti Malhotra), Arun (Aamir Khan), and Mumbai.

"My muse, my whore, my beloved" says Aarun of the city. 

Shi is an Indian-American banker on sabbatical from NYC pursuing her passion for photography. Arun is a brooding painter, Yasmin a lonely bride, and Muna, the unlikely heart of the film, is a dhobi (laundry man) who dreams of becoming a film star like Salman Khan. The lives of these four Mumbaikers bump up against one another over the course of the film, with surprisingly lasting impact.

Munna and Shi

Of the cast, only Khan is a star. Babbar's subtle performance as Munna, and Malhotra's tremendous screen presence as the fragile Yasmin suggest Rao has an eye for talent, a talent for directing new actors, or both. A lesser actor than the capable Khan might have played Arun as a melodramatic, "angry young man"; instead, Arun is broody, damaged, and entirely self-contained. Dogra's Shi is not especially likable, but I am never sure if I dont like her because she seems not-quite-real or so real that I actually dislike her as a person. Either way, her stalking of Arun is believable- Khan's Arun is exactly the kind of man a woman artistically inclined and inclined towards artists might stalk a little bit. Shi claims she is following and photographing him for the sake of "unfinished business," and neglects to specify what that business might be. However, the way Shi's camera lense pans Arun's body invites the audience to make inferences, and I am struck by the fact that Kiran Rao was an assistant producer on Lagaan long before she married Aamir.  

Arun's painting

There are many cameras in Dhobi Ghat. Shri's black-and-white photographs tell one story of the city, Yasmin's video letters to her brother another, and Arun's paintings yet another. These various eyes bring the viewer closer to daily life (lives) in the city, particularly with very narrow-angle shots and close-ups on bangles, hands, cloth, canvas. Rao's directoral lens shows us the connections between the stories, but the other lenses remind the viewer that Mumbai is a city of millions of lives, textures, hands, faces, tragedies; the city ultimately remains a mystery, even to the director.

In this film, Mumbai (most of the characters prefer Bombay, a choice nostalgic, political, or both) is shown to be both like and unlike any and every other city in the world. The rich and the poor live separate lives packed together like a shoal of fish in a too-small tank. In the crowd, the denizens are alone. Lives brush up against one another without every touching; connections are misunderstood, ignored, rejected, chased, dreamed up, and some are ultimately impossible. Maybe even most, although the film ends on a note of quiet hope. Maybe- and this is a big maybe- some dreams can come true in the city of big lights and big promises.   

Most reviewers wrote that Dhobi Ghat has the sensibility of a European art house film. I disagree. Although fluent in the visual language of the international film festival circuit and fundamentally cosmopolitan, Dhobi Ghat is an Indian art house film. There are enough beautiful Indian art house films making enough of a splash that the industry speaks for itself, without the aid of neo-colonial comparisons. If you are interested in reading additional reviews, however, the Hollywood Reporter's review is beautiful.

The DVD I received from Netflix also included some wonderful special features, the very best being that which recounts the collaboration between Rao, Khan, and composer and musician Gustavo Santaolalla of Brokeback Mountain (2005) and The Motorcycle Diaries (2004) fame. It is a mini-exploration of the creative process and the role of atmosphere in art. Santaolalla and Rao have managed to add local depth and global breadth to the city through the music of this film, and gaining some sense of how and why was fascinating.

In a final note, for readers interested in more Bollywood gossip than is available in the special features, I recommend Mumbai Fables: A History of an Enchanted City, by Gyan Prakash. I read it first in a course about urban South Asia, but it is not an academic book- it reads like a really long issue of People magazine crossed with a true crime novel, and joyfully rakes around in the muck. Its fantastic.

Film: Dhobi Ghat (2010)
Director: Kiran Rao
Writers: Kiran Rao, Anil Mehta
Runtime: 95 Minutes
Country: India
Language: Hindi, English

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Mangal Pandey: The Rising

Rajasthan

While at a bus stop in the middle of nowhere Rajasthan, a very old woman saw my friend and I and asked if the British had returned. Although the people at the bus stop laughed at her, I was struck by the incongruity of her question, or rather, by the distance between us. It was sometimes easy to forget that the Raj ended more recently than WWII- but maybe only for me.  

Plenty of Hindi-language films have been made about the end of the Raj, from Rang de Basanti (2006), to Bandini (1963), to 1942: A Love Story (1994). Comparatively few have been made  about 1857 (the obvious stand-out being Satyajit Ray's 1977 Shatranj Ke Khilari ); this is the only film I have ever seen which depicts the First Anglo War in Afghanistan, despite the terrible cost in human life and the importance of the conflict to regional and world history. This film is based on the real-life figures of Mangal Pandey and Col. Gordon Ramsey, who both served in Afghanistan and were actors on the South Asian stage in the conflict 1857, although liberties have obviously and openly been taken. 

For readers not familiar with the events of 1857 (alternately called the Sepoy Rebellion and the First War of Independence) the basic facts are as follows- in 1857 the East India Company (EIC) introduced new cartridges which were greased with the fat of hogs and cattle, haram and sacrilegious for Muslim and Hindu sepoys respectively. This, combined with many other concerns, not the least among them being the EIC annexation of Oudh in 1856, resulted in a series of uprisings against the EIC in central and northern India, the first beginning in the cantonment in Meeruit on May 10 of 1857. The EIC reasserted control in India with the fall of Gwalior on June 20, 1858. Bahadur Shah Zafar, the last Mughal ruler of Delhi, was deposed and sent into exile in Rangoon, Burma, and the Crown assumed control of the subcontinent, establishing the British Raj. Queen Victoria was crowned Empress of India in 1877.

