2 Degrees of Separation: The Hockey Edition

If you follow me on Twitter (and I take this opportunity to apologize for my hockey tweets if they have become obnoxious), you probably know I'm a big hockey fan. If I were Canadian by birth this wouldn't even be surprising considering hockey is Canada's most practiced religion. But I was born and raised in a country where football is king (not the SuperBowl kind of football, the FIFA World Cup kind), and might I add, in a time when the national football team was at the peak of its glory. I find football boring and unattractive, though I admit I still watch the Euro Cup finals and the anthem of the 1990 World Cup still puts a lump in my throat (and what a great anthem that was!). Still, football never grew on me. Hockey on the other hand grew faster than a cancer. Come to think of it I didn't grow up with Bollywood either and it turned out to be love at first sight.

I realized this last year but never thought anyone would care about how similar my love for Indian movies and my love for hockey are. And then someone said they'd be interested in reading about it. So there we go: you get a 2 degrees post, and just in case you were interested, you also get to know a bit more about what the heck it is I keep ranting about on Twitter.

Elegance, flow, grace 

The first reaction I got when I announced I wanted to write a post liking Bolly to hockey was: "but there's no dancing in hockey". It was said jokingly, sure, but I'd like to respectfully disagree nonetheless. Actually I suspect the main reason why I got into hockey in the first place is it had a grace and a flow that no other team sport has. Obviously that has a lot to do with the surface on which the game is played which allows for a completely different style of movement than other sports, but I was hooked on how sexy it looked and sometimes, certain teams, how much like a dance it looked. Sure it's not always a waltz, sometimes it's more reminiscent of krumping, but the visual appeal is always there for me and it has only increased with my knowledge of hockey.

Uh... Right. As I was saying, not always the classy waltz

Speaking of ishtyle, sometimes I'm so hooked on a player's skating style that I forget there's a game happening. And just like I can pinpoint Allu Arjun in a sea of backup dancers by the distinctive way in which his body moves, so I found out (and this freaked me out a bit) I can recognize my favourite Leafs player just by the way he skates. Or the way he adjusts his helmet. Ok, I'd better not start talking about this one or someone will put me in a loony bin.
 

Colourful, shiny and full of sprinkles

Games are a lot like my favourite Indian movies: the good ones have so much going on and they are so satisfying that I need a rewatch immediately after to make sure everything sinks in. But leaving aside my favourite ones, because not all movies can be Hadippas and not all games can end with a 5-0 for the Toronto Maple Leafs, other categories of movies can be compared to some game or other. In a single season you'll have a) the ones where it's clear that a ton of work goes in and yet the outcome is disappointing (let's call those the Raavans of hockey); b) the ones where nobody shows up to play and everyone seems to be sleeping through it (we'll refer to those as the Aishas); c) games where you wonder "what the hell were they thinking??" (Ra.One seems to be a good name for this variety); d) games that don't count on the flashy stuff to succeed (the Dhobi Ghats); e) games that do count on the flashy stuff and so on. Sure the goals are always the best part (just like the songs are in movies), but it takes all kinds of games and all kinds of teams to make a full season.

If you think about the fact that a game is usually 2.5 hours and there are about 2-5 goals per game (as you would have 2-5 songs per movie), and all kinds of action and madness in between, you can see why I don't miss Bollywood as much as I should during the hockey season.

All performers on a different stage

It started out as a sport, sure, but in this day and age, hockey is just as much an entertainment industry as Bollywood is. And its players are paid the big millions to show up every other night and perform for the fans. Some would even go as far as saying they are paid the big millions to get hurt and satisfy the fans' thirst for blood, and there is some truth to that, unfortunately. But the fact of the matter is just like actors, hockey players are no longer just players. They have to also be PR machines, social-media wizards, charity drivers, cause fighters, in other words being a damn good hockey player is just the beginning of a day's work.

Living in Toronto, also known as "the centre of the hockey universe", you get so much hockey coverage that it really feels like you know these guys personally. It's hard to not care for them like they're part of your family. Of course, everyone is, to a certain extent, only offering up a persona, not a person. But much like with actors, this persona can truly change how you feel about a player regardless of how good or bad they are on the ice.

In Bollywood I see Abhishek Bachchan as one of the coolest off-screen personalities, but God knows he's not the greatest actor alive. Similarly, the uncrowned king of the hockey twitterverse Paul Bissonnette has become a brand without being a particularly good player (still wishing the Coyotes best of luck in the playoffs just because he's part of that team!).

The bench is usually where you see Biz during a game. He's still awesome though!

If in Bollywood Aamir Khan is the man with the Midas touch, Sid Crosby is his correspondent in the NHL. Whenever he's on the ice, he delivers in spades.  Not only that, but because he is (in)arguably the best player in the world, everything he does is put under the microscope. I'm sure Aamir Khan can relate to that. And yet with all the negativity surrounding both of them, because with great talent comes great hate and great nit-picking, they always come out on top. (Ok, if you're a Penguins fan, let's just forget about the last two games against the Flyers, it's not Sid's fault.). Unfortunately Sid the Kid has resembled Aamir Khan in more ways than one this year when he was about as stingy with his appearances as Aamir's movies. Here's hoping he stays healthy from now on.

Ok, so I could have picked a more decent picture. Sue me!

