THE CHOCOLATE BOY AND THE GIRL NEXT DOOR: CELEBRATING THE 25TH ANNIVERSARY OF QSQT

Okay, let's get some things straight. I am a big Aamir Khan fan, and when it comes to talking about his films, I conveniently see no flaws. I would happily jump through fire hoops and climb Mount Everest for him, although I don't think he would really put me up to those tasks, but I cannot say an unkind word about him or his films. I loved him as the incorrigible Sanjay in Jo Jeeta Wohi Sikandar, as the handle-bar mustachioed Mangal Pandey in Mangal Pandey, heck - I even love him in the new Godrej ads, where he is in drag.

In this blog, I discuss one of his earliest blockbusters  - Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak, considered to be a landmark film in popular Hindi cinema. 23 April 2013 marked the 25th Anniversary of this film. QSQT was released on the very same date in the year 1988 and starred two freshly minted young stars - Juhi Chawla and Aamir Khan. The lead pair created history, as the film went on to become the biggest hits of that year.

                   

The poster of Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak

Juhi Chawla had recently been crowned Miss India and had also done some modelling, but her face was largely unknown. She brought the genuine innocence and optimism of a young girl just out into the world to the role, not to mention a lovable dorkiness - a quality that would mark many of her later roles as well. Contrary to popular belief, this wasn't the debut film of Aamir Khan. He had earlier worked in a film called Holi (Dir. Ketan Mehta,1984) as a teenager and also in the critically acclaimed Raakh (Dir. Aditya Bhattacharya, 1989) as Supriya Pathak's brother. In fact, he has also won a Special Jury Mention National Award for the latter. [ You can watch the film Holi on YouTube here and the promo of Raakh here] Though his roles in his first two films were quite edgy, in QSQT, Khan epitomized the new-age romantic hero. His character in the film was a welcome break from the angry young men that had ruled over the Hindi film industry in the 80s decade.

QSQT was the first and last of its kind in more than one way. It was one of the first films whose loo..oong and weighty title was compressed into a pithy, catchy acronym. This spawned a whole generation of similar bonsai titles like HAHK, DDLJ, KKHH, KANK, MNIK etc. Also, it was one of the last films where the much-in-love Raj and Rashmi rebel against parental authority, and elope to fulfill their love for and commitment to each other. Later films like Hum Aapke Hai Kaun and Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge, on the other hand,  featured young lovers who were tame and boringly virtuous, and wouldn't even kiss each other without maa-baauji's aashirwaad.

                  

The lead pair of  Juhi and Aamir which stole everyone's hearts

The film, as everyone knows, is an Indianized reworking of Shakespeare's tragic play about two ill-fated teenage lovers - Romeo and Juliet. In QSQT, the youngsters negotiate personal desire and individual choice against a rigid and orthodox feudal family set-up. In this respect, the film does something rather brave. The family, especially the mother figure, in Hindi cinema has always been the site of protection and nurture, and most film plots drive towards the consolidation of this unit through the marriage of the hero and the heroine at the end of the film. In QSQT, there is no such consolidation, as the protagonists realise their desire of being together inspite of family opposition in death at the end of the film. Death, in this case, is not simply a tragic end but the final rebellion that the young people stage against the stifling value system of their respective families.

My favourite moment in the film is when Rashmi, instead of waiting around for the hero to bachao her izzat, rescues herself from a bunch of goons. Rashmi is accosted by a group of young boys looking for trouble, after she misses her bus and is lost on a jungle. (The leader of the pack is a very young and convincingly goony looking Makarand Deshpande and Aamir Khan's brother, Faisal, also does a cameo here.) As they chase her and finally capture here, she uses her presence of mind and some grit to knee the goon in his business and proceeds to hide in a pit covered with dry leaves.

