A scene from Raja Harischandra
So Dadasaheb Phalke was shooting Raja Harischandra around the same time as his British and American counterparts were filming adaptations of Oliver Twist. You can read into this an early sign of the different directions that the feature film would take here and there. Phalke filmed a myth, while his western peers chose a story set in the poorhouses of an industrialising England.
But anglophone Indians who read magazines like Outlook, even those who live and breathe popular Hindi cinema, are ambivalent about the films they love. You can see this ambivalence in critical writing about Indian cinema. Film scholars go on a bit about the Hindi film as a hybrid form. Sometimes, this talk of hybridity centres on specific generic borrowings: the Hollywood action movies that inspired Hunterwali, or the Westerns without which Sholay would not have been possible, or the moll who, along with the tawaif, supplies the bloodlines of Bombay’s vamps.
This is reasonable, but this emphasis on ‘hybridity’ and borrowing leads critics into a larger temptation, namely, the idea that Indian film-makers adapted an art made elsewhere to exotic Indian ends. Thus, Maithili Rao suggests that the Hindi film “is testament to the Indian ability to take a commercial art form born in the West and make it wholly Indian—in spirit at least”.
This tendency amongst English-speaking consumers and critics of Hindi cinema to understand it as a variation on a Western theme is part of a larger post-colonial anxiety, the uneasy sense that desi efforts and achievements are time-delayed re-runs of things that have already come to pass in Europe or America. This unease is compounded by the feeling that not only are Bombay’s films not original, they are also, in terms of the production values of the western film, not very good. The tacky sets, the improvised scripts, the obsolete equipment and poor post-production often seems proof of this inferiority.
The truth is that it is not Bombay’s cinema but our understanding of what a good film ought to be that is derivative. For anglophone Indians whose definitions of fictional art are derived from books and films in English (or French or Russian or Japanese), the Bombay film begins to seem like second-rate mimicry or a guilty pleasure. Salman Rushdie, in whose fiction Bombay cinema plays a large part, makes this case bluntly: “Most Hindi movies were then and are now what can only be called trashy. The pleasure to be had from such films (and some of them are extremely enjoyable) is something like the fun of eating junk food. The classic Bombay talkie uses scripts of dreadful corniness, looks tawdry and garish, and relies on the mass appeal of its star performers and musical numbers to provide a little zing.”
Ignore, for a moment, the familiarity of this critique; focus on the fact that all of us, at one time or another, have been struck by what Rushdie calls the tawdriness of Bombay’s popular cinema and embarrassed by the oddness of the films we love.
Rajesh Khanna in Kati Patang
Some months ago, I happened upon a television re-run of Kati Patang. This Rajesh Khanna vehicle was a film I had watched more than once 40 years ago, when it was first released. It was hard to sit through it this time round. The soundtrack was as good as I remembered it (partly because I’d been listening to the songs on the radio for decades) but Rajesh Khanna’s mannerisms were intolerable now and Asha Parekh’s brand of prissy vulnerability had worn very badly. The plot turned on a series of absurd contrivances (accidents, deaths, impersonations and coincidences) and by the time the film limped to its happy ending, I was wondering what I had seen in it the first time round.
And yet, Guess Who’s Coming For Dinner is virtually impossible to sit through now. As the white liberal parents of a young woman who is bent on marrying a black man, both Tracy and Hepburn come across as smug and patronising, and Poitier is lumbered with such professional perfection and personal nobility that he barely seems human. Context and timing, in popular cinema, is almost everything.
Poitier and Houghton in Guess Who’s Coming...
The difference between the two films is that Guess Who’s Coming For Dinner obeys the rules of realist fiction while Kati Patang doesn’t. The Hollywood film unfolds over a single evening, inside one house, and observes the classical unities of time and place, whereas the Bombay film has a long back story and is so unconcerned with realism that Rajesh Khanna makes no attempt to work the piano’s keyboard in time with the song he’s singing. So while both films are desperately dated, judged by the criterion of plausibility, Stanley Kramer’s film makes story-telling sense, while Shakti Samanta’s movie, no longer buoyed up by the novelty of its songs or the charisma of its stars, seems incoherent and absurd.
