If some recent Hindi films are to be believed, then all one needs to "discover" oneself is a passport and a plane ticket to a foreign country. This pop-psychology method of going on a journey alone in a search for the self is now a common and often-used trope in Hindi cinema. Films like Jab We Met, Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani and English Vinglish have used it as an element within a larger plot, but Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara, Highway and Queen exclusively sell this idea. This is not to say that travelling, especially by oneself, is not a valid method of self-discovery. But maybe we also need to look at what the films are not saying, along with the message that they explicitly try to convey.
Ten years ago, a plot structure which focuses solely on a journey that the protaginist takes would have been impossible to conceive. Hindi film heroes were mostly caught up in a struggle with society or with their families. Plus, they also had their love lives to think of and a dozen or so goons that they needed to beat up along the way. The protagonist was imagined as a function of something else, something external -- never an individual, who may have to deal with internal conflict. The heroine does not even merit a discussion here because she was an appendage to the hero lending her sympathy and the comfort of her bosom when things got tough for the hero. Things changed with Jab We Met.
Jab We Met (Imtiaz Ali, 2007) is primarily Geet's (Kareena Kapoor) story. It is her journey, her difficulties, her craziness and her dialogues that we remember most from the film. The crux of the narrative is not so much Geet finding herself, but transforming in the way she understands love. Imtiaz Ali crafts a female protagonist, who (much like the recent Queen) dominates every frame she is in and also drives the narrative action of the film. In this sense JWM is a radical story because it is able to put a woman and her internal struggles at the centre of the action. The family is present in the backdrop, but Geet is not really in a struggle with them. She decides to stay away from them because she imagines that they would disapprove of her behaviour, not because she knows this for a certainty. The journey in case of this film, and Geet's solitude are not entirely transformative, though. She transforms in part because of Aditya (Shahid Kapoor) who acts as a catalyst and brings her out of her emotional atrophy. Ali gives us a glimpse of the "journey-as-self-discovery" theme, but does not go the all way. In fact, in the second half, Aditya takes over the narrative and Geet is relegated to the background. We don't witness her troubles when she runs off to Shimla.
One of the first films to posit the idea that travelling can be transformative and potentially life-changing is Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara (Zoya Akhtar, 2011). Arjun, a cog in the wheels of the capitalist system, learns to "live" when he meets Laila, a free-spirited wanderer. The film does many new things. Firstly, there is a strong critique of capitalism as an ideology, which puts emphasis on the materialistic aspects of life such as the paycheck, the upmarket address, and the status marriage. Once again the film has a catalyst in the form of Laila, who belongs to a diametrically different school of thought as compared to that of Arjun. The film does away with typical touristy glimpses of Spain, and instead shows us long lingering shots of the countryside and the natural beauty of the country, and also introduces us to its culture (the Tomatina festival and the bull run at the end). The film also helps to mend the friendship between Imran and Arjun, resolving another internal struggle of misunderstanding and ego hassles.
But there is something that the film is not telling us, and in fact, takes completely for granted. For all its criticism of capitalism, it does not even consider that such a journey would end up costing a lot of money - money that you can earn only if you are actually a part of the system. This kind of a remedy for life's problems is not just inaccessible, but unimaginable to most people who watch this film. Travelling through European countrysides is how upper-class people solve their problems. It is not a viable solution for someone who inhabits a Anurag Kashyap film, for example.
Films such as English Vinglish (Gauri Shinde, 2012), Highway (Imtiaz Ali, 2014) and Queen (Vikas Bahl, 2014) tie up the theme of self-discovery with that of emancipation. It is important to note that the protagonists of all three films are women, but the similarity does not end here. Shashi, Veera and Rani - all three belong to conservative and more important, claustrophobic family environments. The journey that they take is first a means of escape, which later ends up becoming one of transformation. In two cases at least (EV and Queen) the transformation is also cosmetic in addition to being internal. In EV, Shashi has to learn English in order to gain her family's, especially her daughter's, respect. In Queen too, Rani's appearance undergoes a transformation - she exchanges her Rajouri Garden gawkiness for a distinctly European elegance.
All the films that I have discussed in this blog also have a high feel-good quotient. Nothing terrible happens to the protagonists even though they enter potentially dangerous and sometimes life-threatening situations. Geet finds herself alone on a station with leery men, but she does not get molested. The same is true for Veera in Highway -- Mahabir and his men do not touch her, or sell her off to a brothel, or murder her. In fact, they all seem quite pally and get along pretty well by the end of it all. Films which are set in countries abroad never show us a single poor or homeless person, or engage with the political reality of the country. And there is almost no talk of racism - except for one scene in EV.