Set against this backdrop, Mangal Pandey: The Rising (2005) revolves around the relationship between sepoy Mangal Pandey (Aamir Khan) and Col. Gordon Ramsey (Toby Stepehens*), survivors of the First Anglo War in Afghanistan and BFFs. Together they wrestle with the injustice inherent in the systems in which they are invested- social, economic, political, gendered- and make life-changing decisions about what to do about these injustices.** In Bollywood there are good Britishers and bad Britishers; Toby Stephens plays a good Britisher. Both men also fall in love (Pandy with slave and sex worker Heera and Ramsey with rescued widow Jwala), dance a bit, and do a surprising amount of growing as leaders and human beings.

The music, inevitably by A.R. Rahman, provides opportunities for the relationships between Pandey and Heera (Rani Muckerji) and Ramsey and Jwala (Ameesha Patel) to develop, and for the mood and moment in history to be established. The song "Rasia" juxtaposes the private relationship between Jwala and Ramsey and the public lives of Pandey and Heera. I dont know why Jwala cries (maybe she wanted the lights on), but by the end of the sequence the Bollywood taboo of including anything particularly explicit –and outside of marriage, no less- has been flaunted, albeit with the bodies of a virginal widow and a Catholic Scottish colonialist. The song's entire sequence is notable for the extreme sexualizing of India's nomadic peoples- the two women dancing together is particularly lacking in subtly. I have long believed orientalism in Bollywood film (here, for example) would make an excellent dissertation topic, and this sequence would be a good place to start.

The song "Main Vari Vari", in addition to being catchy, is consequently a problematic reflection on the public gaze. The viewer is watching Heera, but the viewer is also watching the EIC watch Heera. The viewer is meant to condemn the leering men visually consuming the body of a slave, who is singing about the deadly power of her beloved's gestures; but while the viewer is condemning the EIC, we are equally guilty of viewership. However, this self-reflexive judgement is completely absent in the objectification of the Indian tribal women dancing during the erotic "Rasia". Is objectification acceptable, or isnt it? The film seems to answer "it depends on the women."   

There are other problems with the film. The music is not up to A.R. Rahman's usual standards. There is a Holi scene, complete with song and dance. Why is there a Holi scene, complete with song and dance? Why not, I guess, although it seems cruel to make Toby Stephens dance. There are some explicit moments between Pandey and Heera, which seem more-or-less gratuitous. Reviewer Raja Sen went so far as to call the film "inane". A New York Times reviewer complained that, "the racial hatred seems rabid and cartoonish, the political discussions of the opium trade become preachy, and the romance feels more like a cause for dance-offs than an exploration of intimacy." These reviewers miss the point. The second in Amir Khan's trilogy of patriotic epics (the others being Lagaan (2001) and Rang de Basanti (2006)), Mangal Pandey is making a lot of points that are not inane, cartoonish, preachy, or cause for dance offs. (Really? Dance offs?) 

Yes- British cruelty, personified by one of Ramsey's fellow EIC officers, is on full rabid display. I am curious as to what he thinks colonial rule looks like. More to the point, Pandey's caste-hatred for his untouchable neighbor is on equally rabid display. The EIC is shown to be inherently unjust-therefore, it must be dismantled, by violence if necessary. But if the resulting world is to be more just than the one ruled by the EIC, so too must caste hierarchies be torn down. Pandey cannot be the leader the sepoys (and occupied India) needs until he learns to overcome his own prejudices.

An even bolder rejection of prejudice is made in Pandey's choice of love interest. Heera is a slave and tawaiff, and therefore a completely unsuitable wife for explicitly upper-caste Pandey. In a region where marriage, women's sexuality, and caste boundaries are rigidly intertwined, a national hero marries an explicitly lowest-caste sex worker- and a mouthy one at that. Given the high premium placed on the purity of national heroes everywhere, this choice is nothing short of shocking. Remember- we are all still waiting for the Hollywood blockbuster about Thomas Jefferson's affair with Sally Hemings, his slave and dead wife's half-sister. This aspect of the film was so controversial the BJP called for the film to be banned, claiming the film was guilty of character assassination. The government of UP considered banning the film unless changes were made; there were also sit-ins, protests, and damages to a shop selling CDs and DVDs of the film.

Ramsey's choice of widow Jwala is less controversial. He was a white colonial and she was a virginal widow saved from sati; neither are invested in the caste system's purity strictures or concerned with the sanctity of Hindu marriage. More interesting is the film's approach to the issue of sati (also transliterated as suttee) itself. When Ramsey and Pandey see a funeral complete with sati in the works, it is Ramsey who insists on intervening; Pandey is shown reluctant to get involved in ending the outlawed tradition, just as Ramsey was reluctant to get involved in the slave trading he witnessed. Both men have some learning to do along their path to becoming national heroes. However, on the issue of sati Ramsey- and by extension the EIC- is shown to be in right. More than a battle of Indians vs. Britishers, this film explores the battle of justice against injustice, in all forms and from all sides. The romance in this film is not about intimacy or dancing. It is about social politics.

