Bollywood’s hegemony
MAITHILI RAO
Sixty years after Independence, the reach of popular Hindi Cinema has
left regional films and talented directors out in the cold.
Artistic merit and box-office success: The gap widens to a chasm
because of the absence of an alternative distribution system.
Does popular culture not only define but also disseminate the
zeitgeist of a nation? Not just within the geographic boundaries of the
nation state but also to the cultural conglomerates of the Indian
Diaspora scattered across the world in this globalised age? The spread
and reach of Bollywood provoke these disquieting, connected questions to
the dismay of the discerning film lover who is acutely aware of the
richness of our other cinemas and its neglected auteur left out in the
cold.
A scene from Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna |
The hegemony of popular Hindi cinema existed even before the rather
derogatory term Bollywood gained currency - it is part of the Oxford
dictionary now. Not all the protestations - from Amitabh Bachchans
resigned reproach to sycophantic, even triumphalist defenders of both
its glories and inanities - can now cleanse the word of its implied
disdain.
Arrogant assumptions
But trust Bollywood moguls to turn the undertone of disdain into a
badge of honour proudly worn. The industry as a whole seems content to
bask in the glory of implied comparisons: it sees itself as the Asian
counterpart of Hollywood, an aggressive purveyor of Indian soft power to
match its new economic clout.
Such arrogant assumption of its own superiority and confidence in its
persuasive power - witness the media circus surrounding the annual IIFA
awards, showcased in various cities of the world with such
self-congratulatory braggadocio while the bemused denizens of the host
city look on in bewilderment - is woefully blind to Bollywoods real
standing in world cinema.
After ‘Lagaans’ heartbreakingly tantalising high noon at the Oscars,
the quest for the true crossover film has been Bollywoods holy grail.
Bollywoods sultans of conformist entertainment have been wilfully blind
to the remarkable resurgence of cinema in unlikely places like Korea and
Romania (witness their success at Cannes this year), and the reinvented
resilience of thriving film industries of Hong Kong and Taiwan that
unfailingly produce a John Woo, Ang Lee and Wong Karwai, all
international cult names with both critical and commercial success to
their credit. This cinema has insidiously breached Western resistance
that had hitherto dismissed it as chop-socky stuff.
Self-styled dream merchants of Hindi Cinema live in blissful oblivion
or ostrich-like self-delusion: they chase the elusive crossover
audience, waiting to be wooed by lilting song and seductive dance, and
won over by heart-warming, if clichd, homilies on family values
propagated by our ‘glorious tradition’.
So unswerving has been the faith in this formula, at home and abroad,
that there is no market room for hesitant departures and head on
subversion from within the Hindi film fraternity.
The mood is celebration of the familiar and denial of space to
practitioners of not just what used to be called parallel cinema but
even minor variations of the formula. A Munnabhai is a once-in-a-decade
marvel, a cause for real celebration. But ‘Omkara’, a wonderfully
creative adaptation of Shakespeare, did not get the recognition it
deserved.
All over the world, the gap between true artistic merit and
box-office success exists but the gap widens to a chasm here because of
the absence of an alternate distribution system.
If this is the fate of Hindi films that have stars and use music and
dance in the narrative, the plight of regional filmmakers with original
themes and personal modes of narrative needs no elaboration. Aparna Sen,
Rituparno Ghosh and Jahnu Barua have all made films in Bengali, Hindi
and English but they are more talked about on the festival circuit than
seen by a wider audience. National awards redress the injustice to an
extent but ultimately, a film has to be seen by the audience - even if
it’s a small, niche one.
Bollywood has a stranglehold on film bodies that select entries for
Oscars - alas, the most visible sign of international success, because
both our mainstream media (print and electronic) as well as the general
public is unaware and disinterested in the minor triumphs of our other
cinema on the international film festival circuit. Except, of course,
Cannes. Even here, it is the hyped presence of Aishwarya Rai and
Abhishek Bachchan (minuscule, measured by the amount of international
coverage) that gets written about by celebrity-driven journalism and
avidly lapped up by dumbed-down consumers.
