Stardom in Contemporary Hindi Cinema 9811501904, 9789811501906

Citation preview

Aysha Iqbal Viswamohan Clare M. Wilkinson Editors

Stardom in Contemporary Hindi Cinema Celebrity and Fame in Globalized Times

Stardom in Contemporary Hindi Cinema

Aysha Iqbal Viswamohan Clare M. Wilkinson •

Editors

Stardom in Contemporary Hindi Cinema Celebrity and Fame in Globalized Times

123

Editors Aysha Iqbal Viswamohan Department of Humanities and Social Sciences Indian Institute of Technology Madras Chennai, Tamil Nadu, India

Clare M. Wilkinson Department of Anthropology Washington State University Vancouver Vancouver, WA, USA

ISBN 978-981-15-0190-6 ISBN 978-981-15-0191-3 https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-15-0191-3

(eBook)

© Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are reserved by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. This Springer imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. The registered company address is: 152 Beach Road, #21-01/04 Gateway East, Singapore 189721, Singapore

Contents

1

Introduction: Charting Stars in New Skies: Celebrity in Globalised Hindi Cinema . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Aysha Iqbal Viswamohan and Clare M. Wilkinson

Part I

1

Masculinity, Celebrity, Stardom

2

Saif Ali Khan: Stardom and the Alchemy of Celebrity . . . . . . . . . . Aysha Iqbal Viswamohan and Liza Tom

15

3

Shah Rukh Khan: Journey from Charisma to Celebrity . . . . . . . . . Priya Kapoor

31

4

“Don’t Hold Back”: Ranveer Singh, Masculinity and New Media Ecology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Praseeda Gopinath

45

The Suave Anti-hero: Deconstructing the Subversive Stardom of Emraan Hashmi in Globalized Times . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sanchari Basu Chaudhuri

59

5

Part II 6

7

Spectacular Bodies

The Cardboard Queen: Aishwarya Rai and the Rise of the Lady Vamp . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Anwesha Arya

71

Having It Both Ways: The Janus-Like Career of Kareena Kapoor . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ajay Gehlawat

89

v

vi

Contents

8

Shahid Kapoor: Multi-Platform Mediations of a Mid-Level Star . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 105 Madhavi Biswas

9

Action, Sensation and the Kinetic Body: The Stardom of Hrithik Roshan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 123 Shohini Ghosh

10 The Body and Its Multimedia Sensations: Forging Starry Identities Through Item Numbers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 135 Silpa Mukherjee Part III

The ‘Outsiders’

11 The Plough and the Star: The Improbable Celebrity of Nawazuddin Siddiqui . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 161 Clare M. Wilkinson and Sreenidhi Krishnan 12 Indie, not Indian—Kalki Koechlin and the Representation of the White Indian Star in Bollywood and Hatkē Cinema . . . . . . . 183 Midath Hayder 13 Akshay Kumar: The Khiladi of the Box Office . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 195 Tutun Mukherjee 14 Waif to Warrior—Kangana Ranaut . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 215 Maithili Rao Part IV

Women on Top

15 Unstarry Stardom: The Making of Anushka Sharma . . . . . . . . . . . 231 Kanupriya Dhawan, Sreenidhi Krishnan, Arpita Sinha and Clare M. Wilkinson 16 How Do You Solve a Problem Like Vidya?: Female Stardom in the Times of Size Zero . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 245 Gopika Gurudas 17 Alia Bhatt: The New Female Subject and Stardom . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265 Divya Kalavala Part V

Transnational Stardom

18 Transnational Rites of Passage, National Stardom: Irrfan Khan’s Presence in Hollywood Cinema . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 279 Shreyosi Mukherjee

Contents

vii

19 Tabu: Less Is More . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 291 Patricia Gruben 20 Priyanka Chopra’s Journey from Bollywood Stardom to Transnational Iconicity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 305 Ruma Sen Glossary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 321 Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 323

Contributors

Anwesha Arya School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS), University of London, London, UK Sanchari Basu Chaudhuri Department of Sociology, Jamia Millia Islamia, New Delhi, India Madhavi Biswas University of Texas at Dallas, Richardson, TX, USA Kanupriya Dhawan Department of Anthropology, Washington State University, Pullman, WA, USA Ajay Gehlawat Sonoma State University, Rohnert Park, CA, USA Shohini Ghosh AJK Mass Communication Research Centre, Jamia Millia Islamia, A Central University, New Delhi, India Praseeda Gopinath Department of English, Binghamton University, SUNY, Binghamton, USA Patricia Gruben Simon Fraser University, Vancouver, BC, Canada Gopika Gurudas Trivandrum, India Midath Hayder University of Sussex, Falmer (Brighton), UK Divya Kalavala GITAM (Deemed to be University), Hyderabad, India Priya Kapoor Department of International and Global Studies, Portland State University, Portland, OR, USA Sreenidhi Krishnan Department of Anthropology, Washington State University Vancouver, Vancouver, WA, USA Shreyosi Mukherjee Leander, TX, USA Silpa Mukherjee Film and Media Studies Program, University of Pittsburgh, Pittsburgh, PA, USA

ix

x

Contributors

Tutun Mukherjee Hyderabad, Telangana, India Maithili Rao Mysore, India Ruma Sen Ramapo College of New Jersey, Mahwah, USA Arpita Sinha Department of Anthropology, Washington State University, Pullman, WA, USA Liza Tom Department of Art History and Communication Studies, McGill University, Bangalore, India Aysha Iqbal Viswamohan Department of Humanities and Social Sciences, Indian Institute of Technology Madras, Chennai, Tamil Nadu, India Clare M. Wilkinson Department of Anthropology, Washington State University Vancouver, Vancouver, WA, USA

Chapter 1

Introduction: Charting Stars in New Skies: Celebrity in Globalised Hindi Cinema Aysha Iqbal Viswamohan and Clare M. Wilkinson

Abstract Celebrity studies have largely focused on media stars in America and Europe. Stardom in contemporary Hindi cinema is an attempt to redress that balance with an examination of a variety of film stars in the present-day Mumbai-based Hindi film industry. The reach and significance of the Hindi film industry extend across the subcontinent into Africa, South America, Europe, Central Asia and now China. For these reasons alone, the shape celebrity takes in the Hindi industry is arguably as relevant for developing global models of stardom as any model elaborated elsewhere. On the one hand, Hindi film stars confirm what has been argued already about stardom; on the other, Indian stars seem to overflow the boundaries of Western celebrity in part through the kinds of roles and personas they adopt, and in part through the particular nature of their relationship to their audience. Other particularities of stardom in the Hindi industry worth consideration include cultural codes of concealment and exposure, as well as the stark contrast of industry insiders and outsiders. This volume’s parts group together the studies of individual film stars that draw out additional themes and concerns with the goal of inspiring continuing studies of Hindi (and perhaps another industry’s) film celebrity. Keywords Hindi film · Stardom · Film stars · Celebrity studies So obsessed is our culture with the media star, that new terms like “superstar” and “mega-star” have been coined in order to put in place a new and expanding hierarchy: those who are truly and specially “gifted” (the super and mega) now exist on a plane above the semi-gifted…. (Ndalianis and Henry 2002: vii)

David Thomson, in his informative tome about select international films, Have You Seen …A Personal Introduction to 1,000 Films? (2010), includes a film God is A. I. Viswamohan (B) Department of Humanities and Social Sciences, Indian Institute of Technology Madras, Chennai, Tamil Nadu, India e-mail: [email protected] C. M. Wilkinson Department of Anthropology, Washington State University Vancouver, Vancouver, WA, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 A. I. Viswamohan and C. M. Wilkinson (eds.), Stardom in Contemporary Hindi Cinema, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-15-0191-3_1

1

2

A. I. Viswamohan and C. M. Wilkinson

My Witness, where the lead actor is described as “the vacuously pretty male star” and the film is “an example of what the world laughingly calls “Bollywood”. (p. 329). The film in question is Khuda Gawah (Anand 1992), and the star referred to is Amitabh Bachchan. Thomson’s understanding of Bollywood and perhaps its greatest star/actor is at best the “othering” of popular Hindi films by academia. That the “vacuously pretty male star” has a respectable body of work is not a consideration, neither is the fact that Khuda Gawah is not the best representation of Bachchan’s career. It is obvious that the boost in academic celebrity studies has, to date, touched lightly upon parts of the world outside North America and Europe. Stardom in Contemporary Hindi Cinema is an attempt to redress that balance. Focusing on the Hindi film industry based in the largest of India’s business and financial hubs, Mumbai (the erstwhile Bombay), this anthology tackles stardom as a system that sustains many different expressions of celebrity, from romantic lead to respected thespian to action hero to convention-breaking heroine. The essays in this volume offer a prismatic view of Hindi film celebrity, deriving from journalism and fandom as well as academia. Restricting ourselves to the present-day system of working actors rather than one stretched to include the many stars of earlier eras is in part a concession to brevity; but it is also a means to draw attention to the existence of forces that were either nascent or absent in the lives and work of past stars. We refer here to new media, formal business models of celebrity management as well as the proliferation of the star persona into parallel arenas of fashion and advertising. All these have been triggered by the by-now well-known and documented rise of neoliberal economic policy in India, generating an environment for film-making and star-making that is vastly different from what existed just a few decades ago. Some of the stars written about here have spanned the gap between old and new India, but even more have arisen in a country awash not just in consumerism but in dramatically repositioned ideologies of Indian identity. It is, in addition, an opportunity to examine the demands and opportunities of stardom in a consumerist, capitalist and globalized economy. We focus, in other words, upon the components of film celebrity among twenty-first century film actors (with a handful of those who are still relevant even after having debuted in the nineties), recognizing that there are continuities as well as fractures in the ecosystem of film celebrity over the past several decades. The Indian cinema scene these days is breathtakingly dynamic, with ambitious and innovative gems as well as unabashed crowd-pleasers being produced by a variety of Hindi and regional language industries. These films play not just nationally to a dispersed, multilingual audience (sometimes dubbed, sometimes not) but also to a diasporic South Asian audience whose enthusiasm for Indian-grown media is nourished by the growth of multiplex cinemas capable of screening non-local fare, as well as video streaming on the World Wide Web (e.g. Desai 2004; Gopal and Moorti 2008; Mehta and Pandharipande 2011). Each of India’s regional industries has its own collection of stars, all equally deserving of the kind of close scrutiny that celebrity studies have to date mostly lavished on those familiar to western, white audiences. Our choice of the Hindi industry as our focus emerges, in part, from our own long-standing research interests in the Mumbai industry, long regarded, justifiably, as the most prominent of India’s film industries from the point of view of its national

1 Introduction: Charting Stars in New Skies: Celebrity …

3

reach and global popularity. But, even as the study of celebrity must inevitably begin to encompass a broader swathe of Indian movie stardom, renewed attention to its Hindi language film forms is important precisely because it is here that film celebrity has found its most expansive expression. Historically speaking, Amitabh Bachchan is matched in regional and national (even international) prominence by Tamil star Rajnikanth, for example; but, the variety and breadth of film celebrities in the Hindi language industry are unparalleled. One may make a case for the phenomenal fan following of regional stars both male and female, still Bollywood stars shine a bit more brightly because of the tremendous outreach of popular films. It is a bitter-sweet truism that while Hindi films and film actors remain obscure to large swathes of the North American and European viewing public, there can be no disputing the global reach and significance of the industry. The contemporary popularity of film stars has been amplified by stage shows in which prominent stars perform. Arguably, it was the Amitabh Bachchan’s 1982 stage show, with music composers Kalyanji Virji Shah and Anandji Virji Shah, “Live Tonite: Amitabh Bachchan with Kalyanji Anandji”, that was the earliest of the live performances on a big scale. The show had Bachchan touring Trinidad with a group of fellow actors and performing on stage. The overwhelming reception of the event paved the way for a host of big-ticket international stage shows, in which Bollywood stars entertained largely diasporic audiences from South Asia. This though does not exhaust the appeal of Hindi films globally. Long loved and celebrated by non-South Asians in parts of Central Asia, East and West Africa and the Middle East, Hindi films are now making inroads into the lucrative Chinese movie market (Cain 2017; Su 2019). Some of the industry’s established stars have staggering international followings and have received honours from around the world (BBC News 2006; Schwab 2018). Certainly, the appeal of Hindi film as a global industry depends upon local readings of stars and their vehicles that are culturally compelling; nevertheless, the path to stardom for actors in the Hindi film industry draws on elements that are distinctly Indian, whether this means the particular forms of visual and cinematic experience that have been documented in South Asia (Lutgendorf 2006) that we touch on later in this introduction, or the distinct ways in which the commoditization of celebrity has unfolded in a profoundly transformed economy since the 1990s (Patra and Datta 2012). Every Hindi film fan knows that the past continues into the present through its industry’s fertile and traditional intertextuality. Current stars reference old ones and remake invite reflection on the repetition of star tropes. For example, both Shah Rukh Khan and Amitabh Bachchan have been known to channelize Dilip Kumar, whereas Salman Khan has often mirrored the macho “son-of-the-soil” Dharmendra. Meanwhile, Vidya Balan, Tabu and Priyanka Chopra, some of the finest female stars today, can trace their inspiration to Meena Kumari, Rekha and Shabana Azmi, while Katrina Kaif and Jacqueline Fernandez instantly remind us of Zeenat Aman and Parveen Babi, known for their glamour and chic fashion. What can the study of Indian film stardom add to existing celebrity studies? For one thing, stars here act as test cases of the models of celebrity developed elsewhere. Oftentimes, they seem to solidify these models, with the Indian film star in question made more meaningful through reference to the existing paradigms of celebrity. This

4

A. I. Viswamohan and C. M. Wilkinson

is probably not much of a surprise, given the encompassing, universalising business models and corporate organization to which Indian industries refer. At the same time, Indian film stars seem to overflow the boundaries of Western celebrity through the particular nature of their relationship to their audience. Several scholars have pointed to the applicability of dar´san to Indian film, the transposition, in effect, of the experience of worship in devotional Hinduism from the temple to the cinema hall. Dar´san, as Eck (1998) explains, is the meritorious and enormously powerful and profoundly tactile exchange of gazes between devotee and deity. Expanding the notion of dar´san into a philosophy of visual experience, Pinney (2002) argues for the use of what he calls “corpothetics” to understand how seeing is not a strictly ocular phenomenon in India, but one experienced in the body. Acknowledging that not all audiences share the same ideological basis for a narrowly Hindu interpretation of “seeing”, Lutgendorf (2006) adds that Muslim Sufism/saint devotionalism sustains a comparable response in Muslims. The result is a level of engagement with stars that intersects with both religious life and concepts of the body that have little or no parallel in Europe and North America. Less well explicated but arguably as significant are the ways in which longstanding signs and practices of élite status run through Indian film stardom. Stars are to be seen as dar´san dictates. However, the public sight of stars is circumscribed to a much greater degree than in Europe or North America. Appearances are managed carefully, from Amitabh Bachchan’s weekly literal “giving dar´san” to crowds of fans at the doors of his house in Juhu to Shah Rukh Khan’s birthday appearances on the balcony of his home in Bandra’s Bandstand area, acidly referenced in his unsettling film Fan (Sharma 2016). Stars are not pictured “getting coffee” or “doing grocery shopping”—both routine components of US celebrity magazines like OK! and PEOPLE. Paparazzi photographs of stars have only emerged recently, although these cluster around a few specific places: airports in the arrival and departure lounges, and the parking garages of housing societies. Handing off routine daily tasks to household help makes it far less likely that ordinary citizens will encounter a star in the course of shopping or running errands, unless those activities take stars into the retail spaces of the élite. As if to add to the off-centred nature of paparazzi photography in India, by far the most popular subject of contemporary ad hoc, informal snapshots is not a starlet or a hero caught unawares, but rather a precocious little boy named Taimur Ali Khan. That his massively famous parents Saif Ali Khan and Kareena Kapoor Khan are photographed at the same time as him seems entirely secondary to the goals of capturing Taimur in yet another “cute” situation, suggesting that something hitherto unanalysed is going on here. To be sure, young Taimur embodies a confluence of dynastic star power (from Mansoor Ali Khan “Tiger” Pataudi and Sharmila Tagore on his paternal side and Babita and Randhir Kapoor (son of Raj Kapoor) on his maternal side). But another factor is probably his insouciance at the gaze of the camera and his indifference to whether he gives us something to look at or not. With the possible exception of the much-photographed AbRam Khan, no other star child manifests this kind of charismatic innocence. Stars, in general, enjoy the protections customarily associated with prestige, in which refusing the gaze is as important as, and indeed is intertwined with, occasions

1 Introduction: Charting Stars in New Skies: Celebrity …

5

on which it is given. The logic of parda (veiling) is conventionally applied to the seclusion of women from particular relatives (in high-caste households), from other men in their husband’s locale (according to North Indian marriage and residence rules) and from unrelated men (according to the expectations of many although not all Muslims) (Papanek and Minault 1982). The disempowering impact of veiling on women’s mobility and opportunity though acts in unison with collective assertions of respect, mainly redounding to the benefit of men, but from which women benefit indirectly, as a matter of social prestige. That women are the ones formally (if not always actually) forced into selective acts of concealment only underscores how much the ability to manage how and in what circumstances one is seen is fundamental to certain routine practices of distinction. The most basic requirements of respect demand that one can enforce at least some concealment; by extension, the greatest respect comes from the power to conceal oneself entirely. Film stars in India draw on these existing resources of practice and disposition as much as any other celebrities and powerbrokers. But because stars must be seen in order to function “as” stars, so they are tasked with balancing concealment with visibility in ways that ordinary people do not have to worry about. Already, the customary veiling paraphernalia of cars with darkened windows, sunglasses (rather tellingly known by the Indian English word “glares”) and a phalanx of bodyguards and aides overlay cityscapes that are built with the intrinsic codes of intrusive vision and concealment in mind. Stars have never needed to copy the solutions of high walls and gated enclaves to protect themselves since these already existed. Solicitous watchmen patrol housing societies. Ostensibly there to prevent terrorism, security guards and x-ray machines effectively barricade malls, five-star hotels and other venues from invasion by the lower classes. In restaurants, it is not unknown for a curtain to be hastily drawn around a table of celebrities, a literal embodiment of the parda that we have in mind. The only gamut stars must run is in the lift of their high-rise apartment buildings, between lift and car and between car and their destination. Even given the sparse opportunities provided, there may be limited interest in seeing stars in their pyjamas or without make-up. To date, few images have seeped out from spas or salons or gyms, or even candid shots of stars going about their day in the very different public environs of a London or an L.A. Gossip about stars though is, in the popular terminology of film journalism, evergreen, as is the real and invented carping between stars that raises rivalries and recriminations to fever pitch. Enmities in the industry are not a casual matter, since strong kin networks, particularly among star actors, mean that collective ostracization has real bite. On the other hand, there is a certain routineness of reportage about hatreds and feuds that signal their vapidity; there is also a robust realism, even utilitarianism in the industry that permits personal biases to be overridden with sufficient time and incentive. At the same time, hierarchical relationships between seniors and juniors, and between the powerful and the “strugglers” are reinforced in daily practices like addressing or referring to stars with honorifics. Few industry insiders refer to Amitabh Bachchan or Sanjay Leela Bhansali, say, as anything other than Mr. Bachchan or Mr. Bhansali, in a professional context, even if the speaker is a social equal. Status inferiority is

6

A. I. Viswamohan and C. M. Wilkinson

still signalled by touching the feet of the superior, and at least publicly, deference is both expected and valued towards figures ceded priority by age or repute. That these gestures of respect need not necessarily reflect private views have never caused much difficulty; however, the advent of social media with its strong tendencies, even in a status-conscious society like India, towards cynicism and mockery has had some disarming results. Older stars like Rishi Kapoor have responded poorly to receiving torrents of criticism on Twitter (Bose 2017); superseding these instances of discomfiture have been serious complaints about abuse aimed at stars that have broken free from the constraints that decorum plus the power of established industry insiders placed on both discourse and action. The #metoo movement has swept like a tidal wave through the industry, facilitated by social media platforms like Twitter and Facebook where accusers can combat the clout of industrial power with support registered far and wide from among friends, acquaintances and interested bystanders (Roy 2018). It remains to be seen whether these new social forces do much to disrupt existing power structures; certainly, it has caused a great deal of scrambling in the short term to rethink conventional avenues of support and alignment. Insidership of any kind helps enormously in carving out a successful career, if not necessarily stardom. Several stars described in the collection have married into film families (Akshay Kumar married Rajesh Khanna’s daughter Twinkle, Aishwarya Rai married Amitabh’s son Abhishek Bachchan, Kareena Kapoor and Saif Ali Khan married each other) but their stardom does not derive entirely from these relationships. Instead, stardom seems, time and again, to arise out of the deft management of contradictions: modernity and tradition; Indian and super-Indian; innovation and conservativism. What family connections do is to ensure opportunity and the shelter of the extended network of kin to buffer the way up as well as the way down in the adventure of stardom. Outsiders risk more and have, often, scaled greater heights than industry insiders. Still, so rare is the event that outsidership remains marked in the industry and merits its own section in our volume. For the ease of navigation and thematic coherence, this anthology has been divided into five parts. Part 1, “Masculinity, Celebrity, Stardom” looks at the wide variety of contemporary expressions of on-screen male agency represented by the adultboy Saif Ali Khan; the cool and cosmopolitan Shah Rukh Khan; the unpredictable Ranveer Singh; and the “bad” boy Emraan Hashmi. The section starts with “Saif Ali Khan: Stardom and the alchemy of celebrity” by Aysha Iqbal Viswamohan and Liza Tom. Khan’s embodiment of masculinity has shifted in interesting ways in his career, in no small part enabled by his preference for being a “character” rather than a “hero”. Thus, Khan’s roles have ranged widely from happy-go-lucky sidekicks to seedy villains to the upper middle-class, metrosexual “everyman”. The child of a dynastic marriage between a princely sporting hero and a famous actress, Khan’s aristocratic attachments are amply cited in his off-screen endorsements, even as he has consistently and compellingly played “regular guy” roles on-screen. Reading stars as a “brand” is a popular approach in star studies. In “Celebrity as cultural formation: Shah Rukh Khan, the nation, and the world”, Priya Kapoor

1 Introduction: Charting Stars in New Skies: Celebrity …

7

decodes the charisma of the “SRK Brand” and locates the star’s superstardom in globalized times. That there is no single, indisputable path to celebrity is no more surprising in India than it is anywhere else. However, there is greater scope for innovations in an industry that, as yet, has only just begun to employ talent managers and agents. In 2018, the steely grip of the three Khans over the box office seemed finally to be waning (though Salman Khan was the least affected). The shadow of all these stars hovers over the celebrities examined in this volume but only Shah Rukh Khan (known variously as King Khan or SRK) is represented here. He is, at this moment of apparent star fragility, the most interesting of the three; first because of the greater challenge he faces transcending a youthful, lover-boy image into middle-aged stardom, and second because his recent films are arguably more experimental than those of hatk¯e performers, offering pungent meditations upon stardom. Kapoor investigates SRK’s negotiation of his identity as both a Muslim and an Indian, one with an unusually high international profile. In Chapter 4, “Don’t Hold Back Jack’: Ranveer Singh, masculinity and new media ecology”, Praseeda Gopinath argues that Ranveer Singh’s appeal comes from an assertive “everyman” stance combined with a distinct quirkiness that is unusual in stylistically conventional Bollywood. Among a new generation of stars with substantial life experience outside of India, Singh charts a new course in the combination of acting, advertising and self-promotion that stardom entails. In Chapter 5, “The rise of the anti-hero: Deconstructing the subversive stardom of Emraan Hashmi in globalized times”, Sancharita Basu investigates the actor’s brand of subversive stardom and points out how Hashmi has served as an embodiment of the “incorrigible flirt” in globalized times. Part 2, “Spectacular Bodies”, concentrates on image-building projects of stars whose spectacular physical presence often seems to overpower their acting prowess. In Chapter 6, “The Cardboard Queen: Aishwarya Rai and the rise of the lady vamp”, Anwesha Arya draws out the historical dimensions of Aishwarya Rai’s dual persona as the quintessential idealized traditional woman and object of desire, pointing to the resilience of upper-caste and upper-class gender norms. Meanwhile, Ajay Gehlawat in Chapter 7, “Having it both ways: The Janus-like career of Kareena Kapoor”, considers Kareena Kapoor as an embodiment of yet another set of contradictions; this time organized around her formidable range as a film actor and her appeal as a glamorous fashion icon who, unlike the majority of stars today, chooses not to engage in the rituals of social media. Brand endorsements and activities on social media have become two major parameters of measuring stardom. It may appear incredible today, but till the mid-nineties most stars looked down upon plugging products. Apart from promoting Lux soap, stars generally stayed away from the field of modelling. Anupama Chopra writes that adman, writer and lyricist Prasoon Joshi famously recalls the time when Dilip Kumar was approached with an offer, and the actor turned him down with a disdainful retort, “Hum ishtiharon ke liye nahin bane hain” (I was not made for commercials) (2007, 158). The idea of stardom has witnessed a phenomenal shift since then. Then again, how to deploy the new resource of social media has no one, easy answer, but there is no question that visuality is exploited through this new avenue in ways unanticipated

8

A. I. Viswamohan and C. M. Wilkinson

by but co-extensive with the “dar´san” of the screen. This is the thesis of Madhavi Biswas’ Chapter 8, “Shahid Kapoor: Multiplatform mediations of a mid-level star”. Biswas argues that Kapoor has made the choice of risky, convention-breaking roles part of his own claim on a stardom that eschews the ready, albeit confining parameters of reigning megastars. It may be noted that the first “sculpted” heroes came in the 1980s and 1990s but were, at that time, the exception and not the rule. At the time of writing, the reverse is true. That said, some stars put physicality at the centre of their appeal, notably Hrithik Roshan, whose body is not simply among the most fetishized in the industry but is specifically associated with movement, possessing what Shohini Ghosh in Chapter 9, (“Action, sensation and the kinetic Body: The stardom of Hrithik Roshan”), terms a “vitality” that is entwined with the visual enjoyment of kinetic energy. His dancing though does not simply replicate the masculinist tropes of action films but is “fluid, androgynous”. Shohini Ghosh analyses the star’s sensational allure of kinetic and aerial mobility and argues that much of the star’s success can be attributed to his body. The last chapter in this part is Chapter 10, “The Body and its multimedia sensations: Forging starry identities through item numbers”, by Silpa Mukherjee. This chapter puts the spotlight on “item numbers” and discusses how such dance performances position the star body within the discourse of film publicity, marketing culture, branding and value creation across various media templates. Discussing the work of both dedicated item number performers and the stars who make “guest appearances” in films as item number dancers, Mukherjee’s chapter interconnects with several other stand-alone chapters in the collection, including those on Aishwarya Rai, Kareena Kapoor and Vidya Balan, drawing the reader’s attention to key continuities, particularly in female stardom, in the industry. Bollywood, as has been noted, has been accused of promoting nepotism, with new entrants facing down the perception (and many would argue, the reality) of scant chances of breaking down its barriers and gaining a foothold. So far, not so different from the West perhaps; but where the difference truly lies is in the staying power of film actor dynasties, where roles reference the acting careers not just of predecessors but of ancestors. Newcomers too have repeatedly shaken up the film scene, throwing unexpected and bracing elements into the mix so effectively that this has itself become a part of the system’s routine functioning. In Mumbai, the powerful forces that sustain the industry’s film acting and producing dynasties allow for stardom to be predicted to at least some degree. The daughters and sons of stars are almost obliged to make their debut in the industry, unashamedly gifted with co-stars, directors and music directors that no outsider could hope to muster. Opportunity does not guarantee success, however, as the many stalled careers of starry children confirm. Part 3, The ‘Outsiders’ looks at those who have found a place in the sun despite having little or no connections with established film families. In Chapter 11, “The plough and the star: the improbable celebrity of Nawazuddin Siddiqui”, Clare Wilkinson and Sreenidhi Krishnan examine the celebrity of an actor who is primarily lauded as a local industry star whose counter-filmi origins are endlessly rehearsed. If the majority of male stars can call upon at least some mainstream attributes for their fame—good looks, chiselled body, action credentials and increasingly—an

1 Introduction: Charting Stars in New Skies: Celebrity …

9

English medium education, preferably abroad—Siddiqui has none of these. Still, he has created for himself a stardom that brings him the lead as well as supporting roles, founded on an astute and repeated narration of himself as the one-in-a-million struggler. Kalki Koechlin is another actor whose celebrity is attuned to the zeitgeist of globalized Hindi films. Chapter 12 well encapsulates the free-spiritedness of Koechlin in “Indie not Indian: Kalki Koechlin and the representation of the white Indian star in Bollywood and hatk¯e cinema”, where Midath Hayder focuses on ethnicity, femininity and celebrity feminism through the star text of one of the most interesting star/actors of our times. The rise of the multiplex cinema has allowed for an interconnection between art house films and popular ones that is comparatively novel. It’s not that stars didn’t move between the two in the past (Shashi Kapoor being among one of the most striking stars with an art film and commercial film career going simultaneously), or that crew didn’t know how to or don’t know today. Now though, shuttling between a small budget film and a more ambitious project is far from uncommon. In this kind of environment, a star like Kalki Koechlin, who is white but Indian-born, can find roles that encompass a far wider range than was extended to white actors in the past. Fearless Nadia (Mary Ann Williams) appeared almost exclusively in action films, while Bob Christo was the prototypical western heavy. Tom Alter was fluent in Urdu (to the point of demanding his dialogues be written in Urdu) (Haham 2007) but even he had no starring vehicles to his name, in contrast to Koechlin, who starred in 2017 in Margarita with a Straw (Bose 2014). An actor with one of the most astonishing cinematic journeys is Akshay Kumar. In Chapter 13, “Akshay Kumar, the Khiladi of Box-Office”, Tutun Mukherjee traces the trajectory of the multidimensional star and considers the actor’s several avatars down the years. The section ends with the star who has galvanized the discourse on nepotism in current times. Maithili Rao’s “Kangana Ranaut: Wispy waif to uncrowned queen” sets out the way a rank outsider has gained agency through her distinct choice of roles and an uncompromising public persona. Women have a particularly tricky path towards lasting stardom, a point that emerges time and again in the essays on the industry’s female stars. Arguably, the success they achieve is always predicated on the management of contradictions. Part 4, “Women on Top” celebrates the image-building projects of select female stars, whose body of work is layered with multiple meanings. In Chapter 15, “Unstarry stardom: the making of Anushka Sharma”, Kanupriya Dhawan, Sreenidhi Krishnan, Arpita Sinha and Clare Wilkinson explore Anushka Sharma’s solution to the problem of “how to be modern”, which entails incorporation of roles and activities that were inconceivable in the early years of a star like Aishwarya’s career. There was a time when Vidya Balan was referred as the “Fourth Khan”, as she was considered a major box-office draw in the time of the Big Three Khans. Despite some non-starters in recent years, Balan has constantly reinvented her stardom. Gopika Gurudas posits, “How do you Solve a Problem Called Vidya?” in Chapter 16 and positions the star as the quintessential face of India and a good mix of traditional yet modern subjectivity. Divya Kalavala, in the last chapter of this part, “Alia Bhatt: The New Female

10

A. I. Viswamohan and C. M. Wilkinson

Subject and Stardom” traces Bhatt’s stardom as engaged with the modern, digital developments in the field of new media. Part 5 of this book explores the construct of “Transnational Stardom”, with frontliners like Irrfan Khan, Tabu and Priyanka Chopra. Irrfan Khan, we learn, has solidified his Indian stardom through tacking between high profile roles in American films and Hindi fare, without ever immersing himself in one to the detriment of the other. Shreyosi Mukherjee examines Irrfan Khan’s case in Chapter 18, “Transnational rites of passage, national stardom: Irrfan Khan’s Presence in Hollywood Cinema”. The theme of transnational stardom is taken forward in Chapter 19, “Tabu: Growing into gravitas”, where Patricia Gruben examines the mystique of this non-conventional actor in a long career of both offbeat films and crowd-pleasing mainstream productions. In the final chapter, “Priyanka Chopra’s journey from Bollywood Stardom to transnational iconicity”, Ruma Sen examines the complex network of global signification that produces a star that is Priyanka Chopra. Sen situates the star in contemporary times and assesses Chopra’s construction of her identity, among other things, through the lens of the American Dream. As editors, our endeavour has been to provide in-depth analyses of Bollywood’s major contemporary stars. Still, we are acutely conscious of the absence of figures such as Aamir Khan, Ajay Devgan, Ayushman Khurana, Deepika Padukone, Kajol, Katrina Kaif, Manoj Bajpai, Ranbir Kapoor, Rani Mukherjee, Rajkumar Rao and Salman Khan. Our hope though is that the chapters here outline some core themes of contemporary Hindi film celebrity against which additional studies of stars currently on the scene—and those to come—can be assessed. And of course, there is always scope for further research on more star texts. As we conclude, we cannot help remember the medley from the underrated anthology Bombay Talkies (Johar et al. 2013), a film that commemorates a hundred years of Indian cinema. The song that appears at the end of the film celebrates Bollywood as well as the contribution of those stars who have shown up on the celluloid firmament down the years. While providing a critique of the phenomenon of stardom, this book also recognizes the profound appeal of stars, and acknowledges their cultural impact in our society. Acknowledgements No work exists in a vacuum. Both of us acknowledge the contributions of several people who have given us their unstinting support. Acknowledgements are due to all the contributors and also to: For Aysha Iqbal Viswamohan: Prof Bhaskar Ramamurthy, Director, IIT Madras and colleagues from the Department of Humanities and Social Sciences. Also, family, friends and students: Dr. Vimal Mohan John, Sayanty Chatterjee and Jyoti Mishra. For Clare Wilkinson: Andrew Duff in the Department of Anthropology at WSU and Amy Wharton in the College of Arts and Sciences at Washington State University Vancouver; my longterm research assistant, Monalisa Sata; Veena Poonacha for many years of support during my research in India; Rinki Bhattacharya along with other friends and colleagues in India and elsewhere, my students and family. We also thank our publishers, the team at Springer: Karthik Selvaraj, Priya Vyas and Satvinder Kaur.