And with the superstars you also have the divas. It's no secret that I adore Kareena Kapoor despite her many shortcomings and if I had to think of an equivalent for her in hockey it would be Ryan Kesler. A powerhouse of talent, and yet no one understands why he makes the strangest decisions sometimes on the ice. His histrionics have made haters and even fans dub him the Olympic medalist in diving and as much as I love him for being one of the best players out there, even I can't help but shake my head when he pulls some of his stunts to draw a penalty. As we always say about Kareena: if only... if only that talent was put to good use every time...

Last but not least there's that category of stars who appear to be so boring and inane that you can't imagine them shining in anything. And then they go in front of the camera or on the ice and... it's magic. Shahid Kapoor is one such personality, and in hockey the awkward Phil Kessel is a lot like him. I can't help but be the most intrigued by these guys because come on, they can't possibly be THAT boring in real life, can they??

You'll NEVER see him this excited in an interview. Heck, you usually wonder if he has a pulse!

The list of parallels is endless: has-beens who act like they're still it (I don't think I need to name any names from Bolly, but for hockey the most prominent one this year is Alex Ovechkin); hard working grinders who never quite get their due (Pawel Datsyuk comes to mind in hockey, though there are many others for sure, just like Konkona Sen Sharma is the first name I think of for this label in Bollywood); whatever category of actors you can think of, I can find the hockey players that suit that pattern.

Emotional roller coasters

Just like a Bolly movie can make you smile from one ear to the other and then 2 minutes later have you sniffling with a heart-wrenching moment, hockey does exactly the same for me. No other sport takes me through so many emotions in the span of 2-3 hours, from wanting to throw my shoes at the TV, to yelling at the protagonists as if they could hear me, to wanting to jump in there and kiss someone (more often than not that's Lupul, but we'll skip over my blind adoration for this man), to more pedestrian emotions such as happiness or disappointment. Most people go through the same range of emotions as me, as Twitter reveals, so it seems to be something that the sport itself provokes. I certainly don't get it from any other sport. Not surprisingly, I don't get it from most Hollywood movies either.

Speaking of emotions, just like in movies, what I often remember the most is the chemistry between players. It's not as easy as it sounds, they don't just go out and pass the puck from left to right, the really good lines are special because of the chemistry that develops on ice between those particular players. As a viewer it's palpable and exciting and you remember these "jodis" even if the game itself sucked (or the team is on your blacklist). A beautiful pass, or series of passes, beats even a goal sometimes.

No, you're not seeing double, they ARE twins!

The crazy fans

It goes without saying that Indian movie fans are a breed of their own. Stories about SRK shrines and Rajinikanth worship rituals are well known, but hockey fans are not far behind. Sure it can be argued that most hardcore sports fans go the crazy route but in Canada there's no competition for hockey. It's not just about wearing the jersey or flying the flag on your car, I've seen everything from body-covering tattoos to dog apparel, to baby clothes, to months of following the team across the entire continent, if you can think about it, at least one hockey fan is guaranteed to have done it.

Source: Puck Daddy Blog

For sure it's always fun to find out what new playoff rituals the fans come up with. So far the flavour of the year for 2012 seems to be catfish and salmon thrown on the ice. For good luck, we assume.

And if you think people throwing paper and dancing in the aisles when Chiranjeevi makes his entrance in a movie is cool, try watching this compilation of Canada's reaction to the gold winning goal in the 2010 Olympics. Toronto went completely berserk, all of downtown was blocked, people were high-fiving everyone walking in the opposite direction, I didn't have a voice the next day. Great memories!



Ah, fans are a great community, but just like the Indian movie fans, the hockey crowd only wants mass entertainers, flashy plays and instant gratification. In other words they want their good-old brainless masala. And because the industry is fuelled by the fans, there is no hope of hockey getting smarter or classier any time soon. I count myself in the rarefied ranks of people who stop to think about what they demand of a team, which is why I tend to be in the minority with my opinions on hockey. Much like I am when it comes to movies. You see now how they're so similar?

So much of OTT...

It's not just Tollywood that excels at over the top fights, the NHL and its Russian counterpart, the KHL, are pretty high up there on that. And while I usually fast forward through the fights in a movie, there's no denying that the truly ridiculous ones are a ton of fun. I don't like fighting in hockey either, and I certainly disagree with the opinion that "it's a part of the game", but when you have one of those bench-clearing fights where everyone is on the ice for it, well, even I can't help but laugh. If you're gonna do something stupid, at least make it over the top, is what I always say.

Living in the moment

In both movies and hockey I always prefer the young generation over dynasties. I know the Khans are still well loved and I know Detroit is a great team, but... meh. Give me Ranveer Singh over Salman Khan any day. That's probably why I'd rather cheer for the Edmonton Oilers, a basement team this year, and for their young super-talented players than watch established teams who never missed the playoffs since the dawn of time. Call it my tendency to cheer for the underdog. I call it young talent spotting.

And what can I say, I've never been good with history. I can't bring myself to watch old Bollywood classics any more than I can be bothered to look up Leafs history from their glory days. Who cares? There's so much good stuff to be watched now, and so much better in my opinion (in terms of quality of the game), that those historical plays, much like those black and white celluloid gems, have no chance of ever getting my attention.

So much eye candy

Last but not least... Did you think I was a sucker for a pretty face only in the film industry? Nah... I'll take it from all possible sources! Like this one:

Don't ask me how in lust I am with Henrik Lundqvist. Just don't.