The film, needless to say made history, and so did it's lead stars. The promises of eternal love may seem anachronistic in this age, when dating someone is as easy as "friending" them on Facebook. Yet the film will always remain a classic for its breezy music, its engaging melodrama and twists, its teen love story, and of course, some very good acting by its lead pair.

Happy 25th, QSQT!

The Crusading Hero of 1980s Revenge Dramas

Revenge dramas were a staple of 1980s and 90s Hindi cinema. This genre of film usually featured a protagonist (often male) who directly or indirectly suffers some injustice at the hands of "the system". The system could be an apathetic State, judiciary and police, oppressive old-age practices such as the zamindari system, or, on a personal level, the hero's girlfriend's rich dad. A female protagonist in a similar role was a variation of this theme. In this case, the heroine of the film would start out being thoroughly oppressed and exploited by a male authority figure, and would generally return in a masculinized avatar to beat up the bad guys and kill the villian (Rekha in Phool Bane Angaarey, 1991 or Sridevi in Farishtay, 1991). 

Rekha in Phool Bane Angaarey

Rajesh Khanna's Insaaf Main Karoonga (Shibhu Mitra, 1985) falls squarely into the category of a revenge plot. Khanna plays Ravi Khanna, a 40-year old Army Captain (don't mind my snigger) whose pretty wife (Tina Munim) is raped by his senior in his absence. She goes on to commit suicide, as a strategically placed and miraculously switched on tape recorder informs Ravi of the culprit. Ravi goes on to shoot the guilty Brigadier six times, pronouncing solemnly 'I execute you in the name of humanity'. The lucky Brigadier, however, survives (excuse me while I snigger some more). Ravi surrenders to some shady looking, long-haired Army officials but escapes when he comes to know that his nemesis is alive, and then proceeds to take revenge against him through his daughter (played by Padmini Kolhapure). 

It is weird how the film pans out after this. The film features a serious sexual assault on a woman. Yet there is no police complaint or even a court martial against the Brigadier. In fact, he quite happily recovers in a hospital. No attempt is made to even include the police or the judiciary, as Ravi takes it upon himself to avenge his wife's death. Not only does he kidnap the Brigadier's daughter, but also mistreats her, throwing her around and keeping her in captivity. The manner in which he comes to marry his wife is equally strange. He is actually attending her wedding with a friend, when her to-be father-in-law makes a demand for dowry. Our man Ravi swoops in, speechifies against dowry etc., and then promptly saves the simpering, voiceless bride from further disgrace by marrying her.

Rajesh Khanna as Ravi - the crusading hero of Insaaf Main Karoonga

Major events in the film are crimes against women, and the film ostensibly preaches women's emancipation and equality. But the women in the film are only there to be assaulted, exploited and bossed over. And their suffering is actually a means to underscore the morally impeccable nature of the hero.

A similar thing happens in another popular 80s blockbuster Himmatwala (K. Raghavendra Rao, 1983) . Ravi (uff! another Ravi, played by Jeetendra - he of the tight white pants and twinkly toes dance moves fame) is the lone crusader against the evil zamindar. He too plots revenge against him through his daughter (but thankfully this time she is in on it). His sister is beaten up and harassed by her husband and father-in-law - and these scenes, I presume were meant to criticize this terrible fact. But no one does anything about it. Again, no one lodges a police complaint. They all hang around stupidly waiting for the poor girl to die. There is some token moralizing, of course, from Ravi's side, but that's about it. 

Then why exactly are these crimes of assault, rape and harassment featured at all in these films. They have nothing to do with the main plot, and are only there to propel the saviour and crusading hero forward. The crimes are never dealt with or solved directly. They are instead projected as crimes against the honour of men, whose duty it is to protect the "modesty" of women. The actual assault, then, becomes a means of voyeuristic pleasure and nothing more. 