1 Introduction: Charting Stars in New Skies: Celebrity …

11

References BBC News. (2006). Bollywood star gets French honour, October 12, 2006. http://news.bbc.co.uk/ 2/hi/entertainment/6044614.stm. Accessed 7/9/2019. Bose, A. (2017). People on Twitter are blocking Rishi Kapoor because he abused a woman on DM, yet again. HuffPost India, September 20, 2017. https://www.huffingtonpost.in/2017/09/20/ people-on-twitter-are-blocking-rishi-kapoor-because-he-abused-a-woman-on-dm-yet-again_a_ 23215789/. Cain, R. (2017). No Hollywood film has topped ‘Dangal’ in China since may except ‘Transformers 5.’ Forbes, October 14, 2017. https://www.forbes.com/sites/robcain/2017/10/14/nohollywood-film-has-topped-dangal-in-china-since-may-but-transformers-5/#136fb185198b. Accessed 7/9/2019. Chopra, A. (2007). King of Bollywood: Shah Rukh Khan and the seductive world of Indian cinema. NY: Warner Books. Desai, J. (2004). Beyond Bollywood: The cultural politics of South Asian diasporic film. London: Routledge. Eck, D. (1998). Darsan: Seeing the divine image in India (3rd ed.). New York: Columbia University Press. Gopal, S., & Moorti, S. (2008). Global Bollywood: Travels of Hindi song and dance. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Haham, C. (2007). Writing Hindi films: A need for roots, a desire for change. Paper presented at the Annual Conference on South Asia, Madison, Wisconsin, October 2007. Lutgendorf, P. (2006). Is there an Indian way of filmmaking? International Journal of Hindu Studies, 10(3), 227–256. Mehta, R. B., & Pandharipande, R. V. (Eds.). (2011). Bollywood and globalization: Indian popular cinema, nation, and diaspora. UK: Anthem Press. Ndalianis, A., & Henry, C. (Eds.). (2002). Stars in our eyes: The star phenomenon in the contemporary era. Westport, Connecticut: Praegar. Papanek, H., & Minault, G. (1982). Separate worlds: Studies of Purdah in South Asia. New Delhi: South Asia Books. Patra, S., & Datta, S. K. (2012). Celebrity selection & role of celebrities in creating brand awareness and brand preference—A literature review. Journal of Marketing & Communication, 8(2). Pinney, C. (2002). The Indian work of art in the age of mechanical reproduction. In F. Ginsburg, L. Abu-Lughod, & B. Larkin (Eds.), Media worlds: Anthropology on a New Terrain (pp. 355–369). Berkeley: University of California Press. Roy, A. (2018). The year when #MeToo shook India—2018: The year of #MeToo in India. The Economic Times. https://economictimes.indiatimes.com/magazines/panache/2018-the-year-whenmetoo-shook-india/2018-the-year-of-metoo-in-india/slideshow/66346583.cms. Accessed July 5, 2019. Schwab, H. (2018). Davos 2018: Meet the crystal award winners. World Economic Forum. https:// www.weforum.org/agenda/2018/01/meet-the-2018-crystal-awardees/. Accessed 7/8/2019. Su, A. (2019). Indian films see rise in popularity in China: Romance or family themes help. Latimes.Com. https://www.latimes.com/world/la-fg-china-india-bollywood-filmfans-20190430-story.html. Accessed July 9, 2019. Thomson, D. (2010). Have you seen….? A personal introduction to 1000 films. NY: Alfred A. Knopf.

12

A. I. Viswamohan and C. M. Wilkinson

Filmography Acharya, V. K. (2018). Thugs of Hindostan. Yash Raj Films. Anand, M. S. (1992). Khuda Gawah. Glamour Films. Bose, S. (2014). Margarita with a Straw. Viacom 18. Johar et al (2013) Bombay Talkies. Flying Unicorn Productions. Sharma, M. (2016). Fan. Yash Raj Films.

Part I

Masculinity, Celebrity, Stardom

Chapter 2

Saif Ali Khan: Stardom and the Alchemy of Celebrity Aysha Iqbal Viswamohan and Liza Tom

Abstract In this chapter, we examine the underpinnings of Khan’s career trajectory while tracing his dualities on- and off-screen. These contradictions have allowed him to move seamlessly from commercial successes to more offbeat roles in such films as Being Cyrus (Adjania 2005), Ek Hasina Thi (Raghavan 2004), Omkara (Bhardwaj 2006), along with his Netflix series Sacred Games (Kashyap and Motwane 2018). The chapter explores how a star’s identity is often cultivated over the years and how a star’s image exists in terms of “multiplicity of its meanings” (Dyer 1998: 63). Outside his films, he has sustained his celebrity via public interest in his famous parents, aristocratic lineage, romantic relationships, expensive lifestyle, endorsements, and his marriage (Khan’s second) to actor Kareena Kapoor. This prompts us to examine Saif’s always engrossing life, a narrative in its own right, adding to our reading of his stardom. We also outline the representation of masculinity in Hindi cinema by following Khan’s select works. In particular, we note the dawn of the metrosexual urban male on-screen, and Khan’s portrayal of this figure in post-globalization India. By placing Saif Ali Khan in the context of the Bollywood star system and considering that the star’s persona has many overlaps with that of other mainstream stars, the work also addresses Saif as a very twenty-first-century transmedia celebrity. Keywords Stardom · Globalization · Masculinity · Metrosexuality · Celebrity

Introduction In Salaam Namaste (2005), the song “My Dil Goes Hmmm” (“My Heart Goes Hmmm”) is often cited to explain Saif Ali Khan’s particular cultural appeal (Gehlawat 2015, 97). As he walks down a bridge in Melbourne, the camera zooms in on a A. I. Viswamohan Department of Humanities and Social Sciences, Indian Institute of Technology Madras, Chennai, Tamil Nadu, India L. Tom (B) Department of Art History and Communication Studies, McGill University, No. 16, 2 ‘B’ Cross, 7th Main, KSRTC Layout, JP Nagar 2nd Phase, Bangalore 550078, India e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 A. I. Viswamohan and C. M. Wilkinson (eds.), Stardom in Contemporary Hindi Cinema, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-15-0191-3_2

15

16

A. I. Viswamohan and L. Tom

charming, smiling, Khan striding confidently through the city. In a now-famous pink sleeveless shirt, Khan was the epitome of the suave, “metrosexual” male, and a potent cultural symbol for a newly upwardly mobile and youthful professional class. By metrosexual, we refer to the idea of both well-groomed and wellness-conscious masculinity, a figure embedded in the neoliberal practices of consumption and leisure, and the cultural opposite of earlier cinematic favourites—the conscientious “fiveyear-plan hero” (Srivastava 2006), or the “angry young man” (Mazumdar 2007, 1). Salaam Namaste was an interesting film for several reasons—its hero Nikhil “Nick” Arora was a laid-back “cool dude”, scrupulously neat, afraid of blood, and a professional chef. In the commitment-shy and boyish Nick, Khan introduced a new kind of Bollywood hero. This was demonstrative of a significant shift in the portrayal of desirable masculinities in commercial Hindi films. In moving away from earlier protagonists who were either businessmen, law enforcers or engineers, Salaam Namaste envisioned a new male lead for its audience, whose mobility was achieved through career-oriented individualism and assimilation, rather than adherence to the Nehruvian ideal of technological progress and the approval of the natal patriarchal family. Indeed, both Nick and Ambar (Preity Zinta as the film’s female lead) are estranged from their families, the former because he chose to become a chef instead of an architect, and the latter because she rejected an arranged marriage and chose to remain in Australia to become a surgeon. In a distinct departure from films of the previous decades, Nick and Ambar do not attempt reconciliation with their families and instead pursue happiness on their own. Salaam Namaste explores questions of compatibility and romance through the premise of a live-in relationship, which was then a comparatively rare narrative in mainstream cinema. Although Nick proposes to Ambar towards the end of the film, Ambar gets pregnant and delivers their baby well before their marriage. Crucially, the pregnancy, while not initially welcome, is not accorded the moral stigma and shame that characterized a similar occurrence in Kya Kehna (Shah 2000), a family drama also starring Zinta and Khan. In the film, Zinta’s character Priya is initially ostracized for her pregnancy outside wedding, and is briefly estranged from her family. Her partner, the wealthy Rahul (played by Khan) tells her that he is not ready for marriage. His rejection of her, coupled with his wealth and playboy persona is contrasted unfavourably throughout against Priya’s best friend Ajay’s (Chandrachur Singh) uprightness and genuine love for her. Although Nick is not unlike Rahul in his reluctance to commit to Ambar, or his refusal to undertake the responsibilities of raising a child, Salaam Namaste is much more sympathetic towards both leads, allowing them the space to address the problems in their relationship, focussing not on the moral necessity of marriage, but on the mutual understanding and compassion necessary for a relationship to work. Salaam Namaste, coming on the heels of Dil Chahta Hai (2001), Kal Ho Na Ho (Advani 2003), and Hum Tum (Kohli 2004), consolidated Khan’s arrival as a viable male lead in Bollywood and also established him as a celebrity who personified that modern advertising dream—aspiration. All these films also relied heavily on visuals of Western cities that afforded its leads work, leisure, and the possibility of a life away from their natal families. The dominant aesthetic of these films was different too, in that the “panoramic” and ostentatious interiors of the family drama

2 Saif Ali Khan: Stardom and the Alchemy of Celebrity

17

(Mazumdar 2007, 110) were giving way to glamorized depictions of the cityscapes and streets of the urban West. The roles Khan essayed in these films were a departure from heroes of the last decade—these new leads were unassuming, irreverent, and sometimes vulnerable, unlike the good sons or romantic heroes popular in Hindi cinema (Gopinath 2018). These new men accorded their romantic partners neither chivalrous respect nor adoration, preferring rather to treat them as equals. Khan was an ideal candidate for such characters, infusing them with a natural urbanity and ease, and anticipating the performative cheek of current actors like Ranveer Singh and Varun Dhawan. In the following sections, we examine the particular appeal of such a masculine presentation, Khan’s diverse cinematic choices, and the changes in his on-screen personas in the last decade.

The Youthful Casanova and Ensemble Actor: Initial Films and Appearances In 1994, nearly a decade before Dil Chahta Hai, a young Khan received the Filmfare Best Male Debut award for his role in Umesh Mehra’s Aashik Aawara (1993). His on-screen mother was Sharmila Tagore herself, in an unmistakable reminder of his celebrity antecedents. As a poor young man who makes his fortune (and an alliance with a wealthy and beautiful girl), Khan’s role was reminiscent of many rags-toriches narratives from previous decades. Aashik Aawara, however, was a box office failure. Khan had also been dropped from what was supposed to have been his official launch—Bekhudi (1992) opposite Kajol. It was with Yash Raj Films’ Yeh Dillagi (Malhotra 1994) that Khan tasted real stardom. With Akshay Kumar and Kajol in lead roles, Yeh Dillagi, a remake of the Hollywood movie Sabrina (1954), was a commercial success. As Vicky Saigal, Khan is introduced through the chartbuster song “Ole Ole”. Yeh Dillagi set the tone for Khan’s career for almost a decade. As the flirtatious, irresponsible and carefree younger brother, he was very convincing and was typecast in similar roles in many films from that decade. He continued to play similar roles for a while, vacillating between various versions of the unrequited lover and ensemble films where he played second fiddle to more dominant male characters. This latter list includes Main Khiladi Tu Anari (Malkan 1994), Kacche Dhaage (Luthria 1999) and Hum Saath Saath Hain (Barjatya 1999). In Main Khiladi Tu Anari (a Bollywoodized version of John Badham’s The Hard Way 1991), Khan played Deepak Kumar, a jaded actor, and was paired alongside Akshay Kumar. When he announces his disillusionment with his films, Deepak Kumar oddly seems to mirror Khan himself. “…(A)apka yeh Deepak Kumar, saala baar baar lagatar ek hi type ki acting karta hai. Ek hi kism ke filmon mein kaam karta hai” (“Your Deepak Kumar does the same kind of roles every time/He works in the same type of films always”). He longs for a film about “mardon wali baat” (“with a macho angle”) and is disgusted to be always playing the “chhokra” (Hindi colloquialism for “boy” or “very young man”). The subtext is ironic. Khan does

18

A. I. Viswamohan and L. Tom

play “chhokra” roles in real life. The “mard” in many of his films from that decade was Akshay Kumar, who essayed the role of a tough, upright police officer in Main Khiladi Tu Anari. To understand this portrayal, we must also look to Khan’s real life persona. His parents, cricketer Mansoor “Tiger” Ali Khan Pataudi and actress Sharmila Tagore, were an “It” couple through the seventies. Moreover, the Pataudis are descendants of the Nawabs of Pataudi, formerly rulers of the princely state of Pataudi. In 2011, following the death of his father, Khan was given the title of the tenth Nawab of Pataudi. Couched in the privilege conferred by being part of both the social and cultural elite, Khan was raised very much like a prince. Much of his schooling happened in England, and he returned with an obvious Western inflection to his accent. Popular film critics have suggested that Khan’s background of privilege and swashbuckling lifestyle might have worked against him initially and negatively affected his ability to secure conventional “hero” roles (Kalla 2004; Bose 2008). The string of flops, undistinguished roles and reported unprofessional behaviour that enlivened his first decade in films, would have spelled doom for any other career. Khan survived, however, with versatile films, numerous endorsements and a strong public presence insured by his elite connections. Although he has not attained the commercial stardom of the three big Khans (Shahrukh, Aamir and Salman), Khan has stayed relevant and visible. He made several unconventional cinematic choices in his three-decade long stint in Bollywood and ventured into production with his label Illuminati; he also recently joined Netflix’s first original Indian series Sacred Games (2018). He was among the first of a small number of mainstream Bollywood actors coming aboard Internet-based streaming platforms like Netflix. Outside his films, he has sustained his celebrity via public interest in his famous parents and aristocratic lineage, romantic relationships, lifestyle, endorsements and marriage (Khan’s second) to fellow star offspring Kareena Kapoor. As discussed in other chapters of this book, it is useful here to refer to Richard Dyer’s idea of “structured polysemy” (1998). Dyer argues for a comprehensive textual reading of the modern star text, which is powered not just by cinema, but by several extra-filmic events, like film journalism, talk shows, award ceremonies and public appearances. Dyer suggests that despite the multiple strands of information, gossip and filmic presence that contribute towards the star text, the product is always more coherent and stable. Khan’s star text, beginning as it did with the social and economic shifts of economic liberalization, is rife with incongruities, which Dyer argues are necessary in the formation of the star text. The celebrity of Saif Ali Khan is a discursive formation that goes beyond Khan as a person, a dynamic assemblage of signifiers and signified, marked by more coherent phases of performative identities. In the following sections, we unpack some dominant aspects of his on-screen and off-screen image and trace the simultaneous shifts in the political and economic rationale of Bollywood.

2 Saif Ali Khan: Stardom and the Alchemy of Celebrity

19

Saif Redux: Shifting Cultural Paradigms of Bollywood in the New Millennium Much of the turnaround in Saif Ali Khan’s career at the start of the new millennium pivots on actor/director/producer/rockstar Farhan Akhtar’s directorial debut Dil Chahta Hai (DCH 2001). DCH was a sleek urban drama about the lives of three upper-middle class youth from Mumbai and is now recognized as a definitive film that signalled the shift from pre to post-globalization Hindi cinema. The film garnered both critical and popular acclaim for its realistic representation of contemporary metropolitan life, particularly the attitudes, fashions and lifestyle of youth from a specific urban milieu. DCH effectively reoriented Hindi cinema away from the melodramatic family unit and was one of the first films to depict the West (here Sydney, Australia) without the attendant conflict of tradition and modernity that adopting its lifestyle meant. Khan, as the endearing dreamer Sameer, was the brand of romantic described as “hopeless”, the eternal peacemaker and the uncomplicated friend of the trio. It was the beginning of a new brand Khan. In the following years, he would star in Kal Ho Na Ho (2003), Hum Tum (2004) and Salaam Namaste, movies in which he essayed similar roles. Mazumdar writes that “(a)udiences recognize star personas and expect their circulation across a whole range of films. The resultant bond between the audience and the cinema determines the choices made by stars in the selection of the roles they play. The high degree of familiarity between the star and his/her potential audience is the site where modern publicity methods come into play, to make the star familiar and endearing for a wide public”. (Mazumdar 2012, 833) Khan’s most popular characters from this time have been boyish Casanovas, and these characters reproduced his presentation as a suave metrosexual lead. Khan is a free and hearty participant of the new consumer markets, is brave with career choices, and unperturbed about leaving the space of the nation state in pursuit of personal goals. Khan embodied a cultural ideal and was welcomed by audiences comprising a growing professional class of young Indians for whom diaspora spots like the USA and UK denoted success and upward mobility. This glowing media piece expresses the dominant sentiment at the time—“He (Khan) has come to be regarded as the most visible face of a resurgent Bollywood, a cinema that is at once bold, exuberant and bursting with raw energy. For a young and restless generation, he is the ultimate dude—cool and sexy” (Bose 2008). Khan arrived at a time when Bollywood had begun a tremendously significant transition—largely credited to 1991 national economic reforms—from a primarily nationalistic cinema to the experimental and NRI-oriented films that became popular in the 90s. By liberalization of the economy, we refer to the process of economic deregulation, foreign investment and increasing privatization of the Indian economy that happened in the 90s. The term is also used to refer to corresponding cultural changes, which included the rise of a new middle-class consumerist base, rapid urbanization and the formation of a large service-sector class of workers. The new Bollywood thus had to accommodate the shifting cultural expectations with respect to depictions of gender and family on-screen (Kaur and Mazzarella 2009).

20

A. I. Viswamohan and L. Tom

A defining feature of post-liberalization cinema was the increasing orientation of middle-class life around the modes and activities of consumerism. The shift from the saving class to the actively consuming one was as much culturally motivated as it was economic (Mazzarella 2003; Brosius 2012). In particular, Mazzarella notes the affective thrust of consumerism that promised “a good life”. The aspirational surge that consumerism afforded and the sense of individualist agency one gained were crucial for the substitution of an austere, post-colonial state with a bright, emerging, globalized one in the national imaginary. A global citizen then, became not someone you can be, but a performative construct, only something you are constantly becoming. And, as Brosius notes, nowhere is this performance more foregrounded than in Hindi cinema and its celebrity networks, the tangible and peopled representation of the good life (2012, 263). Critical commentary on Bollywood has previously noted that its cinema is often a vehicle for national allegory (Prasad 2000; Vasudevan 2010). “Focused particularly on the relations of the sexes, relations within the family, and the relations between social classes, popular cinema constructs an “ideal moral universe” that is intrinsically—if not always explicitly—connected with ideas about tradition and nation” (Uberoi 2006, 306). The Indian family is often the microcosm used to channel the rhetoric of the nation and its cultural norms—duty to the family, the preservation of the couple unit, and duty to the nation and its citizens. However, as Uberoi notes, the cinema of the 90s used family conflict to also discuss the conflict between Westernization and tradition, moving away from one-sided representations of the West as wicked and corrupt, and to a more nuanced reconciliation of family values with non-traditional ideals of individualized success and romance. This was the dawn of what became known as “NRI cinema”, featuring young protagonists who were of Indian origin, but had lived abroad for most of their lives, and who had to negotiate the conflicting cultural universes of their various “homes”. Anjaria and Anjaria (2008) note that even though the imaginary of the West had shifted to accommodate realistic depictions of life abroad, the family/nationindividual/West was the organizing political conflict of the film. However, with Dil Chahta Hai, Bollywood arrived at a critical juncture where the cinematic valorization of the family unit subsided, and the narrative instead focussed on the protagonists’ personal problems and decisions. Khan’s Sameer is initially hostile towards his parents’ attempts to arrange his marriage, but ends up falling in love with one of the women they introduce him to, achieving a comically perfect “arranged love marriage”. His friend Akash (Aamir Khan) moves to Australia to work in his father’s company, but what he learns along the way is to become a more responsible adult and take charge of his professional and personal life, and not to dramatically reject the lifestyle he encounters abroad. In fact, for the upper-middle class characters who inhabited narratives like that of Dil Chahta Hai, the transition from an Indian metropole to a Western one is not fraught with high levels of cultural anxiety, because they could afford the same practices of consumption and leisure at home too. In the films he appeared in after Dil Chahta Hai, Khan’s characters reflect the sentiments of the same upwardly mobile consumer base that Bollywood has accumulated since

2 Saif Ali Khan: Stardom and the Alchemy of Celebrity

21

the economic reforms. They very qualities that made Khan unsuitable for the familyoriented dramas of the 90s, i.e., his Anglicized accent and boyish charm, appealed to contemporary audiences. As Nick in Salaam Namaste, Kabir in Hum Tum, and especially as Rohit in Kal Ho Na Ho, Khan’s confident yuppie persona drove the narrative forward. A considerable part of Sameer, Nick, Rohit or Kabir’s appeal (in DCH, Salaam Namaste, Kal Ho Na Ho and Hum Tum) was their polished metrosexuality. Apart from his flamboyant collection of shorts, Nick also sports sleeveless vests and pink shirts, some with floral patterns on them. He wears low-waist jeans, and his Calvin Klein underwear is visible above his waistline. Rohit gets manicures in a salon. For a brief while, Kabir in Hum Tum wants the “Tom Cruise” look, which he interprets as longish hair and a beard. Increasingly though, male actors in Bollywood were under pressure to be fit and look in a certain way, and Khan sports a well-developed physique in these movies. As Christiane Brosius notes, “the beautiful and the fit body have moved to the centre stage in the feel-good ideology promoted in neoliberal urban India” (2010, 307). Here, we consider briefly the filmic personas of previous Bollywood men, in order to place Khan’s oeuvre in context. Srivastava (2006) refers to post-independence men on-screen as FYP heroes. The Five-Year Plan (FYP) hero embodied a particular mode of masculinity—one that favoured not aggression but scientific temper and rationality, the Nehruvian markers of modernity. The FYP hero’s careers—doctor, engineer or bureaucrat—were closely aligned with the desire for national service and simultaneously connoted a rational, scientific and Westernized temper. The FYP hero was the ideal national masculine construct, combining patriotism with progress. The FYP hero and the narrative of the feudal family romance he inhabits (Prasad 2000, 55) was succeeded by the anti-establishment and dashing figure of the “angry young man”, a trope made popular by actor Amitabh Bachchan. Thomas (1995) refers to this as a kind of self-made “tough masculinity” that challenged authority aggressively and was decidedly unlike the romantic or family-oriented FYP lead. Post-liberalization cinema increasingly featured two other popular heroic tropes—the lovable “tapori” (Mazumdar 2007) and the more normative figure of the metropolitan family/NRI/US return hero. However, despite a background built by feudal privilege, the on-screen Khan personified a masculine identity that presented a playful challenge to the more rigid heroes of post-independence cinema. If Shah Rukh Khan made popular a romantic and vulnerable male lead (Gopinath 2018), Khan, in essaying the boy-man NRI, provided considerable screen-space for his equally individualistic and career-oriented female leads (as much as is possible within a typical Bollywood narrative at least). We do not suggest that Khan was revolutionary, but within the classed and gendered environs of the Bollywood film, Khan negotiated a space for a more relatable heteronormative romance. “I wanted to play a character that would be urban and new. I wanted to play someone who is more of a character than a hero. I wanted to play this guy who is not western but is just a normal guy living in Melbourne or Amsterdam”,

22

A. I. Viswamohan and L. Tom

Khan said in an interview with Rajeev Masand.1 Khan’s Nick, in Salaam Namaste is embarrassed by his Indian heritage, insisting he be called the Anglicized “Nick” instead of Nikhil. Similarly, Rohit from Kal Ho Na Ho tries hard to escape identification with his Gujarati family, rejecting what he views as their cultural excess in favour of his own Americanized way of living. The metrosexual male Khan embodied was not a duty-oriented paragon, and he juggled the demands of a demanding career, cosmopolitan lifestyle and the perfect modern romance with ease, while living apart from his natal family. Khan could take on such roles partly because he was not as big a star as Shah Rukh Khan or Salman Khan, whose films, at the start of the new millennium, were events. He also did not possess the boy-next-door appeal Hrithik Roshan had, or the utter reliability of an Akshay Kumar or Ajay Devgan. He had more room to experiment, and he did so, surprising his audiences with edgy thriller Ek Hasina Thi, dark comedy Being Cyrus, and finally with Omkara.

The New Saif: The Late 2000s and Shift in Masculine Presentation Around the mid-2000s, Khan’s rising profile as a serious actor received a boost with Sriram Raghavan’s Ek Hasina Thi, which was loosely based on the Australian mini series Bangkok Hilton (Cameron 1989), and Sidney Sheldon’s pulp thriller If Tomorrow Comes (1985). It was a neo-noir thriller featuring Urmila Matondkar and Khan. Khan played a smooth-talking, drug-trafficking hustler (Karan Singh Rathod) who frames Matondkar’s character to cover his tracks. After she escapes from jail, she eventually locates Rathod, traps him and leaves him to die a horrible death in a cavern full of rats. Not many male leads chose to do such negative roles, and Khan’s choice was both unconventional and successful. This was followed by Homi Adjania’s directorial debut, Being Cyrus, a dark comedy that showed a surprising facet to Khan’s talent. As Cyrus, the young, enigmatic protagonist and narrator, Khan revealed a depth and seriousness previously absent in his work. But it was in Vishal Bharadwaj’s Omkara, a retelling of Shakespeare’s Othello, that Khan established himself as a serious actor. In the film, he assumes the personality of the khainichewing and pierced Langda Tyagi (Omkara’s Iago). In a scene that is especially riveting, Tyagi carefully applies dark pink nail polish on his long pinky fingernail as he instructs Keshu (Vivek Oberoi as Cassio) on how best to appease Omi (Devgn as Othello). Khan’s performance as a scheming small-town villain was superb and astonished audiences used to a very different Saif Ali Khan on-screen. These choices are illustrative of Khan’s tensile celebrity presentation, which refuses the grandeur that characterizes the careers of established actors like Shah Rukh Khan or Salman 1 In

Masand, Rajeev (interview). “I am no Superstar: Saif Ali Khan”. rajeevmasand.com. https:// www.rajeevmasand.com/uncategorized/i-am-no-superstar-saif-ali-khan/.

2 Saif Ali Khan: Stardom and the Alchemy of Celebrity

23

Khan and plays instead on an ebullience that he has sustained well into the present decade. This latter part of his cinematic portfolio increasingly favours characters with grey shades and moves away somewhat from his previous oeuvre.

Race and the Ambiguous Male Lead The Abbas–Mustan duo’s film Race (2008) was an instant hit, and signalled a different phase in Khan’s career. Fast-paced and glamorous, Race had sibling rivalry, suspense, beautiful women and gleaming automobiles. Khan’s Ranvir Singh was a hypermasculine and spectacular on-screen presence, radiating enigma. Ranvir Singh was calculating, attractively avaricious and a man with a taste for luxury, where he breeds race horses, dated supermodels and owned a fleet of expensive cars. Khan’s portrayal of the cynical and often unscrupulous Singh was very well-received. Race initiated a decided turn in Khan’s career and was followed by films in which he plays older and morally ambiguous characters. In Kurbaan (D’Silva 2009), Race 2 (Abbas– Mustan 2013), Agent Vinod (Raghavan 2012) Rangoon (Bhardwaj 2017) and Bazaar (Chawla 2018), Khan’s characters are dominant, even aggressive masculine figures, reflecting a shift in Bollywood films towards hegemonic masculine and hypersexualized feminine figures. Even in the rollicking and entertaining Agent Vinod, the gendering is obvious. Khan’s Vinod is a Bollywoodized James Bond figure. Despite being a former Pakistani intelligence agent, Iram (Kareena Kapoor) is reduced to playing bait or the damsel in distress in the movie. Race 2 and Bazaar replicate this dynamic between the leads, capitalizing on Khan’s brooding and jaded masculine persona to emphasize the beauty and relative naïveté of its female leads. In this context, Kurbaan makes for an interesting study. The story is a standard mishmash of love amidst terrorism. Ehsaan Khan (Saif in his first on-screen Muslim character) and Avantika Ahuja (Kareena) have a meet-cute in a cab. Both of them are professors at a college in Delhi, and after a series of predictable events, fall in love and decide to get married. Some implausible plot points later, the newly weds are transplanted in New York, where Ehsaan turns out to be a member of a dreaded Islamic terrorist group. One of early posters of Kurbaan (channelling Vin Diesel’s XXX, Rob Cohen, 2002) had a barechested Saif looking straight at the onlooker/audience, with a trickle of blood on the left side of his torso. A very sensuous and barebacked Kareena enigmatically faced the viewers in a profile shot. The tagline declared, “Some love stories have Blood on Them”. In keeping with its theme, the poster had plenty of shades of red as well as interplay of lights and shadows, nodding at film noir traditions. What was most exciting was the blatant display of the most talked-of star couple of our times. The coming together of the bronzed, hard body of Saif and the uber sexy body of Kareena (the actor who had ushered in the concept of the much debated “Size Zero” in Bollywood and made it a part of popular lexicon in India) was a cause celebre for an entire generation. Also unmissable was the stark contrast between the svelte Kareena and Saif’s ex-wife Amrita Singh. Singh, even at the height of her stardom

24

A. I. Viswamohan and L. Tom

was referred to as “Mard” (Macho) Singh because of her lack of conventional sex appeal and tomboyishness, on- and off-screen. The significance of the celebration of these eroticised bodies almost sharing a bodily fluid (here, the blood on Saif’s wound) was provocative enough for a certain political party to demand an instant “cover up” of Kareena’s “naked” back (Shrivastava 2015). The hysteria for Saifeena, manifested negatively or positively, had begun. Khan’s characters in these films (Race series, Kurbaan, Agent Vinod, Bazaar) are dominant and aggressive men who are in positions of wealth and authority. There is a simultaneous fetishization of the male body in these films, and generally in Bollywood cinema in the last two decades, a thematic almost entirely absent in the variegated cinema of the previous century. As Murali Balaji notes (2012), recent Bollywood films favour muscled, hypermasculine male leads with a Westernized physique, and toned bodies, shaved chests and six-packs are de rigueur. While the metrosexual lead was as well-groomed as his female counterpart, the alpha males in these films and Bullet Raja (Dhulia 2013) are solitary and heroic, display highly sculpted and disciplined bodies and dominate the filmic narratives and screens with larger-thanlife personalities (Sinha 2013). Khan’s personal appearance in more recent times also mimics his on-screen presentation; he sports thick beards, styled moustaches and longer, slicked back hair more often now, in a departure from the clean-shaven face, and short haircuts from the early 2000s. In the poster for Bullett Raja, Khan’s Raja Mishra is captured mid-stride; his left hand clenched in a fist, and his right holding a gun. His shirt is partially open to reveal his muscled chest, and rudraksha beads hang around his neck. The bright colours emphasize its similarity to movie posters before the digital era, in an homage to action thrillers from the 70s and 80s. Mishra’s stylization foregrounds his aggressive (and upper-caste Hindu) masculinity. Similar postures are adopted by leads in posters for the films Dabangg (Kashyap 2010) and Rowdy Rathore (Prabhudeva 2012), both of which again favour hypermasculine, older male leads who do not hesitate to use violence often, and whose female leads have comparatively little on-screen presence. This brand of cinema announced a contemporary version of the action hero of classic Hindi cinema, and blended the latter’s anger and desire for justice with hegemonic physical and emotional displays of aggressive masculinity. These new films often adopt an ironic tone, along with the performance of exaggerated gender roles, and favour a problematic postfeminist aesthetic. Here we refer to Gill’s (2007) critique of contemporary media cultures that endorse individualist and retrogressive gender presentation, while belying its sexism with comic subtexts or irony. The obvious preference in the above genre of cinema for highly disciplined and conventionally gendered bodies, and the display of aggressive masculinity opposite a subdued and innocent femininity indicates the era of neoliberal Bollywood—high-budget films, powerful marketing, digitized celebrity, a “resexualization” of female actors (Gill and Scharff 2013, 4), and the equal fetishization of dominant masculine presentation.

