COMMUNITY STEREOTYPING IN BOLLYWOOD / PUBLISHED IN THE HINDU BUSINESSLINE

Wherefore Art Thou, ‘Madrasis’?

The non-caricatured portrayal of Punjabis and Tamil Nadu in Kapoor & Sons is unusual in a Bollywood otherwise ridden by community stereotypes if not exclusions

By Anna MM Vetticad

Imagine a Hindi film revolving around a Punjabi family, with not a Bhangra in sight. Imagine a Hindi film set in Tamil Nadu, with not an “aiyyaiyo” or an oily-haired, clownish ‘Madrasi’ prancing around in the vicinity.

Actually, imagine a Hindi film set in Tamil Nadu where a song and dance is not made about the setting, but it just happens to be what it is because — believe it or not! — Tamil Nadu is in India.

If you have watched Shakun Batra’s Kapoor & Sons (Since 1921), you need not strain your imagination because all these elements — rare though they are in Bollywood — converge on this one canvas. The film has received glowing reviews, audience acclaim and excellent opening collections. Hopefully, its success will be a message to the rest of the film industry, that viewers are open to an unexaggerated depiction of the multi-cultural Indian reality served in an intelligently entertaining package.

There are two issues at hand here: first, the stereotyping of certain communities on screen; second, exclusion.

Though Punjabis have for decades dominated the Mumbai-based Hindi film industry a.k.a. Bollywood, the community has been inexorably caricatured by Hindi cinema, with Sikhs getting the worst of it. A foreign viewer of this fare is likely to assume that all Punjabis are loud, boisterous, unsophisticated, prone to dancing the Bhangra at the drop of a hat and punctuating their speech with the exclamatory “balle balle”.

“What’s wrong with the Bhangra and balle balle?” is the most common response to this criticism. Answer: nothing wrong at all. But a stereotype is a stereotype even if it is not negative, because it ignores the heterogeneity inherent in all communities. When perpetuated long enough, it can also be annoyingly reductive to those at the receiving end, even when accompanied by goodwill.

Unfortunately, most of us do not see this until we are at that receiving end.

A Malayali friend once told me of how he called out, “Oye Sardarji, ki haal hai? Balle balle!” when he passed a Sikh gentleman on a Thiruvananthapuram street. “They are jolly people, you know,” he said with evident warmth. All I could think of though was that he sees Sikhs as “they”, not one among “us”; and how irritating it has been for me, as a Malayali born and brought up in Delhi, to constantly hear stupid questions from seemingly educated people. “Are you a Madrasi?” … “Aishwarya Rai is so fair, how can she be south Indian?” … “You said you are a south Indian so what do you mean by saying you are not a Madrasi?” … And from the slightly well-informed lot who are aware that south India is not a single state, this: “Are you a Malayalam?”

Again, there is nothing wrong with being from ‘Madras’ (except that I am not) or being dark-skinned. Just as there is nothing wrong with being brilliant at mathematics, but is it not silly for a white American to assume that all Indian kids are great at maths? A stereotype is a stereotype, however positive it may be.

Sadly, most of Bollywood remains disinterested in portraying multi-culturalism realistically although it is the Indian reality. Sixteen years into the 21st century, the inclusion of a non-Hindu, non-north Indian or non-Maharashtrian character in a mainstream, commercial film is usually engineered with a pointed purpose.

Muslims? Explanation: secularism or lately, terrorism.

Parsis, Gujaratis? Explanation: comic relief.

Sikhs? Explanation: secularism and/or comic relief.

Four years back, when Shakun Batra named the leading lady of his first film, Ek Main Aur Ekk Tu (EMAET) Riana Braganza, he recalls being asked by several industry folk, “Why does the heroine need to be Goan Catholic?” Reason: his script did not typecast her as a quasi-foreign, skimpily dressed, sexually available cabaret dancer, secretary or gangster’s moll who could barely speak English, which is how most Christian women were once portrayed by Hindi cinema.

Bollywood dropped Christian characters in the 1990s, when it became socially acceptable to dress Hindu heroines in small outfits, get them to dance sexily and make them sexually active before marriage. It is not the Christian stereotype that has disappeared from Hindi cinema (that would have been a cause for celebration); what has disappeared is the community itself. It goes without saying then that EMAET’s atypical Riana seemed pointless to Bollywood in 2012.

Some critics slammed Chennai Express (2013) for caricaturing south Indians. Me? I was relieved to see it. If it was OTT, it was equitably so with all its characters; it did not revive the nauseating ‘Madrasi’ cartoon from an earlier era, exemplified by Mehmood in Padosan (1968); and it did not laugh at anyone, it laughed with. Besides, it got north India to watch a supposedly Hindi film replete with Tamil dialogues — without subtitles!

In any case, clichés can only be born of repeated, repetitive portrayals. With south Indians, the problem now is exclusion. Like Dalits, people of the Northeast and Christians, southerners too have now virtually disappeared from mainstream Bollywood films. It is hard to decide which is worse: absence or a trite presence?

It is only fair to state here that Bollywood is not the only Indian film industry guilty of such crimes. Discussing the misrepresentation of north Indians by south Indian cinema, for instance, would require more space than is available here. Try convincing a ‘Madrasi’ filmmaker of that though.