So there you have it. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. When I started the 2 degrees series I based it on the idea that most of my hobbies will have things in common because you know, that's why I got into them. But to be perfectly honest, this one surprised even me. So if you read all the way here (did you really???), now you know why I'm so into this hockey thing despite it being one of the least lady-friendly sports out there. Because for a sport that's not very lady-friendly, it sure has its charm...

No rhyme or reason for this one. Just felt like posting it because it's cute.

Pranayam Review

I'm sure everyone around here knows this by now: I've been starved for movies with grown-ups. Puppy love is all good and fine, but enough is enough already. So when I put Pranayam in the DVD player the other day I was ready for a good story with adults.

My excitement was toned down however when, before the movie even started playing, a collection of quotes about love got flashed on the screen, culminating with this one:

Oh man, I thought, what a tease! This will end up being yet another movie where the adult versions of the characters are on screen for something like 10 minutes and the rest of the story is a flashback of their puppy-love days. Cue eyeroll and brace self for the worst. (Not that I didn't thoroughly enjoy Love Aaj Kal, but if you think of the epilogue to Rishi's story you'll know what I mean.)

Luckily, I was dreadfully wrong! Pranayam ends up being a story about grown-ups and yet, while being that, it still allows plenty of room for the cuteness of puppy love, for the thrill of watching young hearts take on the world, and even for a bit of the classic love triangle. And it does all that without ever putting the older versions of the characters in danger for screen time.

Not that you would want to underuse such talents as Anupam Kher, Mohanlal and Jaya Prada, but Indian movies have proved in the past that even greater talent can be sacrificed in favour of their younger looking versions. So on that topic I can only say: respect to Blessy for giving us a story about old people in an era when everyone else around him refuses to age.

Namak: Mercifully! Because in the younger version Anupam Kher looks like a 12 year old with a mooche!

Dolce: Aww, come on, he's all right. And all his filmi dialogues about rain are so cute.

Namak: Cute is hardly the word I would use. Cheesy maybe?

Dolce: Whatever. They get the job done, don't they? The girl falls for it.

Namak: Just another case of girl falling for the first boy whose eyes she looks into. Textbook filmi love-story. Yawn.

Dolce: We're over that, remember? We've accepted love at first sight as a legitimate plot device. Besides, luckily for us, this one turns out to not be the one true love as it is in most movies.

Namak: True. Brownie points for that. I'm always happy to see the idea that true love doesn't happen only once acknowledged by Indian film makers.

The story, in short, is about Menon (Anupam Kher) who comes to the city to live with his son's family after suffering a heart-attack. Highly independent and unaccustomed to being looked after, he takes to roaming about the city as if he were a young man. But danger is always closer to home than we think, so one day in the elevator he runs into Grace (Jaya Prada), who, as we will soon find out, was his wife 40 years ago. Also she is the mother of his son and had abandoned them when their son was very young. Or had she? The script keeps it a mystery, but what we do know is that Grace is now married to Mathews and quite happily married by the looks of it, even if Mathews (Mohanlal) is now half paralyzed and requires constant attention. Coincidentally, they all live in the same building.

The script manages a good deal of flashbacks quite elegantly, and events from the past surface one at a time, without losing sight of the relationship that is formed in the present between the three protagonists. Not surprisingly, we don't get the full story until close to the end of the film, and it isn't the most original story either, but by then we are so much more involved with where the characters are right now, that the past remains exactly what it should be: the past.

I'm all about the relationships in movies, and Pranayam definitely does not disappoint in that respect. Whether it's the relationships between the older generation and their grandchildren, or the husbands and wives, or the father-son dynamics, all the connections between characters come across as genuine and natural. And of course, the interactions between the three main characters are particularly well drawn.

You understand right away why Grace is married to Mathews because he strikes you as such a wise, mature man. On the other hand you also understand why she had fallen for Menon in their youth and why, apart from the son, there is still a bond there. Menon is full of life and optimism, he's an explorer even when tired or ill, it's a joy to be around him. Needless to say, it's also easy to understand why both men love/loved Grace, whose name describes her perfectly. A strong, good-hearted woman who had to make some tough choices in life but retained her warmth and her spirit. And, might I add with an incipient fangirl sigh: her beauty!

Dolce: Interestingly I didn't feel that the movie manipulated me in any way on the topic of the mother living away from her son for 40 years, and I'm not sure if that was just excellent storytelling, or if it was something they glossed over on purpose. 

Namak: Hard to say, I'd say the latter, but certainly unexpected from an Indian movie. Most of them would be throwing drama at the issue after the first scene.

Dolce: And yet Pranayam kept it smoothly in the background without ever asking you to take sides.

Namak: I wouldn't go that far, there are definitely sides being "proposed" to you, ready for the taking.

Dolce: Yes, but you always know there's more to it than meets the eye, so it doesn't feel like they give you a definitive ruling: she was wrong or she was right.
Namak: Or he was wrong / he was right...
Dolce: Precisely! "Everyone makes mistakes" seems to be their philosophy, but in the end, as Mathews would say "The past is just a bucket full of ashes."

Another aspect of the movie that impressed me on the sociological level was how well the script employs the "village's rumour mill". It doesn't take being Indian to know just how much appearances and "saving face" matter in the Indian society, and yet movies have recently moved away from focusing on this aspect, no doubt in an effort to showcase the younger generation's new-found independence. Which is fine too. Pranayam, however, boldly embraces it and makes it a part of the plot.