2 Saif Ali Khan: Stardom and the Alchemy of Celebrity

25

New Media, Celebrity and Brand Bollywood Bollywood has come to stand for much more than just film production, representing instead glitz, celebrity and an aesthetic of excess (Kaur and Mazzarella 2009; Dwyer 2014). For Hindi-speaking India, and especially for a pan-Indian urban audience, Bollywood is a familiar cultural imaginary. Its film stars dominate celebrity magazines, and endorse the country’s biggest products. In a popular cultural framework where cinema stars comprise the entirety of the entertainment elite (unlike the West, where pop stars dominate popular visual culture), Bollywood stars are highly visibilized through the apparatus of celebrity and stardom that sustain the industry beyond its films. This comprises mega-cinematic events like award nights, television-based programs like chat and reality shows, and social media networking and presentation, which together constitute and produce star images. We also refer to the idea of Bollywood itself as a lavish hyperreal spectacle. Bollywood cinema is a visually powerful field of readily available images, music and affective components (aspiration, patriotism, familial love and romance in particular) that have dominated the Hindi-speaking imaginary since its pre-war inception (Uberoi 2006; Gabriel 2010; Vasudevan 2010). Economic liberalization also ushered in a new cultural era, as Western television and film permeated Indian popular media outlets. Bollywood visual culture rapidly changed to accommodate new imaginaries, and the demands of a young consuming middle-class (Brosius 2012). By the 2000s, the glitzy multiplex, with its air-conditioned halls, snack counters and multiple screens, would replace the local movie hall experience. “The multiplex is a hermetic space that is radically discontinuous with the environment outside. Clean, shiny, climate-controlled, and technologically state of the art, it is a world apart from the heat, dust, and crowds of urban India. The mall-multiplex as an urban form is a city unto itself…” (Gopal 2011, 133). Gopal also notes that all multiplex halls are alike—the audience is promised the same experience regardless of the location. Multiplex halls also have enabled tie-ins between producers, publicity teams and actors, and often actors are brought to the site of the multiplex to discuss and promote their films. Gehlawat (2015, 92) notes the concomitant rise of the Indian advertising industry in the years following economic liberalization, and the increasing preference for Bollywood celebrities as spokespersons for various products inundating Indian markets. Advertising revenues continue to be one of the biggest sources of income for Bollywood celebrities, and play an important role in cementing their star persona. In an equal fashion, the celebrity reinforces desirable cultural associations with the brand they endorse. A-list male stars as Shah Rukh Khan, Aamir Khan, Ranbir Kapoor, Ranveer Singh and Hrithik Roshan have endorsed largely elite consumer products such as high-end cars, cold drinks, chocolates, mobile phones, laptops, e-commerce platforms, watches, and clothes (Ganesh and Mahadevan 2015). At the same time, despite their string of successes and popularity, stars such as Akshay Kumar, Ajay Devgn and Salman Khan endorse brands that appeal to a wider, middle-class/lower

26

A. I. Viswamohan and L. Tom

middle-class consumer base (Hajmola, Kajaria tiles, Anmol Biscuits, Paragon slippers, VKC flip-flops, Revital tablets, Harpic, etc.), thus capitalizing on their “relatability” and mass appeal. It may be noted here that Khan’s choice of endorsements act as signifiers of wealth, mobility, and success, and complement the consumer choices of his upwardly mobile spectator base. Over a period of nearly three decades, Khan has endorsed the popular beverage Pepsi (known for its high-profile celebrity spokesperson roster), Asian Paints, Gwalior Suits (in which he appeared with his father), clothing brand Provogue, Lenovo laptops, Carlsberg beer and the potato crisp brand Lays. There is often a “royal” theme to Saif’s appearances, as with his endorsement of Pan Bahar, Taj Mahal Tea and the Royale range of Asian Paints. These advertisements capitalize on his princely heritage, thus reproducing the associations of Brand Saif with an elite consuming India. Sometimes these endorsements are supplemented by appearances of family members (sister and actor Soha Ali Khan, and mother Sharmila Tagore). More recently, Khan has appeared in advertisements with his wife Kareena Kapoor Khan. In a recent advertisement for Airbnb, an immensely popular online hospitality service, the couple are shown vacationing in Windsor, England, relaxing on well-manicured lawns while picnicking, playing Jenga and enjoying the British countryside, in an implicit contrast to harried, more “touristy” holiday interludes. The casual intimacy in the video film, and the new vision of hospitality it promotes are ably supported by the star presence of one of the most visible and popular celebrity couples in Bollywood. Apart from an active advertising profile, Khan is also a popular public performer— he has appeared several times as a host for the Filmfare awards and IIFA (International Indian Film Academy Awards), and performed several times with the rock band Parikrama. Mazumdar notes that stage shows provide a recurring platform for stars to gather together and renew their own celebrity (Mazumdar 2012). These events are streamed live for public consumption, and ticketed as well, drawing in huge crowds both physically and virtually. Khan also appears often on Karan Johar’s talk show Koffee with Karan, and similar platforms. Khan’s star persona is thus easily available for repeated viewing, snipping and recycling, powered as these appearances are by digital media platforms like the television, YouTube and streaming sites. The age of digitized celebrity has proven to be both a blessing and a curse to Bollywood actors, as was illustrated in the nepotism controversy involving Karan Johar, Kangana Ranaut and Khan. Ranaut’s comments on nepotism, aired in an episode of Koffee with Karan (2017) in which she appeared with Khan (as part of promotional appearances for Rangoon), her frank mentions about Johar’s favouritism, and how endemic this was to the industry itself struck a sour note with her immediate audience.2 She was lampooned by Johar onstage at the 2017 IIFA, where he appeared alongside fellow beneficiaries 2 In Koffee with Karan, Season Five, Episode Sixteen. 2017. “Saif, Kangana Let it All Out”. https://

www.hotstar.com/tv/koffee-with-karan/s-74/saif-kangana-let-it-all-out/1000167379.

2 Saif Ali Khan: Stardom and the Alchemy of Celebrity

27

of nepotism Varun Dhawan (son of film director David Dhawan) and Saif Ali Khan. The trio took a dig at Ranaut’s expense, but the humour did not go down well with many people watching. In a suitable illustration of how accessible celebrity is in the age of social media, and also in a demonstration of cultures of response and reaction that are made available by digital technologies, the nepotism debate, long overdue in Bollywood, mobilized public support for Ranaut. Khan’s role was exacerbated by an open letter he wrote in defence of his position on nepotism. The letter was highly criticized for its seeming endorsement of eugenics and overall questionable politics. He wrote that “(e)ugenics means well born and in a movie context, the genes (the DNA we’re born with, not the blue trousers we wear)…If you need another example, then take race horses. We take a derby winner, mate him with the right mate and see if we can create another grand national winner. So, in that sense, this is the relationship between genetics and star kids”.3 Khan’s problematic assumptions, his ignorance about the concepts he discussed, and the casual entitlement evident in the letter turned the tide of public anger against him. One writer called him a “sexist Uncle ji”, while another suggested that the letter expressed a “nawab’s insane delusions”.4 The debate demonstrated a shift in the reception and circulation of Bollywood celebrities, from whom audiences now increasingly expect more socially responsible behaviour, and a constant performance of authenticity. In such a mediatized climate, the spectacle of an established older male actor taking down a self-made and award-winning young female actor, especially around the time his own daughter was preparing for her cinematic debut (thereby illustrating the truth in Ranaut’s comments) did not go down well with Indian audiences. Following this, the question of nepotism has been brought up several times, in interviews and chat shows with Bollywood actors, as a point of debate. All this points to new directions for Bollywood, but especially for the performance of stardom and celebrity.

The Re-Reinvention of Saif Ali Khan: The Rules of the Game The two prominent oeuvres in Saif Ali Khan’s career are reflections of the cultural journey and ideological shifts in Bollywood over the last two decades. The evolution of the filmic hero, from Nick (Salaam Namaste) to Raja (Bullett Raja) denote the 3 In

Khan, Saif Ali. 2017. “DNA Exclusive: Saif Ali Khan pens an open letter over the ‘Nepotism rocks’ brouhaha during IIFA 2017” in DNA. https://www.dnaindia.com/bollywood/report-saif-alikhan-pens-an-open-letter-over-the-neopitism-rocks-brouhaha-during-iifa-2017-2508860. 4 In Sanyal, Prathikrit. 2017. “Saif Ali Khan makes a fool of himself with an open letter on nepotism”. dailyO. https://www.dailyo.in/voices/saif-ali-khan-nepotism-eugenics-genetics-sexism-privilegekaran-johar-kangana-ranaut-varun-dhawan/story/1/18515.html and Chawla, Bhaskar. 2017. “Saif Ali Khan’s Views On Nepotism Are Even Darker Than They Appear”. Huffington Post. https://www.huffingtonpost.in/bhaskar-chawla/saif-ali-khan-s-views-on-nepotism-are-evendarker-than-they-appe_a_23046741/.

28

A. I. Viswamohan and L. Tom

increasing preference for dramatic plots, action thrillers, rural/small-town narratives and multi-thematic elements, and a rejection of the straightforward boy-meets-girl romance and it familiar attendant tropes. In Khan’s cinematic journey, we note the turn from the performance of an urban, metrosexual masculinity towards an ostentatious and flagrant masculine performance, and the diversification of emotional themes in cinematic narratives to include primary characters with grey shades. We argue that Khan’s understated but powerful star persona is both produced and is a producer of desirable gender performance, and this is further buffeted by his participation in neoliberal advertising markets, and championship of consumer products that are inextricably linked with the performance of a highly gendered and class-coded way of life. In unpacking the key affective components of Khan’s star text, we note the promotion of ideals of Westernized masculine norms of individualism, consumption and the normative couple unit, a successful combination replicated in his endorsements for youthful and energetic brands. The latter half of his career, however, has seen a shift in his presentation and public profile, signalling a broader transformation in Bollywood and its audiences, and the infusion of a neoliberal aesthetic and practice in the industry. The rise in nostalgic narratives and hyperdisciplined masculine bodies in cinema, and the circulation and promotion of celebrity through new media platforms have heralded a new phase in Khan’s career, and enabled his present avatar as a dependable yet inventive performer who is more a character actor than a uni-dimensional hero. However, as was demonstrated through the recent debate on nepotism, start texts are shifting, unstable formations, relying on a performance of availability, authenticity and political sensitivity, and the crucial ability to constantly participate in digital cultures of surveillance and self-monitoring. It remains to be seen how Khan’s stardom weathers this dissemination of celebrity beyond the hallowed portals on Bollywood. In Kaalakaandi (a noir comedy set in one night in Mumbai; Verma 2018) the protagonist (Saif) is informed that and should make the most of his remaining life. Next follows a roller coaster ride across the metro as several stories run parallel and intersect one another. Letting go of an actor’s vanity the second half of the film onwards Saif is dressed in yellow and red furs, with hair tied up in multicoloured rubber bands. Half-way through the film, Saif’s character, trippy on acid, tells a transgender hooker that he isn’t interested in sex but just wants to see her “southern hemisphere”, for he has always been curious about it. Hardly a line by a typical Bollywood hero. But then the Saif Ali Khan narrative never really gets predictable.

2 Saif Ali Khan: Stardom and the Alchemy of Celebrity

29

References Anjaria, U., & Anjaria, J. S. (2008). Text, genre, society: Hindi youth films and postcolonial desire. South Asian Popular Culture, 6(2), 125–140. Balaji, M. (2012). Competing South Asian Mas (k) ulinities: Bollywood icons versus “Tech-NTalk”. In Communicating marginalized masculinities (pp. 57–72). London: Routledge. Bose, D. (2008). Playing Saif. Tribune. https://web.archive.org/web/20121024100955/ http://www. tribuneindia.com/2008/20080524/saturday/main1.htm. Brosius, C. (2012). India’s middle class: New forms of urban leisure, consumption and prosperity. India: Routledge. Dwyer, R. (2014). Picture Abhi Baaki Hai: Bollywood as a guide to modern India. UK: Hachette. Dyer, R. (1998). Stars (New ed.). London: British Film Institute. Gabriel, K. (2010). Melodrama and the nation: Sexual economies of Bombay cinema 1970–2000. Women Unlimited. Ganesh, K., & Mahadevan, K. (2015). Beyond diasporic boundaries: New masculinities in global Bollywood. In R. K. Dudrah et al. (Eds.), SRK and global Bollywood. New Delhi: OUP. Gehlawat, A. (2015). Twenty-first century Bollywood. London: Routledge. Gill, R. (2007). Postfeminist media culture: Elements of a sensibility. European Journal of Cultural Studies, 10(2), 147–166. Gill, R., & Scharff, C. (Eds.). (2013). New femininities: Postfeminism, neoliberalism and subjectivity. Berlin: Springer. Gopal, S. (2011). Conjugations: Marriage and form in new Bollywood cinema. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Gopinath, P. (2018). ‘A feeling you cannot resist’: Shah Rukh Khan, affect, and the re-scripting of male stardom in Hindi cinema. Celebrity Studies, 9(3), 307–325. Kalla, A. (2004). A Sa(i)f Bet. https://www.tribuneindia.com/2004/20040125/spectrum/main6.htm. Kaur, R., & Mazzarella, W. (Eds.). (2009). Censorship in South Asia: Cultural regulation from sedition to seduction. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Mazumdar, R. (2007). Bombay cinema: An archive of the city. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Mazumdar, R. (2012). Film stardom after liveness. Continuum, 26(6), 833–844. Mazzarella, W. (2003). Shoveling smoke: Advertising and globalization in contemporary India. Durham: Duke University Press. Prasad, M. (2000). Ideology of the Hindi film: A historical construction. USA: Oxford University Press. Shrivastava, V. (2015). 5 times when Kareena Kapoor landed in controversies courtesy hubby Saif Ali Khan. India Today, 24 March 2015. https://www.indiatoday.in/movies/celebrities/story/ kareena-kapoor-khan-saif-ali-khan-controversies-love-jihad-padma-shri-wasabi-restaurantkurbaan-245703-2015-03-24. Accessed May 4, 2019. Sinha, S. (2013). Vernacular masculinity and politics of space in contemporary Bollywood cinema. Studies in South Asian Film & Media, 5(2), 131–145. Srivastava, S. (2006). The voice of the nation and the five-year plan hero: Speculations on gender, space, and popular culture. In V. Lal & A. Nandy (Eds.), Fingerprinting popular culture: The mythic and the iconic in Indian cinema (pp. 122–155). Oxford India Paperbacks. Thomas, R. (1995). Melodrama and the negotiation of morality in mainstream Hindi film. In A. Appadurai & C. Breckenridge (Eds.), Consuming modernity: Public culture in a South Asian world (pp. 157–182). Uberoi, P. (2006). Freedom and destiny: Gender, family, and popular culture in India. USA: Oxford University Press. Vasudevan, R. (2010). The melodramatic public: Film form and spectatorship in Indian cinema. Ranikhet: Permanent Black.

30

A. I. Viswamohan and L. Tom

Filmography Abbas–Mustan. (2008). Race. Tips Industries. Abbas–Mustan. (2013). Race 2. Tips Industries. Adjania, H. (2005). Being Cyrus. Miracle Cinefilms and Serendipity Films. Advani, N. (2003). Kal Ho Na Ho. Dharma Productions. Akhtar, F. (2001). Dil Chahta Hai. Excel Entertainment. Anand, S. (2005). Salaam Namaste. Yash Raj Films. Badham, J. (1991). The Hard Way. Rob Cohen and William Sackhelm. Barjatya, S. (1999). Hum Saath Saath Hain. Rakshri Productions. Bhardwaj, V. (2006). Omkara. Kumar Mangat. Bhardwaj, V. (2017). Rangoon. Viacom 18 Motion Pictures, Sajid Nadiawala and Vishal Bhardwaj. Cameron, K. (1989). Bangkok Hilton. Kennedy Miller Productions [Mini Series]. Chawla, G. (2018). Bazaar. Viacom 18 Motion Pictures et al. Chopra, Y. (1993). Parampara. Firoz Nadiawala. Dhulia, T. (2013) Bullet Raja. Brandsmith Motion Pictures and Moving Pictures. D’Silva, R. (2009). Kurbaan. Dharma Poructions. Kashyap, A., & Motwane, V. (2018). Sacred Games. Phantom Films [Netflix series]. Kashyap, A. S. (2010). Dabangg. Arbaaz Khan Productions et al. Kohli, K. (2004). Hum Tum. Yash Raj Films. Luthria, M. (1999). Kachche Dhaage. Tips Industries. Malhotra, N. (1994). Yeh Dillagi. Yash Raj Films. Malkan, S. (1994). Main Khiladi Tu Anari. Champak Jain. Mehra, U. (1993). Aashik Aawara. Parvesh Mehra. Prabhudeva. (2012). Rowdy Rathore. Ronnie Screwvala and Sanjay Leela Bhansali. Raghavan, S. (2004). Ek Hasina Thi. Ram Gopal Varma and R.R. Venkat. Raghavan, S. (2012). Agent Vinod. Illuminati Films. Rawali, R. (1992). Bekhudi. Maharukh Jokhi and Rita Rawali. Shah, K. (2000). Kya Kehna. Tips Industries. Verma, A. (2018). Kaalakaandi. Cinestaan Film Company and Flying Unicorn Entertainment. Wilder, B. (1954). Sabrina. Billy Wilder. Paramount Pictures.

Chapter 3

Shah Rukh Khan: Journey from Charisma to Celebrity Priya Kapoor

Abstract This essay studies the particular brand of Shah Rukh Khan (SRK) as he achieves superstardom in the Hindi film industry and as a thought leader, earning him the moniker Badshah (king). By transcending ossifying gender roles and ethnic-religious divisions might SRK be the quintessential Indian man who stands for the nation (Cayla in Advertising Soc Rev 9(2), 2008)? Or is he a modern metrosexual whose identity is hybrid? This accounts for the dialectical tension that arises from the ‘celebrity’ of SRK as global businesses boldly recruit cinephile audiences as consumer-patriots of neoliberal India transforming dated identities of citizen-patriots in postcolonial India. What follows then is the provocation that the study of celebrity is a very particular cultural formation that Graeme Turner believes, “is a productive location for the analysis of cultural shifts around gender, race or nationality” (Celebr Stud 1(1), p.13, 2010). Lastly, the essay explores how SRK recoups his image as charismatic actor and leader, not just as a brand ambassador of multinational commodities. Through ethnographic insight I propose that in SRK-defined films such as My Name is Khan global Muslim audiences find a way to talk about and understand their own experience of being Muslim during the Global War on Terror. Keywords Celebrity · Globalization · Brand · Metrosexual masculinity · Ethnography · Textual analysis · Discourse analysis The study of celebrity is a very particular cultural formation that Graeme Turner believes, “is a productive location for the analysis of cultural shifts around gender, race or nationality”. Twitter accounts and Facebook pages keep celebrities alive in the public imagination even during their time off-screen, when they are with family, on vacation, or commenting on state politics. Shah Rukh’s middle-class New Delhi background has bearing on the type of celebrity he is known to be. He is educated, has a graduate Mass Communication degree from Jamia Millia Islamia, Delhi, and after abandoning television stardom for the big screen, Khan (popularly called SRK in India) attempts, philosophically, to carefully study [his own] fame and P. Kapoor (B) Department of International and Global Studies, Portland State University, PO Box 751, Portland, OR 97201, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 A. I. Viswamohan and C. M. Wilkinson (eds.), Stardom in Contemporary Hindi Cinema, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-15-0191-3_3

31

32

P. Kapoor

success through his risky filmic venture, Fan (Sharma 2016, Yash Raj Films) and Zero (Sharma 2018, Yash Raj Films). Both films portray him as a flawed human (not typically hero material), although introspection and self-critique help him emerge as triumphant. He can be framed and analysed in multiple ways. One can study Khan as a successful Muslim actor in post-colonial India, in an intercultural marriage, or as a versatile metrosexual who stands for the rapid urbanization of rural areas with the ability, as a celebrity, to bridge insurmountable divides such as rural/urban, rich/poor, Hindu/Muslim with great aplomb and self-confidence. Julien Cayla believes that SRKs “fluidilty and hybridity become his most potent assets. He is able to reconcile tradition and modernity, masculinity and femininity, emotion and ambition. SRK’s ability to evolve all at once in different spheres of Indian life, to transcend gender roles, and ethnic religious divisions, helps craft his story as the Indian man. SRK stands for the Indian nation (emphasis mine)” (Cayla 2008, n.p.). Additionally, Walter J. Thompson, a leading advertising agency, and the Times of India recently launched a campaign “Lead India” with SRK exhorting Indians to quit daydreaming about a pristine past or a glorious future, but to “do” something, to “dominate”. Clearly, SRK is anointed to become the leader of a global neoliberal India and a leading icon for consumer urban lifestyles. In this chapter, I am especially interested in examining the above-cited quote in the context of the over two dozen brand endorsements and blockbuster films by Shah Rukh Khan. Has the citizen-patriotism of the 1970s given way to the consumer-patriot of neoliberal India (Cayla 2008)? What is the role of celebrity culture, especially Shah Rukh’s role, in this transition from citizen to consumer? Can a Muslim actor be entrusted with, or be effective at the task of nation-building during a time of the global war on terror, GWOT, where the Muslim body has been transformed by the nation-state to bear the scars of modernity and not be an equal partner in India’s march forward as a global and regional economic power?

Shah Rukh Khan as a Symbol of Global India: A Mix of Charisma and Celebrity In the Fall of 2010, an academic conference charting SRK’s trajectory as a global phenomenon was held at the University of Vienna, Austria. Vienna became the most likely venue because in the German-speaking world, SRK enjoys a large fan community. Titled Shah Rukh Khan and Global Bollywood this conference attracted over 45 scholars, among them Rajendra Dudrah, Rachel Dwyer, Rosie Thomas and Sudha Rajagopalan, spoke on topics based upon their ongoing research. Judging from the plethora of workshops offered at the conference, one was able to see the diversity of topic areas, ranging from reception, fandom and gender to religion, film and globalization. The coming together of scholars from the North and South propelled SRK as

3 Shah Rukh Khan: Journey from Charisma to Celebrity

33

a synthesizing icon able to bridge divides between “Indian identity and cosmopolitanism, tradition and modernity or contradictory differences between religions or between projections of male and female” (Press, University of Vienna 2010, n.p.). From the time he first featured on state-run television (Doordarshan) in a successful drama series Fauji (Kapoor 1988), to Davos in Switzerland, Khan has grown and matured into a well-respected philanthropist in the public glare. For example, he was recently awarded the prestigious Crystal Award at Davos, Switzerland, on 22 January 2018 for the social justice agenda of his charitable foundation1 . Davos, the hub for the World Economic forum, is a mecca of global trade talks. It is a forum for sharing new ideas, innovations and discussing possible exigencies among government functionaries and elected national leaders. Top politicians, from Donald Trump to Narendra Modi, delivered speeches, which were regarded carefully by global audiences and journalists for the next new word on economic strategy and state policy. Given his august company at Davos, other celebrities, even media-savvy Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s daily broadcast Man Ki Baat (‘Speaking from the Heart) has not found the dedicated audience that we associate with SRK’s media productions such as expat dance shows, TED talks, interviews on TV and regular filmfare. This is where the importance of SRK’s humanitarian efforts come in. Khan’s philanthropic Mir Foundation is named after his father, for assisting and rehabilitating acid-burn victims. In an interview with Tania Bryer (2018), Khan articulates his philosophy of life, along with his vision for a just world. He talks about the work he had done in Mumbai with burn victims, most of whom were children who suffered due to political strife in Kashmir. Several children’s hospitals have benefitted from his largesse and commitment. In this paper, I argue that SRK, more than any other actor has moved through the different stages (youth, to married man, father, actor, hero, visionary) of his life, in full dazzle of media lights—as a struggling newly graduated young man who trained under Delhi’s theatre personality, Barry John, until this glorious Davos moment of global recognition as celebrity and thinker. Audiences identify with him in different ways as he comes on-screen in Raees (Dholakia 2017) and My Name is Khan (Johar 2010) where he grows into a moral and ethical Muslim leader, even if that leadership involves being a purveyor of nefarious activities (as in Raees) or providing a counterpoint to leadership despite disability. Although Khan’s character peddles contraband liquor at a time of prohibition, and is a merchant of death in Raees, we get to see that there is room for morality and ethical leadership in the underworld that is easily identifiable in a society in transition—in Raees’ case, modernizing Gujarat. In both these films, he distinguishes himself as Muslim unlike previous films where he is mostly portrayed as a Hindu, easily categorized by his Hindu screen name and modern secular2 fashion-labelled clothing.

1 A single-entry, by-invitation-only ticket to the World Economic Forum, in Davos 2018 cost 19,000

dollars. The others who received the Crystal Award were Cate Blanchett and Elton John. clothing is tacitly allowed only to the Hindu named character in Hindi language cinema. Muslim clothing (caps, scarves, achkan, salwar-kurta and burqa), prayers or visits to the Mosque

2 Secular

34

P. Kapoor

Shah Rukh: A Charismatic Actor Shah Rukh Khan came to the screen as a swashbuckling hero who by his own admission was not “chocolatey” enough (Bryer 2018). Khan means that he did not qualify as having the classic good looks that previous Hindi film heroes Dharmendra or Sunil Dutt were known for. But then Hindi cinema has never had a typical leading man for their popular films as the successful screen presence of Om Puri, Rajkummar Rao and Irrfan Khan demonstrate. Amitabh Bachchan, Jeetendra, Anil Kapoor and Aamir Khan never started out as likely star material but rose quickly to the top fulfilling “heroes” roles in romances, working-class plot lines, science fiction and murder mysteries. Shah Rukh Khan’s ascendency in Bollywood is curious because it follows a very successful stint in the 1988 television series—Fauji [soldier]. Popularity in television does not always determine a successful film career as we have seen other actors such as Chutki (Loveleen Mishra) and Badhki3 (Seema Bhargav) of all-time television hit Hum Log fame do poorly in the film industry. In the TV series Fauji, Khan’s rise to fame, ultimately becoming its “scene-stealer [where the actor]…was cast by default” (Pal 2015, n.p.). This golden period of televisual history is often considered “cinema’s tackiest era [marked by Govinda’s reign]…[and] television’s finest” (Pal 2015, n.p.). The transference of stardom from television to cinema was not easy for all television actors like it was for SRK. Not only was he able to fare well betwixt media stardoms but he was also able to bridge the digital divide by handling his social media presence online, on TED Talks, Twitter and YouTube. Importantly, SRK’s depiction of sensitive, evolving masculinities on-screen bore him well. Today, SRK can easily be identified as the king of post-liberalization India, not just Bollywood (where he is also anointed as Badshah). SRK wills for himself, an avatar that draws the audience towards his popular persona of a “feeling being”. His famous unction “I am a feeling you can’t resist” (Shah Rukh Khan, Filmfare 2012 cited in Gopinath 2018, p. 307) leads to a chief argument by Gopinath (2018, p. 308) that different performative masculinities or new ways of “doing” masculinity define Khan. Adding another dimension to his fluid masculine performativity, Gopinath (2018) asserts that “the camera and his performance collude to emphasize his vulnerability and his sensuality, constituting him as a feeling, sensitive man, both subject and object of affect”. Furthermore, Gopinath (2018) believes that SRK repurposes heterosexual masculinity via his emotional and sexual vulnerabilities on-screen to produce a borderline queerness.

(or a muslim cemetery, pir/sufi dargah), festival celebrations are usually performative and semiotic markers used to create a distinction between a Muslim and a Hindu film actor. 3 Chutki and Badhki are contemporaries of Shah Rukh Khan and Buniyaad was far more popular than even Fauji.

