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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Jab We Met

I begin my blog with Jab We Met, a hit in 2007, wildly popular among the students at Lady Irwin College in Delhi while I was a study abroad student, and the first Bollywood film I ever really watched. The soundtrack of Jab We Met was the soundtrack of my first trip to India, and listening to "Tum Se He" transports me to the vans and buses of Rajasthan and the Himalayan foothills. Understandably, the film is close to my heart, but it is also one of my favorites, not only for the fantastic music but also the delightful love story, chemistry between stars Shahid Kapoor and Kareena Kapoor, and character of Geet, who, while ostensibly silly, possesses a great deal of independence and wisdom. 

Kashmiri Shawl 

A few criticisms- the last plot twist? One plot twist too many. Geet is occasionally too cute for my taste. The item number at the end, complete with western women in ridiculous costumes? Well, whadayado. I recommend this film to newcomers to Bollywood film, to romantics, and more generally to anyone who enjoys a well-realized, entertaining film that makes no pretense to being anything other than joy-filled entertainment.

Jab We Met, streaming on Netflix, is the story of a chance meeting between Aditya, a depressed and lovelorn Mumbaiker and scion of a wealthy industrial family, and Geet, a chatty Punjabi student. Aditya, despondent after family drama and his ex-girlfriend’s wedding, boards a train intending to kill himself. Geet races to catch the same train, jumping and hoisting and bustling aboard at the last minute, and then  launching into a spirited monologue at Aditya. After missing trains, traveling, a musical montage, and an orientalist’s interpretation of Tibetan culture, Aditya is in love. 

I dont want to spoil the plot for anyone who hasn’t seen the film- to the analysis! In addition to being very entertaining and an excellent introduction to Bollywood film, Jab We Met features two well-drawn characters, who although playing to tropes (the chatty but loveable girl, the repressed but good boy) are more or less believable. Moreover, Geet shows more agency than many heroines by supporting herself in Shimla, and by ultimately choosing whom to marry. Jab We Met is as much Geet’s story as Aditya’s, which is unusual even in romances. Geet’s insights are occasionally trite, but her impact on Aditya as he learns to appreciate her outlook is enjoyable. Geet’s sass, which sometimes fails her in the clinch, is also fun to watch. I particularly enjoyed her rejoinder to a busy-body Indian Rail official. Kareena Kapoor’s Punjabi-inspired style is also fantastic. I loved her patialla, and the phulkari worn by her mother. Kareen Kapoor seems to evoke a similar reaction to that of Anne Hathaway in that quite a few people dislike her. Although sometimes guilty of over-acting, I think her performance in Jab We Met is very good. Certainly I was not often distracted by over-acting; I may have been distracted by Shahid Kapoor, who is admittedly very pretty, and has the moves like Jagger.

Film: Jab We Met
Writer/Director: Imtiaz Ali

Runtime: 138 min

Languages:  Hindi, Punjabi, English
Country:  India