When the trio of grandparents starts forming a friendship, both families (Menon's son and daughter-in-law, as well as Mathews' daughter and son-in-law) get increasingly concerned with the rumours that are flying around about them in the neighbourhood. What a nice and refreshing role reversal from your typical scene with the parents scolding their teenage daughters for giving the family a bad name. Here it's the daughter who raises the problem with her mother.

Don't get me wrong, far be it from me to ever be on the side of the rumour mill, and anyone who has been around this space for a while knows my general response is "to hell with it!", but I truly appreciated how this story didn't pretend to exist in a vacuum and not only did we get the angle of the immediate family dealing with their parents' problems (or their grandparents'), but we also got the social commentary associated with it. Of course, what the main characters do and how they deal with it is another matter altogether, but that is a satisfaction I will leave to you to discover.

Namak: And this is not the only place where Pranayam uses a filmi trope. If you think about it the grandparents go through practically every act of rebellion we see nowadays in rom-coms about growing up: they sneak out for secret meetings, they take off on a roadtrip without telling anyone, they go drinking, they sing a song in a packed restaurant, they go boating, etc. 

Dolce: That's may be so, but because here we see these scenes from such a different angle, they seem fresh and endearing. It's only cliche if a certain category of characters does it. You change the premise and all of a sudden all the cliches get a makeover too!

Maybe it's true that there are only a few good stories in the world. But every once in a while one storyteller twists one up enough that it seems, if not new, at least intriguing all over again.

Last but not least, a quick word on the visuals in Pranayam. Two things stand out: the sea and the rain.

The story uses both symbols heavily but the excellent cinematography makes it look as if it's a different sea and a different rain every time. And perhaps that is the message of the movie too, that despite thinking we know something (or in this case someone) and have experienced it a thousand times, there are always new sides of them to discover. Or to remember.

"With each new wave the sea looks different", Mathews notes.

Pranayam (2011)
Director: Blessy
Starring: Jaya Prada, Anupam Kher, Mohanlal
Music: M. Jayachandran
Cinematography: Satheesh Kurup
Language: Malayalam

London Paris New York

Let's face it: there's no such thing as a realistic romantic comedy. Even the movies that rule the genre and have legions of fans who can recite all the dialogues and dance all the parts (Jab We Met, Hum Tum, Band Baaja Baaraat, etc) don't exactly make you exclaim: "this could happen in real life!". Relationships work differently in real life and most of them don't do a full 180 when someone bursts out saying "I love you" (if anyone does a full 180, it's usually to run away). And that's fine. Because whether we're watching a traditional love story or a modern day rom-com, the whole point is not to think that it could happen to you, but that it would be so dreamy if it happened to you. And yes, there is a distinction there.

Most romantic comedies take a core idea: opposites attract, long distance relationships, love at first sight, take your pick, and they build around it in a way that should at least ring true. Then the most important part is finding the characters that will fit in this story. Once that's done, the rest of the details are "window-dressing". If you bought the premise and if the protagonists make it come alive for you, you'll overlook a few details here and there that move the plot forward in an artificial way. But as long as the premise makes sense and none of the plot-turning events are too ridiculous, you're likely to enjoy it.

Personally I find myself more susceptible to buy core ideas that I know exist in real life. That's why, for example, you'll see me scoff at the "love at first sight" variety, and embrace the "long distance relationship" angle. I'll find "stalk her until she admits she loves you" creepy, but I will go completely gaga for "friendship turning into love" plots. To each their own. The idea that London Paris New York is based on is among the select few that work for me: I believe there are people you meet sometimes who leave such a strong impression that you will make life-altering decisions because of them long after they stopped being a part of your life. And I believe that you can have such amazing chemistry with someone that no matter what point you're at in your life, they can show up and turn your world upside down. Does it happen with someone you've only known for 12 hours? Probably not, but this is where you have to close your eyes a little bit and accept that for cinematic purposes time can be compressed. Then again, motivational speakers claim they can change your whole outlook on life in a an hour, so who be I to doubt it?

My rom-com logic is perfectly satisfied by London Paris New York: do I buy the premise? Sure, I've seen it happen countless times. Is there enough scorching chemistry between the two leads to make it believable? Hell yes! Is ALI FLIPPIN' ZAFAR!!! (sorry, I promise this is the last time I am being a fangirl in this post, but seriously, how fabulous is this man?) believable as the guy who could turn your life upside down? Oh, I think I already answered that.

And that's not even all of it! Beyond the lovely performances from both leads, the movie is also worth watching for the way it integrates Bollywoodness in three foreign locations without taking you out of the story (the two versions of Voh Dekhnay Main and Ting Rang are a perfect example of this), and for the cute dialogues that ensure there's never a dull moment despite the movie only having two characters for almost its entire length. And this, folks, should really be the end of my review with only one more thing to add: for full-on Ali Zafar deliciousness... just go see the movie! Words do not do him justice. (Oops, I forgot I promised!)


But... BUT. We're in the middle of Adam's Rib, so what better opportunity to focus a little bit more on the female character of this film and while we're at it, on its female director/writer.

LONDON.