As to the preachy criticism... well, yes. It gets a bit preachy. The messages could have been more subtle; but given that the Times reviewer missed most of them, perhaps it is best they were not. Do not be dissuaded- Mangal Pandey: The Rising is ultimately an extremely entertaining celebration of national myth, with solid performances by beautiful people in beautiful settings to beautiful music. The solidly progressive, if somewhat heavy-handed, messages should be viewed as an added incentive.      

As a final note, although it is certainly a nice touch to have Heera join the fight with her very own violence (hooray agency!), I am still waiting for a film about India’s real-life female freedom fighters. There are some films about modern-day women terrorists, including Dil Se… (1998) and Dhoka (2007- ghastly) but a film about women who participated in early anti-British movements could be fascinating and inspiring. Manikarnika: The Queen of Jhansi (2019) was recently made about the life of Lakshmibai, Rani of Jansi but was plagued by very real complaints of right-wing political bullshit, but Noor Inayat Khan (1914-1944), an unsung heroine who spied against the Nazis in occupied Paris during WWII would be another excellent choice. In spite of some hopeful signs in the direction of female-centric films, most cinema- in every industry- concerns itself mostly with men.  

For a fascinating discussion of the First Anglo War in Afghanistan I recommend Return of a King: The Battle for Afghanistan, 1839-42 by William Dalrymple. It lays out the conflict within the context of Afghan, British, and Great Game politics, as well as explaining the consequences of the conflict on the events of 1857. There are probably other resources, but  I cant imagine any are more readable. Dalrymple’s The Last Mughal: The Fall of a Dynasty: Delhi, 1857 is also an interesting read , although I must add a caveat- most South Asianists take umbrage with Dalrymple’s academic work. Everyone loves City of Djinns: A Year in Delhi.

Film: Mangal Pandey: The Rising (2005)

Director: Ketan Mehta
Writer: Farrukh Dhondy
Runtime: 151 Minutes
Language: Hindi
Country: India

*Evidently Stephens had to learn his lines phonetically; his accent is unusually good for a white guy in a Bollywood film. 

**They also wrestle with one another in a manner that can only be called homoerotic.

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Dil Se...

I once studied a Persian folktale, a variation on Aesop’s story, about a fish and a mouse who become friends. The story ends with both being eaten by a bird, and the moral is that you should never befriend people who are different from you. It is a chilling tale, with a chilling moral, and with this story in mind, we turn to the highly stylized, politicized, sexualized, domestically rejected and internationally lauded Dil Se… (1998). But before we do that, lets all take a moment to re-watch “Chiya Chiya”. Maybe three or four times, because too much of a good thing is wonderful.  The premise of Dil Se... is straightforward: boy Amar (SRK) meets girl Mhegna (Manisha Koirala), girl rejects boy, boy goes back to Delhi and meets new girl Preeti (Preity Zinta, in her break-out role), first girl returns. Inter-religious drama, singing, dancing, etc. ensue. Director Mani Ratnam takes a straightforward premise and turns it into a gorgeous, if problematic, reflection of nation, gender, love, and power.

A.R. Rahman’s music and the highly charged, unusual dance sequences, choreographed by Farah Khan before she was a director and producer, illustrate Amar’s journey through the Indian state from Aasam to Kerala, and through the seven phases of love from Arabic tradition (attraction, infatuation, love, reverence, worship, obsession, and death): from the infatuation of "Chiya Chiya" through his dramatic, inevitable end, Amar’s love is accompanied by a haunting score and soundtrack. The lush settings of the dance sequences make each choreographed song an expressionist painting in motion, disconnected from the narrative but integral to the story. The athletic eroticism of the choreography makes Dirty Dancing (1987) seem dully vanilla, and is highly unusual even in an industry known for eyebrow-raising dance numbers. 

The cinematography by Santosh Sivan is equally captivating, and complimented by intense background noises- breathing, gasping, crying, fighting, wailing- which make the action feel immediate and hyper-real. The final five minutes of the film are my favorite- the intimate final moments of two women, one dressing the other, cutting to soldiers on a noisy, kinetic parade ground, cutting to Mhegna striding purposefully alone, cutting to Amar framed by darkness and the old fort, creating a jarring, heightened confusion of noise, emotions, and tensions. Shah Rukh Khan, Manisha Koirala and Preity Zinta are all excellent. SRK over-acts when he has to cry, but that is equally true in all his films. Otherwise, he is as charismatic as ever. The on-screen chemistry between SRK and Koirala is also impressive; their shared scene in the desert, in which Amar declares that what he most likes and dislikes about Mhegna are her eyes, and the fact that he cannot read the secrets behind them, is particularly powerful.

Mehgna is a laudably complex anti-heroine, torn between a passionate love and a final mission. Irritatingly, she is also a bit of a cliché: she was a victim of political violence, and more specifically of rape, and it is this violence which leads her to political engagement. One of my MA papers focused on women who actively participated in or encouraged political violence, and exampes of goddess imagery used by women to justify their own violence means to political ends. I never once came across a woman justifying her political engagement by identifying herself as a rape survivor.

