Dumb by Choice: The Problem with Mainstream Bollywood

In the November of last year, I had the good fortune of meeting one of my favourite filmmakers in India, Sriram Raghavan, during a literary festival.

It was quite by accident that I happened to be there at exactly the same time as his talk on adapting works of literary fiction into movies, which I joined in midway and gleefully listened to. Being an out-and-out fan of his short filmography (yes, Agent Vinod included), I could not resist asking him about the inner workings of the industry I saw so conflicted and varied in quality of content.

I worded my question cleverly, in perfect context with what we were talking about. “Sir,” I asked, my limbs shaking with fear, “on the one hand, you give us a jaw-dropping single shot sequence in Agent Vinod that is at par with the works of many cinematic greats, and on the other, you show a spy gyrating in a mujra parlor. Why did you go for such drastic variation in content matter within a span of minutes? Why is it that a dumbing down is always done in a mainstream Bollywood film?”

His answer was straightforward and honest. I will not attempt to reproduce it verbatim, but the essence of what he said was this: when the producer has 40 crores invested in a movie, you have to hand him the reins. It is no longer just the director’s creative call, but also the producer’s. He left it at that with a knowing smile, leaving nothing unsaid.

This problem does not appear to be one-off. Another short example I can think of off the top of my head is the curious case of Karan Johar. His career is populated by exceedingly stupid and sappy soap opera-ic films that hinge largely on star power, songs, glamour and overwrought sentimentality. Be it Kuch Kuch Hota Hai or Student of the Year, his movies are largely unappealing to the intellect and cringe-inducing at times (Alia Bhatt’s histrionics in SOTY, anyone?).

And yet, there is something that clicks with the audience. Always. A film like Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna, which is bad even by Karan Johar standards, manages to pull in crowds of admirers all over. I believe this perplexing approval of his works is largely because he is an exceptional filmmaker behind all that fluff. I think what we need to do is take apart one of his films to the bare bones and see them under the basic parameters of filmmaking, in order to understand the nature of his true prowess.

I will take the penultimate sequence from Kal Ho Na Ho as a case study, embedded here as a video (spoilers ahead). When SRK’s character is escorting the love of his life to her nuptial ceremony, the mood is heavy and tragic. The superficial happiness projected by the ongoing festivities and celebrations strike a stinging contrast with the impending tragedy of SRK’s eminent death, and, his eventual separation from Priety Zinta’s character. The third wheel in this equation is Saif Ali Khan’s character, a good friend in love with Priety and soon to be married to her. While he is not the antagonist, he sure is seen as the undesirable yet necessary end of the love triangle. The whole sequence, punctuated by rapid cuts synced to the beats of the music (3:22), excellent acting, expressionistic lighting (1:16) and fast frame rate recording makes for a visual feast. It is hard not to get flowed away in emotion when SRK breaks down as the groom walks away with the bride and he is left to wallow alone. Alone, not only in his approaching death but also mentally and physically, isolated from the celebrations.

It is easily seen how well-constructed and conceived the scene is. It requires a certain caliber to pull it off, and while Nikhil Advani was formally the director, KJo is said to have been a big creative influence in the making of the film. I see these flashes of brilliance splattered all across his films, finally culminating in his brilliant short segment in Bombay Talkies. In my opinion, his segment was better in theme, tone and tenor than that of noted directors, Zoya Akhtar and Anurag Kashyap.

What is it, then, that compels Johar to chug out trash like SOTY and K3G ever so often? Why does Anurag Kashyap extoll his brother’s disastrous filmography as being a ‘throwback’ to the sort of old-fashioned, macho-hero films made around Bachchan in the 70’s? Is it because to stay in business, one must ensure a profit, and a profit in the Indian market is to give in to the dumbness demanded by the average viewer? Isn’t this true for every society, every country and every cinema industry? Why do we continue to sell dumb shit in the name of financially viable, ‘mainstream’, ‘masala’ cinema? More importantly, till how long will we go with films like Johnny Gaddaar, Black Friday and Shanghai not recovering their production costs? With films like The Lunchbox and Ship of Theseus capturing the public’s imagination, are we edging any closer to the dream of intelligent and meaningful cinema ruling the rooster in mainstream Bollywood?

I believe a full-scale revolution is nigh.