What I loved the most about London Paris New York (ok, this will be a lie, we all know what I loved the most was Ali Zafar, but pretend you believe me) is that it takes the stock character that we see in every other Hindi film/rom-com, uses it, and dismisses it when it no longer makes sense. In the first phase of the movie, London, Lalitha is somewhere close to 20 years of age, and she does everything we would expect from a teenage-type girl: she refuses to kiss because it would make things complicated, she doesn't want to write letters because it would trivialize the relationship, she goes on and on about how she will change the world, she thinks she's got it all figured out. She's your typical idealistic 20 year old (slightly less bubbly than the stock character, but definitely with that air of innocence about her) who thinks the future is hers to shape and it's all within her control. Her decisions make sense as such.

PARIS.

In the second segment Lalitha has grown up a bit. She's still not mature, but she doesn't believe in fairytale endings anymore. She's been through a few disappointments and she knows to take what she wants when it's there rather than relying on a future that is as fickle as the weather in London. And most importantly she's grown up physically. She's not afraid to be touched by a man anymore, she's not afraid of her sexuality anymore. I should mention that my seat-mates objected to her walking around in Paris with a long sweater that barely covered her behind, but I took it as a sign of someone who is comfortable with her own sex-appeal (and more importantly someone who wants to SHOW a man that) and for once I didn't think it was just a gratuitous skin-show - which by the way, doesn't bother me, but I do recognize it when it's inserted there. (Ahem... as in the example below.)

While talking about this segment of the film, I read an infuriating review about the movie today whose author (a male film critic, not that it should matter) faults Lalitha's character for sleeping with Nikhil in Paris. Which ties in perfectly with my rant the other week about virginal girls in Bollywood: it's what people expect and when they don't get it, they protest. Why is it uncharacteristic for her to sleep with him, I ask? Is it so hard to believe that a woman can also give in to her hormones? Or that she would want to know what she missed? Why does the episode that precedes their meeting in Paris cancel out physical desire? Is it because we're assuming that as a well-raised tam-brahm she's still a virgin? Or is it because the Indian audiences are STILL (and yes, I totally meant to shout that) not able to accept that a bona fide heroine would do something as outrageous as giving in to sexual desire? Not sure how many women would NOT do exactly what Lalitha did, and some would do it ESPECIALLY because of the history between them, so based on that, I see Mr. Nahta's objection and I raise it a middle finger. And because I'm a woman and he's not, I win by default. Ha!

Oh, and while we're at it, how droll is it that in the above mentioned review there's no objection to the fact that Nikhil complains about Lalitha not giving him any satisfaction on the first night in London? By the way I found that scene hilarious and brilliant, so nothing against the scene, but you know, if we're going to ban sexual desire, can we be fair and ban it both ways? No, of course we can't.

I've never been one to praise women over men in a particular department just because they're women. If anything I have a hard time for example reading female authors for a variety of reasons that I won't touch on right now. But give some credit to the fact that a woman wrote this script. Give her at the very least the benefit of the doubt when it comes to knowing what a woman might or might not do in a certain situation. And in this particular venture I found the female character quite well-written. Yes, there is such a thing as women wanting to sleep with a man they're attracted to regardless of the consequences and yes, there is such a thing as physical attraction trumping all the rules and all the barriers you had set up in your head. And thank you, Anu Menon for acknowledging that!

NEW YORK.

We now get to the last stage of the journey, when the characters are close to their 30s (if not right at that age). They're done figuring things out, they're done dreaming about changing the world, they're done being unreasonable. And this section pleased me the most because it does something that Rockstar surprised me with as well, and while some may knock it, I think there should be more of it: the film trusts you as an audience to understand why the two characters are where they are right now. It doesn't spoon-feed you back-story, it doesn't show you a montage of how they got there, it doesn't tell you what they've been up to. It simply tells you that another 6-7 years have gone by and it's up to YOU, the audience to understand why both protagonists are now adults and why they behave as such. Were there regrets in these seven years? Was there doubt? Were there times when the two completely forgot about each other? Did they move on with their lives? Were there times when they were one step away from calling each other? Just let your imagination fly, Anu Menon trusts you to figure it out. She trusts you to know that people evolve and grow and learn from their experiences. And if you're not able to figure that out, or if you don't buy it... then I'm very sad for you, but here's the good news: Bollywood is still full of stock bubbly girls who never grow up, tailor made just for you! There we go! Now everyone's happy!

THREE LOVE STORIES.

Most rom-coms are hard to take for me, my tolerance being zero for weepy melodrama and almost zero for contrived set-ups. When I fall in love with a movie that has either of those elements I put it down to the main couple just working for me. The idea that two people can click every time they meet each other despite being at various stages in their lives is what I would normally call a contrived set-up. And yes, I admit to being smitten by Ali Zafar and to loving Aditi Rao Hydari, but in this one I give all the credit to Anu Menon: I bought into London Paris New York because her characters are not static, they're different people from one segment of the movie to the next. Hence the way they click every time, the way they interact and relate to each other also changes from the time before. London Paris New York is not about the endurance of one love story (like in the unbearable Mausam), it's about two people falling in love with each other all over again every time. And that makes it a gem of a movie and a rarity in today's Bollywood!

(Oh, and don't forget: ALI FLIPPIN' ZAFAR!!!!!)

Grow Up, Bollywood Girls!

One of the biggest disadvantages of having a group of friends where everyone is 3-5 years younger than you is that you're always waiting for people to grow up. You keep making excuses for them and keep saying: they'll grow up when they get a real job, they'll grow up when they find a steady girlfriend/boyfriend, they'll grow up when they move out, etc. And there is some truth to that because that is usually how people learn responsibility and maturity. In fact, on the opposite end, the most telling sign that someone is refusing to grow up is that they will do anything (and I mean ANYthing) to not get a full-time job, or what we call a "real" job.