(This article was first published in The Hindu Businessline on March 26, 2016)

Original link:

http://www.thehindubusinessline.com/todays-paper/tp-others/tp-blink/wherefore-art-thou-madrasis/article8397741.ece

Photo captions: Stills/posters from (1) Kapoor & Sons (2) Ek Main Aur Ekk Tu (3) Chennai Express

Photographs courtesy:

(1) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kapoor_%26_Sons

(2) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ek_Main_Aur_Ekk_Tu

(3) Disney UTV

FAQs FOR FILM CRITICS / FILM FATALE: COLUMN PUBLISHED IN THE HINDU BUSINESSLINE

SHOULD I WATCH THIS FILM?

Should I watch this film? Who cares about your review? …And other questions most frequently asked to critics by readers and viewers.

By Anna MM Vetticad

Should I watch this film? Not only is this the question most frequently asked of critics, it’s also the toughest to answer. Because people expect to hear a “yes” or “no”, whereas the logical reply is this: “That depends on your taste in cinema. If your interests and tastes match mine, the answer is X. If not, the answer is Y. I would suggest though that you read my review because so many things that matter to me may not bother you and vice versa.”

You see, it’s not the job of critics to tell potential viewers whether or not to watch a film, though an individual critic may choose to do so if she or he wishes. The critic’s primary job, however, is to give people a considered, well-informed assessment of a film and put it in perspective keeping in mind the socio-political and cultural context in which it has been made (Is it misogynistic? Is it sucking up to the government? Does it do justice to the book on which it’s based?), that particular team’s body of work and other factors.

When I explain this to those who have the patience to listen, the next question invariably is this: with so many contradictory reviews, how do I decide which films to watch?

That’s easy. There are some stars and directors to whom we are so committed that the harshest review in the world couldn’t dissuade us from watching their work. For the general mass of films though, a discerning consumer of reviews could perhaps follow a number of critics over a length of time, find one or two whose views tend to match theirs and then heed those critiques.

Over the years, I’ve gathered a list of other FAQs directed at critics. Here they are:

Can I take my kids for it?

I love parents who are responsible enough to make this inquiry. My friend Ravi says I should introduce a parental guide on my blog for concerned dads like him. The only reason why I have not yet done so is that like the previous question, there is no simple answer to this one. It depends on what you are willing to expose your children to. Some people don’t want their children to see even a brief kiss, others are anxious about long smooches, yet others draw the line at explicit sex. Me? I worry about violence and prejudice.

Will it be a hit?

I don’t know. A film may get a great response from everyone who sees it, but they could be small in number because it was released at exam time when families were staying away from theatres. Box-office success is a combination of so many factors beyond our personal opinions about a film’s quality.

Who cares about your review?

This one comes only from angry fans if you’ve dissed their favourite star’s film.

Is this your review or your personal opinion?

I do not understand this one. Of course it is my personal opinion. A fellow critic once told me he watches films with the public rather than at press previews so that he can decide his review based on audience reactions. This approach completely misses the point that our reactions to films are governed by our backgrounds, the exposure we’ve had to the arts and so on. Besides, one person who adores a film may hoot, whistle and dance in a hall, another may smile quietly to herself. Responses may differ from neighbourhood to neighbourhood. It’s hard to tell what purpose a review serves if you cannot even stand by it, since it’s not your own viewpoint.

Do reviews make a difference to collections?

Yes. Most people agree that small films get a boost from positive reviews. Big mainstream films with major stars and massive marketing are less likely to be affected, and yet reviews obviously contribute to the buzz surrounding a film. If negative reviews combine with poor audience feedback, even a huge film’s collections could possibly suffer after the first day or weekend, as producers may tell you in their more honest moments. Likewise, if a team that traditionally gets negative reviews were to suddenly earn positive comments, this too could generate curiosity. Without doubt, Salman Khan was catapulted to a different league altogether — from having his own committed fan following to attracting the interest of those who weren’t traditionally his fans — when Wanted and Dabangg unexpectedly received good reviews from at least some critics who had not previously shown a fondness for his work.

Anyway, don’t take my word for this. Ask Rohit Shetty, director of blockbusters such as Chennai Express and Singham. When I interviewed him for my book, The Adventures of an Intrepid Film Critic, Shetty spent a considerable part of the conversation cursing critics and telling me how little we know about what the audience wants. He also insisted that critics should publish reviews on Monday, instead of on the Friday of a film’s release. If you think there is a major disconnect between what critics say and what audiences like, then it should not make a difference to you, I said. He replied: “I’m saying, ho sakta hai ek crore ka business aap log kha jaate ho. Ho sakta hai na? (It’s possible that you jeopardise a crore worth of business. Isn’t it possible?)”

Yes it is.

(Anna MM Vetticad is the author of The Adventures of an Intrepid Film Critic. Twitter: @annavetticad)

(This column by Anna MM Vetticad was first published in The Hindu Businessline newspaper on December 27, 2014)

Photograph courtesy: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lingaa

Note: This photograph did not appear in The Hindu Businessline