The real problem that the anglophone Indian has with Bombay’s films isn’t their tackiness: it is the absence of realist conventions. He might adore Priyanka Chopra and worship Shahrukh Khan, but he can’t help notice that their films are made up of stock elements that seem out of sync with rational modernity, which is underwritten by the rules of realism. A film culture where the musical is so completely the norm that a film without songs is remarked on is obviously a local aberration, an aesthetic dead-end.
Paradoxically, the Hindi film’s success in film markets other than India confirms this conclusion. To be popular in the Middle East, Central Asia, parts of Russia and Africa is to be a cinema for backward peoples as yet undisciplined by realism, reason and modernity. A cinema that doesn’t bear witness to the real world is either escapist entertainment that you can enjoy in an ironic way or something you choose to watch because you were socialised into this cinema as a child and watching Hindi movies is your way of staying connected to that lost hinterland, that Bharat-which-is-not-India.
To think in this way is understandable but wrong. There is a reason why the Bombay film is produced in Bombay and that reason is profit. The people who financed Hindi movies in Bombay (a thousand miles away from Hindi’s heartland) didn’t do it out of an attachment to Hindi or Urdu; they did it because Hindi/Urdu was something of a lingua franca in large parts of India and it made their movies accessible to the largest possible audience. This was the same reason that Parsi businessmen invested in the repertory companies that constituted the Parsi theatre and preceded the Hindi film industry. The Parsi theatre was agnostic about language: it experimented with plays in Gujarati, Marathi, even English, but settled on Hindi/Urdu as its most profitable medium.
The Bombay film doesn’t routinely use phonetic nuance to indicate class in the way that an American film might use dialect. Even the accent Hindi films use to indicate rustic speech is a confected dialect designed to indicate a generic villager, untethered to a specific region or place. Bombay’s cinema has ways of rendering Madrasis, Bengalis, Goans and Pathans as stock types, but it has no interest in mimetic realism because the effects it wants to produce aren’t aimed at a linguistically homogeneous audience. It tries to stage melancholy and joy, laughter and tears, anger and love in Bijnor, Bangalore, Barabanki and Bombay. So it is indifferent to local usage in speech or behaviour, the stock-in-trade of literary and cinematic realism in single-language countries like America or France.
Long live stereotype: Mehmood, Pran, Paresh Raval and Johnny Lever in stock-in-trade roles
The cruel money-lender, the country bumpkin, the big city businessman, the honest engineeer are always archetypes and every film has songs because songs are springboards to feeling, they transport a diverse audience via music into a medley of emotional states. The silent era was a good time to be an Indian film-maker: there was no language to fracture the market. Music did for the talkie what silence did for the early feature: it helped consolidate a pan-Indian audience.
So Rushdie’s right—and he isn’t. Much of the output of Bombay’s film industry is trashy, but the aesthetic that makes the bad films is also responsible for the good ones. Hindi cinema happened when actors, directors, producers, composers, lyricists and dialogue writers got together to make unsubsidised films for a subcontinental audience. Far from being a cul-de-sac, the Bombay film has been a hugely successful answer to a great and abiding question: how do you make popular art for a diverse people?
(Mukul Kesavan is a writer based in Delhi.)
Outlook’s cinema special (June 4) is beautifully done. The golden era of Indian films is worth remembering, especially as a tribute to the people who worked and brought us classic films like Raja Harischandra and Alam Ara. Congratulations to the Outlook team for bringing out a brilliant issue.
Purushottam C. Bafna, Gokak, Karnataka
Your cinema special ostensibly celebrates the last 100 years of cinema, but the post ’90s era was conspicuous by its absence. The issue amounted to over 100 pages of incessant nostalgia. I admit the luminosity of the cinema of yesteryear, but why ignore present-day cinema, which has minimal overacting and more realism? Touching upon the bolder, brasher cinema of today would have been nice, as would have been something on 3D. Trust me, too much nostalgia is boring for 16-year-olds.
Sriram Kumar, on e-mail
Apropos Mukul Kesavan’s piece Attitude Bollytude, what Bollywood really needs to do is get over the craze for ‘white skin’. It’s demeaning, racist and gives our kids a complex. We need a ‘Brown is Beautiful’ movement.
K. Madhu, Hyderabad
For god’s sake Outlook, stop being apologetic about ‘out of sync’ Bollywood. This only emboldens the industry to make more stupid films.
Ayoung Konyak, Kohima
The star system is the problem. You can’t say much about an industry where the actor is more important than the character he essays.