In a way, Bollywood is like these friends of mine: it keeps refusing to let its heroines (and heroes sometimes) grow up. In real life, if someone is responsible enough to keep a real job and live on their own, we also expect them to be emotionally mature. (Of course that expectation can backfire horribly, but that's for a different day to discuss.) But Bollywood, as I have discovered, doesn't like emotionally mature characters. It follows logically that they cannot have jobs (or if they do they're in the artistic realm), live on their own or make reasonable (read: mature) decisions. So... they don't.

We've already discussed that a fair percentage of the male characters have become manchildren (without actually getting to the bottom of why that is, but we might get there in this post), so it's only right to now discuss what type of female characters will suit these boys. Not surprisingly: girls! Not women. Girls. Sometimes (not very often, thankfully!) manic pixie dream girls and other times just girls in the process of growing up along with their hero. But girls nonetheless.

Look around at Bollywood movies from the past two decades: how many women can we count and how many girls? And of those women, how many are the heroine? Moreover, how many of those heroines end up with the hero? Three questions, each worth exploring in some detail.

By the way, as I was writing this I realized that this is a very a-typical post for me because I'm never big on women power. To me everyone is equal and no sex should be more equal than the other. But a few recent stinkers from Filmistan have made me a little fed up with all these cutesy bubbly teenage dream girls that Bollywood (and regional cinema) loves so dearly. And I realized that normal grown-up women have been a bit of a rarity lately. Hence my upcoming rant.

How many women and how many girls are there?

For a while there it seemed like Bollywood was going in the right direction with its female characters, providing some much needed relief from the whiny, spine-less love interests that populated the last decade of the millennium. And here mad brownie points go to Dil Chahta Hai for giving us not one but three female characters that despite being at different stages in their development shared one quality: they all had a level head on their shoulders. Then Southie remakes started happening. And Hollywood "inspirations". And then it all started going downhill again.

While it's understandable that a certain amount of innocence should go with the virginal ideal woman (according to Indian cinema anyway), it's incredible how often that degenerates into ditsiness and childlike behaviour. Even some of my favourite movies manage to slip into this cliche. I adored Dimple in Mere Brother Ki Dulhan, but let's face it, mature is not the first word that comes to mind when trying to describe her. One of my favourite movies ever, Jab We Met, features another good example of innocence and airheaded-ness, despite a few well placed dialogues that manage to give Geet some depth. Her behaviour however is not exactly what we would expect from a grown woman. In another intriguing example Kaminey's Sweety is a strange mixture of determination and puerility.

And mind you these are the films that balanced it well and gave us some truly memorable, three-dimensional characters that I will always love. Most films out there either don't even try to give us a round character, or if they do, it reminds us of how we used to be at 15. This is, by the way, much much worse in regional cinema, which is probably why I'm so fed up with them.

Whether that innocence comes from having grown up in a warm family that has sheltered the girl from the evil world, or from simply being a carefree type of personality, the fact is it exists in far too many female character out there. And while I do understand the appeal of a sweet, wholesome, happy and (usually) virginal creature, there is something to be said in favour of a lady who has some knowledge of how the world turns. And who has some depth to her even if that means being manipulative or selfish. No? Too much? Ok, then at least a girl who has kissed a boy before and doesn't look like it's the most miraculous moment in her life when she kisses the hero. You see what I'm getting at here.

But evidently Bollywood does not agree because it keeps serving us these lovely wide-eyed caricatures of women who more often than not seem inspired by high school cheerleaders (or bookworms, depending on the story) rather than by real life women.

Of these Women, how many are the heroine?

This is a startling conclusion that I came to: a lot of times the female characters who seem real and who make mature decisions are not the main characters in Hindi films. Think of Jai's Swiss girlfriend in Love Aaj Kal. Think of Luv's ex in Mere Brother Ki Dulhan. Think of Tanu's best friend in Tanu Weds Manu. Think of Ria in Monsoon Wedding. Or Raina in Ladies Vs Ricky Bahl. All these secondary characters behave like a normal grown-up woman would in front of a tough situation. They don't call mommy, they don't cling to the hero like ivy to an old house, they don't give up on life. They do what any adult does: deal with the problem. (Or in Tanu's case, they deal with their best friend's problem.)

So this is where it gets really confusing now. I used to look around at all the different kinds of fabulous women that I know and wonder: why is it so hard for scriptwriters in Bollywood to create a character that feels real? Normal women walk around us all the time, why is it so hard to transfer them to paper and then to screen? Why the need to go over the top with these unnaturally bubbly characters? Or worse, come up with flat characters whose sole purpose is to look pretty in a sari and possibly fuel the hero's transformation into a real man. Now understandably if we're talking about a movie like Dabangg or Dhoom 2, we won't take offense at the flatness of the female characters, the movie is, after all, not about them. But why can we not have grown-up women in rom-coms? In love stories? In dramas?

Because it turns out that they can be written. They do exist and they do make it to the screen. Just... not as the heroine.