Artistic merit and box-office success: The gap widens to a chasm
because of the absence of an alternative distribution system. |
No coverage
Hardly anyone knows that Nandita Das won the Best Actress prize for
her lead role in Chitra Palekars Marathi film ‘Maati Mai’ at San
Sebastian. Or that the Lincoln Centre in New York has had retrospectives
of Adoor Gopalakrishnan and Girish Kasaravalli a few years ago; that the
curator of Asian cinema in Rome was so moved by the low-key lyrical
humanism of Kasaravalli that he programmed a retrospective of this
equally low-profile but gifted filmmaker.
Sadly, the Smithsonian in Washington had a season of Shyam Benegal
films some years ago and all that the desi community, so prominent
around the cosmopolitan greater DC area, did was to talk about the
lavish costumes of Sanjay Leela Bhansalis vulgarly over-the-top ‘Devdas’.
To think that one of Benegals best and most self-reflexive films was a
subversive take on the Devdas syndrome in ‘Suraj Ka Satwa Ghoda’.
Though it is tempting to blame Bollywood power brokers for swamping
all our other cinemas left to struggle valiantly on the sidelines, there
are other factors that facilitate the phenomenal success of Bollywoods
meretricious mediocrity.
The first is so obvious that it needs no reiteration. So, to restate
briefly: however alien and exotic a country’s popular cinema, the
international arbiters of taste recognise and validate its unique
selling proposition in proportion to the said country’s economic stakes
in the global market place.
In the days of the Cold War and our pre-eminent place in the
non-aligned movement, it was only natural that Raj Kapoors facile
socialistic agenda and optimistic propaganda made him our cultural
ambassador to the erstwhile USSR and parts of Eastern Europe. Otherwise,
Hindi cinemas traditional overseas backyard was the Arab world and East
Africa.
Now, Bollywood has made more than tentative inroads into the land of
the free and home of the brave. And of Hollywood. Earlier, Hindi cinemas
western audience was a reminder of the Raj. The audience remained 95 per
cent South-Asian even though Gurinder Chaddha emerged from the ranks of
British television to make the first mainstream hit that vaulted over
the ethnic divide. ‘Bend it Like Beckham’ still remains a landmark of
Asian-English cinema, replicating its success across the Atlantic.
Sirens song
But even a savvy, intelligent filmmaker like Chaddha succumbed to the
lures of Bollywood and made an indigestible mess of Jane Austen wit and
witless song and dance in ‘Bride and Prejudice’. The film suffered
because the director couldn’t make up her mind whether to celebrate or
spoof a typical Bollywood extravaganza.
Mira Nair was cleverer and had the pulse on her American audience.
‘Monsoon Weddings’ affectionate send up of the big fat Indian wedding
drew more cosmopolitan, non-Indian viewers than ‘Lagaan’, which was
released at the same time. The Namesake now repeats the success, and is
shown on trans-Atlantic flights. Though how many non-Indians got the
point of the newly weds miming a Bollywood number on the official
wedding night - an awkwardly self-indulgent salute to the song and dance
routine - is a moot point.
The point is that a minority of western audience catches on, after a
nudge perhaps, but that it does is a tribute to the trickle down effect
that Bollywood had had on the western sensibility. Bollywood truly sings
a siren’s song that infiltrates alien sensibilities.
Baz Luhrmans ‘Moulin Rouge’ is an oft-touted example of Bollywoods
narcotising influence. And now that Shakiras swivelling hips dont lie
about the seductive appeal of pelvic thrusts Indian style, the argument
is closed as far as the MTV generation is concerned.
The circle is now complete - our 1990s cinema had capitulated to MTV
and updated its item numbers to compete with videos streaming down from
satellite TV. It is a truly global market when all that an American
critic and long time watcher of Hindi movies sees fit to comment on
‘Kabhi Alvida Na Kehana’ are the two set piece dance numbers and not
Karan Johars self-advertised boldness in tackling extra-marital love!
Young, second generation Indian Americans tell me that Bollywood hits
are played in mainstream clubs and classes that tutor athletic Caucasian
bodies to the subtleties of the thrusting jhatka and seductions of the
bhangra shoulder swivel have sprung up across Washington and New York.
We knew of Bollywood dance classes in London, as a way to lose weight
and make lissome moves.
The process begins in infancy itself. My three-year old grandson
sings a mangled version of Bole Choodiyan as he prances around happily
in a suburban Washington home. And we have to tell my daughters
Pakistani friend, an informed Bollywood watcher, to see the acutely
disturbing Pakistani film ‘Khamosh Pani’!
- The Hindu |