Bollywood's Flop Parade

THE worst nightmare of Mumbai's dream merchants comes true: tinsel town's been hit by an avalanche of debilitating duds and there's no escape chute in sight. Consider the dismal tally: 42 releases in the first quarter of 1998, 38 total washouts, one middling hit (Pyar Kiya to Darna Kya), three 'overflow' films (including Kama Sutra, for all the wrong reasons). Motion picture distributors around India—they've obviously been the worst affected—have lost over Rs 90 crore in the bargain. "This," says K.D. Shorey, general secretary of the Film Federation of India (FFI), "does not include the losses suffered by the producers and overseas distributors."

 So it's time to ring the alarm bells. The Mumbai film industry is in the throes of an unprecedented crisis. And all eyes are on the summer releases: can Duplicate or Salaakhen turn the tide? "This is the worst-ever period in the annals of the film industry. We need a big hit real quick," says Shorey, an IAS officer-turned-film producer and writer. "It's being called the Koyna earthquake year. It's much worse than Latur," adds a clued-in film publicist.

Indeed. The tremors have spared virtually no one. Big, bloated, banal: a host of mega-budget releases have sunk into the abyss since the beginning of the year. While the number of expensive flops is alarming enough, what's aggravated the situation is the fact that an abnormally large quantum of these commercial failures are films that boasted seemingly surefire box-office combinations. ABCL's Saat Rang ke Sapne and R. Mohan's Kabhi na Kabhi were both directed by Priyadarshan, the whizkid who masterminded last year's runaway hit, Viraasat. While Saat Rang ke Sapne sold for Rs 70 lakh per territory, ABCL was forced to handle the distribution on its own in several circuits because the film had no takers. The fate of Kabhi na Kabhi was worse. For each territory, its producer had initially demanded Rs 75 lakh plus Rs 30 to 40 lakh for the prints. But despite its music and the Anil Kapoor-Jackie Shroff-Pooja Bhatt cast, nobody was willing to touch Kabhi na Kabhi. The producer had to settle for a mea-gre Rs 55 lakh per territory with 20 prints thrown into the deal.

Mumbai's filmmakers are learning a home truth the hard way: "never underestimate the force" that the audience represents. The cast of the film that used that catchline in its promos, Sangeeth Sivan's directorial debut Zor, was headed by Sunny Deol, an actor whose popularity in certain pockets of the country had never been in question. Yet, the film came down to earth with a thud. "It's quite clear: the era of stars is dead. No star can guarantee a film's success," says Balkrishna Shroff, one of Mumbai's biggest distributors.

Since January 1998, there are several other instances of tried-and-tested commercial alchemy gone horribly sour. Pranlal Mehta's Yugpurush brought the Agnisakshi team of director Partho Ghosh and stars Nana Patekar, Jackie Shroff and Manisha Koirala together again, but the film proved a damp squib by the second week of its release. It had to scale down its demand—Rs 1.25 crore per territory—by nearly Rs 50 lakh before a few distributors agreed to get involved. Those that did are today ruing their luck.

Qila, directed by Umesh Mehra, collapsed like a house of cards despite the presence of Dilip Kumar and Rekha. Keemat tried to exploit the Main Anari tu Khiladi and Yeh Dillagi duo, Akshay Kumar and Saif Ali Khan, and came a cropper. And surprise of surprises, the infallible David Dhawan-Govinda combo failed to create box-office magic with Banarasi Babu, which sold for Rs 1. 1 crore per territory. No distributor could raise even half that amount.

Much soul-searching is on in the industry. Coming as it does at the end of three fruitful years which saw Bollywood throw up record-breaking films like Hum Aapke Hain Koun?, Dilwale Dulhaniya le Jayenge, Raja Hindustani and Dil to Pagal Hai, the flop shows have sent the industry into a tailspin. What's gone wrong? "These were simply bad films," says Komal Nahata, editor, Film Information. "A bad film's a bad film, no amount of hype can save it," says Shroff. "Gloss and glamour can't compensate for narrative substance," says Shorey.

That's precisely what the flops of the last quarter have peddled: style without substance. So the audiences have stayed away. "Exposure to a multiplicity of entertainment options—TV, Hollywood releases, other recreational facilities—has sharpened the viewer's critical judgement," says veteran producer-director Sultan Ahmed. "The public is a cruel taskmaster. It doesn't respect names." Hence even films like Mrityudaata and Qila create no ripples. Shorey takes the argument further: "Even as the audience is becoming more demanding, the filmmakers, like a horde of lemmings, are on an unthinking course of self-destruction." Blame the huge production budgets, exorbitant star prices and a complete neglect of the finer points of scripting.

 As the crisis deepens, charges are being traded. While producers and distributors blame each other for the disasters that have struck the industry, it is the stars whose profligate ways are being increasingly questioned. Amitabh Bachchan has a fixed price tag—Rs 3 crore. Salman Khan, Shah Rukh Khan and Aamir Khan demand, and invariably get, Rs 2.5 crore per film, while the likes of Govinda, Ajay Devgan and Sunny Deol charge anything between Rs 1 crore and Rs 2 crore. Are they worth so much?

"Certainly not," says the outspoken Sultan Ahmed. "There was a time when a producer would spend Rs 2 crore on the actual filming and Rs 1 crore for the hiring of stars, the director, the music composer and the writer. Today it's completely lopsided: while Rs 2 crore go into the filming, Rs 5 crore are wasted on the stars and the director. How can you expect quality from people who're here only for quick money and fame?" Agrees Nahata: "Today's stars can't even guarantee a decent initial if the film doesn't have an element of novelty."

 The heart and soul have gone out of the Mumbai dream machine. It's time, as Sultan Ahmed says, for the worthies who crank it to wake up from their reverie and call in the repairmen.