Perhaps some of the women I read and wrote about were survivors, and did not describe themselves as such due to the social stigma surrounding rape- but the complete, glaring absence of rape and rape-survival narratives suggests to me that either women did not find such justifications useful, or did not find such justifications relevant to their own political engagement. Then why do films including Dil Se…, Dhokha (2007), and others, insist that female terrorists be rape survivors- why do they insist that women engaged in political violence be “broken” by male violence? As if political engagement somehow required male intervention, male action and female reaction, to justify “unfeminine” acts of political violence. Rape-surviving women becoming terrorists is a depressingly popular trope- sex, wanted or unwanted, continues to be an easy explanation for women’s actions.

The politics of Dil Se… are more unusual and less "easy". Released six years after the assassination of Rajiv Ghandi by a female terrorist and only one year after the celebration of India’s semi-centennial, politics are omnipresent, and especially the violent means by which national coherence is maintained. The conflict in Kashmir is most (in)famous, but the conflict over sovereignty in India’s peripheries- in India’s North East (the seven sisters) and Naxilite-controlled regions, in Kashmir, and the conflict over sovereignty in Punjab which left Rajiv Gandhi’s mother, Prime Minister Indira Gandhi, dead by assassins- was and is an often poorly understood and under-discussed facet of India as Nation-State, rather than India as Idea.

Key here is remembering that although this film is ostensibly about Amar, it is in truth about his ambivalent feelings towards Indian national policy towards India’s periphery, recreated in his passionate love affair with Mehgna. Quite a few reviewers compare Amar-as-Nation-State to a golden retriever demanding Mhegna’s love, assuming that his love and a steady marriage will domesticate her. Although that reading lends itself to the notion that Dil Se… is national allegory and Amar the Indian Nation-State, I question the too-easy analysis. Amar, an employee of All India Radio, is certainly a representative of the Nation-State, and Amar is certainly a nice boy from Delhi. Nevertheless, there is more to his character than meets the eye; his marked preference for complex women and his insatiable curiosity to learn more about the world muddy the waters of the metaphor, and his end, embracing Mhegna in a pantomime of protection, unable to save her- does this suggest the center’s love of the peripheries will destroy the center? The rest of the film suggests that the Nation-State doesn’t love the peripheries at all, but rather seeks to control the peripheries by force. The metaphor is incomplete.

But then, what do love stories do if not create problems and muddy the lines we draw between one another? Love stories illuminate shared humanity and human tragedy. Perhaps the fish and the mouse shouldn’t be friends. However, the persistence of the folk story, and the enduring popularity of doomed love stories set in times of conflict, suggests to me that even in the face of overwhelming odds and inevitable loss, we need to know there are some among us who still believe in the power of love.

Film: Dil Se… (1998)

Director: Mani Ratnam

Writers: Tigmanshu Dhulia, Sujatha  

Runtime: 158 minutes

Language: Hindi
Country: India 

Deewana

A few years before Hum Aapke Hain Koun…! was released, there was Deewana (1992), a film which reminds me of nothing so much as the Old Testament book of Ruth, a personal favorite. Deewana has everything- women helping other women, women defending themselves, broken social taboos, love at first sight, the poor and weak triumphing over the strong and wealthy, arguments for Hindu widow re-marriage and against marital rape, and several epic dance numbers. I particularly enjoy this one: 

Im pretty sure I had a Barbie with that outfit. Maybe all the outfits. Who doesn’t love a dance-on-mountain-top sequence? But to the real reasons I love this film:   

1) Kajol (Divya Bharti). The subtitles on Netflix are uninspired and Kajol appears far less assertive and sarcastic in English than in the original Hindi. Which is distressing, as much of the glory of this film is Kajol’s no-nonsense attitude toward the men in her life. She fights off a would-be rapist. She publicly shames Raja (Shah Rukh Khan) on two separate occasions: first on the street in front of a sea of on-lookers, and later in a temple full of worshipers. Kajol stares Raju down when he stalks and then plans to kidnap her, and he loves her for her strength. Kajol later follows her heart to new love rather than remaining chastely devoted to the memory of Ravi, her first husband, as expected of Hindu widows, and it is Kajol who makes the first physical move in her new marriage.

2) Laxmi Devi. Kajol's Naomi-like mother-in-law, Laxmi Devi (Sushma Seth) bravely does what needs to be done in the face of tremendous grief, fear, and loss. She also puts Kajol’s needs as a woman and as a human being before society’s expectations of a good Hindu widow, which is extremely unusual in Hindi-language cinema. Relationships between mothers-in-law and daughters-in-law (sasas and bahus) are notoriously difficult (and not just in South Asia) and often shown in cinema to be nasty, competitive, and jealous. In contrast, the women of Deewana have men in their lives, but they turn first and foremost to one another. The love stories are peripheral to this, the most important relationship in the film.

3) No marital rape. It is worth noting that although Raja initially considers abducting the widowed and disinterested Kajol, after the wedding he sleeps elsewhere, declaring that he won't touch her until she wants him to. Given that marital rape is again legal (or rather, an impossibility) in India, and wasn't a crime everywhere in the United States until 1993, this is quite a declaration. Which is not to suggest that all husbands were rapists before marital rape became illegal, or that making marital rape illegal made it stop. However, the decision to include this particular scene was a deliberate move in a deliberately progressive film. Now- Raja's transition from stalker to husband is obviously problematic, and the transformation of his character from deewana (a man crazy with love) to perfect husband and son-in-law is jarring and inexplicable. But in a film that acknowledges that sex is about power and consent, the scene matters.   