This kind of depiction of crimes against women as minor plots within the larger crusade of the hero carries on well into the 90s with huge commercial hits like Mohra (Rajiv Rai, 1994). Two assaults, one on the hero's sister and the other on the heroine serve to augment the hero's moral stature and provide fodder for his revenge story. Not only this, the film also features a song like 'Tu cheez badi hai mast mast' very blatantly objectifying the heroine of the film. This confuses the film's stand on the position of women even more. A similar track called 'Salma' is there also in IMK, in which a lady shimmies away as men ogle and fall all over her, with the camera focusing mostly on everything but her face. 

Tu cheez badi hai mast mast from Mohra

It is clear then that although the films discussed here do have a moral stand which says that exploitation of women is wrong, yet the films do not involve the women at all in the process of the revenge. The film never really sets out to be an indictment of patriarchy and its practices, and becomes merely a man's struggle against a vague "system". 

Films and the Morals of Society

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The other day, while watching Subhash Ghai's Pardes on TV, I couldn't help but wonder how much the film reads like a moral science lesson. Of course, these morals are painted strictly in black and white with no room for grey or anything else in between. The virginal Ganga (played by a distubingly toothy Mahima Chowdhary) is oh-so-pure simply because she is an Indian girl. Few minutes into the film, her fate is sealed - she is engaged to be married to her father's best friend's son, Rajiv. Now, Rajiv has been born and brought up in the Big Bad West (in this case, the US) so he naturally has no idea what bhartiya shabhyata is and how important izzat is to the bhartiya nari. Rajiv is then discarded only to be replaced with Arjun, who is morally upright, but is probably a bit aneamic since he loses quite a bit of blood by the end of the film, mostly through self-mutilation. So after Ganga has been parceled around from her father to Rajiv and finally to Arjun, the moral of the story becomes clear - India is good...the West is bad...Boys who bite girls (excluding Edward Cullen) are bad...boys who shed their blood for girls are good. Ekdam simple logic hai!

Things are mercifully different these days. So it is possible to conceive of a character like Veronica who lives in with her boyfriend and has a drink too many during a wild night of partying (Cocktail: Homi Adjania, 2012). And expletive spouting, gun-toting men from the Hindi heartlands can be the heroes, and not the villians of a film (Gangs of Wasseypur 1 &2: Anurag Kashyap, 2012). Clearly, the "moral standards" of Hindi cinema and their representation has come a long way.

Yet, can we really expect all cinema to be produced with the aim of moral activism? And can cinema really be blamed for "amoral" activities that happen in our society today?

Recently, the Central Board of Film Certification (CBFC) ruled that films with slapping scenes, item numbers and any other scenes or songs which objectify or subordinate women would be given an 'A' certificate. The basis for the ruling is the noble aim of curbing incidents of sexual violence against women in the country.Films are often easily be blamed for loutish and chauvinist behaviour among young men in India. And truly, many films are truly chauvinistic in nature. But is it only through slapping scenes and item songs that films display an attitude of disrespect and subordination towards women?

Last year's big hit Ishaqzaade (Habib Faisal, 2012) was a strange film in this respect if you consider what it does to its female protagonist. Zoya is presented as a bold, brash girl, who would rather have a gun than pretty earrings as a birthday gift, and who is not scared about shooting her mouth off or taking panga with the boys. She is also not coy about her sexuality and does not think much of kissing her boyfriend. But the trajectory of this character soon goes haywire as her brashness is continuously under fire during the course of the film.  The downfall starts when Parma gets her to sleep with him under the pretext of marriage, but coolly ditches her later. Isn't this clearly tantamount to rape because her consent is gotten under dubious circumstances? She is also tied up several times after the interval in an attempt to "control" her impulsive and violent behaviour. Eventually, she is transformed into a tamer version of her original self, and then, after much running around town, dies in a mutual suicide pact with her lover.

The film, although on the face of it, defines Zoya as a strong, outspoken and spunky girl, she transforms completely by the end of the film. Moreover, and more seriously, Parma receives no punishment for his actions. No slapping scenes and two item numbers, yet the film is not sympathetic towards the new-age femininity that it seeks to depict, nor does the film endorse it. 

