(A shorter
version of this article was published in The Hindu Businessline’s BLink on
August 13, 2016. It was written before the release of Rustom and Mohenjo Daro.)
BOLLYWOOD AND THE ART OF AVOIDING
FACTS
In the week of Rustom and Mohenjo Daro’s
release, let us ask why so many Hindi films in 2016 – from Airlift to Budhia Singh –
have shown a bizarre apathy towards authenticity and accuracy
By
Anna MM Vetticad
By the time you
read this, Ashutosh Gowariker’s Mohenjo Daro and Tinu Suresh Desai’s Rustom will be in theatres. This
column goes to press before their release. It has, however, been hard to miss
the chorus of online irritation all summer over perceived historical
inexactitudes in the promotional material of Gowariker’s film, which is set in
the ancient Indus Valley Civilisation. Since Rustom is said to be based on the true story of the murder
committed by Commander K.M. Nanavati in 1959, some experts have also pointed
out that the styling of the hero (Akshay Kumar) in the film’s posters and
trailers is an incorrect representation of Indian Navy men in the 1950s.
My mantra as a
critic: watch the film, then decide. Sadly though, the janta is justified
in being cynical about Bollywood’s rare flirtations with ancient or recent
history and biopics. This year has been particularly bad
on this front. From the superhit Airlift, to Mohammed Azharuddin’s biography that the opening disclaimer said was not a biography, to last week’s Budhia Singh: Born To Run, Hindi cinema has shown a bizarre apathy towards
authenticity and accuracy in too many films based on true stories in 2016.
To be fair, research takes time,
time costs money, and the biggest budgets of even India’s biggest
three industries – Telugu, Hindi and Tamil – are still a fraction of what
Hollywood spends per film. Historicals and period dramas are uncommon in India largely
because costumes and sets for quality films in these genres are forbiddingly
expensive. Beyond these constraints lies a
disturbing truth though, that many Hindi filmmakers are just casual about
facts, and the masses give them a long rope. (Note: this column is not a clean
chit to other Indian industries; the Hindi film industry, i.e. Bollywood, just happens to be today’s
focus.)
Take for instance Budhia
Singh which was released in early August. Soumendra Padhi’s film is about
the slumchild who
was widely covered by the national and international media when he ran 48 marathons in
2005-06, culminating in a 65 km Bhubaneshwar-Puri run in 2006 at the age of
four. Singh was subsequently taken away from his coach/adoptive father Biranchi
Das by Odisha’s child welfare officials on the grounds that marathons are
harmful for one so young.
Budhia Singh makes an appearance of raising questions about the late Das’ ethics, but
covertly bats for him by caricaturing officialdom and portraying government
representatives as a nasty, ill-intentioned, politicking bunch who did not
have the boy’s interests at heart. It also fails to specify global norms from then
and now. The International Association of Athletics Federations’ 2012 medical manual recommends 3 km as the maximum competition distance and 6 km as the
weekly training distance for children below nine, whereas Das had Budhia
reportedly running at least eight times that distance each week.
The
grievousness of Das’ actions – however fond he may have been of the child – are
mind boggling, but hey, what are a few data here and there or even a child’s
health when you are trying to build up a man as a hero and hoping to cash in on
viewer disillusionment with the country’s corrupt sports establishment?
Padhi
merely excluded details that were inconvenient to the point he was trying to
make through his film. Director Raja Krishna Menon went a step further
than cherry-picking information: he fabricated facts.
Menon’s Airlift is
about the evacuation of Indians from Kuwait after the 1990 invasion by Iraq.
The
particulars of the true story on which the film is based are laid out in a 2014 Scroll report: after Saddam Hussein invaded Kuwait in
August 1990, the Government of India evacuated
“more than 110,000 citizens from Iraq and Kuwait via an airlift that included
nearly 500 flights. The operation is the largest civilian evacuation in
history… Eventually, Air India would fly 488 flights over 59 days, carrying
111,711 passengers”.
In the film, 1.7
lakh Indians (not 1.1 lakh) are rescued through the single-handed efforts of a
fictional businessman called Ranjit Katiyal (played by Akshay Kumar), after he
persuaded a reluctant Indian MEA official to help despite overall
government indifference. In actuality, this
unprecedented achievement was the result of coordination between
Indian bureaucrats, diplomats and some private individuals in Kuwait, following
a diplomatic eggshell walk by then Foreign Minister I.K. Gujral.
At the
time, Gujral was highly criticised for a very public, widely photographed
embrace with Hussein, although that meeting while Iraq was under fire from much
of the rest of the world is why Hussein allowed our citizens to leave.
Considering the flak the V.P. Singh sarkar
swallowed to make the evacuation happen, it seems beyond callous that Airlift portrays the government and
bureaucracy as completely disinterested in the fate of its stranded citizens
back then. It is evident that all this was done in a bid to build up the imaginary
Katiyal as a gutsy solo player in the tradition of conventional Bollywood
heroes.
A
text plate at the end of the film acknowledges a “Mathunny Matthews” and a
“Vedi” without explaining who they were or what role they had in this mammoth
exercise. Apparently, giving the full names and details of real-life stars is
unnecessary. Apparently too, their names were an inconvenience since a
non-existent Katiyal would better fit the persona and physique of the film’s
chosen leading man. (For the record, Mathunny/Sunny Matthews and Harbhajan Singh Vedi were among the handful of private individuals who reportedly spearheaded the operation on the
ground in Kuwait.)