4) No victim blaming. After Kajol fights off a would-be rapist, husband Ravi and Laxmi Devi believe her without question. They then summarily banish her attacker, their own blood kin. In addition to establishing villainy, the attempted rape highlights Kajol's fighting spirit and the love between Laxmi Devi and her new bahu. Moreover, the refusal of Kajol's new family to engage in any sort of victim blaming cements this as a decidedly pro-woman (pro-human-being) film. For an important account of victim blaming in India, please read my amazing friend Vaidehi Joshi's post about her own experience in Mumbai. Important: victim blaming is by no means limited to India.

5) Economic transformation. Released in 1992 as India’s economic liberalization policies were taking effect, the film shows tentative forays into consumer culture while maintaining old-fashioned film tropes. Raja may have Rocky and Top Gun posters hanging in his room, but the language of villainy is English. The young women on the beach in swimsuits wear modest one-piece suits and look like real women wearing swimsuits. This is not “Dard-e-Disco”. The limited product placement is also noticeably different from the consumer-oriented Hum Aapke Hain Koun…! When compared to SRK’s 2011 RA.One, the difference is glaring. 

6) SRK's film debut. The film also shows that SRK is one to watch- his on-screen charisma is remarkable, even when he is doing ridiculous things like carving Kajol’s name into his arm and dancing on a motorcycle.

For viewers interested in gender, or Hindu widow remarriage, Deepa Mehta's Water (2005) is required viewing. Water is visually spectacular, with over-saturated colors, phenomenal performances, and near-perfect direction. But it is also deeply, deeply depressing, so much so that the rest of your day will probably be shot. Watch Water, by all means. But don’t plan on getting anything else done that day. Or watch Deewana and be happy instead.

Film: Deewana (1992)
Director: Raj Kanwar

Writer: Sagar Sarhadi

Runtime: 185 minutes

Language: Hindi

Country: India

Lagaan: Once Upon A Time In India

Lagaan (2001) is an over-determined, light-hearted, patriotic good time. It is not unexpected or challenging, and there is a massively long cricket game towards the end- but it is sufficiently thoughtful and more than sufficiently fun to warrant viewing, reviewing, and frequent re-viewing. A.R. Rahman’s music is phenomenal as always, the village setting is lovely, the costumes are spiffy, and lets face it- the idea is something we can all get behind. Indian villagers beating the British at a game of cricket in exchange for three years without having to pay taxes? Obviously never happened. But to take a deadly serious idea- the human impact of agricultural and economic policies imposed by an occupying foreign power (please see the famine in Bengal circa 1943)- and make it a musical about cricket, national unity, romance, and the resilience and creativity of the every-man is pretty nifty. 

Now, western women in Bollywood films are annoying. All of them. If nothing else, they all speak fantastic Hindi without having to put forth any obvious effort, which sets a bad precedent. Nevertheless, I confess: I have, on occasion, been the white girl in Lagaan. Put out in some nature and given a little too much free time, I formed doomed romantic attachment(s). I also maybe sang about my mini-melodramas. There was maybe dancing. So my heart goes out to Elizabeth (Rachel Shelley). I feel your train wreck. I also recommend urban living and a job. 

Dancing in Nauky

And who doesn’t feel Gauri (Gracy Singh)? I love the song "Radha Kaise Na Jale" (sung by the incomparable Asha Bhosle) - how can Radha not burn with jealousy when she sees Krishna cavorting with those other gopis, or in this case, Bhuvan, (Aamir Khan) making nice with that leggy colonial oppressor? One of the rewards of watching foreign films is enjoying the universal human experience- in this case, watching the other girl smile and absolutely hating her. The baul-inspired "Mitwa", which features several men crying and embracing (patriotism is on) is also fantastic. "Chale Chalo" is about Aamir Khan running up and down hills without a shirt on. 

I know there are sarcastic souls out there wondering why Indian villagers spend so much time singing and dancing- surely not? Now, my experience may not be typical, but when I lived in Naukuchiatal, a village in Uttarakhand, I spent a lot of time singing and dancing. A lot of time. Not every day, but several times a week- excluding Holi, during which week I went to parties with singing and dancing every single day. So just leave the sarcasm at home, buddy. People like singing and dancing. 

There is also cricket in Lagaan. A lot of it. Despite having lived in India for over a year, I know nothing about cricket. I probably never will because I just dont care. I suspect the Academy felt much the same- Lagaan was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Foreign Film in 2002, but failed to bring home the statue. I suspect the Academy was not ready for a 45-minute game of cricket in the middle of their 3.5+ hour musical extravaganza.

I am also not really ready for a 45-minute game of cricket in the middle of my musical extravaganzas. I usually fast-forward to the inevitable dramatic ending in which the villagers, who have overcome religious and caste prejudices to unite as one team in a few short weeks, are inevitably, gloriously victorious. (over-determined!) But do not let the ponderous length, cricket, or annoying white woman deter you- Lagaan is worth the investment in time and energy. I have watched it more than once, and I don’t even like sports movies. I absolutely recommend Lagaan to anyone who likes sports movies. I also recommend Lagaan to anyone who likes fantastic music, and to anyone who doesn't want to worry about the ending- who just wants to enjoy the ride.