And the more I think about it the more if feels like I figured it out. In Bollywood where the love story is such an important element, a character who is already developed doesn't have anywhere to go. The whole fun of watching a story that's been told before (which most of the times is exactly what you're watching) is seeing how the characters change. So unless there's some sort of growth (and the growing up kind seems to be the easiest to handle), there is no satisfaction at the end of the journey. Unless, of course, there's action and sparkles and dancing in which case we really don't care about the character development.

Then of course there's also the issue of the fountain of youth which Bollywood is still looking for. There's no telling when it will be found, but in the meantime we're getting some practice with the kinds of characters that a forever-young actress or actor will need to play (ie teenagers). Though credit where it's due, Bollywood actresses are doing a whole lot better than the actors in choosing age-appropriate roles.  


And finally: how many end up with the hero?

A few movies have managed to elevate these independent, strong women from the secondary character status to heroine or at least the "other" heroine. I'm thinking about Dev D.'s Paro, Ishqiya's Krishna, Chalo Dilli's Mihika, Delhi Belly's Menaka, Aaja Nachle's Dia, Luck by Chance's Sona and to a certain extent Riana in Ek Main aur Ekk Tu. All women who know what they want and don't rely on men to build their own happiness.

But strangely, of all these, Delhi Belly is the only one where there is a possibility she will end up with the main hero. In all the other ones they either are never meant to be a couple (as is the case with Chalo Dilli), or they just don't end up doing the "happily ever after" thing for whatever reason.

Actually, it's not for "whatever" reason. It's for a very obvious reason: the hero is not likely to make such a woman happy. Whether it's because he's too immature, or because he's too self-centered, or simply because... she's just not that into him. Puns aside, could we even picture them together? In most of these cases, not really. And not to say that it's imperative for a woman to be in a couple in order to be happy, but... it doesn't hurt either.

Strong women, it seems, don't belong with chocolate heroes. Maybe chocolate heroes wouldn't know how to handle them. The nervous boy who is in love for the first time and doesn't even know it would be crushed by a love interest who isn't herself a shivering fragile lily. So the grown-up women get sidelined and in come the girls who will be more than happy to stick around through thick and thin holding a man-child's hand. The one-eyed leading the blind...

(Of course there are a handful of films where the independent, strong-headed heroine does end up with the hero, but more often than not, their love story is not the main focus. I'm thinking of the adorable Well Done Abba, the intriguing Paa, and the brilliant Swades. Too few... too few.)


The conclusion here seems to be that in order for us to buy the hero and the heroine being happy ever after, we have to visualize that they will evolve together. If the female character is a woman and the male character is a boy, it doesn't ring true to picture them still together in 20 years, which is really what we should think at the end of a good love-story. On the other hand if neither of them has to wait around for the other to grow up, and they're in it together, it's easier to believe that they will make it.


The bottom line...

Bollywood certainly has a firm grasp on this one concept: there is nothing more intense, more romantic and more adorable to watch than two people falling in love for the first time. In fact, because this first-love magic usually happens to us when we're teenagers, Hindi films have gone as far as routinely selling us characters in their mid-twenties who act like teenagers in the turmoils of their first love story (and no, it's not just the female characters, it's both sexes).

But here's something that Bollywood apparently has yet to discover: grown-ups fall in love too. And it can make for some pretty cool stories.


It's not that girls are not fun to watch, don't get me wrong, I love my bubbly energy balls just as much as I love my man-children, but I do find that the stereotype has gone a little too far in recent years. I'm ok with being given a girl instead of a woman, but give me a well-rounded one (and I don't mean just physically in case you were getting ready with a pun here), give me one I can picture surviving in real life. I know... I know... Bollywood is not meant to be realistic. But I find that it's doing a great job with the male characters in that department, so why not with the ladies as well?


Maybe when mainstream Bollywood finally discovers adults we'll be treated to some real women, who act like they're firmly in their twenties or thirties. Or fifties. Who think for themselves and know what they want. Who make the right decision for themselves, not for mommy and daddy, not for the boyfriend or for anyone else. And who don't end up alone.

Until then we'll have to make do with girls who assert their independence through teenage rebellion acts such as *gasp* smoking, drinking and driving a scooter at high speed. In traffic. Whoa.

PS: This post was brought to you by Adam's Rib, a Totally Filmi initiative, made possible by the generous support of Bloggistan. For more women power (and for less cynicism than what I just served you) keep an eye on her blog for links to all the participating posts. I promise after I'm done celebrating the male power of Ali Zafar in London Paris New York, I will sit down and write a nice happy post about the ladies of Indian Cinema.

Adaminte Makan Abu and the Oscars

I've been having quite a few conversations lately, on and off-line, about how the values in Indian films get perceived by us Westerners, what we notice over what Indian people notice, what gets our blood boiling that they gloss over, what we disagree with, while Indian audiences embrace. And Adaminte Makan Abu, India's entry for the Oscars this year, has provided one of the best examples recently. But I'll get to that discussion later. First allow me to pimp the movie because if you haven't seen it, you're missing out!

Abu (Salim Kumar) is an old sales-man who travels a great deal in order to sell his perfume essences (and holy books) which are quickly going out of style. At home his wife Aisu (Zarina Wahab) adds to their savings by selling milk and fruit to other villagers. They have a simple home with just one room and their biggest dream is to make it to Mecca for Hajj once in their lifetime. You love these two right away not just because they seem like such nice people, but also because you see them looking after one another in a way that doesn't get explored enough in movies with young couples these days. The other day I saw one of those chain quotes on Twitter, and it fits well here: "Love is not Romeo and Juliet dying together, it's grandma and grandpa growing old together". It's cheesy, but at the same time so true. We see that love between Abu and Aisu right from their first scene together in the film and it makes them so endearing to us.