3 Shah Rukh Khan: Journey from Charisma to Celebrity

35

Luxury Product Endorsements: Commerce and Citizenship Scholarly deliberations on celebrities endorsing consumer products surmise that our recognition of the national and transnational emerges from the associations celebrities make for the consuming publics. Celebrity mobilities also mediate and shape our very sense of national and transnational cultures and possibilities as well as being themselves ‘subject to’ or shaped by it: they are part of a larger process by which we can make sense of what the national, the international and the transnational means, or might mean. (Littler 2011, p. 2; Turner 2010)

Endorsing global fashion labels by a celebrity positions the audiences and the celebrity as global consumers. Consuming a global fashion brand allows one to join an elite group of consumers who recognize global fashion standards, thereby inculcating a unique consumption-driven cosmopolitanism. Littler (2011) is of the view that the creation of “celebrities” are an industry ploy to push greater number of commodities onto the public to promote a specific conception of what might comprise the cosmopolitan. Cosmopolitan consumption emerges as a focal point of identity formation at the same time as audience identification with global labels deepens. Not surprisingly, top actors in Indian cinema have become successful endorsers of commercial products and processes (Venkatesakumar et al. 2012). All other genre of non-film celebrities—fashion models, sports stars, etc. follow in this wholesale investment in film personalities. No industry has benefited more from the success of actors as symbols of commercial products than the advertising industry. By the year 2012, leading actors like Shah Rukh Khan has endorsed 42 retail brands, Hritik Roshan endorsed 20 retail brands, Juhi Chawla 17 retail brands and Amir Khan 10 retail brands, while cricket stars such as Sachin Tendulkar and Rahul Dravid endorsed 15 retail brands each (Venkatesakumar et al. 2012, citing Patra and Dutta’s 2010 study). These figures may need adjustment after the 11 December 2017 star marriage (Kaur 2018) of actor Anushka Sharma and cricketer Virat Kohli known by fans as Virushka4 . The union of the head of the cricket team (Virat) and the leading Mumbai actress (Anushka) has left the audiences and fans hankering for more access to them. As with SRK, this access comes from advertising that features individual actors or celebrities talking directly to their fan constituencies. In this way, advertising is able to milk a certain collective audience mood that wants to see their celebrities don expensive retail products thereby imparting a certain familiarity to products that are more foreign than local. Subsequently, purchasing familiar high-priced products feels less risky (since many others are doing the same) and the right thing to do as a citizen of global India. The celebrity-advertising-neoliberal complex, reminiscent of Angela Davis’5 prison–industrial complex (Davis 2000), benefits from contrapuntal institutions such 4 Another

star marriage, in November 2018, of Ranveer Singh and Deepika Padukone, a former fashion model, has been a boom for marketers, especially of haute couture clothing. 5 Imprisonment has become first resort of society to contain persons of colour. Recent movements like Black Lives Matter demonstrate that the Justice System has been differential in meting out justice to African Americans who are sent to prison in disproportionate numbers. The prison industry leases its

36

P. Kapoor

as celebrity-making industries and consumer-advertising industries are able to capitalize on government loosening of tariff controls and support of neoliberal policies to create a profitable system. To clarify, the creation of celebrity in Indian cinema and the overlapping interests and parallel success of non-essential consumer goods (and the advertising industry) creates a perfect marketing milieu possible only because both industries—film and consumer markets for luxury cars, watches and clothes— have benefitted from the shift of a socialist to neoliberal Indian economy. The sale of star images and the imagination(s) that are brought to bear on audiences and fans feel embodied once endorsed by stars and their fervent appeals to buy more (see Khan’s Tag Heur watch advertisement). SRK in his own words is “a commercial poet” combining his ambitions as a hyperconsuming material boy and a sensitive emotional artist (Tehelka 2012 cited in Gopinath 2018, p. 310). Shah Rukh Khan’s transition from hero to hero + brand was a first for Indian cinema (Gehlawat 2015). Biographer and film critic Anupama Chopra says, “Shah Rukh rarely met a product he could not endorse” (2007, p. 14). Shah Rukh’s rise to celebrity goes hand in hand with India’s transition from socialist to neoliberal “free trade” economy. Consumer markets sold non-essential goods to Indians around the same time that SRK made it in films. Television evolved from black and white to colour in 1982 to broadcast the Asian Games, giving TV sales a fillip (the potential of television as a mode of sale of commodities is actualized), and post-1991 films unabashedly placed Coke and Pepsi in the hands of its actors. Television sets sold like hot cakes. Working-class families, barely scraping by, gave their new purchase, pride of place in their living rooms. The liberalizing national economy in India was forced to accept Bretton Woods’ recommendations (Desai 2016) of Free Trade, which meant opening its shores to Western consumer branded items that already had humbler looking Indian counterparts. Despite their gloss and sophistication, these overpriced (compared to the modestly priced Indian goods) Western products were superfluous in the lives of Indian households, which often lacked basic amenities such as running potable water, fuel and indoor toilets. With a wave of change in the economic policies of the state, a desire for an upwardly mobile English-speaking public wanting to live an urban lifestyle, market protectionism became a bad word. An avalanche of local and Western luxury goods hitting the Indian market jostled to be known instantly by the purchasing public. The best route for instant recognition of a new brand was to hire a known media celebrity, a well-known entity for youth and older folk alike. Endorsing products has not hurt Khan’s performance in film, they have enhanced his profile and recognizability among Indian and Diasporic youth. Youth are the primary film-viewing cohort and seem to crave viewing “upward mobility” (zero-tohero scripts) on-screen (hero travels the world, ends up with a partner of his choice, simply being himself and oftentimes singing, dancing and playing the fool/jester). It prisoners of colour to commercial industry who take advantage of the abysmally low pay for prison inmates. The exploitation of their labour by commercial industry, the prison system and society’s rank racism in a cruel triad is often known as the prison–industrial complex. Additionally, the prison–industrial complex closely mirrors the military industry that is supported by the government and the arms industries to form a close nexus known as the military–industrial complex.

3 Shah Rukh Khan: Journey from Charisma to Celebrity

37

is hard not to notice how this mobility (“foreign” travel is beyond the average Indian’s reach) and tomfoolery is rewarded instantly on-screen. Film critics often call realist films “escapist” because all the goods and services featured in the film—the cars, clothing, entertainment venues and travel itineraries seem to surpass the reach of the primarily youthful working-class and middle-class viewers who get overawed by the easily acquired grandeur of the screen celebrities.

Charisma and Celebrity Theory Shah Rukh Khan has been able to bridge the gaps between otherwise intersecting theoretical concepts such as celebrity, charisma and leadership—all defined differently by disparate researchers without privileging one concept as subservient to the other. The concept of charismatic authority is attributed to Max Weber wherein those who are deserving of that designation are known to the public as great generals, scientists, and political movers and shakers (Hendriks 2017). Interestingly, Weber does not see charisma and celebrity as part of the same spectrum nor does he use the terms interchangeably. Furthermore, Hendriks (2017) points out that Weber never theorized media or film since mediated communication did not enjoy prominence in his lifetime as it does in contemporary times. Today, media is ubiquitous and an essential part of our daily diet. Therefore, charismatic figures (namely religious personalities, yoga gurus and doctors who announce great cures and weight-loss remedies) receive prominence in mass or social media. Oftentimes gossip-centred media benefits economically when celebrities create or court controversy as in the case of President of the USA, Donald Trump, or the romance and untimely death of Princess Diana in August 1997. Celebrities, on the other hand, “can gain authority on a certain issue, sometimes to the extent that they are consulted by policymakers” (Hendriks 2017, p. 351). To that end, Shah Rukh Khan uses his 50th birthday (also marking the launch of TED talks in India) as a turning point in his life; not unlike Aamir Khan (who believes ardently in a unique version of celebrity civic and political engagement as demonstrated in this TV series Satyameva Jayate or (“Only truth shall prevail”) (Bhatkal 2012–2014), wants to achieve something that goes beyond his professional expertise and fame in Bollywood can take him. During the global talks at Davos in Switzerland (21–25 January 2018), social media broadcast SRK hobnobbing with other Western celebrities at socials and galas. SRK’s easy movement between national and transnational borders serves as an indication that the very notion of celebrity-ism is porous and provides global mobility to celebrities known primarily by their national background. This must lead to a kind of standardization of celebrity-ism. Ted Talks India, and Star Television, provide him just that opportunity. The process of charismatization and celebritization is constantly evolving (Hendriks 2017) and we are still trying to understand its variation and nuance with respect to different cultures and the vast number of industry contexts. Hendrik’s examples of celebrity range from gangsta rappers and dating coaches to current political demagogues. Celebrity-ism must be studied

38

P. Kapoor

long-term and in continuation because the phenomenon gathers new resonances with every new socio-political development in specific social contexts.

Nayi Soch, a New Way of Thinking, TED Talks India: The Medium Is the Message TED talks bandwagoned on yet another social media innovation, YouTube, culling for audiences a wealth of wisdom and lived experience at their fingertips. Resulting from the popularity of TED talks, multiple audiences employ them to convey useful ideas and diverse lived experience. This form of democratization of information has heightened the recognition TED talks are receiving for K-12 classroom pedagogy (Rubenstein 2012; Romanelli et al. 2014). With great alacrity, Shah Rukh Khan calls TED Talks his “platform”, a term that has gained greater traction in a world marked by information technology. After making a bold statement about how filled with hate-speech the world is, he also makes a gentler, disarmingly unambiguous statement declaring “I am love” (Khan TED Talks 2017). He differentiates between the lover he plays in films, and whom he really is. As a personification of love, he conjures up an image larger than life, and of omnipresence. This invocation is reminiscent of the poet proponents of the Bhakti movement (eighth century in the South and tenth–fifteenth century of the Common Era in the North), a movement of rebellion against Hindu ritualism and rigid caste designation thereby leading to a devotional transformation in medieval society (Schomer and McLeod 1987). Rebel singers invoked a personal god filled with love and compassion, going against the religious rituals at the time (Kishwar 1989). To further the symbolism of Khan’s engagement with love as a strategy of compassion: the sound track in My Name is Khan is inspired by Sufi/Bhakti music and serves as backdrop to Mandira (Kajol) and Rizwan’s (SRK) romance. Given this new social medium (TED Talks), Khan urges us to see him in a different light. In this new medium and “platform”, he mocks his filmy lover boy image, denies using botox, [a reference to the industry’s cosmetic surgery fixation that played a role in fuelling the doubts hanging over female star Sridevi’s6 untimely death], uses evolutionary terms [“We (his family) struggled to survive, very much like the original homo sapiens”] to present himself as everyman. Yet again, Shah Rukh has risen above the antics of other male stars in the film industry, and advanced by nuancing his acting, focusing on his family, and carefully choosing involvement in select public affairs through philanthropy, to become a visionary. Shah Rukh’s growth as a young professional and an older mid-life star has taken place before a benevolent audience applauding his choice of media and programming.

6 It

has been conjectured in the media that Sridevi’s multiple cosmetic surgeries were the cause of her untimely death.

3 Shah Rukh Khan: Journey from Charisma to Celebrity

39

Shah Rukh in Film: Local Fame and Transnational Mobility Madhava Prasad (2013) has remarked that the naturalization of the term Bollywood for popular Hindi language cinema is because it marks the “consciousness” of the transnational presence of Indian cinema. Other scholars of film have asserted that “Bollywood” is shorthand for India itself. If so, Shah Rukh’s long reign as “hero” in the film industry, coinciding with the dominant position of the hero in Indian film, compels us to label him as leader or to mark his prominence, by the tongue-in-cheek title of King in English and Badshah in Hindi or Urdu. Sarah Dickey’s ethnography on low-income audiences in urban locations in Madurai, Tamil Nadu and S. India shows how film has created the phenomenon of the Political Celebrity (Dickey 1993). Dickey observes that cinema and politics “have a long history of mutual involvement in South India” (1993, p. 340). She concedes that state electoral politics has been able to produce movie star politicians across India, in Tamil as well as other language cinemas. This is best exemplified by the elections of MG Ramachandran (popularly called as MGR, he came to power in Tamil Nadu in 1976) and NT Rama Rao (also called as NTR, he was elected as the Chief Minister of Andhra Pradesh in 1983). Later in the 70s and 80s, Hindi cinema stars, Vyjayanthimala contested elections in Tamil Nadu for the National Congress Party, Sunil Dutt for Congress (I), Jaya Prada for Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), Shatrughan Sinha for the BJP, and Amitabh Bachchan for the Congress (I). Stars from the television epics Mahabharat (1988– 1990) and Ramayana (1987–1988) also tried their luck, laden with charisma, at national politics. In this manner, Shah Rukh Khan and the other Khans—Aamir and Salman have their unique brand of charisma that they deploy to build their own film industry businesses and create political capital with the public to build a fanbase that, by virtue of their 7 age, cherish the values of honesty, service, political accountability with superhero and star power delivery. Shah Rukh Khan’s TED Talks, Nayi Soch (2017), Aamir Khan’s Satyamev Jayate (2012–2014), and Salman Khan’s brief foray into television in 2008 and now extensive work in rural areas in Maharashtra is definitely an extension or an external manifestation of their heroic on-screen work and personae. Another globally circulating attribute that impacts the three Khans and Shah Rukh specifically is that of masculinity. The young, bouncy and likeable character of Fauji and the spunky youth of DDLJ are no longer enough to pass off as a hero. The increasing muscularity which scholars recognize as “metrosexual masculinity”, “in which a new focus on the male physique can be seen in tandem with the growing popularity of physical fitness, gym culture and more broadly, what has been labelled the ‘liberalization’ of urban Indian masculinity” (Deckha 2007 cited in Gehlawat 2015, p. 7). The increasing impetus of gym culture has impacted the masculinity and muscularity of the Indian protagonist which amounts to a reworking of the paradigmatic metrosexual that Shah Rukh is credited to have led in film, followed by actors Hrithik Roshan (Kaho Naa…Pyaar Hai), (Roshan 2000, Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara, (Akhtar 2011)), Saif Ali Khan (Dil Chahta Hai, (Akhtar 2001), Kal Ho Na Ho, (Advani 2003)) and 7 India

has a majority youth population, under 30 years of age.

40

P. Kapoor

John Abraham (Dostana, (Mansukhani 2008)) who have further developed the trope in films of the late 90s and early 2000s. This reflects an affinity towards a “neoliberal aestheticization of masculinity”, driven by “individual enterprise, sexual decadence and sculpted physiques” (Gehlawat 2015, p. 7; Cieko 2001). These sculpted bodies portray an aesthetic buttressed by consumer products, emergent in the neoliberal economy, especially marketed for men, to enhance their looks. The chiselled bodies do not need to prove themselves by fighting malcontents. Metrosexual masculinity does not sponsor depiction of army men and pilots (among other masculinized screen professions) but also what might be considered “creative” professions. For example, SRK in MNIK sells beauty products for a living while Saif Ali Khan in Kal Ho Na Ho is an architect who turns chef in Australia.

Film Audiences and Shah Rukh Khan If the theory of charisma and celebrity lacks an analytical dimension, it is finding a way to honor audience voices. Typically, film criticism has focused more on textual or discourse analysis and paid scant attention to the circulation of meanings that come from global cosmopolitan audience voices among viewers of Indian cinema. In an audience ethnography of My Name is Khan (MNIK) (Johar 2010) among Muslims and Arab viewers, I undertook more than two years’ worth of interviews among close to 50+ travellers, immigrants, students and city dwellers to understand Muslim identity in film and the ways in which Muslim audiences identify with a Muslim actor on-screen. I chose to focus on MNIK as it falls within an emergent post-9/11 filmic genre or the War on Terror film in Hindi cinema. It is one of the first films in which SRK enacts the persona of a practicing Muslim (2017’s Raees is the only other film). The audiences of the ethnographic study present bold and clear narratives that counter received understandings of audience or identity. I screened My Name is Khan in venues that were often open to the public at a large urban state university in the Pacific Northwest, on multiple occasions. I interviewed more than 50 persons, over two years about their memories of 9/11, their response and connection to the film, their beliefs about religion, democracy, media and life. Over 35 interviewees are from the Arab world (Dubai, Bahrain, Yemen, Kuwait, Palestine and a majority from Saudi Arabia). Other participants are from the USA, North Mariana Islands, China, Chile and India. I offer three representative quotations from my audience-based research on Shah Rukh’s 2010 blockbuster My Name is Khan: Quote 1…“But it [the film] was so moving…the part when he was in prison…You know what if that was-that could be so easily me.” [Saudi Arabian male audience member, MNIK] Quote 2 “We have a saying in Islam that who’s terrorist? There’s no religion for him…. So those people [terrorists] are not Muslims and this thing [their actions] is not Jihad.” [Saudi Arabian male audience member, MNIK] Quote 3 My interviewing narrator named ‘N’ comes back to the issue of the hijab in the context of respecting religions, she says, “people around the world have religions and their

3 Shah Rukh Khan: Journey from Charisma to Celebrity

41

religions have rules and regulations and I don’t know what they call them but they practice them…freely…and no one tells them anything…why Muslims why our Hijab, they keep saying Hijab is limiting their rights or taking their rights” [End Quotation, Arab female audience member].

MNIK is a tale of an autistic person who grows up in a communally divided Mumbai but through life’s vicissitudes, especially his loving mother’s death, relocates to the USA. An entrepreneur, Khan’s younger brother lives in the Bay Area with his wife, and SRK (as Rizwan) fends for himself as a seller of wholesale beauty products to spa owners. In the course of his work-beat, Khan happens to meet his wife-tobe, Mandira. The beauty of this film lies in the instance of actors falling in love to maintain deep caring structures despite communal violence, first in the Mumbai of his childhood, during telling filmic scenes reminiscent of Hindu–Muslim rioting of December 1992 and January 1993, and then again during the wave of Islamophobia sweeping through the US post-11 September 2001. The film is charged with the affective feeling of hate in a primarily White US neighbourhood during a candlelight vigil around the time the twin towers fell. This even leads to Samir’s (Mandira’s son) brutal hacking to death by juvenile white schoolmates and the journey of redemption ending in meeting the President who absolves Rizwan of being a terrorist. The inbetween journey prior to reaching Washington DC is eventful as Rizwan gathers support by helping the African-American-community in Alabama during a flood of biblical proportion, almost like Hurricane Katrina. Scholars have termed the journey a certain form of redemption. The MNIK storyline is rendered unique because it inserts a variety of cosmopolitan multiculturalism, Indian style, into the global narrative of the Global War on Terror. The locus of this story rests upon the life of an Indian Muslim man and how he overcomes the terror in his life and externalizes it through service, civic engagement and love. I have researched, from 2011 to 2014, how this Bollywood text, with its notable glitz and marketing, haunting qawwali-style melodies, is able to speak to a global transcultural Muslim audience living in the shadow of a world changed by 9/11 without being allowed a way to articulate their own personal and collective experience of terror. For example, one of the responses I received from an audience member during my fieldwork was the following: We have a saying in Islam that who’s terrorist? There’s no religion for him…. So those people [terrorists] are not Muslims and this thing [their actions] is not Jihad.

Secondly, I look at how audiences have wrought their identity vis-à-vis their own social, religious and geographical positioning (Audience member: “people around the world have religions and their religions have rules and regulations…but they practice them…freely…and no one tells them anything…why Muslims why our Hijab, they keep saying Hijab is limiting their rights or taking their rights”). MNIK, for its multistar cast and expat-adored movie hero Shah Rukh Khan, who coincidentally, was held up by airport immigration right before the US release of MNIK because of his Muslim name, seemed the most compelling cultural artefact for a global audience whose experience transcends South Asia and South Asian understandings of the film. MNIK weaves a tough political climate of hate into a

42

P. Kapoor

story of hope, racial unity and healing. Audiences question multicultural philosophies, express empathy with religious “others” and try to transcend and recreate the legacy of 9/11 handed down to them through modern national politics. Several of my interviewees were young kids at the time 9/11 occurred yet remember their family members’ affective responses of utter horror. As the conversations excerpted above demonstrate, the MNIK audiences find, in their own small way, to meaningfully express their affective responses towards matters in global politics that are larger than their sphere of existence. The ability to narrate, interrogate and interpret scenes that speak to them, changes standard centrist interpretations that one might find, of discourses of war and terror, in national press or on TV. Audiences are able to seize their own meanings of religion and religiosity, while critiquing multicultural society, as active participants, not as passive victims of the time. Unlike other heroes, the Arab and Muslim audiences of the study identify with Shah Rukh Khan as a moderate Muslim world citizen. Additionally, they extrapolate articulate definitions of Islam using scenarios from the film. By seizing the agency to layer their opinion and meaning of the filmic text based upon their own cultural context, the audiences of My Name is Khan gain a voice at a time (post 9/11 and during a global war on terror) when they are not heard in a public forum such as media and media representation. Since the locus of the research project is a University in the Northwest region of the USA, the Arab and Muslim audiences are cosmopolitan travellers connected through an Indian film with a potent story that resonates with the viewing public in South Asia.

And So It Goes On… Celebrity, critics assert, are the necessary creation of a neoliberal economy where consumption becomes the key to individual happiness and success (Littler 2011; Cayla 2008). By bringing socio-cultural-economic contexts into sharp relief, textual studies of film lay bare the core tropes of a filmic text through methodologies ranging from critical discourse analysis to semiotics. An audience-based study, such as the one described in this chapter, allows us to plumb the realities not allowed in a textual study, that is, the researcher gets to listen to the lived experience of an audience. This expands the meanings of a film-worthy text. The usually untouchable heroes of the film become coterminous with the lives of their audiences through the audience dialogue that ensues. A one-way mode of communication develops multiple prongs. Shah Rukh Khan is established as a celebrity, an endorser of expensive merchandise. His early-career charisma came from acting in theatre and in successful television series whereby his audiences felt the intimacy of his character portrayals as in Fauji or soldier. An audience-based study of My Name is Khan brings Shah Rukh closer to the audiences (Audience member: “the part when he was in prison…You know what if that was-that could be so easily me” [emphasis mine]) who have not spoken prior about intimate matters such as their Muslim and Arab identity. I argue that by virtue of a multiperspectival look at film, we are able to render Shah Rukh

3 Shah Rukh Khan: Journey from Charisma to Celebrity

43

Khan as charismatic and celebrity, as someone who has not forsaken the bond he holds with a wider global audience for aiding the sale of expensive brand-named products. Acknowledgements A grant from the National Research Foundation of Korea (NRF2017S1A6A3A02079749) has supported the research for this essay. Research for this essay is also supported by Portland State University’s Faculty Development Fund.

References Bryer, T. (press, 2018, January 23). An insight, an idea with Shah Rukh Khan: World Economic Forum, Interview. Retrieved Jan 24, 2018. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IVF_ms3G2O8. Cayla, J. (2008). Following the Endorser’s Shadow: Shah Rukh Khan and the Creation of the Cosmopolitan Indian male. Advertising and Society Review, 9(2). Cieko, A. (2001). Superhit hunk heroes for sale: Globalization and Bollywood’s gender politics. Asian Journal of Communication, 11(2), 121–143. https://doi.org/10.1080/01292980109364807. Chopra, A. (2007). King of bollywood: Shah Rukh Khan and the seductive world of Indian Cinema. New York, Boston: Warner Books. Davis, A. (2000). Masked Racism: Reflections on the prison industrial complex. Indigenous Law Bulletin, 4(27), 4–7. Desai, M. (2016). Subaltern movements in India: Gendered geographies of struggle against neoliberal development. NY: Routledge. Dickey, S. (1993). The politics of adulation: Cinema and the production of politicians in South India. The Journal of Asian Studies, 52(2), 340–372. Gehlawat, A. (2015). Introduction: Bollywood in the age of digital reproduction. Twenty-first century Bollywood. NY and Oxon OX14 4RN: Routledge. Gopinath, P. (2018). ‘A feeling you cannot resist’: Shah Rukh Khan, affect, and the re-scripting of male stardom in Hindi cinema. Celebrity Studies, 9(3), 307–325. https://doi.org/10.1080/ 19392397.2017.1411202. Hendriks, E. C. (2017). Breaking away from Charisma? The Celebrity Industry’s contradictory connection to Charismatic Authority. Communication Theory, 27(2017), 347–366. Kaur, J. (2018, January 9). 29 Famous Indian Celebrities who tied the knot in 2017 with the love of their lives 2017. http://www.bollywoodshaadis.com/articles/famous-indian-celebrity-weddingsof-2017–6424. Retrieved on January 22, 2018. Khan, S. R. (2017). TED Talks. https://www.ted.com/talks/shah_rukh_khan_thoughts_on_ humanity_fame_and_love. Retrieved on January 22, 2018. Kishwar, M. (1989). Women Bhakta Poets. New Delhi: Manushi Publications. Littler, J. (2011). Introduction: Celebrity and the transnational. Celebrity Studies, 2(1), 1–5. Pal, C. (2015). The DD files: When Shah Rukh Khan stole hearts and the show in ‘Fauji’. Scroll.in. https://scroll.in/reel/800500/the-dd-files-when-shah-rukh-khan-stole-heartsand-the-show-in-fauji. Retrieved on February 15, 2019. Patra, S., & Datta, S. (2010). Celebrity in India—emerging trends and challenges. Journal of Marketing and Communication, 5(3), 16–23. Prasad, M. (2013). Ideology of the Hindi Film: A historical construction. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Press Information, University of Vienna, Austria. (2010). International conference: Shah Rukh Khan and Global Bollywood, September 30th–October 2nd 2010. https://www.univie.ac.at/srk2010/ wp-content/uploads/2010/09/PRESSenglishlongversion.pdf. Retrieved on April 16, 2019.

44

P. Kapoor

Romanelli, F., Cain, J., and McNamara, P. J. (2014). Should TED Talks be teaching us something? American Journal of Pharmaceutical Education, 48(6), Article 113. https://doi.org/10. 5688/ajpe786113. Rubenstein, L. D. (2012). Using Ted Talks to inspire thoughtful practice. The Teacher Educator, 47, 261–267. Schomer, K., & McLeod, W. H. (Eds.). (1987). The Sants: Studies in a devotional tradition of India. New Delhi, India: Motilal Banarasidas. Ted Talks India Nayi Soch. (2017–2018). Ted Conferences. LLC. Tehelka. (2012). In the green room: Shah Rukh Khan, THiNK 2012. Online Video. YouTube, 21 Nov. Available from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SQxBE3qSFws. Turner, G. (2010). Approaching celebrity studies. Celebrity Studies, 1(1), 11–20. https://doi.org/ 10.1080/19392390903519024. Venkatesakumar, R., Sathyanarayanan, R., & Satish, A. S. (2012). Celebrity Endorsement—The North-South Divide. Asia-Pacific Journal of Management, 8(2), 155–162.

Filmography Advani, N. (2003). Kal Ho Naa Ho. Yash Raj Films. Akhtar, F. (2001). Dil Chahta Hai. Excel Entertainment. Bhatkal, S. (2012–2014). Satyamev Jayate. Aamir Khan Productions. Dholakia, R. (2017). Raees. Zee Studios. Johar, K. (2010). My Name is Khan, Fox Star Studios. John, A. (Dostana, (Mansukhani 2008)). Kapoor, R. (1988). Fauji. New Film Addicts. Mansukhani, T. (2008). Dostana. Yash Raj Films. Sharma, M. (2016). Fan. Yash Raj Films. Sharma, H. (2018). Zero. Yash Raj Films.

Chapter 4

“Don’t Hold Back”: Ranveer Singh, Masculinity and New Media Ecology Praseeda Gopinath

Abstract When asked about his ambitions, Ranveer Singh’s answer is always the same, “I have always wanted to be a mainstream Hindi film hero”. This is a surprisingly precise answer. It speaks to a desire to be part of a mainstream Hindi cinema tradition and a specific Hindi film masculine ideal that since the Bachchan era encompasses the hoi polloi and the bourgeoisie. To be a mainstream Hindi film, hero in the twenty-first century means addressing the increasing fragmentation of the socio-economic terrain of neoliberal India and the variations of classed, regional and caste masculinity. Singh strategically endeavours to represent local, national, and transnational ideals of masculinity. While he is increasingly known for his versatility on-screen, his off-screen persona is central to his rising stardom: He is the brand spokesperson for “hoi-polloi” brands such as Rupa, Thumbs Up and he also represents transnational and cosmopolitan brands such as Adidas, Durex, and Switzerland. Singh’s stardom crafted for and within a social media-driven ecology, ushers in a post-Khan iteration of stardom in Bollywood. Attentive to the pace of Internet media and shaped by his own background in advertising, he creates himself through his flamboyant fashions and his explicit repudiation of “bourgeois elitism” and “manners”, mobilizing his facility with English and his international education to embody the neoliberal, transnational upper-class urban Indian male. At the same time, his rejection of traditional ideas of gendered, classed decorum and his uninhibited performances (both on- and off-screen) mark him as potentially “déclassé”. This paper examines the contradictions inherent in Ranveer Singh’s stardom as both caused by, and an effect of, the shifting habitus of the neoliberal Indian middle classes; the transnational circuits of taste; the (trans)national, classed structures of masculinity; and a changing media ecology. Keywords Stardom · Masculinity · Film · Advertising · Twitter · Performance In his most recent interview with India Today Television, Ranveer Singh described how he has always dreamed of being a “mainstream Hindi film actor”, a sentiment he has consistently expressed from the beginning of his career in 2010 (Adlakha 2018). P. Gopinath (B) Department of English, Binghamton University, SUNY, Binghamton, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 A. I. Viswamohan and C. M. Wilkinson (eds.), Stardom in Contemporary Hindi Cinema, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-15-0191-3_4

45

46

P. Gopinath

The only variation occurs when he occasionally replaces “actor” with “hero”. This is a strikingly precise turn of phrase in an era where “Bollywood”, with its associations of post-liberalization transnational verve, is the default to describe the Hindi film industry. It speaks to a desire to be part of a mainstream Hindi cinematic tradition and a specific Hindi film masculine ideal that since the Bachchan era encompasses the hoi polloi and the bourgeoisie. To be a mainstream Hindi film hero in the twentyfirst century means addressing and reconciling the increasing fragmentation of the socio-economic terrain of neoliberal India and the variations of classed, regional, urban–rural masculinity. Singh strategically endeavours to represent local, national and transnational ideals of masculinity. While he is increasingly known for his versatility on-screen, his fluid off-screen persona is central to his rising stardom: he is the brand spokesperson for “hoi-polloi” brands such as Rupa, Thumbs Up, even as he represents the transnational and cosmopolitan brands such as Adidas, Durex, and countries like Switzerland. His flamboyant fashion (the subject of reams of print and film) and his social media accounts strategically craft a persona that is both a man of the people—with his unabashed love for all things “filmi”—and an elite cosmopolitan man comfortable in the transnational language of masculine “cool”, ranging from African-American hip-hop to Daniel Day-Lewis’ acting process. This paper considers the deliberate contradictions of Ranveer Singh’s star masculinity as it moves easily between the anti-elitist everyman and the bourgeois cosmopolitan—a strategic star persona that is produced within and an effect of the changing industry; transnational circuits of masculinity and taste; and a fast-paced media ecology. I want to pause here and define my particular usage of transnational. Natasha Durovicova argues that transnational acknowledges the “persistent agency of the state in a varying relationship to the scale of the nation”, while also calling attention to “unevenness and mobility”, which the term global invoking an imagined totality does not (Durovicova 2010, ix–x). Ideas, fashion, cultural products, tastes and affects, then, circulate in relation to “existing power structures of nations and states, but remain mobile and flexible, and open to multiple avenues of meaning and pleasure in different contexts of politics, social relations, and cultural assumptions” (Meeuf and Raphael 2013, 3). This becomes especially relevant with reference to ways in which Singh mobilizes both national and transnational haute couture and language to craft distinctive masculine stardom in Bollywood. At the same time, he draws quite specifically on the history, affects and language of Hindi cinema embedded in the cultural lexicon of post-independent India. In strategically mobilizing the two distinctive grammars separately or in conjunction, he produces a new set of star masculine practices that speak to the zeitgeist even as they are picked up and replicated as novel. Here, I am also working within the paradigms of star studies offered by Richard Dyer, M. S. S. Pandian and Donna Peberdy. The star is a performance that emerges from multiple media, including films, promotional materials, public appearances, interviews, biographies, gossip in the entertainment media about the star’s “private life”, and in the Indian case, commercials (Dyer 1986, p. 2). He or she is a persona, sometimes incoherent, but nevertheless distinct from others and immediately recognizable as they are deliberately assembled in and through

4 “Don’t Hold Back”: Ranveer Singh, Masculinity, and New …

47

their performances in multiple media. Indeed, the extra-textual knowledge of the star always already shapes the production of films and the reception and circulation of the star-actor-performer in cinematic texts (Pandian 1992; Peberdy 2011). Singh carefully assembles his star personae across multiple platforms, but he is also attentive to the constituent and fragmented audiences within these various media forms, whether it is film genres, social media, print, or advertisements. Singh also holds in tight balance the apparently mutually opposing “multiplex” and “single-screen” personae. The multiplex theatre is a post-liberalization phenomenon centred in the cities, where multiple screens are housed in the same theatre. These are air-conditioned luxurious spaces—showing both international and local films—serving corresponding local and international branded snacks. The ticket prices reflect the amenities, luxuries, and real estate of the material and cultural space. The “single screen”, on the other hand, is the theatre with the large solitary screen, with more affordable ticket prices; this type of theatre was the norm before economic liberalization and is still pervasive in smaller cities and towns. It is much more modest, often not air-conditioned, no longer in prime locations, usually showing only local or regional films, and does not carry the caché of luxury and status of the multiplex theatre. The multiplex theatre tickets are far more expensive, and hence far more profitable, than the single screens, though in terms of raw numbers more people might be watching films in single screens (Hill and Adrian 2013). The multiplex and the single screen have become representations of class difference and privilege: they each are symbols of the elite and of the masses; of a realist, transnational, upper-class cinema and acting praxis as opposed to the generic mix of the masala film and the accompanying theatrical “masala” style of acting; of sophistication and crudeness.1 It is telling that the type of theatre as building, real estate, and collective space is symbolic of identity in the economic and cultural landscape of contemporary India. “Multi” and “single” then denote two different forms of acting, of style, of status, and of identity. Singh’s ability to straddle both indicates that he is able to simultaneously embody and perform a transnational elite and cosmopolitan masculinity and an “aam aadmi” or common man masculinity. It is a deliberate and calculated move as evidenced during his interview with Anupama Chopra while promoting Dil Dhadakne Do (Akhtar 2015), an avowedly multiplex film about the trials and tribulations of a wealthy Punjabi family played out during a celebratory trip aboard a luxury cruise. He said that while they were dancing for the “Gallan Gudiyan”, the film’s central song, the director, Zoya Akhtar, asked him and Anil Kapoor to bring down their “single” (Chopra 2015). It was the result of an ongoing conversation that Singh and Anil Kapoor (who had been a leading star during the single-screen era) had been having throughout the shoot. The entire film set adopted the lexicon of the single-multi to describe the difference and the distance between the “beautiful” elitism of Dil Dhadakne Do and the uninhibited brashness of the 1 Having

said that, masala films have done exceptionally well in multiplex theatres. The most successful films in recent years have been masala films and the audience at the multiplex theatres were responsible for their runaway success. The distinction is not entirely discrete, and yet it is still used by industry insiders and trade magazines to distinguish between films, stars, audiences, and audience reception.