To the fashion! The outfits worn by Gauri are called ghagra choli, and are made up a a long, full skirt tied at the waist called a lehenga or ghagra, a short blouse called a choli, and a long, wide scarf called a dupatta or orna.  The polka-dots on Gauri’s outfit, most often found on fabrics found in western India and eastern Pakistan, and famously in Rajasthan, are traditionally created by wrapping cloth around lentils, tying twine around the fabric, and then dying the fabric-twine-lentil bundle. I haven't seen it done, but having seen sari drying in the sun, I suspect the process is beautiful. Also, I suspect, a whole lot of work. 

Film: Lagaan (2001)

Writer/Director: Ashutosh Gowariker

Runtime: 224 minutes
Country: India

Language: Hindi

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Hum Aapke Hain Kaun...!

The announcement that Christian Louboutin will now be customizing shoes for the Indian wedding market seems an appropriate moment to consider the importance of weddings in Indian films, and specifically in Hum Aapke Hain Kaun...! (1994).

What I find most interesting about the blockbuster hit Hum Aapke Hain Kaun (Who Am I to You) is not the film itself, but how many people actually liked it. I find the film sticky-sweet like too many jalebies at a go, but the film was a run-away success, and the subject of more than one academic essay. What, I wondered, was going on here?

Hum Aapke Hain Kaun is the story of two families united by the rituals of arraigned marriage. A celebration of (select, specific, Hindu) Indian wedding traditions from start to finish, the film is more or less one long choreographed party with some great music. Two brothers, two sisters, some good clean fun, a fatal fall down the stairs, and three hours and 14 songs later a happy ending!

Now, there is some really great wedding music here. Madhury Dixit is radiant as the vivacious but ultimately obedient Nisha, and Mohnish Bahl is perfectly adequate as Rajesh. Young Salman Khan as Prem is cute as a button, although guilty of some over-acting. Pooja (Renuka Shahane), the original bride, is lovely, shy, and has at least three more lines than the pet dog. Pooja need not speak- she is a symbol, a model, who displays wealth, as well as morality, tradition, and upper-caste magnanimity to lower-caste servants. 

Aside from the obvious entertainment value of the near-constant music and dancing, the film also has historical significance. The film marks a shift in attitudes towards wealth, consumer goods, and foreign investments, which coincided with India’s adoption of economic liberalization policies and a shift away from Nehruvian policies towards a market economy. Chocolate, cola, cars, and other expensive goods are held up as the desirable norm, and English is the language of heroes rather than villains. Moreover, the film normalizes upper-caste, upper-class Hindu wedding practices, and highlights the benefits of arranged marriages, all of which are equated with “Indian tradition.” This normalization of specific traditions as "Indian" came at the same moment in history when intolerant Hindu-right political movements, which campaigned on economic liberalization, Hindu superiority, and middle-class values, were coming to power. The power of this film in influencing perceptions of “Indian traditions” and “Indian values” in ways which lionize upper-caste, upper-class Hindu practices over everyone elses' traditions and values is difficult to quantify, but should be kept in mind while watching.

So what about those Louboutin- luxury items out of reach for the majority of the world’s women. Certainly shifts in economic policies and social expectations which coincided with the release of Hum Aapke Hain Kaun are what brought Louboutin to India to make couture wedding shoes. Hum Aapke Hain Kaun reassured viewers in a globalizing, politically charged, and rapidly changing world that extravagance and tradition, joy and familial fealty, sacrifice and luxury, social expectations and love are all a part of a great Indian wedding- so what if only the wealthy and privileged are invited to the party? This film tells you to go ahead and buy those really great shoes.

This film is, more than anything else, a disappointment to me. Mumbai has given the world thoughtful and beautiful films about the power of love, the virtues and limitations of fealty, even the joy of celebrations! But this is not one of them. Mumbai has also brought the world progressive films in which messages of hope are intertwined with marriage. After all, many of the minds who gave the world the Progressive Writers Movement ended up in Mumbai (then Bombay) after Independence and drifted into the film industry. This marriage of progressive, optimistic politics, poetry, and a burgeoning national film industry could hardly fail to produce a golden age of lyrical, progressive, thoughtful cinema. Sujata (1959) is a lovely film about caste, marriage, and peoples' ability to grow in a brave new world. Hum Aapke Hain Kaun is ultimately just a long, predictable film about learning to shop like everyone else.  

A final note: for a fascinating look at marriage, and changing marriage practices in India, read Women and Labour in Late Colonial India: The Bengal Jute Industry, by Samita Sen. Clunky title, fantastic and fascinating writing.