B.V.G. Rao, Warangal
Bollywood packs old wine in new bottles while Hollywood does the opposite—packs new wine in old bottles.
It’s strange but true, Bollywood is bringing us together as a nation. What else can explain a Malayalam novel getting a Hindi script and being applauded by a Punjabi audience?
V.N.K. Murti, Pattambi
The film special (Jun 4) was great. Mukul Kesavan’s claim that Indian cinema has grown its own culture is justified. It’s true that realism is at a discount in Indian cinema—our audiences prefer dreams and extravaganzas.
Thank you to all those who have taken the trouble to read the article and share their thoughts. Out of the arguments made here, there are two that perhaps need answering. So here they go.
1. The first part of the article compares outcomes (relative percentages of population of the religions concerned) irrespective of the process that led to those outcomes - whether immigration, relatively faster population growth or conversions. This was for two reasons. One, to put the figure of 2.3 per cent in "numerical perspective", as the article itself explained. The second reason was that outcomes are ultimately what the crux of debate is about. The rest of the article in any case dealt with process - or conversions in this case, from both a contemporary and historical perspective.
2. Some commenters have tried to cast doubts on the reliability of Census 2001. Those who do this should bear in mind that Census 2001 was conducted by a BJP government. Considering the extreme importance that BJP gives to this issue, it would be reasonable to expect that IF it had perceived a problem with the methodology that was distorting the numbers, it would have fixed it. As the article mentioned, BJP or BJP-supported governments have been in power for 10 of the last 40 years, or about a quarter of the time, and the only reasonable conclusion one can arrive at is that any misreporting of numbers, real or perceived, would be marginal and hence, not of importance.
To all other arguments made, my answer is the following: Please read the article again, with particular focus on the quotations of Vivekananda and Monier Williams, and the history of the missionary efforts in Bengal and their outcome.
Further correction in 17/D-70 & 18/D -72 :
Sorry, the quote is by David Ogilvy of Ogilvy & Mather
EDIT of 17/D-70 :
Borrowing from a quote by Ogilvy Mather:
There are neither good movies nor bad movies. There are only two types of movies. Movies which sell and Movies which dont.
And a few Movies hit the jackpot!
Borrowing from a quote by Ogilvy Mather:
There are neither good movies nor bad movies. There two types of movies. Movies which sell and Movies which dont.
"Most of the times we end up comparing the worst of bollywood with the best of Hollywood."
Exactly. I still enjoy watching Hrishikesh Mukherjee movie Anand after 40 years and I find all the old James Bond movies stupid. So I can reach the same conclusion. I think the culture plays a very critical part. If the movies like Saransh or Arth have been made in Hollywood, they would have won the oscars. But we have to celebrate a pathetic movie like Slumdog millionare. I find recent bollywood movies very fresh and refreshing covering different subjects. They are also well received by audience.
I feel that such a scathing attack on Indian cinema is unwarranted.
Indian Cinema is trash. Ok! but compared to what?
Lets look at contemporary Hollywood themes.
Action- Only 2 storylines exist- its either aliens attacking earth and subsequently Americans saving the world or a bunch of ex CIA/Marines gone rogue. I have not found any other theme in any Hollywood action movie.
Thankfully bollywood doesn’t fool the audience by scientific absurd themes such as time travel to past which is scientifically impossible (time travel to future is possible theoretically according to special theory of relativity)
Comedy- Hollywood has also lost the touch with genuine and situational comedies. Trash such as American Pie and Hangover are no better than Golmal series.
Romance- Yes Unadulterated Hollywood romantic themes devoid of songs and villains and sidekicks are miles ahead of bollywood storylines.
Musicals- I can count on fingers the list of great Hollywood musicals.
The fact is that most of Hollywood products are also trash. Most of the times we end up comparing the worst of bollywood with the best of Hollywood. This is not fair. For 20 -30 great Hollywood dramas we can not set Hollywood as a gold standard.
Incidentally I happened to watch some classic Bollywood movies such as Guide , Aradhana, Do Aankhen Barah Haath, Gangajal etc (for the first time) The storytelling, portrayal of characters and the genuineness in the act were surely impressive. They were on par with many Hollywood greats.
If we ignore the hollywood rip offs in Bollywood, Indian cinema is not so inferior as much the authors tries to argue that it is. And searching for realism in Cinema is futile- in bollywood or in Hollywood.
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