48

P. Gopinath

Hindi masala film. Singh transitions between both with ease, one of the only current stars to do so. Other stars inhabit either the “multi” (Ranbir Kapoor) or the “single” (Varun Dhawan) space, but few are able to transition easily between the two. On-screen, Singh moves between urbane films like Dil Dhadakne Do (2015) and period pieces like Lootera (2013) to Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s historical melodramas such as Padmaavat (2018) and “mass-entertainer” masala films like Gunday (2014) and the forthcoming Simmba (2018). In Dil Dhadakne Do, he plays the vulnerable and privileged son, Kabir Mehra, heir to a business empire, muddling towards progressive masculinity in opposition to his dad’s aggressive Punjabi patriarchal businessman. It is an understated turn, bringing to life a soft-spoken, urbane, and feminist masculinity. Singh’s performance style is poised and delivered through the minutest shades of expression and gesture. A “multi” performance, not just in terms of acting praxis, but also in terms of the feminist themes and critiquing of patriarchal traditions, re-framing Indian middle-class masculinity. Though somewhat spoilt and petulant, Singh’s Kabir Mehra is also shown as sympathetic and sensitive to others, particularly women. In an early scene, where he is introduced to Noorie, a family friend’s daughter who has recently been jilted by her fiancé at the altar, she confesses to feeling humiliated by the scandal. He sympathetically listens to her anguish, drinking with her and supporting her in a manner that is usually assigned to female friends. Singh, here is a silent comfortable presence, almost effacing himself in the shot, eyes downcast, as he leans against the bar in order to listen to Noorie better. In a deleted scene, he tells her, “you are better off without him”, and when Noorie starts to cry, saying “then why does everyone behave like it’s my fault”, he responds with “Galti tumahri nahin hain, The shame is his”. It is a seemingly small, but nevertheless, significant statement since he refuses to collude with a structure that forces her to feel dishonoured for her ex-fiancé’s betrayal of trust. Instead, he holds the man accountable, shifting the shame to the rightful bearer, the man who has behaved abominably. Singh’s performance is striking here: His tone is low, and his voice is pitched a little higher to show both his youth and his softness. At the same time, the line is delivered with a matter-of-fact conviction, as if there is no other possible interpretation. He represents and projects a sympathetic, reassuring, and yet steely presence. This conviction effects a revelatory change in Noorie, a moment where she recognizes and internalizes the truth of his feminist statement. He is similarly sympathetic towards his sister’s predicament, telling her to take a stand against her oppressive husband and in-laws, though he is too cowed down by his own failures to offer full-throated support to Ayesha. A scene that is striking for revealing the complexity of their dynamic and Kabir’s internal struggle is the moment when he stands next to his sister on the deck of the ship, as she sobs against the railing. It is a full-shot from behind, showing both of their backs. Singh stands a short yet reachable distance from Priyanka Chopra (who plays his sister). His shoulders are hunched, and his side profile reveals his distress and his inability to embrace his sister, with his unhappy eyes and downcast mouth. The hunched, uncertain, yet nevertheless, stable and steady posture, reveals much: his desire to comfort his sister and yet his wish not to intrude on or impose upon his elder sister. Once again, a series of understated micro-expressions and minute gestures and poses of the body convey

4 “Don’t Hold Back”: Ranveer Singh, Masculinity, and New …

49

a wealth of emotional detail. Singh here represents fraternal masculinity that does not immediately assume the privilege and responsibility of physically comforting a sister (a fairly radical concept in the annals of brother–sister relationships in Hindi cinema). In some ways, Kabir is an example of the damage wrought by patriarchal, Punjabi masculine norms on a sensitive young man. We are introduced to him during a moment of failure: being shown up at a meeting where he is leading a presentation for a prospective international client. Singh represents this through a quick and sudden facial change from smiling to humiliated and distressed. The camera moves from his father to centre Singh as Kabir, who wraps his arms around himself as a self-comforting and obviously vulnerable gesture, made all the more so, because it is happening in a packed boardroom in the midst of hypermasculine men. Singh’s expression once again downcast, but bravely projecting and patently false smile, signals a humiliated son and young man. He has failed to live up to the masculine entrepreneurial legacy of his father. In temperament and personality, he is the antithesis of his father: contemplative, sensitive, affectionate, charming, self-deprecatory, and most of all devoid of the patriarchal certainty that his father exudes. He also emphatically does not exercise masculine power in the ways that Kamal Mehra and Manav Sangha (Ayesha’s husband) do: assuming that they are right, and expecting the women in their lives to submit to their whim and will. Indeed, this is evident in the woman he falls in love with, Farah, “a Muslim dancer” on the cruise. He is attracted to her fearlessness, her strength, and her confidence. He is in awe of her because she has exercised her agency, eschewing oppressive familial structures, to assert her independence and follow her dreams—an example that inspires him to stand up to his father. In this case, it is not the love of a good woman that changes the man, but rather the example of feminist independence and agency that inspires him to jettison his own classed gender constraints. Singh’s portrayal represents a new non-patriarchal, progressive feminist man, one who refuses to be complicit with patriarchal structures. While there is a confidence in Singh’s body language as befitting a scion of a wealthy family, it shifts in the presence of his father to a timid uncertainty. More importantly, in his relationships with various women, Singh as Kabir performs a comforting, non-threatening, yet delighted and delightful masculinity, both through his bodily performance and his expressions. In contrast to a “multi” performance and masculine representation that speak to realist, cinematic traditions of directors such as Shyam Benegal and Gulzar (up to a point), and the naturalist acting praxis of “parallel cinema” icons such as Shabana Azmi, Naseeruddin Shah, Smita Patil and Om Puri, Singh is also adept at Hindi commercial film or masala mode of acting. While there is a vast range of performance styles within Hindi popular cinema, when Singh refers to “the Hindi film hero”, he invokes the larger-than-life, dramatic, and spectacular performances that produce the mythic and super-heroic Hindi film protagonist. Embedded in a realist idiom, the Hindi film hero (or antihero or villain) can and should scale melodramatic heights as evidenced in the characters of and performances by Amitabh Bachchan, Shah Rukh Khan, Govinda, and Salman Khan. Though each embodies distinctive forms of Hindi film hero masculinity and performative styles, both on and off-screen, they

50

P. Gopinath

all attained and sustained their stardom through masala films and commercial melodramas. Never failing to pay homage to his predecessors (especially 80–90s stars such as Govinda, who had fallen out of favour as being too déclassé for shining, aspirational Bollywood), Singh delights in this particular genre of performance. In a recent interview, when asked about the shoot for Rohit Shetty’s Simmba, Singh said that the “masala”, “full-on family entertainer” is “a brand of cinema or genre that I thoroughly love”. He added that while “socially, I interact with people who are ‘multiplex audience,’ my heart is ‘massy’ and that’s actually what I get a kick out of” (Khurana 2018). The full-on masala genre, which he enjoys, is of and for the masses, even though his own class and social identity are marked as upper class and embedded within that of the elite, metropolitan multiplex audience. It’s an interesting observation, a very much “us-and-them” rhetoric, and yet, his own preference is for the massy film, from which he gets the most personal pleasure. In the process, he has collapsed the distance that he invokes and one that circulates both in and out of the industry. His love for and skill in the massy entertainer brand of film is evident in his role in Gunday. Set right after Bangladesh’s independence, it chronicles the lives of two immigrant boys who take over Calcutta’s black market. Following in the traditions of homosocial/homoromantic friendships of the 70–80s masala genre, Singh and Arjun Kapoor play Bikram and Bala who support each other through poverty, death, assault, and betrayal in love. Archetypal antiheroes, the film revels in their bond and bodies, sympathizing with their anti-establishment practices. The cinematography and direction—the slow pans up their oiled, chiselled bodies, the slow-motion walks, shooting the characters from below—all point to their legendary status as the most powerful men in Calcutta, even before they attain that actual position. The dialogue-baazi, or dialogue game, an essential ingredient of the masala hero and the genre, is very much in play. It’s a special form of dialogue delivery that requires the right amount of over-confidence and playfulness, a deliberate theatricality that reflects the epic archetype of the hero/anti-hero, or villain. For those familiar with the lexicon and expressiveness of dialogue-baazi, when a particular dialogue and its delivery are successful it becomes the signature line of the character, the star, and the movie. Unlike the understated naturalist style of acting favoured in realist films, performances must be theatrical even as they are tethered to the verisimilitude of the narrative. The more skilful the star-actor is in his dialogue-baazi, the more memorable the character, star, and film, and the more lines of dialogue of the character will circulate outside the film. The signature lines immediately invoke both the character and the star. In Gunday, Bikram’s line, which becomes the verbal cornerstone of the antihero archetype of the film, arrives in the full flare of the masala film hero grammar. Singh’s body language is that of the hypermasculine, hyperconfident MAN (this must be rendered in capitals)—as it is a stylized representation of the pinnacle of an aspirational hypermasculinity. The camera and the diegetic music collaborate in this moment of presentation because the music is strident and powerful, as is Bikram/Singh’s slow strut, shot from below, even as his face is relaxed while he prowls towards his adversary. He moves into his adversary’s personal space, and in a quiet yet venomous tone says: “Agar jigar ke jagar ke jagah jigar hai, aur

4 “Don’t Hold Back”: Ranveer Singh, Masculinity, and New …

51

jigar mein dam hai, to rok le aake”. (If you have guts, and you have strength in your guts, then come and stop us). It is, of course, a challenge, and one delivered with such conviction that there is no doubt in anyone’s mind either within and without the diegetic space that Bikram will conquer all. Singh excels in this particular form of acting and delivery. It is clear, as he claims, that “masala is in his blood” and he is “massy” at heart. In his most recent turn as the villainous and Muslim general and sultan Allaudin Khilji in the highly controversial Padmaavat, his dialogues, his delivery, and his scene-chewing performance were universally applauded, both by critics and the audience, even as critics acknowledged the empty heart of the conservative and misogynist film that signifies Muslim as barbarian. Anupama Chopra points out that Singh’s Khilji makes the biggest impression in a movie that is about Rajput honour. She says, “[Khilji’s] king-size nastiness infuses vigor in the film” (Chopra 2018). The Village Voice’s Siddhant Adlakha calls Singh’s Khilji both “operatic” and “cartoonish” (Adlakha 2018), while The Guardian’s Mike McCahill describes Singh’s performance “as pitching up between peak Alan Rickman and The Lion King’s Scar, a study of toxic masculinity that is close to irresistible” (McCahill 2018). Of course, what all of these reviewers point to is the over-the-top, charismatic, hypermasculinity embodied by Singh as Khilji. Khilji is repulsive yet sexually magnetic, ruthless yet attractive and brutal yet compelling. A quick search for “Padmaavat Dialogue” in the YouTube search bar brings up a number of clips of Singh delivering what have clearly become iconic Khilji dialogues. Even before the film was released, men were replicating his darkly flamboyant look for the film, replete with a scar, kohl-lined eyes, long hair, and lethal expression, posting their pictures on Instagram and Twitter. In an early scene, when the Sultan wants to know from his assembled court why the Mongols continue to be a threat, and more experienced generals and noblemen have explained why their strategies are not working, a young Allaudin steps forward to say that he will fight and win against the Mongols (which he historically did). Singh’s body language is understated but speaks of an egotism borne out ability, while his eyes stare unblinkingly at the Sultan and the camera: Khilji is sure of himself and it is of course a proleptic moment, signalling the future ascension of the young general. It is a memorable bit of dialogue, which, in order to be successful as archetypal needs to be delivered with the just the right touch of rawness and theatricality. When chastised/threatened by the Sultan about being buried by his own ambitious spirit, Khilji says, “Gustakhi maaf karein, magar abhi tak voh mitti hi nahi bani jo Khilji ko dafan kar sake” (Forgive my disrespect, but the soil that can bury Khilji does not yet exist). In a later scene, before he finally kills the Sultan, after the Sultan demands the jewel that Khilji has taken for himself, he says, “Allah ki banayee hui har nayab cheez pe Allaudin ka haq hai” (Allaudin is entitled to every beautiful/unique thing made by God). This is delivered while staring straight into the camera (interestingly, Khilji breaks the fourth wall many times, and he is the only one to do so). The camera and his gaze draw the audience into Khilji’s desires. When the Sultan mockingly asks him who said that, Khilji replies with a dead stare, “Allaudin”. It’s a scene where the audience erupts into cheers, and it is clearly designed as such. Both the dialogue and the dialogue delivery signify the untrammelled arrogance and

52

P. Gopinath

reach of Khilji’s character, words spoken by a man who sees himself as a legend in the making, a legend that the film recognizes and endorses. Singh’s seductive and intimidating gaze as Khilji is directed towards the world, including the extra-diegetic audience, which is drawn in by him even as it derives pleasure from Khilji’s exercise of power. His villain—with his distinctive walk, his oscillation between unpredictably psychotic behaviour and calculated ruthlessness, his dramatic dialogue delivery—is in the tradition of Hindi masala film villainy. Singh, then, moves between different styles of acting and different forms of films and media, with charismatic ease. He can be the understated urban sophisticate and the hypermasculine virile masala man. The ability to replicate this transformation across media indicates that this is a coherent star-making strategy. He recognizes the need to speak to different constituencies in an increasingly fragmented marketplace, and accordingly, he commoditizes his public persona and star masculinity to cater to different niches. He picks and chooses the products that he advertises: from the high-end street fashions (in the Indian marketplace) of Adidas and Jack & Jones to the mid-level, low-end Rupa undergarments; from being the spokesperson for Swiss tourism in India for the government of Switzerland to deliberately choosing Thums Up, the Indian version of the multinational behemoths, Coke and Pepsi. The tone and content of the commercials repeat the “multi-single” distinction. In his first Rupa Innerwear commercial (2015), Singh as Baba (Baba was Singh’s nickname for a while) channels Govinda while invoking Govinda’s famous film, and the character therein, Raja Babu (1994). Raja Babu was a slapstick comedy that delighted in its lowbrow humour, revolving around a country-bumpkin näif, riddled with risqué songs and suggestive dialogue—the film took pleasure in its sending up of bourgeois niceties. The commercial, in the same spirit, is a deliberately fun, campy and “déclassé” romp along a beach, with Singh playing the oiled, chiselled hero in his Rupa banian (undershirt), being ogled by bikini-clad women (white) who are in suggestive poses; he engages in feats both mundane and ridiculous—catching a ball with his buttocks, building elaborate sand castles at light speed, saving damsels from sharks—as he raps, struts and limbos. His self-written rap is fun in it absurdity: “Aaram ka hai mode, main leta nahi load!; Jungle jungle pata chala hai, ganji pehen ke phool khila hai!; (Chorus) Raja Baba, Sexy Raja Baba” (I am in relaxed mode, I won’t take on any load/stress, News has spread from jungle to jungle that a flower wearing an undershirt has just bloomed) (Rupa 2015). It is over-the-top, tongue-incheek, intertextual, and most importantly, catchy. It draws attention to the product, and the tagline of “Yeh aaram ka mamla hai” (It’s all about comfort) is woven skilfully into the parodic-yet-not rap. Singh’s cheeky uninhibited image married well with the product to make the advertisement and the association memorable. As an advertising executive for McGann Worldwide points out “It is an item number featuring Ranveer Singh. It is chichora, but his fans are going to find it entertaining” (Kohli 2015). Chichora was, and is still, used to describe parts of Singh’s public persona. Especially in the early days, around 2013–2014, Singh’s larger-than-life flamboyant persona used to be described by the media and on social media by the derogatory

4 “Don’t Hold Back”: Ranveer Singh, Masculinity, and New …

53

Hindi-Urdu term, chichora, or its more euphemistic synonyms.2 While the term, gendered masculine, is itself rude and “declassé” it also dismissively denotes someone who is declassé. It means many things: vulgar, depraved, over-the-top, loud, and shameful, but what ties all of these adjectives together is that such behaviour is seen as indecorous, running counter to the expected etiquette of the “mannered” bourgeoisie. The point I am trying to make here is that the apparently déclassé trait is a tactic to appeal to a non-elite, “massy”, “single” audience while being an ironic attack on the pretensions of the “multi” audience. This strategy is effective precisely because he is able to appeal to the elite at the same time with his persona, film and media choices. In effect, even as he constantly moves between the supposed elite and non-elite genres, in his persona, he collapses the two. An example of this is the sleek, hip-hop infused commercial for the international clothing brand, Jack and Jones (Jack and Jones 2016), there is not a hint of the cheeky, down-homey persona. The advertisement is in greyscale, with quick, disruptive jumpcuts that move from slick energetic hip-hop dancers in muted silhouettes to Singh aggressively rapping, shifting through everyday-wear, street-clothes and steam-punk influenced looks. He’s constantly flexing his muscles, glaring directly into the camera, or stomp-dancing at the centre of the frame. Borrowing heavily from Prodigy’s “I am the Firestarter” visual and aural tone (Singh even repeats the lyrics in his rap), the short film emphasizes its transnational influences in terms of visual content, music and cinematography. The tone is alienating and intimidating, in keeping with the traditions of African-American hip-hop and rap and the aesthetic of a certain genre of the stylized rap video. The familiar chichora goof is nowhere in sight. While this is not the urbane sophisticate of Dil Dhadakne Do, this confident masculine figure is still very much a product of the transnational flows of music, film, and couture. The figure in this ad too invokes a part of Singh’s personal/professional history and public persona. The lyrics speak to how he was always considered “wack”, but he does it because he doesn’t “hold back”. “That Ranveer guy’s so crazy!” Haan, main hoon saala Hatela! I’m a freak in this carnival, … Foolish and hungry, All and sundry, Be warned, Ab batao King kaun? It’s on, I’m King Kong! (A storm is coming!) From back in the day my rhymes they be wack, But I spit ‘em anyway’ cause I don’t hold back. From back in the day my clothes they be wack, 2 See,

for instance, Krittika’s (n.d.) “15 Brands or Products that Describe Ranveer Singh Oh-So Perfectly.” Also see, “Kamaal R. Khan calls Ranveer Singh Chichora Actor.” While Kamaal Khan, self-styled film critic and actor, deliberately courts controversy for the sake of attention and notoriety, much of what he tweets ends up circulating in the entertainment media.

54

P. Gopinath But I wear ‘em anyway’ cause I don’t hold back. Maine maari entry crowd goes bonkers, I come, see, conquer, Dance floor stomper….

Focusing on his signature non-conformism, he forcefully speaks into being his own ambition to conquer the industry through his uniqueness. In the wake of the tremendous financial and critical success of Bajirao Mastani (Bhansali 2015), Singh was on his way to realizing this ambition, as he notes in his lyrics. Positioning himself as the outsider in a still nepotistic industry, he reiterates his desire to be taken seriously as an artist but also his unwillingness to compromise on his singularity. In a recent interview for Indulge (The New Indian Express ***), Singh says, “I have always been atrangi. I make authentic choices when it comes to my style. I have zero filters and I don’t fear anyone judging me. I don’t make a conscious effort to break stereotypes, but I don’t hold back either. With anything, or anyone, in any given situation” (Sen and Prasad 2018). It’s interesting that he uses the word “atrangi”, which, depending on the context, means, colourful, unique, and different. In the context in which he uses it, it is not entirely a compliment. It is someone who stands out in a weird way, or someone who is slightly beyond the pale of “normalcy”. He, then, connects this strangely classed sense of weirdness and non-normative to a supreme elite individualism and anti-establishment star masculinity, made bodily evident in his fashion choices. In effect, he links a supposedly low-class atrangi affect to high-end style. Fashion is an important medium through which Singh embodies his layered star masculinity—one that connects him to transnational networks of celebrity, taste and attitude. His avante garde fashion tastes are a combination of his urban-class location, his American education, and a product of the transnational circulation of elite fashions and attitudes. As a testament to his advertising background and careful star-crafting, his deployment of fashion is strategic and self-aware. Singh’s use of fashion signals his deliberation and attention to the processes of star-making. As he says, “Style is an external expression of who you are; it is synonymous with originality and distinctiveness. My style is like myself: undefined” (Indian Express 2016). He uses fashion as a means to set himself apart from other actors in the industry, as a calling card of his individuality, his non-conformity, and in some ways, his transnational newness.3 His clothes are a deliberate fusion of different ethnic styles designs, such as long kurtas, flowing kediyas, tight chudidars, loose salwars and the mundu fused with, Chinese, Japanese and “Western” lines and cuts. This was especially true during the promotions for Bajirao Mastani, bringing together the “masculine” and the “feminine”, Western, South Asian and East Asian aesthetics.4 3 This

particular instrumentality of fashion for Ranveer Singh in the creation of his stardom has not gone unnoticed. In one of the many articles dedicated to Singh and fashion, Namrata Zakaria points out, “Ranveer Singh is an absolute original. He has used fashion to get himself noticed. His getup is his business card, mood board and his identity” (Zakaria 2015). 4 While on the one hand, it seems ridiculous to point out that Singh blurs the gender binary by wearing haute couture interpretations of different types of traditional Indian wear, which always already

4 “Don’t Hold Back”: Ranveer Singh, Masculinity, and New …

55

Singh’s clothes are either Indian or international off-the-ramp couture: Rohit Bal, Masaba, Sabyasachi, Rahul Khanna and Rohit Gandhi, Arjun Saluja, Hermes, Chanel, Dior, Gucci, and Prada. His use of high fashion, transnational or otherwise, is part of a multipronged strategy to establish himself as a star-actor who is unwilling to adhere to status-quo ideas of conservative respectability. At the same time, his fashion—because it is more cutting edge (or alternatively hipster), which rejects the norm of bourgeois star fashion—is simultaneously read as ridiculous and “chichora”, as something not quite in tune with the decorousness of stardom, masculinity and the upper-middle class. In addition to fashion, Singh uses social media to perform this duality: of an elite “multi” star masculinity and masala fan. For example, during the Padmaavat controversy, Ranveer Singh, contractually advised to be silent on the matter of the right wing’s assault on the film, posted two messages on his Twitter account. They were in response to the insults and threats heaped on him for daring to play Muslim ruler, Allauddin Khilji, in the fictional Padmaavat. He was accused, among other things, of glorifying an “Islamic terrorist” who murdered millions of Hindus; of selling his Hindu integrity for money; and of destroying Indian (Hindu) culture. The first tweet posted on November 7, 2017, was an image from his most recent cover/photoshoot for Filmfare (November 2017) with the caption “Losing my religion”, the line from REM’s 1991 hit song “Losing my Religion” (@RanveerOfficial Twitter 2017). The caption was apparently describing his dreamy and listless expression in the photograph. To those in the know, that is, those who are familiar with the music of American alternative rock icons from the 1990s, the song, which topped all the music charts, is about resignation and apathy, of being fed up with the unfairness that the singer has to endure. One could argue that Singh was only being clever in captioning his publicity photograph, which is the instrumental purpose of a celebrity Twitter account. Given the timing though, it was also clearly indicating his irritation at his situation and the plight of the film. It is also, in the context of the raging cultural (fascist) controversy, a provocation and a mild, elite social media expression of anger, of distaste for bigoted and militant religiosity on display. The responses he got for this tweet represented both perspectives: the elite explaining what it meant, and the dogmatic responding angrily to his supposed “loss/betrayal of religion”. In the process, the tweet did exactly what he wanted it to do: indicate that he was above the fascist controversy and getting tired of it through his elite citation, but also slyly noting his distaste for the religious right. Unlike his more outspoken fellow actor and superstar, Deepika Padukone, he did not actually come out against the right-wing bullying and the death threats issued against the female superstar of looked “androgynous” within a perspective of the internalized colonizer/Western, it is important to note that those clothes do not make it to the front pages of English-language magazines since they are not seen as “modern,” nor are they accepted as appropriate manly clothes by a respectable bourgeois audience. Furthermore, these were not traditional clothes, but rather high-fashion, offthe-ramp, clothes. More importantly, most of Singh’s clothes, such as the lehenga and long skirts are deemed “feminine,” and his choice to wear them is deliberate and subversive, even as it is fashionably cutting edge and “hipster”. For more on this, see Gopinath (2019). For an analysis of Singh as “metrosexual,” see Gehlawat (2016)

56

P. Gopinath

the film, but he was able to address it without actually taking a stand. It is also worth noting that his masculinity allowed him the privilege of posing with the “fuck-off” emoji (in the second tweet), while Padukone’s measured dissent brought down threats of violence by patriarchal misogynist men who thought she should know her place as a woman. The second tweet and photograph (@RanveerOfficial Twitter 2017) were much more aggressive, but once again were situated within transnational circuits of music and affect. He posted another picture from the Filmfare shoot alongside a “Fuck-off” emoji and lyrics from Eminem’s 2000 “The Way I Am” (2000). In the picture, Singh lounges arrogantly on a sofa, throwing a newspaper to the side, as he stares disdainfully at the camera/viewer. His clothes are trendy couture, and his makeup is a close approximation of this Khilji look, with heavy kohl-lined eyes and manicured pointed beard. The lyrics and the emoji are a defiant counter-attack to the abuse hurled at him on Twitter and elsewhere: And I am, whatever you say I am If I wasn’t, then why would I say I am? In the paper, the news everyday I am Radio won’t even play my jam.

But, once again, he ventriloquizes through a form that is only accessible to the elite. It is not merely the English-speaking middle classes, but a niche group that listens to and appreciates rap, and early Eminem rap at that. Eminem, during the Marshall Mathers era, or just as he burst on to the scene and took it over, was massively controversial for his violent misogynistic and homophobic lyrics. This song was his defiant comeback against his characterizations by the media. Singh’s ventriloquizing here is a safety precaution, an act of elitist snobbery, and a claim to distance. In citing Eminem, he has made his defiance inaccessible to those attackers who are not in these transnational circuits, those who do not understand rap lyrics or even what Eminem words mean, so he occupies a position of elite superiority. In citing someone else’s lyrics, he adopts a position that is once removed: These are not his words, but someone else’s. In doing so, he represents himself as a character who is represented by others, rather than himself, much like what his attackers and the press are doing to him. Singh, then, deploys his elitism against bigoted attacks from all quarters. His response to nativist Hindutva bigotry is art produced by white American controversial artist channelling his personal rage via an African-American form. While these two instances reveal Singh’s location within, and complex deployment of, transnational affects and musical forms, he also uses his Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook accounts to appeal to the widest demographic. The very groups he had indirectly attacked in the previously analysed tweets were the target audience for posts of his extended interviews and antics with Guru Ramdev and Guru Sadhguru, massively popular “god-men” whose Hindutva beliefs allies them with the rightwing national government and their more militant arms. His social media presence, much like his media and cinematic presence, encapsulates his desire and ambition to be the new star of the people, of all people: the multi-single, the young and the old,

4 “Don’t Hold Back”: Ranveer Singh, Masculinity, and New …

57

the progressive and the conservative, the realist and the masala fan, the sophisticated and the chichora. Ranveer Singh’s unabashed love for “massy” cinema, his ability to channel the language of advertising, and his keen awareness of transnational flows of fashion, music, and culture produces a star masculinity that collapses even as it moves between a masala hero, man-of-the-people masculinity and an elite, transnational urban manhood. Singh’s American education, his upper-class Bandra background, his training in advertising combined with his outsider status in the Hindi film industry allows him the privilege and distance to craft a star masculinity that is distinctive and powerful—a commoditized and coherent celebrity/star persona that emerges through and across film, advertisements, social media, television/print interviews and fashion. His carefully strategized appearances and performances across multiple platforms and media ensure that he is always in the public eye while performatively bringing into being and sustaining various facets of a cohesive and layered star masculinity.

References Adlakha, S. (2018). Padmaavat, An Indian Masterpiece Held Hostage, Sees the Light of Day. February 1, 2018. The Village Voice. https://www.villagevoice.com/2018/02/01/padmaavat-anindian-masterpiece-held-hostage-sees-the-light-of-day/. Chopra, A. (2015). “Dil Dhadakne Do Team” Film Adda. June 15, 2015. https://www.youtube.com/ watch?v=LwIEw_yI7tk. Chopra, A. (2018). Padmaavat Movie Review. Film Companion. January 24, 2018. https://www. filmcompanion.in/padmaavat-movie-review-anupama-chopra/. Durovicova, N. (2010). Preface. In N. Durovicova & K. E. Newman (Eds.), World Cinemas, Transnational Perspectives. New York: Routledge. Eminem. (2000). “The Way I am.” Marshal Mathers LP. Interscope Records. Gopinath, P. (2019). “Ranveer Singh’s Chichorapan: Habitus, masculinity, and stardom.” Pop empires: Transnational and diasporic flows of India and Korea. In S. Heijin Lee, Monika Mehta & Robert Ji-Song Ku (Eds.) Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press Hill, D., & Adrian, A. (2013). Multiplexes, corporatised leisure, and the geography of opportunity in India. Inter-Asia Cultural Studies, 14(4), 600–614. India Today Television. (2018). Ranveer Singh on Playing Khilji in Padmaavat. February 9, 2018. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f2N0PRTz_NY. Indian Express. (2016). “Ranveer Singh: People should express themselves without Filter [sic]”, February 21, 2016. https://indianexpress.com/article/entertainment/bollywood/ranveer-singhdeepika-padukone-amitabh-bachchan-news-style-news/ Jack and Jones. (2016). “Don’t Hold Back by Jack and Jones, featuring Ranveer Singh.” Advertisement. October 16, 2016. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oyFm5UQXS4s. Khurana, A. (2018). My Heart is ‘massy’: Ranveer Singh on Working with Rohit Shetty. January 3, 2018. https://www.timesnownews.com/entertainment/news/bollywood-news/article/myheart-is-massy-ranveer-singh-talks-about-working-in-rohit-shettys-simmba/184886. Kohli, A. (2015). Rupa Frontline Brings in a Touch of Irreverence. Best Media Info. Website. May 15, 2015. Krittika. (No Date). 15 Brands or Products that Describe Ranveer Singh Oh-So-Perfectly.” AkkarBakkar. http://akkarbakkar.com/15-indian-products-sum-ranveer-singh-us-perfectly/.

58

P. Gopinath

McCahill, M. (2018). Padmaavat Review: Indian Drama that sparked riots is a fabulous tale of love and plunder. The Guardian. January 25, 2018. https://www.theguardian.com/film/2018/jan/25/ padmaavat-review-sanjay-leela-bhansali-deepika-padukone-shahid-kapoor. Meeuf, R., & Raphael, R. (Eds.). (2013). “Introduction” to transnational stardom: International celebrity in film and popular culture. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Pandian, M. S. S. (1992). The image trap: M.G. Ramachandran in film and politics. Delhi: Sage Publications. Peberdy, D. (2011). Masculinity and film performance: Male Angst in Contemporary American cinema. New York: Palgrave. R.E.M. (1991). “Losing my Religion.” Losing my Religion EP. Los Angeles: Warner Bros. Label. Rose, N. (1990). Governing the soul: The shaping of the private self. London: Routledge. Rupa, K. (2015). “Rupa Frontline with Ranveer Singh.” Advertisement. May 11, 2015. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VGOA8crLbis. Sen, P., & Prasad, H. (2018). The Breakout Boy of B-Town: The Atarangi Ranveer Singh. Indulge: The New Indian Express. August 31, 2018. http://www.indulgexpress.com/entertainment/celebs/ 2018/aug/31/breakout-boy-of-btown-the-atarangi-ranveer-singh-9878.html. Singh Ranveer. (2017a). Official Twitter. Tweet. November 7, 2017. https://twitter.com/ ranveerofficial/status/928851547806515200?lang=en. Singh Ranveer. (2017b). Official Twitter. November 12, 2017. https://twitter.com/ranveerofficial/ status/929740763088351233?lang=en. Tanwar, S. (2015). Ranveer Singh Aisa Kyun Hai. DNA India.com. Last Modified June 10, 2015. Accessed November 20, 2015. http://www.dnaindia.com/entertainment/interview-ranveer-singhaisa-kyun-hai-2093941. The Prodigy. (2008). Fire Starter. May 27, 2008. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v= wmin5WkOuPw. Zakaria, N. (2015). A King Among Men. Mumbai Mirror. December 29, 2015. Accessed December 30, 2015. http://www.mumbaimirror.com/columns/columnists/namrata-zakaria/AKing-Among-Men/articleshow/50360186.cms.