This year it seems as if their dream might come true and Abu decides to put everything he has into arranging the trip. His health is deteriorating and his trade is no longer sought after, so money is not easy to come by. But his faith, hope and everyone's blessings push him forward towards his goal.

Supported by the gorgeous cinematography which subjugates your attention from the first frame and doesn't let your eyes stray even for a precious second, the story of Abu talks about forgiveness, being kind, and living a righteous life regardless of rewards and setbacks. It's a wonderful little message and its delivery is, like Abu, slow and gentle. The smaller or bigger gestures of the villagers when Abu finds himself in financial trouble are a true, and thankfully not preachy, ode to the virtues of leading an honest, selfless life. Truly a heart-warming lesson in humanity brought to us in sweet metaphors and delightful little symbols.

For an even more detailed review of the film (though I'm warning you, plenty spoilery), I recommend heading over to Totally Filmi because from here on I am done with pimping and will proceed to sharing with you my thoughts on how this film would fare at the Oscars if it makes it.

Two things got a great deal of thought from me after watching this movie, and I expect both would play a heavy part in how Adaminte Makan Abu would be viewed by people here as opposed to people in India.

First of all, and this may have something to do with me having been raised by an energetic mother who changed her profession twice to stay afloat (the second time in her 50s), I personally find myself unable to sympathize with people's incapacity to adapt. Abu is so lovable that I can't help but feel for him, but at the same time I also can't help but judge and think where he would have been if he had tried to change his trade. The only reason why he is in his current situation is because he hasn't managed to keep up with the times. This is all he knows and this is all he can do with himself.

Once again, as in quite a few other Indian films, though this time in a very subtle way, progress and the business world are presented as the root of all evil, or at the very least, the antithesis of a righteous life. This is further illustrated by the character and side story of the real estate agent. Granted, he was also greedy, but forgive me if I am starting to really resent this constant association of greed and progress as if they were the same thing. Abu is meant to charm with his simplicity and his selflessness, but for a society that rates ambition among a man's highest qualities, this may not necessarily impress.

Seeing this movie from the comfort of my couch in Toronto I have to wonder how it would appear to other Westerners who, like me, consider progress through technology a desirable goal to strive towards rather than a destructive force (as much as environmentalists would disagree with that). Also how many of us Westerners would see Abu and his antiquated lifestyle as nothing more than a perfect example of the dead weight that is keeping India from soaring economically?

It may sound condescending and as if I am applying my Western values without any regard to the culture that this film came from, but consider this: if this mentality was so foreign to India, why would a character who used to have a cookie vending stall and now has 8 bakeries in the city be mentioned? And this time it's without any malice, he's mentioned with admiration and perhaps a teeny bit of envy.

"His car sometimes hastens this way splashing muck"

Moreover, the contrast between him and the two old men who never knew how to grow (the perfume vendor and the umbrella maker), is made even more poignant by the fact that they seem to be painfully aware of the fact that everyone started off with the same skills and opportunities.

"Making money is indeed a talent my friend"

Would Abu be as endearing in his helplessness to an audience full of people who change their job every 5-6 years? From this society where everyone expects to change their line of work completely at least twice in their lifetime, would we feel bad for Abu's perfumes that don't get sold?

The other aspect that didn't quite settle with me in the film is Abu's stubbornness to keep everything in line with the letter of the Koran: if the book says you can't accept money from people unless they are blood relatives, then he won't. If the book says he is to seek forgiveness even when he has done no wrong, he will. As an aside, interesting to note that he has no moral issues with giving a bribe. Probably because The Book doesn't have an opinion on it?

Is leaving everything in the hands of God something that we would be ok with? Is being the type of person who accepts everything as God's decision a palatable idea? Is God the only force to be trusted to show us the way?

"Allah will surely show us one among them [a way to raise the money]"

See, if this movie were about an American, Abu would be instantly labeled as a bigot. And hated on more than likely. Also, the persistence to not accept help would probably be named pride rather than humbleness. But this is not an American movie, so we learn to respect Abu for his resolve. Or... at least we're expected to.

What I'm really getting at here, and this may sound like I am criticizing the movie (when in fact I absolutely loved it), is that seen through the prism of Western values, this would be a completely different movie. And not necessarily a charming one, as it is meant to be. If it is to make it to the Oscars, this is where there's a chance it will not connect with people.

Then again, we have learned to respect different cultures and their unique components, so just because the film made me think of these issues, it's not a given it will stop anyone from loving it just like it didn't stop me. And maybe there is always a need for us to be reminded that the possessions we count on the most in life can sometimes turn out to be hollow on the inside.

Because in the end, and this is the true testament to Salim Kumar's talent and to the director's finesse, they make me root for Abu and Aisu nonetheless. And I do sympathize with Abu's helplessness despite judging it (perhaps harshly, perhaps not). And I am moved by the tenderness of his relationship with his wife. And I will recommend this film to everyone within earshot. But that said, I am very curious about how the Oscar crowd would perceive it. Very curious...

Adaminte Makan Abu (2011)
Director: Salim Ahamed
Starring: Salim Kumar, Zarina Wahab
Music: Ramesh Narayan
Cinematography: Madhu Ambat