I read somewhere recently that the problems of "finding oneself" or having an "internal conflict" are "first-world" problems. This sounds funny, but it is true - when your mind is more focused on how to fend for your basic needs, then you are not concerned with wanting to know who you really are or what you really want out of life. Self-discovery in itself is a limited concern, and the solution that these films put forth, even more so. Perhaps, the film itself is a mode of escape for some of us who may vicariously discover ourselves through the protagonists' journeys.
Ten years ago, a plot structure which focuses solely on a journey that the protaginist takes would have been impossible to conceive. Hindi film heroes were mostly caught up in a struggle with society or with their families. Plus, they also had their love lives to think of and a dozen or so goons that they needed to beat up along the way. The protagonist was imagined as a function of something else, something external -- never an individual, who may have to deal with internal conflict. The heroine does not even merit a discussion here because she was an appendage to the hero lending her sympathy and the comfort of her bosom when things got tough for the hero. Things changed with Jab We Met.
Jab We Met (Imtiaz Ali, 2007) is primarily Geet's (Kareena Kapoor) story. It is her journey, her difficulties, her craziness and her dialogues that we remember most from the film. The crux of the narrative is not so much Geet finding herself, but transforming in the way she understands love. Imtiaz Ali crafts a female protagonist, who (much like the recent Queen) dominates every frame she is in and also drives the narrative action of the film. In this sense JWM is a radical story because it is able to put a woman and her internal struggles at the centre of the action. The family is present in the backdrop, but Geet is not really in a struggle with them. She decides to stay away from them because she imagines that they would disapprove of her behaviour, not because she knows this for a certainty. The journey in case of this film, and Geet's solitude are not entirely transformative, though. She transforms in part because of Aditya (Shahid Kapoor) who acts as a catalyst and brings her out of her emotional atrophy. Ali gives us a glimpse of the "journey-as-self-discovery" theme, but does not go the all way. In fact, in the second half, Aditya takes over the narrative and Geet is relegated to the background. We don't witness her troubles when she runs off to Shimla.
One of the first films to posit the idea that travelling can be transformative and potentially life-changing is Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara (Zoya Akhtar, 2011). Arjun, a cog in the wheels of the capitalist system, learns to "live" when he meets Laila, a free-spirited wanderer. The film does many new things. Firstly, there is a strong critique of capitalism as an ideology, which puts emphasis on the materialistic aspects of life such as the paycheck, the upmarket address, and the status marriage. Once again the film has a catalyst in the form of Laila, who belongs to a diametrically different school of thought as compared to that of Arjun. The film does away with typical touristy glimpses of Spain, and instead shows us long lingering shots of the countryside and the natural beauty of the country, and also introduces us to its culture (the Tomatina festival and the bull run at the end). The film also helps to mend the friendship between Imran and Arjun, resolving another internal struggle of misunderstanding and ego hassles.
But there is something that the film is not telling us, and in fact, takes completely for granted. For all its criticism of capitalism, it does not even consider that such a journey would end up costing a lot of money - money that you can earn only if you are actually a part of the system. This kind of a remedy for life's problems is not just inaccessible, but unimaginable to most people who watch this film. Travelling through European countrysides is how upper-class people solve their problems. It is not a viable solution for someone who inhabits a Anurag Kashyap film, for example.
Films such as English Vinglish (Gauri Shinde, 2012), Highway (Imtiaz Ali, 2014) and Queen (Vikas Bahl, 2014) tie up the theme of self-discovery with that of emancipation. It is important to note that the protagonists of all three films are women, but the similarity does not end here. Shashi, Veera and Rani - all three belong to conservative and more important, claustrophobic family environments. The journey that they take is first a means of escape, which later ends up becoming one of transformation. In two cases at least (EV and Queen) the transformation is also cosmetic in addition to being internal. In EV, Shashi has to learn English in order to gain her family's, especially her daughter's, respect. In Queen too, Rani's appearance undergoes a transformation - she exchanges her Rajouri Garden gawkiness for a distinctly European elegance.
All the films that I have discussed in this blog also have a high feel-good quotient. Nothing terrible happens to the protagonists even though they enter potentially dangerous and sometimes life-threatening situations. Geet finds herself alone on a station with leery men, but she does not get molested. The same is true for Veera in Highway -- Mahabir and his men do not touch her, or sell her off to a brothel, or murder her. In fact, they all seem quite pally and get along pretty well by the end of it all. Films which are set in countries abroad never show us a single poor or homeless person, or engage with the political reality of the country. And there is almost no talk of racism - except for one scene in EV.
I read somewhere recently that the problems of "finding oneself" or having an "internal conflict" are "first-world" problems. This sounds funny, but it is true - when your mind is more focused on how to fend for your basic needs, then you are not concerned with wanting to know who you really are or what you really want out of life. Self-discovery in itself is a limited concern, and the solution that these films put forth, even more so. Perhaps, the film itself is a mode of escape for some of us who may vicariously discover ourselves through the protagonists' journeys.