Filmography Akhtar, Z. (2015). Dil Dhadakne Do. DVD. Mumbai: Excel Entertainment. Bhansali, S. L. (2015). Bajirao-Mastani: The Love-story of a Warrior. DVD. Mumbai: Bhansali Productions and Eros International. Bhansali, S. L. (2018). Padmaavat. DVD. Mumbai: Bhansali Productions and Viacom 18 Motion Pictures. Dhawan, D. (1994). Raja Babu. Sapna Arts. Dyer, R. (1986). Heavenly Bodies: Film Stars and Society. London: Routledge. Gehlawat, A. (2016). Twenty-First Century Bollywood. London: Routledge. Motwane, V. (2013). Lootera. Balaji Motion Pictures. Shetty, R. (2018). Simmba. Reliance Pictures. Zafar, A. A. (2014). Gunday. DVD. Mumbai: Yash Raj Films.

Chapter 5

The Suave Anti-hero: Deconstructing the Subversive Stardom of Emraan Hashmi in Globalized Times Sanchari Basu Chaudhuri

Abstract Conventionally, male protagonists of Bollywood have validated the significance of Indian morality through its embodiment or a climactic return after an initial digression. In the twenty-first century, the sensibilities of the globalized youth graduated to an acceptance of a flawed or fallen hero. One of the earliest desecrations of Indian morality was the visibility of on-screen kissing in some movies which was also the highlight of the movie. Rising high on the tide of this change was Emraan Hashmi who earned the sobriquet of “serial kisser”. Prior to this era, kissing was unfavourable for the movie business as it not only faced the ire of the censorship board, but, such movies were also shunned by the masses. This was on account of the fact that movies were generally viewed with families. Moreover, Hashmi secured his “bad boy” image by portraying dark roles which ranged from slightly devious to utterly immoral. His popularity among the youth was sealed with an array of chartbusters which earned him another moniker “the #1 Hit Machine”. The study would, then, analyse the strategies involved in his projection as an anti-hero and its success amidst the context of the substantial changes in the society, which led to his incorporation in mainstream Bollywood movies. It adapts Dyer’s concept of “The Rebel” onto the trope of globalized Bollywood audiences. According to this, it is this image which garners much fanfare but, in turn, also restricts their on-screen character acceptability in terms of portrayal of other roles. The paper argues that it is his image, which has prevented a successful transition to the more universal positive “hero” image. When posited on the wider map of the ideological and cultural contestations of classes versus masses, this subversive image renders him inappropriate towards his inclusion among the premier Bollywood heroes. The paper will employ an in-depth analysis of discourses around his media coverage, choice of films, audiences’ expectations which will accentuate the salient characteristics of his brand of subversive stardom. Keywords Anti-hero · Subversive stardom · Sexuality · Serial kisser

S. Basu Chaudhuri (B) Department of Sociology, Jamia Millia Islamia, New Delhi, India e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 A. I. Viswamohan and C. M. Wilkinson (eds.), Stardom in Contemporary Hindi Cinema, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-15-0191-3_5

59

60

S. Basu Chaudhuri By his own admission, Emraan Hashmi doesn’t have the looks, dancing skills or swagger of a Bollywood star. But over nine years and 27 films (including the racy Murder and Jannat), the Mahesh and Mukesh Bhatt protégé has edged his way to the top. Now, he’s being courted by directors like Karan Johar and Vishal Bhardwaj. (Chopra 2012) …his brand equity has been going up constantly. Right now, Emraan ranks second—after Salman Khan—in terms of pure mass appeal. Trade analyst, Taran Adarsh (Singh 2011)

The name Emraan Hashmi evokes images of the proverbial bad boy—rebellious, charming, shrewd and flawed who is, sometimes, capable of redemption. Even though an ethnographic composition of Bollywood audiences does not exist, he is considered the poster boy of erotic kitsch by the classes.1 Hence, the chapter would, firstly, define and establish the success of his brand of movies. While he is hailed as a star of the masses,2 since 2011, his choice of movies reflects an aspiration to entice the classes (broadly defined as educated, more refined, urban groups) as well. This shift has been designed within the broader paradigm of an anti-hero to sustain his credibility among his fan following. Following a string of commercial failures post his reinvented image, he kept returning to his earlier sex-crime-horror genre, which received considerable success. This solicits an enquiry on his acceptability in a certain avatar than the other. Consequently, his meteoric rise will be ascertained among the socio-cultural tropes of the period. To this end, mediating the domains between star-as-commodity, audience taste and cultural studies forms the base of the paper.

Tracing the Trajectory of Brand Emraan Hashmi Launched by his uncle’s (filmmaker Mahesh Bhatt) production house, Vishesh Films, in Footpath (Bhatt 2003), Hashmi portrayed a supporting role that is flawed but has his heart in the right place. His character proved to be the conclusive factor in the climax of the movie and while his performance was appreciated, the film was not successful commercially. Thus, playing the anti-hero in a supporting role in an ensemble cast constitutes one of the features contributing towards his prominence in movies such as Once Upon A Time in Mumbai (Luthria 2010), Dil Toh Bachha Hai Ji (Bhandarkar 2011), Shanghai (Banerjee 2012) and Badshaho (Luthria 2017). However, it was his second outing in the movie Murder (Basu 2004) that he was noticed for the portrayal of risqué content. The prelude to the release of this movie was that the female protagonist, Mallika Sherawat, was the central character who had 1 Multiplex

audiences are indicative of the socio-economic class located in cities that compose the viewing audience of the multiplexes. Owing to the availability of multi-screens, such audiences reflect an eclectic taste for consumption of different kinds of movies (Ganti 2004). Also referred to as the middle-class intellectuals, it is the chief patron of cinematic avant-garde. 2 Bollywood movie audiences are classified on the basis of their socio-economic location which is said to determine their viewing preferences (Srivastava 2009). This kind of audience, located in Tier II and Tier III towns and having access to single screens, is associated with consuming escapist, formula-based movies. Thus, movies, featuring stars that have a loyal fan base, achieve monetary gains.

5 The Suave Anti-hero: Deconstructing the Subversive Stardom …

61

the onus of the success of the movie.3 The chartbuster songs of the movie featuring Sherawat and Hashmi were major attractions. In fact Hashmi’s association with hit music has continued ever since which led him to be tagged as “the #1 hit machine”. The song visuals of this genre of movies replicated the manner of music videos which were devoid of lip-synced performances or song-dance sequences, “rapidfire montage editing and scenes of lovemaking” (Durham 2007). Many of the songs starring him were remixed and shot as music videos, which did not form part of the movie. CEO of Fox Star India, Vijay Singh, observed that music was the “fourth hero” of the movies produced by Vishesh Films (Screen 2015). Under the Bhatt camp, Hashmi’s anti-hero portrayal falls under the categories of “return of the prodigal (Zeher, Murder) or…where the hero falters and suffers” (Sen 2005) as in the movie Aksar (Mahadevan 2006). Apart from the portrayal of grey characters, the collaboration between Hashmi and Vishesh Films has churned out content that was high on explicit kissing scenes. These movies consisting “on-screen sex and tropes of desire as key plot elements” have been termed as “New Bollywood” (Durham 2007). These movies were more popular at single screens in Tier II and Tier III towns. Rather than perceiving this as a new phenomenon, it should be analysed against the backdrop of pre-existing B-circuit movies from the 1970s whose loyal fan base has been the mass audience. The pioneer of this genre was Ramsay Brothers who were mass producers of the horror erotica genre. These were followed by the action films starring Dara Singh (1980–1990s) followed by sleazy films of Kanti Shah throughout the 1990s to the early 2000s. These “rearguard”4 movies also consist of the small-budget movies of waning Bollywood stars like Mithun (Kumar 2016). However, globalization introduced satellite channels and the Internet which made sexual images widely accessible to Indians. This aided in changing the sensibilities of Bollywood audiences and filmmakers like Vishesh Films catered to such tastes (Screen 2015). An economic degeneration in 2002 aided the arrival of “new Bollywood” (Durham 2007) movies, the gendered audience became more inclusive as erotic content made its way through mainstream movies. This accounts for the extraordinary success of Emraan Hashmi in Bollywood. Not only in India, but he also enjoys massive fan following in Pakistan. Film critic Nawab Hazoorul remarks on his exceptional success in the neighbouring country5 3 Sherawat

positioned herself as a sex symbol with a bold portrayal in her debut movie Khwahish (Menon 2003). It was promoted as a movie with 17 kisses and became a runaway hit for the voyeuristic pleasures it offered. This catapulted her into the league with other popular stars of Bollywood, and, at the time of release of Murder (2004), she was a bigger star than both of her male counterparts, one of which was Hashmi. 4 Kumar (2016) identifies these fringe movies as exhibition-circuit which involves the process of production of a body of small-budget movies which can be situated into a common category. Citing Bourdieu, he states that these are considered devoid of any cultural capital. According to him, the audiences of these movies in suburban towns consist of males only, primarily “working class regulars, compulsive filmgoers and students on the run from schools” (Kumar 2016). 5 He observes that following the movie Awarapan (Suri 2007), all of Hashmi’s films have done exceptionally well in Pakistan. Moreover, the success of his movies is not restricted geographically and enjoys good business throughout the country (Mahmood 2012).

62

S. Basu Chaudhuri …Hashmi is the most sought after hero in Pakistan, no one has a bigger audience than him…The funny thing about Emraan is that Pakistani audiences are the first ones to criticise him for his so-called ‘obscene’ scenes, but for some odd reason, his critics prove to be his followers when box office figures are revealed. (Mahmood 2012)

Thus, even though he received wide censure for essaying bold roles, his success was apparent at the box office. Apart from the sensual content, his fans connected with his boy-next-door looks and were enamoured by his natural acting. His critics, on the other hand, were unimpressed by his monotonous performance and alarmed by the kitschy content of his movies. This also contributed towards his image of an anti-hero. The appreciation of these movies by the masses can be understood as a lack of time and energy to learn the ways of the avant-garde and shift towards instant gratification (Greenberg 1939). This can be explained in terms of fetishism, scopophilia and voyeurism derived by consuming the display of female sexuality. On the other hand, the association of mass culture with lowbrow culture has been questioned and an alternative context has been provided by positing them as a confrontation to the taste of the classes. Since culture is associated with taste, Bourdieu asserts that it is defined by the dominant class who posit their tastes in a way to ascertain cultural legitimacy over the so-called lowbrow culture (Bourdieu 1984). In case of Hashmi, his playboy image, especially scenes of kissing the female protagonists creates fan frenzy. This blends with his image since kiss reflects a complex aspect of love that “eroticises the soul and mystifies the body” (cited in Dyer 2004). As interviews with his uncle and mentor Mahesh Bhatt (Vishesh Films) reflect, this was a carefully cultivated image, which forged his brand. In a talk show hosted by one of Bollywood’s most coveted directors, Karan Johar, Bhatt responded on the indictment of this image, which manifests the potential of his sobriquet …that penthouse that he has in the Beverly Hills of India called Pali Hill, which costs Rs. 40 crores is thanks to that image that was given to him. Because left to himself, he didn’t have the means to buy a cycle. It is erotica and the great music provided to this guy that made him the heartthrob of the nation. Thanks to him, we did get a lot of muscle in the last decade and he helped deliver some great money-spinners for us…You know, Karan, when we made Murder 2, I remember saying, let’s get the kiss out of the way as soon as possible, this is a very serious film. Look with Emmi (Emraan) the audience is very anxious ki (that) when is the first kiss coming… so for God’s sake let’s get the kiss out of the way. So we made sure that the kiss was there in the first 10 min. And once the audience had seen him kiss, the house erupted with ceeties (wolf calls, whistles) and taalis (claps) and hoo ha (cheers). I said, now they are ready to watch the film because they’ve seen what they have come to see.

Since 2011, he has been associated with content-based movies which marked a shift from his moniker of “serial kisser” like Shanghai (Banerjee 2012), Ek Thi Daayan (Iyer 2013) and Ghanchakkar (Gupta 2013). Though some of these movies earned him appreciation from the multiplex audience, it did not materialize into commercial success. Commenting on his dry patch, mentor Mahesh Bhatt retorted: One day I was driving my car and I saw in an auto rickshaw, there was his serial kisser image. When his films did not work, I said go back to your core constituency, back to kissing. (Bhatt 2014)

5 The Suave Anti-hero: Deconstructing the Subversive Stardom …

63

This warranted his return to the Bhatt camp with their latest outing being Raaz Reboot (Bhatt 2016). Thus, although he wavered from his image of a “serial kisser” time and again, he has been consistent as an anti-hero. According to Dyer (1979), apart from the dominant type of film stars, the anti-hero forms one of the “subversive type” of star.

Heroes and Anti-heroes The male protagonists in Bollywood movies are unequivocally the heroes. Yet, establishing the definition of a Bollywood hero is complex as the connotation associated with the word has altered with times. Nonetheless, some universals can be drawn to depict a typical Bollywood hero. Generally, a Bollywood hero comes across as a multi-talented male persona who should primarily have a pleasing physical personality. This has recently created disconnect among certain sections of the audience as they feel that the Bollywood actors look remarkably different from an average Indian. Apart from pleasing physical attributes, a Bollywood hero is adept at singing, dancing and has an incredible charm about him. Moreover, he serves as the instrument through which society realizes their moral responsibility, time and over again. Heroes, irrespective of their locations, have come to symbolize the nature of public morality associated with their territory. This morality concerning audiences’ perception of right and wrong accounts for public empathy with the hero and an aversion towards the villain (Shafer and Raney 2012). Thus, heroes are perceived to contribute towards maintaining hegemonic social order. However, there is a dearth into an enquiry of the ways in which anti-heroes challenge and reconfigure public morality. Media scholars have defined the concept of anti-hero in diverse ways emphasizing one aspect over the other. The anti-hero, in movies, is the protagonist who lacks the characteristics of the conventional hero. Their behaviour and motives range from morally ambiguous to utterly devilish. Despite their violation of social norms and mores, the audience empathizes with them regardless of their flaws. Nevertheless, they concur that anti-heroes are commemorated although they represent the critique and schisms of the society. Hence, subsistence of anti-heroes derives validation from the society they stem from. Generally occurring at the time of instability, anti-hero narratives release the societal pressure endured by individuals on account of tradition while ensuring monetary gains for the media conglomerates (Prusa 2013). These narratives either disseminate the underlying cultural order in case the anti-hero emerges victorious or repress it through the character’s punishment.

64

S. Basu Chaudhuri

Anti-heroes in Bollywood In Bollywood, the more popular alternative to the anti-hero was the villain who was the perfect embodiment for cruelty, sadism and ugliness (physicality included) in the Indian society. Anti-heroes, on their part, appeared from time to time on celluloid. Thus, Bollywood has witnessed the popularity of anti-heroes in the past. However, the most successful image of an anti-hero was that of the “angry young man” immortalized by Amitabh Bachchan. The “formula” for this brand of films portrayed him as an orphan or a fatherless figure who becomes a victim of the lawlessness perpetrated by the villain. His entire ordeal was directed against the state, resulting in his depiction as an outlaw whose motivation lies in avenging his family and restoring honour. Drawing analogy from this private setting and projecting it onto the public domain, the plot reflected the postcolonial landscape of India where the state and law were incapable of delivering justice to its citizens (Prasad 1998; Virdi 1993). Thus, the angry young man’s construction was a mechanism to vent the disillusionment of the promises the nation’s independence held for its citizens. Dwyer (2002) equated this image as that of a “folk hero” who wielded violence to protect his family, sanctioned by Indian culture. Another notable star well received for his anti-hero image is Sanjay Dutt. Often essaying the role of an underworld don, he has manoeuvered his conflict with law offscreen so as to validate his portrayal of a gangster on-screen. Creekmur (2007) refers to the audiences’ censure and empathy for Dutt’s gangster character while enjoying the clout and enjoying the materialistic gratification termed as “guilty pleasure”. Yet another pivotal anti-hero portrayal in the landscape of Bollywood has been etched by Shah Rukh Khan. While he is known as the poster boy of romance in Bollywood, Shah Rukh made his presence felt through his anti-hero roles early in his career with Baazigar (Burmawalla and Burmawalla 1993), Darr (Chopra 1993) and Anjaam (Rawail 1994). Ever since, he has portrayed this role time and again. The construction of these anti-heroes can be understood as consternation of the post-liberalization middle-class audiences (Creekmur 2007).

Emraan Hashmi: The Sexualized Anti-hero As stated earlier, mainstream Bollywood evaded sexual content till globalized images pervaded the Indian media, which altered consumer demand to pave way for the erotic thrillers associated with Emraan Hashmi. Although he portrayed grey characters, which marked him as an anti-hero, it was his transgression against sexual inhibition (and, conversely, Indian tradition) and transgression of marital boundaries that differentiated him from his predecessors. However, it is important to assess his stardom vis-à-vis other starlets of this genre. Undoubtedly, nepotism was a major reason for his success as roles were tailor-made for him. This meant the positioning of his character was done in such a way so that audiences would be empathetic to his

5 The Suave Anti-hero: Deconstructing the Subversive Stardom …

65

persona. It was achieved by placing his character as the central one and providing him equal or more screen time than the hero, if any (Murder (2004), Gangster (2006)); creating an aura similar to a hero by casting him in songs which are conventionally associated with heroes, and often punishing transgressions through his death (Aksar, Mahadevan 2006; Awarapan, Suri 2007; Jannat, Deshmukh 2008). It is noteworthy that his non-conventional, common man looks endeared him to the masses and they visually consumed the acts through his agency. His on-screen charisma owes to his ability to charm the leading ladies despite all his flaws. Thus, when globalization opened up new vistas for courting people, Hashmi served as an embodiment of the “incorrigible flirt”. Hence, his stardom can be conceived against the trope of globalized images and desire. Yet, it is his association with “lowbrow” movies that repudiates his position along with A-list actors of Bollywood. Dyer (1979) has extended the categorization of stars into three dominants: Good Joe, Tough Guy, Pin-Up by Klapp to include two subversive types: Rebel and The Independent Women. Clearly, Hashmi’s image falls in the “rebel” category. While not subscribing to this category as an “ideal type” (Weber 1952),6 his portrayal calls for restorative measures for integration in the society (Dyer 1979).

Conclusion His meteoric rise is an ingenious combination of traditional Bollywood recipe for success, i.e. hit music and a new image of “serial kisser’. Although kissing has become a regular fare for contemporary Bollywood movies, undoubtedly, it is Hashmi who bears the flag for perpetuating this phenomenon into mainstream Bollywood movies. Since kissing was largely forbidden in earlier Bollywood movies,7 his frequent lip locks on-screen can be perceived as a transgression from tradition to modernity. Thus, his stardom can be discerned within the broad framework of “The Rebel” (Dyer 1979). His vast popularity can be attributed to a larger section of viewers of B-circuit films along with a noticeable chunk in the metropolis. Currently engaged in the reinvention of his image, he is experimenting with anti-hero narratives sans erotica, which has not been successful commercially. These include the critically acclaimed Shanghai (Banerjee 2012) apart from Ek Thi Daayan (Iyer 2013), Ghanchakkar (Gupta 2013), Ungli (D’Silva 2014) and Hamari Adhuri Kahani (Suri 2015). The exceptions to these have been his associations with movies consisting of an ensemble cast like Once Upon A Time in Mumbai (Luthria 2010) and The Dirty Picture (Luthria 2011). The paper concludes that this kind of subversive stardom was designed to cater to the globalized Bollywood audiences. However, it is this very brand of Emraan Hashmi, which comes across as a major factor impeding his shift towards the multiplex audiences. 6 According

to Weber, ideal types act as heuristic devices to define a concept. was largely avoided by filmmakers due to objections by censor boards and its unacceptability by those viewers who watched it along with their families.

7 Kissing

66

S. Basu Chaudhuri

References Bhatt, M. (2014). Koffee with Karan: Season 4, February 26. (K. Johar, Interviewer). Bourdieu, P. (1984). Distinction: A social critique of the judgement of taste. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Chopra, A. (2012, October 21). Vogue Years. Retrieved July 10, 2017, from https://www.vogue.in/ content/emraan-hashmi-being-bollywoods-most-successful-rebel/. Creekmur, C. (2007). Bombay Bhai: The gangster in and behind popular Hindi cinema. In C. C. Sidel (Ed.), Cinema, Law, and the State in Asia (pp. 29–43). New York: Palgrave Macmillan US. Durham, M. G. (2007). Sex in the transnational city: Discourses of gender, body and nation in the ‘new bollywood’. In M. G. Durham (Ed.), Sex in the transnational city: Discourses of gender, body and national cinema, law and the state in Asia (pp. 45–62). New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Dyer, R. (1979). Stars. London: British Film Institute. Ganti, T. (2004). Bollywood: A guidebook to popular Hindi cinema. New York: Routledge. Greenberg, C. (1939). Avantgarde and Kitsch. NA: NA. Kumar, A. (2016). Bhojpuri cinema and the “Rearguard”: Gendered Leisure, gendered promises. Quarterly Review of Film and Video, 151–175. Mahmood, R. (2012, May 16). The Express Tribune. Retrieved August 8, 2017, from https://tribune. com.pk/story/379804/emraan-hashmi-from-serial-kisser-to-serious-actor/. Prasad, M. M. (1998). Ideology of the Hindi film: A historical construction. New Delhi: Oxford India Paperbacks. Prusa, I. (2013, April 30). Electronic journal of contemporary japanese studies. Retrieved October 25, 2017, from http://www.japanesestudies.org.uk/ejcjs/vol16/iss1/prusa.html. Screen. (2015, January 23). The Indian Express. Retrieved August 2, 2017, from http:// indianexpress.com/article/entertainment/screen/dont-be-an-emraan-hashmi-one-is-bad-enoughmahesh-bhatt/. Sen, S. (2005, April 18). rediff.com. Retrieved September 5, 2017, from http://www.rediff.com/ movies/2005/apr/18bhatt.htm. Shafer, D. M., & Raney, A. A. (2012). Exploring how we enjoy antihero narratives. Journal of Communication, 62(6), 1028–1046. Singh, P. (2011, December 21). Emraan Hashmi hungry to enter Rs. 10 crore club. Retrieved October 30, 2017, from http://www.hindustantimes.com/bollywood/emraan-hashmi-hungry-toenter-rs-10-crore-club/story-sP2yv2pr1sP5hq5c1XHBGP.html. Srivastava, N. (2009). Bollywood as national(ist) cinema: Violence, patriotism and the nationalpopular in Rang De Basanti. Third Text, 703–716. Virdi, J. (1993). Jump cut: A review of contemporary media. Retrieved October 17, 2017, from http://www.ejumpcut.org/archive/onlinessays/JC38folder/Deewar.html. Weber, M. (1952). The essentials of bureaucratic organization: An ideal-type construction. Reader in Bureaucracy, 19–21.

Filmography Basu, A. (2004). Murder. Vishesh Films. Basu, A. (2006). Gangster. Vishesh Films. Banerjee, D. (2012). Shanghai. Dibakar Banerjee Productions. Bhandarkar, M. (2011). Dil Toh Bachha Hai Ji. Bhandarkar Entertainment and Wide Frame Films. Bhatt, V. (2003). Footpath. Vishesh Films. Bhatt, V. (2016). Raaz Reboot. Vishesh Films. Burmawalla, A., & Burmawalla, M. (1993). Baazigar. Venus Worldwide Entertainment Pvt. Ltd. Chopra, Y. (1993). Darr. Yash Raj Films.

5 The Suave Anti-hero: Deconstructing the Subversive Stardom …

67

Deshmukh, K. (2008). Jannat. Vishesh Films. D’Silva, R. (2014). Ungli. Dharma Productions. Dwyer, R. (2002). Real and Imagined Audiences: “Lagaan” and the Hindi Film after the 1990s. Etnofoor, 177–193. Dyer, R. (2004). The culture of Queers. London: Routledge. Gupta, R. K. (2013). Ghanchakkar. UTV Motion Pictures. Iyer, K. (2013). Ek Thi Daayan. Vishal Bharadwaj Pictures Pvt Ltd. Luthria, M. (2010). Once Upon a Time in Mumbai. Balaji Motion Pictures. Luthria, M. (2011). The Dirty Picture. Balaji Motion Pictures. Luthria, M. (2017). Baadshaho. T-Series and Vertex Motion Pictures. Mahadevan, A. (2006). Aksar. Narendra Bajaj and Shyam Bajaj. Menon, G. (2003). Khwahish. Vivek Nayak. Rawail, R. (1994). Anjaam. Shiv Bharat Films. Suri, M. (2007). Awarapan. Vishesh Films. Suri, M. (2015). Hamari Adhuri Kahani. Vishesh Films and Fox Star Studios.

Part II

Spectacular Bodies

Chapter 6

The Cardboard Queen: Aishwarya Rai and the Rise of the Lady Vamp Anwesha Arya

Abstract Indian girls coming of age in the mid-1990s only had two girls they emulated: Aishwarya Rai and Sushmita Sen, both known as beauties but with brains (The syntactical “but” is crucial, especially in an Indian context, specifically on the subcontinent and not restricted to Indian communities abroad or the diaspora and its hagiographical concerns with the portrayal of women in Indian media again specifically cinema). Beauty, in Indian terms at least, does not go with brains. No. Not ever. In this chapter, the idea of Indian womanhood is examined against the avatar of one of popular culture’s best and most lucrative exports of the last two decades, Aishwarya Rai. I argue that over the last two decades or so, there emerges an evolution of a specific phenomenon within the wider framework, which might be called the Ash Complex. What this essay explores is that significant, overarching phenomenon, which may be said to have implications for the wider female population of a large subsection of Indian society, including, but not limited to, women involved in filmmaking at several levels, both on- and off-screen in Indian films in contemporary “Bollywood” (At the risk of digression, this term is not one chosen by insiders, but rather imposed on a phenomenal Indian industry that churns out over twelve hundred viable films every calendar year. The Hindi film industry, or its commercial popular wing, has come to be identifiable in the West, primarily by non-Hindispeaking Western audiences and even academics (see, Rachel Dwyer, Tejaswini Ganti among others) as a throwaway term casually spawned. It is regarded as something of a misnomer by industry insiders, who perhaps resent the direct reference to, and perhaps subservience to the construct of Hollywood. This latter appellation is also considered by those in LA and the American film industry as a misnomer, but widely used by the rest of the world as a convenient term to club an entire range of disparate, unique film-makers, into, a veritable club. As old as the debate itself, one is tempted to ask, what’s the fuss, as an insider some five centuries ago asked “what’s in a name?”). And it is a complex picture that emerges. The beast that is Bollywood is created from such raw ingredients, adding in a well-educated Aishwarya [a wellspoken talented young woman, on course to complete a sought-after architectural degree], a resplendent representative for Indian womanhood. Her stardom has come A. Arya (B) School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS), University of London, London, UK e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 A. I. Viswamohan and C. M. Wilkinson (eds.), Stardom in Contemporary Hindi Cinema, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-15-0191-3_6

71

72

A. Arya

at a price though, one which will be minimally examined within the context of star creation, rather than within the context of the peripheral personal existence of an Indian star on the rise. Throughout this essay, it must be borne in mind that cinema in India, specifically Hindi cinema, has created a new cultural ethos, which unifies the Indian male and female mindsets. It virtually creates another reality that the Indian audiences relate to. This alternate reality has been referred to in many ways as an academic construct, but is perhaps best articulated by industry insider Javed Akhtar, “There is one more state in this country, and that is Hindi cinema. And so Hindi cinema also has its own culture…quite different from Indian culture, but it’s not alien to us, we understand it” (Kabir in Talking films: conversations on Hindi cinema with Javed Akhtar. OUP, New Delhi, 1999: 35). Keywords Global stardom · Gender · Beauty · Myth In our current globalized context with the rise and rise of the tide, where women are finally coming into a world of our own making, it would be remiss to leave out the immense relevance of gender ethics. The Christmas Number One on the music charts some while ago was an extraordinary song by popular band Clean Bandit1 Rockabye Baby. The lyrics focus on a single mother making the promise to her sixyear-old, “your life’s gonna be nothing like my life, you’re gonna grow and have a good life…I’m gonna do what I gotta do”. Having committed to the research for this chapter, the words struck a chord. Christmas is the time of year, when the world seems most likely to understand the plight of young mothers, and this song dug deep into the context women are constantly flung against, the conflict between womanhood and motherhood, between the workplace and home. It continues to be a tough choice. In the impossible path, this young actor has allowed these choices to fling themselves at her continually. Is it possible to embrace both, or all, it seems an impossible question to answer.

1A

group of Cambridge University graduates, who have recently strung out a series of harmonic and haunting tunes alongside their successful studies, are a British electronic music band, formed in Cambridge in 2008. The band members include Grace Chatto and brothers Jack and Luke Patterson.

6 The Cardboard Queen: Aishwarya Rai and the Rise of the Lady Vamp

73

Neither is this a new conflict. The complicated character of Mata Hari2 was recently examined with an artistic exhibit that explored the issues of sensuality and glamour in celebrity life in Europe. This woman nearly a century ago needed to strike out, to create a path all her own, to carve something she could hold onto, to set herself apart. Once more, the resemblance is curious. This time, in history, is an inordinately seminal one. Explosion along social, gender and political lines is marking fresher paths through the places where the red carpets should run. What has this refreshed globalized world to offer women, other than another hope-filled promise? Women who act want to be known as actors, a gender neutral term, also seek an equal workplace3 among other symbols of equality and no longer agree to function under the constant threat of unwelcome attention, as has been the case in the past. Particularly in this case, there is an actor who is defying norms, of laying down laurels once motherhood has reared itself, and seeking newer ceilings to crash through. The question is where and how the final chapter will be forged, and if there can be a reality outside the subliminal. An actor, particularly in the Indian social context, must tread a version of reality that verges on the sub-textual, between reality and myth.

The Beautiful Myth From instant fame after winning the Miss World title (1994), Aishwarya Rai, 44, has lived comfortably with her iconic beauty status, under the scrutiny of the world’s press. When she stepped out for the 71st Annual Cannes Film Festival in France one Saturday morning, casually regal in a pastel-coloured Bardot creation posing along the Promenade de la Croisette this year, the cameras glinted madly. This Bollywood actor, often upheld as “the most beautiful woman in the world” by powerful universal 2A

whole hundred years after her death on 14 October 2017, the largest ever Mata Hari exhibition opened in the Museum of Friesland. Personal belongings, photographs, scrapbooks, letters and military records will introduce you to Margaretha Zelle, the girl behind the iconic character well known to the wider world as Mata Hari. Aged 29, the Frisian girl Margaretha was a celebrated creation of media hype in Paris of the time. As Mata Hari, she entranced high society with her exotic dancing in which she slowly exposed her body. The newspapers almost ran out of superlatives when describing this sensation. For ten successful years, her name was synonymous with sensuality and glamour. But her countless affairs with men in uniform and her travels throughout Europe during the First World War alerted the suspicions of the French secret service. In early 1917, she was arrested on charges of spying for the Germans. Mata Hari died on 15 October that year, executed by a French firing squad in the forests outside Paris. This exhibition travels with her, charting her evolution from her hometown of Leeuwarden to the Dutch East Indies, where fate dealt her a different hand. This exhibit creates the experience of her glorious rise in Parisian dance theatres and helps audiences discover the web of intrigue that ensnared her during the First World War. In the Indian context, we are yet to see such documentation of our contemporary film icons. 3 The notable legal case, recently won by Carrie Gracie BBC China Editor and Correspondent, over the gender pay gap. See also, www.telegraph.co.uk: Hannah Furness “BBC China Editor Carrie Gracie Praised for Resigning over ‘Secretive and illegal’ pay inequality” 8 January 2018.