Film: Hum Aapke Hain Kaun...! (1994)

Director: Sooraj R. Barjatya

Writer: Sooraj R. Barjatya

Language: Hindi
Country: India

Special Report from BBC Travel: Mumbai's Bollywood Dreams

Tailor Shop in Nishatganj

Bollywood fashion hits the high streets! Another interesting piece about the relationships between high fashion and Bollywood film in Mumbai from BBC Travel. Interesting that although the report is about a couture designer the opening shots are of goats on a city street. The urge to highlight that which is different and call it "exotic" is strong, even for the BBC. Differences in reporting are very evident when contrast to the pages of Indian Vogue, for example, which also covers Bollywood and couture, but without the aid of goats. But on to the cultural notes:

Wednesday Market in Lucknow

As Ms. Lulla points out in the report, Bollywood fans can take images from films along with fabrics and go to their tailor to have similar clothing made. Tailor shops like this, my favorite in Lucknow back in 2010-2011. I usually had to take my sewing kit to anything they made for me to make adjustments, but the location was convenient, the price was right, and there was chai and Urdu in the event of delay. More to the point, these gentlemen could make anything.  

Before visiting the tailor, a shopping trip is essential- at least in Lucknow, it was strictly BYOB (bring your own bling). My favorite place to shop was Budh Bazaar, Lucknow's weekly Wednesday market. Bring your game face and arrive early and well caffeinated, because Budh Bazaar is a Shopping Experience. I loved the treasures to be found- vintage sari for a song, hand-painted ribbon, traditional Lucknowi hand-embroidered chikkan work, lotus flowers, and everything from buckets to scissors to nail polish and fresh sugarcane and coconuts with straws. This is a picture of the fabric alley where I bought the makings for most of my clothing. I loved the creativity of finding a fantastic piece of ribbon or a gorgeous color and building a complete outfit. 

I myself never tried to re-create anything I saw in a film, although my wardrobe was certainly inspired by the clothing I saw in films like Veer-Zaara, Nikaah, and particularly Jab We Met. The last introduced me to patiala salwar, a style I embraced on separate occasions with cranberry red, steel grey, cream, and teal-colored gusto. After all, it is impossible to have too many colors of a good thing. 

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Veer-Zaara

Veer-Zaara  (2004), streaming with subtitles on Netflix, is one of the modern classics to come out of Bollywood in the 2000s. Graced with three big stars, driven by an entertaining, if predictable, plot, and laced through with beautiful music and some interesting messages, the film was a hit with domestic and overseas audiences alike.

The film opens with a dream sequence, which quickly breaks to an aged and frail Veer (SRK) in one of the largest cells ever to misrepresent a prison system. We discover Veer is an Indian political prisoner in Pakistan, and has not spoken since his arrest. A young and idealistic lawyer, Saamiya Siddiqui (Rani Mukerji), appears on the scene with one goal: to secure the Indian prisoner’s freedom. No one that handsome could be a spy (James Bond notwithstanding); Veer is naturally innocent of all wrongdoing. But to prove it, Saamiya is going to need to hear the whole story. Eventually convinced of his lawyer's sincerity, Veer recounts his tale of love and loss while gently cradling a silver anklet of bells. 

In the flashback of Veer's memory, which comprises most of the film, we are introduced to our heroine, headstrong Pakistani girl Zaara, played by the ever-delightful Priti Zinta. After the death of her beloved teacher, Zaara travels to India to pour her ashes into the Sutlej river in the Punjab. There, Zaara is rescued by Veer, a handsome Indian air force pilot, who agrees to accompany Zaara to the Sutlej, and then show her his home. As all great couples should, the two fall head-over-heels in love over the course of two days to a beautiful score composed by Madan Mohan.

Not all is to run smoothly- Veer is obviously in jail. As with all great melodramas, this film has a dastardly villain, some cruel twists of fate, and a phenomenal courtroom scene. I won't share the ending- suffice to say, it is very melodramatic. At its best, this film is moving melodrama. At its worst, this film is ridiculous melodrama. However, one must respect that this film is completely unafraid to be exactly what it is.

With the self-assuredness comes some heavy-handedness. Women deserve equal opportunities to pursue educations and futures! Cross-border, religiously mixed love is beautiful! True love conquers all! In case of confusion, these points are driven home with the subtly of a semi-truck. Fortunately, that doesn’t make the messages wrong, and the film, while heavy-handed, makes a nice change from some of the other messages about love, diversity, and gender relations coming out of Hollywood, Bollywood, and most everywhere else.

The music is some of the best you will ever hear. I enjoy all the songs- one I include here in which Veer describes India to Zaara, who rejoins that her homeland shares the same dawn and sunset with India. It is joyful, patriotic, and romantic- a trifecta of greatness. Please also appreciate the over the course of his career, SRK has danced on everything imaginable, including the Ferris wheel here (see also trains, motorcycles, and the Brooklyn Bridge).

Another song worth noting is “Main Yahaa Hun” (I am here), Zaara’s fantasy, displaying the chemistry between Zinta and Khan and Zaara’s unapologetic interest. Very often in films I cant help but wonder if the heroine is dancing along just to be nice. Make no mistake here- Zaara is in it to win it. Veer even appears in the rain following the ever-popular trope which highlights the object of desire’s figure and form. The male form as desired, and the heroine doing the unabashed longing, is unusual. SRK commented that he has done enough romantic films to sleepwalk through roles. Looked fine to me.   

The costuming on this film is lovely, showcasing old-fashioned elegance for a more contemporary moment. While trends in shalvar suits and sari come and go, beautiful lines, bejeweled dupata and solid colors will never cease to appeal to those with an eye for the timeless.