I do not want to single out films like Pardes and Ishaqzaade here; they are only illustrations of my main point that a regressive, controlling attitude towards women can be manifested through many other ways apart from item numbers and the like. Also, blaming films for a mind-set that exists within society is unfair and naive. What they can be blamed for though is unwittingly condoning limiting portrayals of women on-screen.

LOVE SHOVE AND PAPERMAN PART II

Including a love story in the narrative of a film is no great achievement. I don't mean this derogatorily  but in a sense that even films which have the most experimental of plots and filming techniques very often feature love stories as a main or sub-plot. Take for example films like Run Lola Run (Tom Tykwer, 1998) - extremely experimental in its story-telling, but it is essentially a love story. Even a film like the recent Django Unchained (Quentin Tarantino, 2012) - a film whose main theme is violence and racial discrimination - is basically the love quest of Django to find Broomhilda, his lady love. And what of all those suspense-type 70s Hindi films in which  nail-biting climax is often interrupted by a love song with the hero and heroine running around in the Alps? Love, actually, is everywhere.

The genre of films to make the most cash out of this filmy trope is, of course, the romantic comedy. This is one of my favourite genres of films. There's nothing that can be a better mood-lifter than a romantic comedy and a tub of chocolate chip ice-cream. But the romantic comedy is not without its problems. The first of these problems is that it is unfortunately characterized as a "chick-flick" type genre, with the assumption that it could only be of interest to women. This means that lesser films of this type (such as 13 Going on 30, The Wedding Planner, The Proposal, Sweet Home Alabama etc.) will take this a bit too seriously and focus their attention only on the story of a girl looking for the right kind of love and the right kind of man. So there will be no witty banter (like in When Harry Met Sally or You've Got Mail), no crackling chemistry (like in Notting Hill or You've Got Mail again) and no laugh-out-loud sequences (like Four Weddings and a Funeral and Bridget Jones' Diary Part 1 & 2). 

The romantic comedy (especially in recent times) is comfortable with taking the all too familiar route and drawing attention only to the story part in the phrase "love story"; and not saying anything much about the love part. 

But then there are other films which make us think more deeply about this mysterious creature called love. They ask us complex questions like: What is love? Is it an isolated emotion or is it sometimes mixed with other feelings like jealousy, a desire to destroy, friendship, sacrifice and sorrow? How much is society part of our love story and does its attitude count?

 The French film Amour (Michael Haneke, 2012), which also won the Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film, has a heartbreaking take on it. Love here becomes entwined with the idea of death and mercy. I don't want to give away any plot points, but this film tries to imagine what it's like for someone to watch a long-term partner suffer and slowly become a shadow of themselves. It poses a difficult question when it asks to what extent one could go in order to reduce a loved one's pain, and also one's own pain in watching them suffer and inch towards death. 

In another film, As Good As Gets (James L. Brooks, 1997), love is as eccentric and whimsical as it characters. But it is also about acceptance of this craziness and imperfection. Closer home, a film like Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam (Sanjay Leela Bhansali, 1999) tells us that the love that lasts is the one where you are willing to do things for your partner, for their happiness, even if sometimes this doesn't involve your own happiness and comfort. William Shakespeare in Romeo and Juliet (and its various interpretations on film) complicates things for us when he suggests that love and death may be intricately linked, and somehow love is complete and fulfilling and ideal only in death. Love is unearthly - never to be attained in life, but only in death. Another complex form of love - obsession - can be seen in Darr (Yash Chopra, 1994). Love is not innocent, beautiful or magical here, but destructive and neurotic. In a film like Brokeback Mountain (Ang Lee, 2005) love is transgressive and reaches far beyond any societal conventions.

Granted that such films cannot be as charming and as easy to digest as romantic comedies, but then if love itself can sometimes be incomprehensible, difficult, amusing and vague, can't films about love be so too?