74

A. Arya

feminine icons Oprah and Julia Roberts,4 has carved a unique place for herself in the annals of Indian cinema. Contemporary stardom, as this book explores, likes celebrity with a twist. One of Aishwarya’s best-known movies Devdas (2002) won her a second gong at the Filmfare Awards for Best Actress (2003) and her first ever Cannes invite.5 The same year, she became the first Indian actress to be a Cannes Film Festival jury member and has since been a firm fixture at this international film forum. Hollywood also came calling in 2004 when she starred opposite Grey’s Anatomy (Rhimes 2005) star Martin Henderson in Bride and Prejudice (Chadha 2004), an adaptation of Jane Austen’s classic. Going on to star in two unlikely international titles The Pink Panther 2 and Provoked, Aishwarya Rai has carved an extraordinary path, all her own, in a curiously complicated contemporary world, where social media doesn’t allow privacy of any description, and Internet trolls cast wide prickly nets in the digitized universe. Even the reflector gives no shade to screen a “star” such as this from the glare and blare of these fire-flingers. Since her early modelling forays, Aishwarya has forged a successful subsequent career in Bollywood, making her easily one of the most sought-after actresses within the Indian film industry and even across the pond. She has been the face of international brands universally, Longines (1999) followed by L’Oreal (2003). Proving she isn’t just a pretty face seems to have been important to this actor. Constantly called a “star”, she pursued architectural studies before on-screen success and has won critical acclaim in movies such as Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam and Taal (Ghai 1999). Lesser known is the fact that she turned down the invitation to appear alongside Brad Pitt in Troy (Petersen 2004). Today on the one hand, Aishwarya Rai is seen as the pliant ideal wife or bahu (daughter-in-law) in the near revered Bachchan household. The Indian superstar Amitabh Bachchan and Jaya Bhaduri Bachchan have long created and upheld the ideal khandaan (dynasty) which most Indian households aspire to: an ideal man and wife, and their perfect male and female offspring (Altekar 1938). Aishwarya met and married the Bachchan boy Abhishek in a much-celebrated idealized marriage ceremony. As the ideal wife (Leslie 1995: 7–9) she has upheld the ancient and modern householder values of this ideal khandaan. Now, more recently still, she is further celebrated as an exemplary mother. Aishwarya is carrying on in the clearly carved out role from her previous renditions of ideal on-screen women. As most Indian film-goers recall, she has most often played somewhat simpering, ornamental characters, beautiful but passive, for instance in Devdas (2002) and Hum Dil de Chuke Sanam (Bhansali 1999). She appears to epitomize these typically traditional, almost regressive feminine ideals, which clearly have a broader social and cultural rootedness (Basu 2001). 4 In 2018 renowned film critic, Roger Ebert, known for his sardonic sense is quoted to have claimed,

“Aishwarya Rai is not the first, but also the second most beautiful woman in the world”. shares this honour with late director Bimal Roy, on whose version Bhansali’s screen tribute Devdas is based. Roy was one of India’s first sons to be honoured by Cannes in 1953 for his inimitable Do Bigha Zamin.

5 She

6 The Cardboard Queen: Aishwarya Rai and the Rise of the Lady Vamp

75

On the other hand, she has also got a romantic history, she has been fat-shamed, she is associated with commercial modernity, she is seen as more successful than her husband, and her screen roles have included item numbers (Bunty Aur Babli, Ali 2005). So, she represents a complicated figure in this sense. Examining the real- versus reel-life presence of a human being presents challenges of one sort. Further, extending the scope of this examination and analysis to the realm of the religious is another challenge but relevant here. It is never straightforward, whether looking at the Spousification of the Goddess (Gatwood 1985) or the vampification of Bollywood’s good girl (Tejaswini Ganti), as the ‘good girl’ that Robin Thicke and Pharrel Williams (2013) in a wider western context also sing about. Of course not leaving aside the question of the male versus the female gaze in Indian cinema. The good girl, equivalent to the Goddess-girl in an Indian context, the marriageable model princess (Arya 2004), the cardboard cut-out film poster, life-sized that every Indian man and his mother wants brought home, with a retinue of gold and gifts (Gupta 2001: 41–52; Arya 2013). This chapter studies the creation of this Cardboard Queen, but asks also what happens when she must play also the Queen of hearts in her own private history? Are film stars afforded one at all? These ideals are being renewed and forged in the flickering fire of the cutting rooms of the Indian film industry. In many ways, the ideal of the Indian woman that peaked in the 1990s has cast a long shadow into expectations. As the ideal girl, with the much sought-after pale skin and light eyes, Aishwarya Rai epitomized these virtues when she emerged on the Miss India (1994) stage. Effortlessly, she exhibited not just the idealized physical traits such events promote and profit by, but she went a step further and added an air of intelligence (she was enrolled at the Institute of Architecture, Mumbai) to the mix. This fired the imagination of a new generation of young men and women who were engaging far more with the West. The relative ease with which the Internet was being accessed, the boom of the dotcom industry and the beginnings of the digital revolution, all lend an aspect of relevance here. But even before the sudden and apparent shrinking of the world, the Miss World (November 1994) win that followed from the runner-up status at the now legendary Miss India contest, Aishwarya was set to conquer horizons as yet unexplored by any other Indian woman. Yes, Leela Naidu had been covered by Vogue (1954) as one of the ten most beautiful women in the world. But never before had an Indian woman achieved quite the same extraordinary status from which to exercise also exceptional power and influence. Both on an international and national scale, Aishwarya Rai was exploring fantastical possibilities, scaling new heights and finally just by sheer dint of being an attractive, talented woman exploding the glass ceiling that held the bubble of Bollywood aloft. Aishwarya holds the distinction of being the first Indian woman to become the international face of a multinational brand like L’Oreal,6 and this 6 See also the ageist attitude women and men must grapple with in the shifting sands of the advertising

world, where younger models often displace the faces from the past, “Aishwarya Rai Replaced by younger model Freida Pinto as Indian face of beauty firm L’Oreal” www.dailymail.co.uk.

76

A. Arya

explosion coincided with the sudden economic boom of India shining in the Western world of marketing (Savaala 2010).

The Myth and the Maiden She was all set on the academic road to a secure a “9-to-5 existence”, with no drama or upheavals in her personal life. All that was about to change. In her first foray into films, Aishwarya’s unself-conscious excellence was what drew the attention of upcoming directors like Mani Ratnam and Santosh Sivan. Both worked with her in the critically feted Iruvar (1997). Both were hugely impressed by her professionalism. According to Sivan, in a recent conversation, “Ash is someone who is always being judged, since she is so beautiful and has the Miss World tag. Naturally to be there in that zone…there have to be other natural gifts too. So she surprised everyone on her debut film (Iruvar), with awesome dancing talent—and her passion, by learning and delivering very lengthy dialogues (in Tamil, not her mother tongue), and enacting complex emotions and characterisation, since she played a dual role. And Mani Ratnam is a demanding director too”.7 Aishwarya’s linguistic range and capability were recognized again in a lesser celebrated, but nonetheless outstanding film about two sisters, Kandukondain Kandukondain (Menon 2000). She was pitted against a gigantic talent Tabu, who, like Aishwarya, worked in multi-regional language industries, Telugu and Tamil, alongside Hindi films.8 Tabu, herself already a thespian at twenty, was then at the peak of her exceptional career, graphing unknown trends. She was both a commercial classic and a critical star.9 Tabu carved a specific niche for herself. Therefore to be cast alongside this actor, almost in a second fiddle capacity, was a real challenge. That Aishwarya shines quietly in a formidable performance is supremely to her credit. This early ability, to graft herself onto a character, to not be floored by the exceptional quality of the star she was cast alongside, who had the better lines, the major part in the film, and was already a nationwide phenomenon, shows Aishwarya’s mettle. Particularly noteworthy is the way Aishwarya has sparked onto our screens, gone beyond all possible expectations, and somehow not lost lustre. With most film stars, 7 Santosh

Sivan was highlighting the crucial contribution he feels Aishwarya has made to Indian cinema at both home and abroad (March, 2017). 8 Nagma in the early nineties, and Khushboo before her charted curious heights for failed “starlets” from the Hindi film industry, by achieving previously unseen heights in regional South Indian cinema. I will refrain from calling the South Indian industry “Mollywood” for the reasons stated above about similar concerns preoccupying the Hindi film industry and “Bollywood”. 9 Tabu had the distinction of being from within the film fraternity, and her maternal aunt Shabana Azmi has achieved similar heights at a very different and challenging time in Indian film and social history. If things were tough in the nineties, the sixties were war for women attempting to compete with other women for roles, and with men for equal or appropriate salaries. Tabu broke away from conventional comparisons to her film star sister Farah Naaz, better known as Farah, and from comparisons to her aunt.

6 The Cardboard Queen: Aishwarya Rai and the Rise of the Lady Vamp

77

sadly what usually appears to diminish is their ability to steer clear of toadyism, to have an innate understanding of their own ability as an actor to stay on the firm footing of the ground beneath them. Within the star system that operates in the Hindi film industry far more than it does elsewhere in the country, it is near impossible to “keep your head, while those around you are losing theirs”.10 Hindi film stars tend to buy into and believe in the myth of themselves. It is exceptionally hard work, when off-camera, to remain grounded, to remember “it is just a film”, to hold true to character when you are rushing between three film sets on subsequent nights playing pretty much the formulaic part. It is a massive task to remind yourself in the dark of the green room, or the floodlit air-conditioned trailer, “this could all be over in three years, three months or three hours”.11 This transience, this inherent impermanence of the profession, has prompted personalities that stay strong either by wilfully staying rooted in a group of level-headed real-world, true-to-life friends and colleagues, or on the other hand, giving into the fantastic ebb and flow of the adulation and thinking that somehow one is “above it all”. In recent times, the Hindi film industry has seen the rise of a number of star siblings (Sunny–Bobby Deol, Karisma–Kareena Kapoor, Saif–Soha Ali Khan, Pooja–Alia Bhatt), star offspring (Abhishek Bachchan, Hrithik Roshan, Sonam Kapoor, Ranbir Kapoor) and film-related family members. Incredibly, the newest of the crop appears to be the most level-headed, although he bears the weight of the Kapoor dynasty, and Rishi Kapoor and Neetu Singh’s son has completely bowled film-goers over by remaining apparently untouched by the false modesty and lack of talent blighting the careers of previous such entrants onto the silvery pathways of screen stardom. Aishwarya Rai stands head and shoulders above the rest simply by virtue of her ability to stay real in a world painted on with fake flowers and sparkly sequin stars. While this grounded-ness might be expected to a certain degree from “industry kids”, who might have seen and experienced the insecurities of the film world from the inside, one must remember that Aishwarya was an industry “outsider” when she began her career. Today, she is considered an insider, by virtue of her position, the length of her “reign” and the status of her marital family. So to have not allowed her stardom to affect her negatively or “go to her head”, in her case, surely deserves greater kudos. The accepted shelf life for all actors tends to be short in an industry flooded with young aspiring talent. There are “promising newcomers” every year, knocking on the doors of Bollywood and ready to replace established stars. And the overtly misogynist Bollywood culture makes even less room for the tenure of a leading lady. Women like Madhuri Dixit and the late Sridevi have been anomalies as far as the length of their “number one” position is concerned. But once film heroines retire, it is impossible to make a successful “comeback”. If they try, they are more often than not confined to the roles of mothers/older women. Or they look to television where 10 From the well-known poem by Kipling “If”; “If you can keep your head…” www.kiplingsociety.

co.uk. 11 Three

hours was the traditional length of a Hindi film. However, more recently, most Hindi films tend to be shorter, allowing for more screenings per day, thereby generating more revenue.

78

A. Arya

film actors can demand a good pay packet, and television channels are happy to pay for their status. There was perhaps an expectation that Madhuri Dixit would be able to recapture her glory days, having straddled the cinema world as a virtual colossus. Even if her success spanning the 1990s is attributed to a varying set of sociocultural factors, a new world with globalized audiences and new more open attitudes. Even iconic Madhuri sadly could not make a successful return to Hindi films. So when Aishwarya decided to take a break when she was expecting a child, one could not help wonder whether she would make, or even want to make, a successful comeback. However, in her case Aishwarya seems to have made the sensible move of accepting character roles more befitting her age, like Jazbaa, her comeback film, saw her play a single mother who is a professional lawyer. In Karan Johar’s Ae Dil Hai Mushkil (2016), she plays a divorced older woman, a shaira (an Urdu poetess), who gets involved in a physical relationship with a young man, of her own volition. However, in Guzaarish filmed just prior to her ill-reported pregnancy, reprising her relationship with director Sanjay Leela Bhansali12 Aishwarya exemplifies her ability to hold emotion on screen as pointed out by one review as a “picture of fire and grace”.13 The same reviewer goes on to characterize her outburst in a courtroom scene as proof of how she has been “underutilised… in run-of-the-mill cinema”. Such acknowledgments were few and far between in the period immediately to follow. Like her fat-shaming episode, which she recently brushed aside,14 without bristling, as something she was able to take in her stride. When questioned she explains that she has been the subject of deep scrutiny, or “judgement” as Indian society brands this level of scrutiny. She implies her ability to withstand such magnification, as a by-product of having had to deal with it for years. Interestingly, she equated it with being “put on the spot” by her professors before the intensity of fame and fire actually hit, with an anecdote about her first well-known modelling assignment for Pepsi-Cola (India, 1993) as the character Sanju (intentionally un-gendered nickname for Sanjana). She mentioned how during an architecture lecture her modelling career

12 Known throughout the industry as an actor’s director, he was responsible for including a muchmaligned face-off, or one might say dance-off, between the titular character’s two paramours in Devdas. Both actors Madhuri Dixit and Aishwarya Rai were known for their exceptional skill as dancers, and it seemed like too bright an opportunity to pass up. In one of the films many original versions Devdas (1955, Bimal Roy) another director thought to embellish the original short story, where the women never actually come in contact, by having the women pass each other. This slight too was heavily criticized at the time by reviewers seeking purity of text to screen adaptations. 13 https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/entertainment/hindi/movie-reviews/guzaarish/moviereview/6947922.cms. 14 See Rajeev Masand’s in-depth interview “Now Showing” aired in August 2018 on News 18. [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ftPNsU6A5g]. During this discussion, the film Fanney Khan (2018) was primarily pitched as her most recent release. The interviewer highlights the moment in 2010, when he and the world first heard of this “little” film, during a big moment. He relives the ecstatic moment, also referenced below, when Aishwarya Rai was given the extraordinary honour of unfurling the Indian Tricolour at the IFFA and was the first Indian woman to do so. The audience burst into spontaneous applause and song, as mentioned elsewhere in this article.

6 The Cardboard Queen: Aishwarya Rai and the Rise of the Lady Vamp

79

would often be made “pun” of, as not the kind of modelling architects are routinely required to do, when modelling replicas for their projects. Curiously, the gallery she plays to in this instance is a young one. She intentionally injects humour to keep them interested. Discussing the topical points of the film Fanney Khan (Manjrekar 2018), she lauds the performance of debutant actor Pihu Sand15 playing Lata, fanning the crucial need to discuss the veritable “elephant in the room” the new “f” word that needs to be front and centre of discussions about body image today, Fat. She ably moves the argument around and away from focus on the criticism she faced for the post-pregnancy weight gain and the unkind articles16 she claims left no lasting impressions on her. Her newly forged PR firm is regularly accused of creating news cycles by injecting ideas about unnamed Hollywood projects in the offing to sustain interest in the shelf life of a “has-been” item. In the Indian context, women who are mothers in real life often lose lustre in reel life for that very reason (Doniger 1991; Kapur 1996). Aishwarya Rai tends to foment a different tone for the new Indian role, the real woman. This has been her aim in recent projects, clearly from the roles she has tended to pursue. Frankly, the realism in Indian cinema of a certain ilk is always askance.17 Somehow Aishwarya’s previous portrayals of realism-tinged roles like those mentioned, Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam (Bhansali 1999) and Kandukondain Kandukondain (Menon 2000), have gone un-reprised by reviewers sharpening their digital nibs. The recent spate of unqualified failures name Omung Kumar’s Sarabjit (2016) as one of her new falls from grace. Here Aishwarya’s portrayal as the lead character’s sister Dalbir Kaur in this Bio-pic, based on true events that occurred with an inebriated Punjabi farmer at the India-Pakistan border, with tragic consequences, where she has been panned unanimously by critics and film reviewers for an overtly effected and unconvincing performance. Albeit, the film itself does not fare well, falling prey to the oft-repeated peril of using a “star” in a drama playing for realism. Once more, Aishwarya Rai is pointedly panned for not portraying Punjabi-ness, a failing she was earlier chided for in Gurinder Chadha’s Bride and Prejudice (2004). These slights smack of a certain northern Indian tendency to highlight a southern Indian actor of not inhabiting these essentialized traditional roles (Altekar 1938: 14–37). Mayank Shekhar (Hindustan Times)18 reports that Action Replay (Shah 2010) another film where Aishwarya’s performance is unremarkable by most reviewers’ 15 Who reportedly gained over twenty kilos for the film, ironically she is listed as “overweight” on her Wikipedia profile. Clearly, the PC observances of social media will take some time to catch up with real-time views of these issues today. 16 This positive spin on her weight gain appeared in the UK Press in 2012, in sharp contrast to those appearing in Indian dailies. http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-2149533/Aishwarya-RaiBachchan-lives-worlds-beautiful-woman-title-Cannes-amfar-cruel-critics-slam-baby-weight.html. 17 Yeh Aag Kab Bujhegi (1991) was a film attempting to portray the very real case of dowry violence, but failed to rate in the realism standards. Several such films finally did bridge the gap between realism and commercialism (Parinda, 1989; Gardish, 1993; Rudaali, 1993) and were neither strictly parallel cinema nor all-out commercial ventures. 18 Published 6 November 2010, https://www.hindustantimes.com/movie-reviews/mayank-shekhars-review-action-replayy/story.

80

A. Arya

standards, “this one isn’t intended for those who grew up in the ‘70s. It’s for those who can imagine the decade from its films and fashion alone the kind of nostalgia that demands no realism; is perfect for charming, escapist, candyfloss entertainment. This film bears all of it, but in merely small, scattered parts” [emphasis added]. This approach to social documentation of a sort within contemporary Hindi cinema underlines the inherent dilemma for actors involved in this media. How to be real when dealing with flights of fancy, and how to conduct a real life when they are off-screen? But what could, and probably more often than not does, change in a heroine’s mind on attempting a comeback is self-belief. It is the fear of finding acceptance once again. Aishwarya’s comeback film, for instance, trembled its lower lip and gave into the strong suspicion that there was a growing lack of belief in her ability perhaps even in herself. The maiden was struggling with the mythmaking of the film world she had accidentally crashed in on. She seems now, swayed by a myth that is not of her own making. It is a tough ask.

Through the Looking Glass From the beginnings of her career, if Aishwarya had something to prove, it was that she was indeed talented and not just a pretty face. Considering the case that Aishwarya was not merely a beauty; that she was gifted with an intelligence, which she is able to ably articulate. In her case, of course, her acting ability is not in question at all. But most crucially, and perhaps more as a result of her entrance into the industry when the vamp was making an exit (also the timing being fortuitous for her own specific talents), as the doe-eyed beauty who could just as ably play the demure maiden as the divine diva figure Aishwarya encapsulates both to perfection, primarily based on her powerful ability to actually act.19 But when the manner of her rise and rise to fame is considered, the depth of her talent comes under scrutiny for practically all the wrong reasons. Any recent blog searches bring up whirls of words all directed at her lack of talent as a result of her beauty. Her being fat-shamed after the birth of a daughter in a country where motherhood is so prized is at once puerile and yet worthy of note (Altekar 1938; Basu 2001; Arya 2004). There is a cultural context within the Indian film industry, where a married actress is not expected to return to her previous roles as seductress or desirable damsel (Kapur 1996). She is almost allowed to become gently dimpled and sweetly matronly. In Indian film, whether commercial or alternative, there is very rarely any departure from archetypal norms: the evil Ma-in-law, the victimised daughter, the vamp,

19 Several Indian stars have evolved from incapable actors who could hold wooden expressions for an inordinately long time. Bharat Bhushan was incidentally introduced to cinema by Bimal Roy (my grandfather).

6 The Cardboard Queen: Aishwarya Rai and the Rise of the Lady Vamp

81

the saintly mother. The shift away from the character of the vamp, as played to titillating perfection by Nadira in Shree 420, was a gradual one.20 By the time we enter the nineties and the noughties, there has been a burgeoning of the independent brigade of film-makers. Had Aishwarya been born in the 1940s, her cat eyes and incredible figure, including her inordinate ability to dance, would have seen her cast always as the seductress. However, her stars seem singularly aligned to achieve extraordinary things. She seems to have gone through the looking glass, reversing her image for it to be held up, and reflected back at her. Over the past few decades, the popularization and apparent acceptance of Western values in traditional Indian society (Doniger 1995), whether in urban settings or as a reflection of a liberal economical forward-thinking social dynamic, the woman as was once depicted in Indian cinema has not so subtly altered her persona to embrace Otherness in a curious manner. This seems to happen in the career and life of one actress more than others. As demonstrated elsewhere in this book, several analytical exegeses on how the star system in Hollywood interfaces with a cinephile audience do have relevance for the reception of Indian stars. However, their particularistic patina is gathered from a specific doublespeak, which wider Indian society seems to negotiate rather more easily than is imagined, and as pointed out previously by Javed Akhtar. As academics and activists have observed repeatedly when studying Indian attitudes to women (Altekar 1938; Doniger 1991), no matter what is claimed, “Where Women are worshipped, there Gods rejoice”, women at ground level are never afforded the same worshipful attitudes (Arya 2004). What happens when there is a confrontation between the uncomfortable double standards in Indian society, where daughters are burned for not bringing enough dowry in the same breath as goddesses are worshipped? (Basu 2001; Arya 2004; Arya 2013). What happens when this culture is confronted by a skimpily clad, fashionramp trotting model turned starlet, turns international advocate of female Indian perfection and then wants to have a normal life? In many ways, it appears as if the images from her past might come back to haunt the real life, as if through a glass darkly. In this examination, what becomes clear is that the conditions for the construction of the superstructure of stardom in India, against which almost all societal behaviours are measured, do not truly overlap with those familiar in Hollywood (cf. Notting Hill, Michell 1999). Stardom, as this book aims to query, is quite plainly inseparable from recent fundamental shifts in Indian popular culture and media icons (Saavala 2010). However we look at it, the vampification of the idealized Indian woman, so well played out on the screen in a film like Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam (Bhansali 1999) by Aishwarya’s portrayal of the role-exemplifying ideal bahu or daughter-in-law. This perfect bride is not unlike the medieval ideals upheld and discussed in depth by Leslie (1989) as the “Perfect Wife” in the Kannada text of the same name. This bahu

20 Nadira went on to play the evil mother-in-law archetype, usually a vamp’s mother, when she could no longer play younger characters who challenge the female star’s monopoly for the affection of the male protagonist.

82

A. Arya

is the unthreatening ideal wife academics, examining Indian ideas of femininity, discuss (Doniger 1991; Gupta 2001). Gatwood (1985) in her pivotal study explains how the primal, sexually threatening Devi or fierce goddess as seen in the representations of Kali and Durga is spousified or tamed through marriage, and therefore controlled and controllable (Arya 2004). Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale (1986) pathbreaking depiction of similar issues in Western society, albeit in a dystopic vision, was recently ( Miller 2017) re-imagined for modern audiences to great acclaim. Patriarchal ownership issues may not present themselves in the extreme overtones as The Handmaid’s Tale (Miller 2017) might, but Indian daughters have an inscribed sense of being owned by the men in their lives, the old adage where “lawgiver” Manu rings silent, demanding supplication: “father in childhood, husband in youth, son in old age” (Doniger 1991).21 Whether grappling with the culturally specific ideas of wifehood, exemplified and upheld throughout wider Indian society, Aishwarya has craved a unique path through her choice of roles. The conflicting ideologies presented by Sudhir Chandra (1998–9) in his study of Indian patriarchal views of womanhood seem little changed, and in spite of vast leaps in modern society, these Indian and colonial attitudes are well discussed in his book on Rukhmabai. This twenty-fiveyear-old woman became quite a cause celebre when her letter was published in The Times of London in 1887. Is it not inhuman that Hindoo men should have every liberty while women are tied on every hand forever? If I were to write to you all this system of slavery, it would require months to complete it…Oh! But who has the power to venture and interfere in the customs and notions of such a vast multitude except the government which rules over it? And as long as the government is indifferent to it I feel sure that India’s daughters must not expect to be relieved from their present sufferings. (Chandra 1998: 216)

This passionate plea for understanding is clearly representative of the feelings of large proportions of women at the time in question. Curiously, large chunks of that attitude remain problematically patriarchal even today in India (Gupta 2001: 17).22 Rukhmabai would have been heartened to see the changes and progressive views of women working in India today especially, within the persona of women like Aishwarya Rai, who have challenged and changed role-expectations constantly. However, it has been a crazy ride, where in order to invert the situation from within or to ride the wave of popular acclaim, Aishwarya, like Kajol (Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge, Chopra 1995), before her played the playful unabashed, unruly even rebellious girl who is then demurred through Sanskritic marriage. We see this extraordinarily replicated in Hindi cinema, time and time again. The wild girl is tamed through marriage whether or not it is to the right boy. In earlier Hindi cinema, the vamp had a clear carved out role, where the good woman rescued 21 Manu as lawgiver is under dispute as one writer of these ancient verses. Wendy Doniger’s excellent analysis in her prologue lends insight into the making of patriarchal attitudes that continue to persist as apparent custom (1999: xv–lxxviii). 22 In spite of being outlawed over two hundred years ago, the BBC reported (Worldservice Reporters January 2017) more than 75% of girls continue to be married before they reach legal maturity. Also, see Saavala (2003, 2010).

6 The Cardboard Queen: Aishwarya Rai and the Rise of the Lady Vamp

83

the man, in need of moral guidance and succour, through family-making fuelled by a fine “ideal” wife. In the 1970s and far into the 1980s, we experience the further development of the vamp, as a threat to the “happy-ever-after” ending of the main couple. Wider views of what an ideal wife represents have played out to enormous social influence and power over the years (Yalom 2001). These ideas and the ongoing socialization alongside it have greatly influenced the way women’s role in society continues to be viewed. More so anywhere else than in India, these influences are a direct product of Indian cinema (Saavala 2010). Most recently, Aishwarya has not only broken her own mould, that of the ideal onscreen bahu, but she has charted a historic development in Indian cinema by playing a sexually active, uninhibited older woman willing to experiment in an apparently casual physical relationship with a younger man (Ae Dil Hai Mushkil, Johar 2016). This departure from her usual ideal woman roles, including but not limited to the depiction of the jilted Paro in Devdas (Bhansali 2002), takes her into uncharted territory. From the very recent furore over what women can and cannot depict on the Indian film screen,23 where it challenges traditional trends, it is clear that actors tread an uneasy path. Politics rears its hydra head to aim at controlling what India may or may not experience. In an industry where such drastic departures from the path can have disastrous consequences for Indian women actors, Aishwarya has courted that crisis. While laying a new path, unusually seeking to live her private life out in the open glimpsed at every step by the media’s eye. Whether as a doting young mother, wife, daughter or daughter-in-law, this actor chooses to fly in the face of celebrity. Her defiance is casually worn, and she shuns the assumption that a film star once married, especially a woman, cannot also carry on a lucrative, challenging career path. She seems unafraid to play her age. This is unusual.

The Force of the Feminine So, having tracked a curiously unique and uncharted path, making her own map, Aishwarya Rai retains her crown as an intelligent force of the feminine. She has handled stardom unlike any woman actors before or since, by striding in the limelight as a paragon of the people. On a recent visit to Australia, she moved the Premier to tears, when she became emotional during the playing of the Indian national anthem to the crowds. This episode characterizes an ability to capture the essence of the moment, a unique consciousness that celebrity is fleeting, that somehow it is crucial to capitalize on the love and adulation that flows so readily, when it so does.24 Aishwarya Rai was given the immense honour by the Indian state (2017) to unfurl 23 The case of Deepika Padukone and the depiction of the Rajput Queen Padmavati, in Sanjay Leela

Bhansali’s 2017 film, is one such episode of media madness. Australia, Indian Film Festival Melbourne (IFFM) Opening Ceremony, Ibid. Rajeev Masand chat. 24 Melbourne,

84

A. Arya

the Indian National Flag at this event. Curiously, this sort of presence of mind is what another small-time actor created to great political impact. Eva Peron was able to grasp the importance of her role as a mother figure. Although childless herself, she roused the populace of Argentina to gather her up as the collective Mother of the Nation (Evita; Parker 1996). Aishwarya is not unlike Eva Peron in this sense. She is a self-styled icon for a trembling Indian femininity, women who stand on the threshold of a new identity forged on the anvil of history in conflict with fame. Women are celebrated as goddesses very easily but face very minimal adulation when they carve their own identities, particularly in divergence from the accepted notions of Indian womanhood, goddesshood, starhood (Gupta 2001; Arya 2004). The fact remains that Aishwarya has progressed through the past few decades altering the view of how women working in the Indian film industry negotiate their own lives, choices and career paths. Recent times have seen the rise of modern Indian women directors, like but not limited to, Farah Khan, Meghna Gulzar, Nitya Mehra, Kiran Rao, Reema Kagti.25 Editors, writers, cinematographers and other fine female technicians should follow suit. In marrying the most eligible Indian bachelor, a man younger than her, Aishwarya Rai broke with tradition. She renews traditions, however, by upholding the ideals of being a good mother and exemplary icon for young women. Her work on films abroad made her the object of envy. Her command of English, her Bombay-style liberal upbringing, has had an inordinate impact on her ability to work with international directors. She grabs celebrity, seeking almost to veil herself in the miasma of the enthusiasm of a public that is as fickle as it is fictional. They are moved to tears or anger as Shakespearean creation Mark Antony exclaims. Aishwarya catapults herself, with a definitive hold on the brand of the ideal one. To underplay the importance and influence of celebrity and stardom on the lives of Indians in and outside India (Saavala 2003) would be to discount the accepted understanding of what Nasreen Munni Kabir (1999: 34) documents that lyricist and political activist Javed Akhtar points out about Indian cinema culture being definitive in outlining behaviour and acceptance within Indian society at large. In her case however, Aishwarya Rai must also traverse the narrow fence, carefully tightrope walking between the myth and the vamped-up maiden. As in the case of Mata Hari, the celebrated dancer and socialite, as quoted above, she now has to tussle between an uneasy nation that cannot accept women as independent entities capable of intelligent decision-making beyond the domestic pale.

“IFFM 2017: Aishwarya Rai Bachchan becomes first woman to hoist the Indian National Flag” www.india.com. 25 Of course, Aparna Sen, Kalpana Lajmi and Tanuja Chandra blazed a trail already years before.

6 The Cardboard Queen: Aishwarya Rai and the Rise of the Lady Vamp

85

Conclusion Having carefully traversed the public sphere, this Cardboard Queen must inhabit the very real woman behind the card thick veil and must still function as a mother and a human being. The most recent backlash returning to that old adage of “beauty and brains” was an unnecessary attack on Aishwarya’s minor daughter, who was singled out because she is seen to accompany her celebrity mother everywhere. Twitter trolling appears to be at its height when a six-year-old is considered fair game. In the past, celebrity parents were shamed for not spending enough hours being “real” parents in sharp contrast to their “reel” selves. Cardboard cut-outs can do no right it would appear. From the curious perspective as an insider to the industry first as the daughter of film-makers and then as an actor facing similar scrutiny at a very personal level, I find this aspect of the celebrity cycle particularly daunting. In 1997 when my father undertook to film Aastha, what became his final contribution to Indian cinema, he chose to shoot entire sequences in my then college. I was not only cast in the film, but it was being filmed on location in our home, my bedroom doubled up as the main make-up room and then the camera followed into my classroom at college. There was no getting away. As a student anthropologist, my view of what Malinowski (1922, 1963) meant by “participant–observer” was heightened during that first year at St. Xavier’s, Bombay.26 From this vantage point therefore, although I was visited by little celebrity, I escaped into my education and abroad, away from, anyone who knew or could know, my antecedents. I was fortunate. Other actors including Madhuri Dixit and Rinke Khanna have followed a similar path, attempting to find a life elsewhere, in both cases, abroad. These actors have faced fierce scrutiny, whether or not it was linked to their ability to continue to work once a decision to start a family was underway. In Aishwarya’s case, there has been a pointed, even sharpened scrutiny on her every move. There is little opportunity to remain aloof and “above it all”. Instead, she must stoop and conquer, as she has proven she can. In every recent film appearance, she has challenged the idealized role-playing, simpering sweet maiden, and replaced that character with her willingness and ability to depict difficult more true-to-life representations of more real women (Ae Dil Hai Mushkil in particular). This sort of challenge has not been straightforward to embrace, particularly considering the personal challenges associated with her marriage and now motherhood. On the set of Sanjay Bhansali’s Devdas where I was documenting the final days’ filming, I was privy to a curious occurrence that has stayed with me. With my own background, I am peculiarly aware that in India privacy is not understood as it is elsewhere in the world. In a manner of speaking, one might even assume that in the Indian film industry, in fact, privacy is non-existent. While I watched from the 26 Malinowski (1884–1942) first challenged the norms of researching “the other” employing traditional paradigms for conducting their studies through interviews of individuals rather than through first-hand observation (Ethics Handbook, Wax and Cassell, 1979). He perfected his technique in his examination of the Trobriand Islanders (1922, 1935, 1945).