This is
not to say other film industries do not toy with facts. For instance, Hollywood’s
2015 offering Steve Jobs – a biopic
of the Apple founder – and its writer Aaron Sorkin were slammed by journalist
Joe Nocera in The New York Times for “how little it had
to do with the flesh and blood Steve Jobs” for various reasons. Nocera writes:
There are moments in the film, like the big “reconciliation”
scene with his out-of-wedlock daughter, Lisa, that are almost offensively in
opposition to the truth. (Although Jobs’s relationship with Lisa could be
volatile at times, she had in fact lived with him and his family all through
high school.)
…As it turns out, Sorkin is quite proud of his disregard for
facts. “What is the big deal about accuracy purely for accuracy’s sake?” he told New York magazine around the time “The Social Network” came out. The way
he sees it, he is no mere screenwriter; rather, he’s an artist who can’t be
bound by the events of a person’s life — even when he’s writing a movie about
that person.
Ben
Affleck’s Oscar-winning 2012 film Argo,
gripping though it was, was conscienceless in this matter. Argo
was about the rescue of six US
embassy officials in the 1979-81 Tehran
hostage situation. It gave credit for the evacuation entirely
to the CIA and its operative Tony Mendez, while diminishing the role of the
Canadian embassy, a role that Jimmy Carter – who was the US President during
the crisis – vouches for.
Carter told CNN after watching the film, “Ninety per cent of the
contributions to the ideas and the consummation of the plan was Canadian. And
the movie gives almost full credit to the American CIA.” He added: “Ben Affleck’s
character in the film was only… in Tehran a day and a half… The main hero, in
my opinion, was Ken Taylor, who was the Canadian ambassador who orchestrated
the entire process.”
Argo also showed the
British and New Zealand embassies in Tehran turning away the American diplomats
before they take refuge in the Canadian embassy. This too was contrary to
recorded accounts, and in 2013 New Zealand’s Parliament even passed a resolution censuring the film for this falsehood.
What
Hollywood does wrong, Bollywood can do worse. Argo fibbed and juggled reality to play up the
CIA’s role in a true story of valour and play down the role of its allies, in keeping with the
US film industry’s perennial policy of lionising America in all contexts. Airlift,
on the other hand, created a whole new human being tailor-made for Bollywood
melodrama and a particular superstar.
Whether such
decisions are motivated by convenience, personal ideology or artistic sloth,
filmmakers usually cite “cinematic/dramatic/creative
licence” as their excuse when confronted with facts. Affleck
is quoted in Britain’s The Telegraph
explaining his choices thus: “I struggled with this long and
hard, because it casts Britain and New Zealand in a way that is not totally
fair. But I was setting up a situation where you needed to get a sense that
these six people had nowhere else to go. It does not mean to diminish anyone.” What
a wonderfully worded, sincere-sounding string of euphemisms to explain away
creative laziness.
No doubt feature
filmmakers do need some leeway to heighten the entertainment quotient in their
works for a mass audience. However, “cinematic licence” cannot become a shield
for negligence, indolence, prejudice, opportunism, defamation and lies.
Hey filmmakers, creative
licence need not be irresponsibly used. Rakeysh Omprakash Mehra’s Bhaag
Milkha Bhaag, for instance, shows Milkha Singh haunted by memories of the
Partition during the 1960 Rome Olympics 400m final and looking back as he nears
the finish line, thus losing the race; Singh, however, says he lost because he made
a poor judgement call and consciously changed his rhythm mid-race. Mehra’s
dramatisation is harmless, even if needless. Available images of Emperor Akbar
suggest he was not a Hrithik Roshan-grade hottie, but no one holds that against
Gowariker’s Jodhaa Akbar. It is unlikely that a historical text has
recorded Peshwa Bajirao sharing a romantic bath with his wife, but it would
make no sense to cite that scene as a grouse against Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s Bajirao
Mastani.
On a serious note,
it goes without saying that Sonam Kapoor in this year’s wonderful Neerja had
to guess the expressions on Pan Am flight purser Neerja Bhanot’s face in the
hours before her death on a hijacked flight in 1986.
See, we do
understand “cinematic licence”. Just do us a favour and do not hide behind it
when you are being immoral, amoral, unjust, unfair, biased, miserly or plain
lazy, especially not when you fool around with reputations and lives.
Link to the shorter version of this column published in The
Hindu Businessline:
Previous instalment of Film
Fatale: All Hail The Violators of Women
RELATED LINKS:
Anna M.M.
Vetticad’s review of Rustom:
Anna M.M. Vetticad’s review of Mohenjo Daro:
Anna M.M.
Vetticad’s review of Airlift:
Anna MM Vetticad’s
review of Budhia Singh – Born To Run:
Journalist Sandeep Unnithan’s break-down of Akshay Kumar’s look
in Rustom:
Photo captions: Stills/posters from (1) Rustom (2) Mohenjo Daro (3) Airlift (4) Budhia Singh Born to Run
Photographs courtesy:
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