Critical to enjoying Veer-Zaara is checking cynicism at the door. If by the end of this film you aren’t in tears and convinced Veer and Zaara will be together forever, you are watching it wrong. Gray areas, ambiguity- reality in general- have no place here. Leave it at home or don’t bother watching. And don’t bother calling- I will be busy happily crying and singing along.

Director: Yash Chopra

Writer: Aditya Chopra

Runtime: 192 minutes 

Languages: Hindi, Urdu, Punjabi
Country: India

Rockstar

Rockstar (2011), like all stories about rock stars, is a story of self-discovery, an inevitable rise, and an inevitable fall. Although predictable, Rockstar has some moments of beauty and poses some questions worth exploring.

The story is fairly straightforward: Janardhan Jakhar, aka J.J., aka Jordan (Ranbir Kapoor), the titular rock star, is told that to become a real artist he needs to experience pain. As he had a happy childhood it will have to come in the form of a broken heart. After a friend, watching Heer (Nargis Fakhri) dance, comments that she is a ‘heart-breaking machine’, he decides to make a pass at her. He falls flat, but through persistence strikes up a friendship with her.

This in itself is problematic, as the message to men is clearly “no means try harder.” And, “when in doubt, try stalking.”

However unlikely, the effortlessly cool Heer and the inarticulate J.J. become friends. Heer is soon to be married, so she makes a list of the things to do before becoming a good Indian wife and mother- another problematic idea. Visiting a Delhi disco, drinking Desi liquor, and sneaking into a “blue film” together deepen their bond. At her wedding in Kashmir Heer realizes she is in love with J.J. Both make half-hearted remarks about running away together, but as neither can tell if the other is serious, Heer marries Aaman.

Heer is whisked away to Prague, leaving J.J., christened Jordan by Heer, heartbroken. Also homeless- he has stolen 500,000 rupee from his family to attend the wedding in Kashmir, and is kicked out of the house. Finally, some suffering! His musical career is due to take off any day now. Sure enough, he moves into a Sufi shrine (still places where the homeless can go for shelter and the hungry for food) and begins performing quwwali in the dargha. A famed musician notices Jordan at the shrine and eventually helps him secure a contract with a music producer. This in turn leads to a musical exchange to Prague, where Jordan and Heer are reunited. The affair ends in tears, Jordan’s deportation, and Heer collapsed in her driveway after a scene in front of the entire family-in-law. It transpires that Heer suffers from a fatal form of anemia, and with her marriage over she returns to India to die with her family and, inevitably, Jordan.

By the end Jordan, like the hero of A Farewell to Arms, is free to drink, fight, and drug himself to death, responsible to and for no one - a rockstar in the mold of his idol, Jim Morrison,  Heer predicted Jordan would never be able to live outside their shared world, and by the end it is evident that she was absolutely right. Heer’s role in the film is that of disposable muse, catalyst of Jordan’s life and career but in control of neither her own feelings nor her own fate.  Film audiences deserve better heroines than Heer. Unfortunately for the character, Fakhri is also pretty mediocre in this role, particularly in contrast to Kapoor, who is fantastic.  In the ‘plus’ column, A.R. Rahman’s music is incomparable as always. Above you can find the beautiful qawwali-inspired ‘Kum Fayakun’, my personal favorite. However, all the songs are solid and blend beautifully into the story. The choreography is passable. The cinematography is better than average, with some epic shots of Rome and Prague, as well as gorgeous shots of Kashmir. Kashmir not at war, but at a wedding, which is better. The story jumps across time via montages a few times over the course of the film, which also makes for engaging viewing.

embroidered kashmiri shawl

Chakravarty (1993) calls the Hindi film industry the site where, “the overriding official goal of Indian national unity is subject to the work of cultural elaboration,” where, “cinematic culture...can then be seen as a mediated form of national consciousness.”[1] If this is the case, what can we learn from Rockstar? Rockstar certainly aspires to a global cosmopolitanism. Jordan is adored by fans throughout the world, as evidenced by his popularity in Rome and Prague, as much as in Lucknow and Delhi. 

Moreover, by participating in both Hindu and Muslim celebrations, Jordan demonstrates his ability to embrace diversity within India. Unity through diversity! Jordan is western in his aspirations- he idolizes Jim Morrison rather than a playback singer in the Indian film industry or Ravi Shankar. Jordan also resists the expectations of his family and society more broadly- he rebels his way to international stardom, although he experiences intense suffering along the way. The ending of the film is ultimately ambiguous: what is the price of international fame? What is the price of art? Of love? The price is high- maybe too high- but can the rush toward the dreamed-of globalization be stopped? Is the journey more important than the sorrow-filled destination?  

As a finale note, Heer wears gorgeous Kashmiri shawls throughout the film.  I include a picture below of the Kashmiri shawl I bought in Lucknow for my mother for a heart-breaking $36 from a Kashmiri gentleman selling textiles door-to-door. This should give you, dear reader, a sense of the exquisite handiwork which set Kashmiri textiles apart. 

Writer/Director: Imtiaz Ali Country: India

Runtime: 159 minutes 

Languages: Hindi

Production Co.: Eros International Ltd., Shree Ashtavinayak Cine Vision Ltd.

[1] Sumita S. Chakravarty. National Identity in Indian Popular Cinema: 1947-1987. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1993, 7-8. 

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