86

A. Arya

sidelines, Aishwarya impressed me as being dignified and extraordinarily calm in exceptionally trying circumstances, all within earshot of other cast and crew. There may have been the hint of a glisten in her eye, but nothing rolled down her cheek. Watching this person develop has been informative, across a range of projects from a near-distance, even on the set of Bride and Prejudice (2004) where she was subjected to the differing value system of a non-star work ethic within the British film industry (Saavala 2001). Albeit with American funding (financed by the now shamed megaproducer Harvey Weinstein),27 Chadha’s team was a crew largely of British nationals, whose work ethic is markedly different from any prevalent in India or the boisterous public relation nightmare we know as LA. Watching Aishwarya interact and interface as both cast member and actor, not overtly buckling under the pressure to be seen always as “the star”, was essentially informative. Cardboard, as in the title, has the quality of taking on the shape of what the modeller’s hand will make of it. It is not real. However, whether or not actors realize the world they inhabit is not real is within the film industry the eternal question. Unanswerable, many claim, but from an acutely interior, participant–observer angle, I am able to attest that it is a very real world. The rules change and manage to make those it is incumbent on behave in a particularistic fashion. It is not unreal, it is Other. As Javed Akhtar notes, and several film-makers and actors reiterate, the Indian film industry constitutes a culture entirely its own (Kabir 1999). The current climate is a curious one. Across the wider world community, the film industry is being forced to gaze inward and address accusations of historic abuse. Aishwarya herself was sadly subjected to untoward attention from “the predator” as Harvey Weinstein is now being called, to address such ongoing issues. A survey of the literature grants insights into the way this actor has carved a path in the seemingly quick-natured sandy underfloor that these castles of air are built on. She appears to have merged ideals of girlhood, womanhood, wifehood and now motherhood, and forged a characteristic mask of quietly unpliant cardboard when she is facing appalling infringements on her privacy, while waxing effusive and compassionate when she addresses crowds of those that love her, and holds her up to that pedestal whether she wants to stand astride it or not. What of starhood though? The thin tread that exists between real living and reel-life imaginings is one seemingly hard to walk. Someone who has rarely escaped scrutiny and is more often critiqued than lauded these days, often for the wrong reasons (Sonal Kalra, Hindustan Times),28 needs a steadying shoulder it might seem. Or, as the popular song from the opening of this chapter highlights, where a young mother worries “your life’s gonna be better than my life…I’m gonna do what I gotta do”, this mother too has juggled a life of inordinate troughs and peaks, to hold her prize, her daughter up high to the

27 Kate Feldman reports that the predator producer tried his level best to get Aishwarya alone; see New York Daily News, Monday 16 October 2017. 28 https://www.hindustantimes.com/bollywood/the-misunderstood-phenomenon-calledaishwarya-rai-bachchan/story-7.

6 The Cardboard Queen: Aishwarya Rai and the Rise of the Lady Vamp

87

sunlit sky above Cannes, this spring,29 unafraid of the scrutiny of the world’s press or the social media trolls and trespassers vying to catch any slip-up. She held herself up metaphorically, her young daughter, and balanced firmly in her able arms. She needs no shoulder, but her own. This new Indian woman we see is being forged. This ability to shine within the subtext certainly appears unusual if not unique. Her constant defiance of the ordinary norm to seek new realities, where her young daughter travels and shares often in the limelight, often with shared flak, there is a subliminal semblance of her own power. This actor continues to defy expectations in the contemporary understanding of stardom and what it means. Are there edges? Audiences appear to be invited to test the boundary of reality, as it is forged anew. How the Aishwarya complex continues to unfold and thrive remains to be seen. In the meantime, it is as if she has successfully crafted an alter ego, the perfectionist Queen, but like in the case of the ephemeral fairy princess in Sleeping Beauty, who will wake the inner goddess?

References Altekar, A. S. (1938). The position of women in Hindu civilization. Benares: Culture Publications. [1995]: The position of women in Hindu civilization. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidas. [Reprint 1938]. Arya, A. (2004). Devi the disempowered goddess. In R. Bhattacharya (Ed.), Behind closed doors: Domestic violence in India (pp. 35–50). Delhi et al.: Sage. Arya, A. (2013). Dowry in tradition and text. Unpublished Ph.D. Thesis, University of London. Atwood, M. (1986). The Handmaid’s tale. London: Virago Press. Basu, S. (2001). She comes to take her rights; Indian women, property and propriety. New Delhi: Kali for Women. Chandra, S. (1998). Enslaved daughters. New Delhi: OUP. Doniger, W. (1981). The Rig Veda. An Anthology. London: Penguin. Doniger, W. (1991). The Laws of Manu. London: Penguin. Doniger, W. (1995). Begetting on margin: Adultery and surrogate psuedomarriage in Hinduism. In L. Harlan & P. B. Courtright (Eds.), From the Margins of Hindu Marriage: Essays in Gender Religion and Culture. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Gatwood, L. (1985). Devi and the spouse goddess: Women sexuality and marriages in India. Michigan: Riverdale Co. Gupta, K. (2001). Women, law and public opinion. Jaipur: Rawat Publications. Kabir, N. M. (1999). Talking films: Conversations on Hindi cinema with Javed Akhtar. New Delhi: OUP. Kapur, R. & Brenda, C. (1996). Subversive Sites. New Delhi: Sage Publications, London: Thousand Oaks. Leslie, J. (1995) [1989]. The perfect wife: The Stridharmapaddhati of Tryambakayajvan (Julia Leslie, Trans.). Oxford University South Asia Series. Oxford: Oxford University Press; Delhi: Penguin. Malinowski, B. K. (1922). The argonauts of the Western Pacific: An account of native enterprise and adventure in the archipelagos of Melanesian New Guinea. Studies in Economics and Political Science, No. 65. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul. Reprint 1984. 29 Jabeen

Wahid reports that her daughter wore a complementary “pink party frock” http://www. dailymail.co.uk/tvshowbiz/article-5721059/Cannes-Film-Festival-Bollywood-icon-AishwaryaRai-looks-beautiful-summery-pastel-coloured-dress.html.

88

A. Arya

Malinowski, B. K. (1963). Sex, culture and myth. London: Rupert Hart-Davis. Roy, K. (1994). The Emergence of Monarchy in North India: 8th-4th centuries B.C: As Reflected in Brahmanical Tradition. Delhi et al: Oxford University Press. Roy, K. (1995). Where women are worshipped there gods rejoice: the mirage of the ancestress of Hindu women. In Sarkara, T & Butalia, U (Eds.), Women and the Hindu Right. New Delhi: Kali for Women. Saavala, M. (2001). Low caste but middle class: Some religious strategies for middle class identification in Hyderabad. Contributions to Indian Sociology, 35(3): 293–318. Saavala, M. (2003). Auspicious Hindu houses: The new middle classes in Hyderabad, India. Social Anthropology, 11(2), 231–247. Saavala, M. (2010). Middle-class moralities: Everyday struggle over belonging and prestige in India. Hyderabad: Orient Black Swan. Yalom, M. (2001). A history of the wife. London: Pandora (Imprint of Rivers Oram).

Filmography Ali, S. (2005). Bunty aur Babli. YRF. Bhansali, S. L. (2017). Padmaavat. Bhansali Productions. Bhansali, S. L. (2002). Devdas. Red Chillies Entertainment and Mega Bollywood. Bhansali, S. L. (1999). Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam. Jhamu Sugandh Productions, Bhansali Films et al. Chadha, G. (2004). Bride and Prejudice. Miramax & Pathe Entertainment with Kintop. Chopra, A. (1995). Dilwale Dulhaniya le Jayenge. YRF. Ghai, S. (1999). Taal. Mukta Arts. Kumar, O. (2016). Sarabjit. Pooja Entertainment. Manjrekar, A. (2018). Fanney Khan. Anil Kapoor Films Company Network et al. Menon, R. (2000). Kandukondein Kandukondein. V Creations. Michell, R. (1999). Notting Hill. Working Title Films and Polygram Filmed Entertainment. Miller, B. (2017). The Handmaid’s Tale. MGM Television. Parker, A. (1996). Evita. Hollywood Pictures et al. Petersen, W. (2004). Troy. Warner Brothers. Ratnam, M. (1997). Iruvar. Madras Talkies. Rhimes, S. (2005). Greys’ Anatomy. HBO. Shah, V. A. (2010). Action Replayy. Blockbuster Movie Entertainers et al.

Chapter 7

Having It Both Ways: The Janus-Like Career of Kareena Kapoor Ajay Gehlawat

Abstract Since her debut in Refugee (Dutta in Refugee. HR Enterprises, 2000), Kareena Kapoor has balanced the roles of Bollywood heroine and independent actress willing to take risks. One can chart this trajectory throughout her career— from the bubbly Poo in Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham (Johar in Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham. Dharma Productions, 2001), to the eponymous, cigarette-smoking prostitute in Chameli (Mishra in Chameli. Pritish Nandy Communications, 2004); or, more broadly, from award-winning performances in hat-k¯e (off-centre) features, to Westernized heroines in mainstream films. This range is crucial in coming to terms with Kapoor as an actress, one willing to take risks, even as such risk-taking has come to define her trajectory as a twenty-first century star. Similarly, while Kapoor is decidedly a global star of the contemporary era who has appeared on the covers of numerous international fashion magazines, with myriad fans who have created multiple online fan sites devoted to her, she herself is not active on social media, with neither a Twitter nor an Instagram account. (In explaining her absence from social media, Kapoor claims she is a “very private” person who generally prefers “old school” forms of communication rather than, e.g. tweeting. See (Zoom Planet Bollywood 2015)). To invoke Richard Dyer’s now canonical terms, these disparate elements of Kapoor’s stardom produce a high level of opposition or contradiction in her star text. As John Ellis has noted, “There is always a temptation to think of a ‘star image’ as some kind of fixed repertory of fixed meanings” (1982, 92). Yet Kapoor’s Janus-like career demonstrates that star texts are indeed paradoxical and “composed of elements which do not cohere” (Ellis in Visible Fictions: Cinema, television, video. Routledge, London, 1982, 93). Building on the scholarship of Dyer and Ellis, this chapter will examine the trajectory of Kapoor’s career as a way of understanding the oftentimes contradictory manner in which her globalized star image functions. In the process, earlier Hollywood-centric theories of stardom will be reconsidered in light of the particular dynamics of the Bollywood “ecumene” (Bhaumik 2007: 202). Ultimately, I will argue that, despite the apparent incoherence of her star image, Kapoor’s stardom thrives on precisely such paradoxical meanings. A. Gehlawat (B) Sonoma State University, 1801 E. Cotati Ave., Rohnert Park, CA 94928, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 A. I. Viswamohan and C. M. Wilkinson (eds.), Stardom in Contemporary Hindi Cinema, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-15-0191-3_7

89

90

A. Gehlawat

Keywords Global · Stardom · Glamour · Versatility

The Chameleon A refugee. A spoiled brat. A prostitute. A bad girl. A dutiful wife. These are just some of the roles Kareena Kapoor has successfully played in a career spanning nearly two decades, during which she has appeared in over sixty films.1 Kapoor arguably has the most diverse and developed career of any contemporary Bollywood star/actress, “equally comfortable playing a blonde brat in a micro-mini or a chawl dweller with a single plait” (Jain 2005, 332). In seventeen years, she has both made more films overall and displayed a wider range than any of her contemporaries, starring in both mainstream Bollywood features and in off-centre, “hat-ke” films.2 Kapoor has also been quite successful in both hat-k¯e and Bollywood productions, winning Filmfare Awards for her performances in both types of film, including Best Female Debut (Refugee), Critics Award for Best Actress (Dev, Nihalani 2004 and Omkara, Bhardwaj 2006), Best Actress (Jab We Met, Ali 2007) and Best Supporting Actress (We Are Family, Malhotra, 2010). Directly related to such success is Kapoor’s impressive artistic range. As Udita Jhunjhunwala has noted, “She can blend into any character and demographic, be it the rural elegance of Dolly in Omkara, the spitfire Geet of Jab We Met or an over-the-top rich girl” (2012: 262). Furthermore, unlike even the male superstar Shah Rukh Khan (SRK), who began his career playing villains but then shifted to more conventional heroic and romantic roles, Kapoor has continued to play a range of positive and negative characters throughout her career, in some ways outplaying the ‘Baadshah of Bollywood’ at this own chameleon-like game.3 Such range also rearticulates several theories underpinning Dyer’s landmark study of stardom and, specifically, the construction of character. As Dyer notes, “a character is a construct from the very many different signs deployed by a film” (1998: 106). Some of the signs of character in film include audience foreknowledge, name and appearance which, in turn, inform larger “sign-clusters” (Dyer 1998: 107). This relates to Dyer’s famous concept of stardom as a “structured polysemy”, that is, “the multiple but finite meanings and effects that a star image signifies” (1998: 63). In analysing the polysemy of the star image, Dyer is particularly concerned 1 These

roles were, respectively, in Refugee (2000), Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham (2001), Chameli (2004), Fida (Ghosh 2004), and Aitraaz (Abbas-Mustan 2004). 2 With over sixty films in a seventeen-year span, Kapoor on average has completed 3.5 films per year. By comparison Aishwarya Rai, over nineteen years, has completed forty-seven films; Priyanka Chopra, over fourteen years, has completed fifty-three films; and Katrina Kaif, over twelve years, has completed thirty-four films. 3 As Rachel Dwyer notes, SRK, in his diverse range of roles, “appears as something of a chameleon” (Dwyer 2015: 63). Yet SRK famously transitioned from “darker, unconventional roles” to playing “romantic heroes” quite early on in his career (David 2015: 297), whereas Kapoor has consistently juggled darker roles and less conventional films with her ongoing appearances in mainstream Bollywood features, as we shall see in the ensuing discussion.

7 Having It Both Ways: The Janus-Like Career of Kareena Kapoor

91

with the multiple ways in which “the star image is used in the construction of a character in a film”, including its selective use, perfect fit and problematic fit (1998: 126–29). Dyer’s ensuing description of the selective use of a star’s image becomes particularly relevant to Kapoor’s case, as such a use is itself “problematic”, in that “it cannot guarantee that the particular aspects of a star’s image it selects will be those that interest the audience” (1998: 127). Indeed, the “always-already-signifying nature of star images more often than not creates problems in the construction of character”, as is eminently on display in the case of Kareena Kapoor, whose frequent oscillations between mainstream and hat-ke roles illuminates “the contradictory and polysemic nature of the images” and, in turn, “makes it hard either to delimit a few aspects or to fully articulate the whole thing”, i.e. her stardom as a unified entity (Dyer 1998: 129). To paraphrase Dyer, one might say that, in Kapoor’s case, the “contradiction” (between the various elements of her polysemic image) so deeply permeates her star image that “one can conceptualize the problem in terms of a clash between two complex sign-clusters”, with the “star as image” often overshadowing or overdetermining the character as otherwise constructed (Dyer 1998: 130). Such a clash and ensuing overshadowing becomes particularly relevant and problematic in Kapoor’s hat-k¯e roles, when she tries to shed or downplay her star persona, associated with her mainstream Bollywood roles and persona. With this in mind, what I want to do in this chapter is examine not Kapoor’s roles themselves but the disparate nature of these roles and how Kapoor signifies this difference. In the process, what will also emerge is how such a star—herself straddling multiple cinematic terrains—complicates an understanding of stardom as historically theorized in its “most straightforward form”, that is, in classic Hollywood (Ellis 1982, 105). As Sumita Chakravarty has noted in her overview of star studies, “Rarely have non-western stars and processes of stardom informed these analyses” (2013, 180). Similarly, even as star studies within the context of Indian cinema have grown significantly over the past decade, “compared with other aspects… they have been given less attention” (Chakravarty 2013, 180).4 Additionally, to return to my above point regarding Kapoor’s particular intervention in this field, “the centrality of stardom and celebrity in contemporary media cultures”, as Chakravarty notes, has often had “the curious contradictory effect of, on the one hand, seeing similar mechanisms of star production at work across cultures” and, on the other hand, “eliding the search for paradigmatic contours of development” (2013, 180). It is precisely in order to excavate and highlight such overlooked and elided components of stardom that I have chosen to focus on Kapoor, whose diverse career challenges both the unifying tendencies more broadly on display in star studies and, particularly, as they are cross-applied to the study of Indian film stars. In the process, I will attempt to infuse the study of stardom with a “Janus-faced discourse” where “meanings may be partial because they are in medias res”, that is, “caught, uncertainly, in the act of 4A

cursory list of recent studies examining Indian film stars includes Iyer (2016), Dudrah et al. (2015), Shingler (2014), Bose (2013, 2014), Basu (2013), Chakravarty (2013), Gehlawat (2012), Majumdar (2009) and Pinto (2006). One of the first significant star studies in an Indian context is Gandhy and Thomas’s essay, “Three Indian Film Stars”, first published in 1985, in which they jointly examine the careers of Fearless Nadia, Nargis and Smita Patel.

92

A. Gehlawat

‘composing’” (Bhabha 1990, 3). Kapoor’s Janus-like career becomes a particularly apt arena for such work, as we shall see in the ensuing discussion.

Beginnings: Refugee/K3G Kapoor’s entry in the world of Indian cinema itself marks the shifting trajectory of stardom. Whereas previously (and, arguably, up till today) new female entrants to Bollywood would “normally rise in the ranks via the bimbette roles”, Kapoor “opted out of playing a miniskirted glamdoll” and instead chose to “make her debut in the more demanding role of the burqa-clad Naaz” in J. P. Dutta’s Refugee (Chopra 2011, 263). Given Kapoor’s glamour, a component of her stardom that is frequently remarked upon,5 the element Chopra notes—her appearance in a burqa in her debut film—is worth considering in some detail. The first time we see Kapoor, playing a Muslim character named Nazneen, or Naaz, who, along with her family, is trying to migrate to Pakistan, her entire face is covered by a black veil. It is not until ten or fifteen minutes into the film that we actually see her face—and then, too, it emerges gradually, with her hair and profile from the back first emerging as she lifts her veil and splashes water on her face. Then, as her co-star Abhishek Bachchan, playing the eponymous figure and the family’s guide, approaches her and forcibly turns her around, we finally see her face for the first time, a moment made doubly dramatic by its delay and the ensuing suspense/expectation it creates. In this moment, we see the unveiling of Kapoor (as actress) literalized—perhaps, in turn, explaining why she has been described as making “a dramatic entrance” via her debut film (Jain 2005, 334). This moment—this unveiling of the latest member of the famed Kapoor clan to join the ranks of her relatives on-screen—is repeated multiple times in the film, including when Sunil Shetty, playing a Pakistani border guard, first arrives and asks the women to unveil themselves. Again, a sense of anticipation is created for the viewer via the gazing (male) character who first views Kapoor from a distance, followed by a close-up of her face in semi-profile with slightly downcast eyes. As he approaches her and comments on her beauty (“Anyone would accept her”, i.e. for marriage), she pulls her face back, again keeping it turned slightly with her gaze averted, after giving him a quick look.6 5 As

Jhunjhunwala notes, Kapoor has been singled out as being “among those new millennium actresses who ‘have built their careers principally on their sex appeal’” (2012: 262–63). Director Shyam Benegal has described her as “extraordinarily beautiful, a true beauty” (Jain 2005: 332) while, in a recent (2011) ranking of “Top 10 Sexiest Women of Bollywood” in Stardust magazine, Kapoor was ranked number one (Roy 2011: 16). 6 This unveiling theme repeats itself in an ensuing song sequence, in which Bachchan gazes down at the veiled and prone figure of the sleeping Kapoor, whose (white) veil flutters in the breeze and slowly blows away, first revealing her lips, then all of her face, with each ensuing shot interspersed with reaction shots of Bachchan gazing at her. Here, along with the literalization of her “unveiling’ (i.e. as an actress), one can detect traces of both Laura Mulvey’s famous equation of a woman’s “to-be-looked-at-ness”, in which the woman serves as “an erotic object for the characters within

7 Having It Both Ways: The Janus-Like Career of Kareena Kapoor

93

What is interesting is how such a fragmentation of Kapoor’s initial on-screen appearance is reproduced in her subsequent mainstream film, Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham (Johar 2001, hereafter K3G), despite this latter film’s decidedly different aesthetic make-up. In K3G, the grown-up version of Kapoor’s character, Pooja, aka “Poo”, only emerges in the second half of the film. Unlike her earlier turn in Refugee, here Kapoor plays a spoiled, westernized (Hindu) character, as is apparent in her introductory scene, which is accompanied by the track, “It’s Raining Men”, by the Weather Girls. Nevertheless here, too, we see bits and pieces of Kapoor—first her back, then parts of her face (e.g. her eyes) and body (e.g. her bosom and bared torso)—all while the song continues to play and Kapoor dances and cavorts along as she “gets ready”, putting on her clothes and make-up. While similar to Refugee in presenting her gradual emergence, this sequence presents a much more sexually charged image of Kapoor who, upon finally being presented in a full body shot, pouts and preens for the camera in her Western couture before approaching her reflection in a mirror and saying (to herself, as it were), “How dare you? You have no right to look so beautiful”. Kapoor is right to note, in an interview included as part of the Refugee DVD’s special features, that “normally in every Hindi movie you see every girl wearing the usual good hairpin, Western clothes but here [in Refugee] we have something that’s totally different, where she [Kapoor] is like in salwar kameezes, absolutely simple”. At the same time, despite her differing characters and their ensuing attire, as well as the different aesthetic make-up of K3G—a decidedly more mainstream Bollywood feature than Refugee—the way in which Kapoor emerges in both films reflects shared structural patterns which, in turn, allude to her star text as a much desired and sought after woman.7 Thus, even though she initially deferred playing a “miniskirted glamdoll” and instead chose to make her acting debut wearing a burqa (Chopra 2011, 263), one still witnesses a similar visual logic at play in both films with regard to their debutante whose face, despite being quite dissimilar from that of Greta Garbo’s, is nevertheless similarly presented in a manner geared to “plung[e] audiences into the deepest ecstasy” (Barthes 1974, 567), even as its gradual emergence alludes to this built in expectation surrounding and informing her star text (as a Kapoor).

the screen story, and as erotic object for the spectator” (2011: 179), and Frantz Fanon’s reading of the sexual component associated with the veiled woman and (in the eyes of the male viewer) the “rending of the veil” (1965: 45). 7 As a member of the fourth generation of Kapoors to star in Hindi films, Kareena Kapoor’s emergence in this industry was arguably much anticipated, coming on the heels of her older sister, Karisma, and informs a key part of her star text, even if merely serving as a baseline from which she occasionally deviates. As Madhu Jain notes, “This branch of the fourth generation of Kapoors has grown up differently. […] They [Kareena and Karisma] are leaner, tougher and driven” (2005: 323). At the same time, Kapoor herself frequently invokes this legacy, e.g., noting that if her grandfather Raj Kapoor would have been alive, “he would have been proud of me” (Jain 2005: 333).

94

A. Gehlawat

Something Different: Chameli If Kapoor’s surname created a sense of expectation which both Refugee and K3G exploit in the way they initially present her face to audiences, her latter role as Poo also quickly created another expectation quickly associated with Kapoor, namely, that of the candyfloss character she was trying to avoid playing via her burqa-clad debut. In many ways, as several critics have noted, Kapoor was a star from the day she was born into the Kapoor clan (Chopra 2011, 297). Becoming an actress whom critics took seriously thus paradoxically became an ever greater challenge. As Dyer notes (with reference to Charlton Heston), occasionally “the star’s image is so powerful that all signs may be read in terms of it”, i.e. “Heston ‘means’ Heston regardless of what the film is trying to do with him” (1998, 131). In a similar vein, Kapoor arguably found herself in what K3G’s director Karan Johar has labelled a “Poo rut” after completing that film, that is, being seen primarily in line with her “uber-glamourous role as Pooja or Poo” and subsequently being cast “time and again as the young fashionable urban girl” (Jhunjhunwala 2012, 257–58). In deliberately looking to shed her already over determining star text (as the “uber-glamourous” and superficial heroine), Kapoor in turn created what has become another key element of her subsequent star text, namely, conscious reinvention. The scion of Bollywood royalty did this in the ensuing years by playing a role that previously would have sounded the death knell for any young aspiring actress in this industry and that she had previously rejected—that of a prostitute.8 In playing the title character of Sudhir Mishra’s Chameli, Kapoor not only “stepped out of her comfort zone” but redefined another element of her star text, namely, her reputation for being a “spontaneous” actress. As Jhunjhunwala notes, “Kareena’s USP is her spontaneity and directors realize that rehearsing her too much can be detrimental to her performance” (2012, 261). In this way, Kapoor, like most Bollywood stars, can be seen as deviating from the approach known as Method acting. Yet in preparing for Chameli—a film that marked, in the actress’s words, “a conscious effort to do something totally out of the box” (Jhunjhunwala 2012, 258)— Kapoor engaged in extensive research to prepare for the role, “meeting prostitutes and driving around Mumbai’s red-light district, Kamathipura” (Chopra 2011, 296). In such a way, Kapoor helped redefine a crucial element of her star text—the “spontaneous” actress who lacked sufficient emotional investment in her characters—and reemerged as “an actor awakened” (Chopra 2011, 297), one willing to leave her comfort zone and the attendant roles associated with such a zone, which had already begun to typecast her. Yet even as she consciously did so, Kapoor firmly kept her other foot planted in the “Bollywood ecumene” (Bhaumik 2007, 202), thus also 8 As

Anupama Chopra notes, “When Chameli was offered to her… she rejected the role without reading the script because it made her nervous” (2011: 297). This is understandable given that, until only recently, Bollywood films have hewed to the binary of heroine or vamp with regard to female roles, with those playing the latter more often than not relegated to such roles for the duration of their careers. This may also explain why “several actresses had shied away from playing [a prostitute]” (Jain 2005: 336), i.e. so as to avoid being typecast as one.

7 Having It Both Ways: The Janus-Like Career of Kareena Kapoor

95

challenging a larger binary at play, pitting actresses associated with hat-ke films like Chameli against those who took part in more mainstream films.9 We shall see, in the ensuing section, precisely how Kapoor rejected such a false dichotomy by appearing in several different types of films nearly simultaneously and, in the process, further nuanced and expanded her attendant star text.

Balancing Act: Dev–Fida–Aitraaz Simultaneously juggling multiple roles and acting commitments is a mainstay of Bollywood (Pendakur 2003, 31). However, it is one thing to go from making one masala potboiler to another masala potboiler and quite another to go from making a hat-ke film about communal riots to a slick Bollywood feature and then on to a Hindi adaptation of a Hollywood film. Yet this latter itinerary precisely delineates Kareena Kapoor’s path in 2004, during which she appeared in a string of significantly different films, all released within months of each other. In Dev (2004), Kapoor again plays a Muslim character, Aaliyah, based on the real life Zaheera Sheikh, a key witness in the Vadodara Best Bakery case, part of the larger communal violence between Hindus and Muslims in the state of Gujarat in 2002. Though the film features several Bollywood stars, including Amitabh Bachchan and both Om and Amrish Puri, it is more of a hat-ke film than a Bollywood feature, both in form and content. In playing Aaliyah, Kapoor similarly deviates from her typical Bollywood look, appearing with little to no make-up, wearing simple salwar kameezes with her hair in a simple plait. Despite this considerably downplayed and demure look, however, Kapoor’s character engages in a significant amount of liplock with her co-star Fardeen Khan throughout the film, even as she serves as Khan’s character’s conscience in many ways. This combination—a kissing female protagonist with a conscience—is itself rather remarkable, given the previously noted tendency to either relegate actresses to sexual or virtuous roles (cf. note 8). Similarly, for Kapoor to again play a Muslim character and, in this case, a particularly strong one, invested with a significant degree of agency, is noteworthy in a film culture and society in which, more often than not, Muslim actors frequently play Hindu characters.10 The image of Kapoor initiating a passionate kiss with her male co-star while wearing a white veil over her hair is indeed 9 In an interesting contrast to Smita Patil, whose career “spanned more than a decade in both the art

and commercial cinemas”, Kapoor, whose own career in both types of cinema has spanned nearly two decades, migrated from the world of commercial films to more hat-ke roles, whereas Patil made a reverse migration during the course of her shorter career (Gandhy and Thomas 1991: 123). If, as Gandhy and Thomas note, “the most remarkable aspect of [Patil’s] stardom is how she became a star in the first place”, then one could conversely say that Kapoor’s frequent decision to take on more challenging and less mainstream roles, starting with Chameli, is no less remarkable (1991: 126). And while Patil “was never really successful” in her more mainstream roles, Kapoor, as we shall see below, has frequently been lauded for her hat-ke performances, beginning with Chameli, for which she received a special jury recognition at the 49th Filmfare Awards. 10 Note, for instance, the case of the three Khans—Shah Rukh, Aamir and Salman—all of whom are Muslim and all of whom have become box office stars primarily by playing Hindu characters.

96

A. Gehlawat

striking, given how rarely one witnesses such a juxtaposition. Kapoor, who played this role “with maturity” (Jhunjhunwala 2012, 258), was awarded a Filmfare Critics Award for Best Actress for her performance, with director Govind Nihalani noting her ability to “surrende[r] to the character and [not] apply her personal understanding to the behavior of a character” which, in turn, allowed Kapoor to “create a character that is different and fresh” (Jain 2005, 337). Approximately two months after the release of Dev, Kapoor appeared in the commercial film Fida, which marked her first negative role. Appearing as the character Neha, Kapoor pretends to fall in love with Shahid Kapoor’s character, Jai, only to double-cross him as part of a larger plot she is involved in with the cyber criminal Vikram, again played by her Dev co-star Fardeen Khan.11 The chimerical nature of Kapoor’s character, Neha, is alluded to from the outset, when she first appears as part of Jai’s fantasy, telling him (and the viewer, in direct address), “I love you”, as she performs a series of poses for the camera. These overt displays of affection for Jai are dramatically undermined when he returns home one day to find Neha emerging from the shower, with Vikram emerging behind her. As Neha, Kapoor proceeds to taunt Jai, making fun of his previous declarations of love while accepting a glass of champagne from Vikram, who kisses her bare neck and shoulder. The ensuing song sequence, “Maine Jisko Chaha Mil Gaya” (I Got the One I Wanted), reflects Kapoor’s dramatic transformation and stands in stark contrast to her performance of innocent love in the film’s earlier song sequence with Jai. “Maine Jisko Chaha” features Kapoor and Fardeen Khan rolling around in bed together and singing and dancing, with Kapoor’s playback voice, provided by Alisha Chinoy, exuding a deeper and sultrier pitch. While Fida was unsuccessful at the box office—perhaps due in part to Kapoor’s dramatic character transformation—the film did receive positive reviews from critics (Jhunjhunwala 2012, 258). Interestingly, and as a further testament to her chameleon-like career, Kapoor next went on to play the dutiful wife in Abbas-Mustan’s Aitraaz (2004), a loose remake of the Hollywood thriller Disclosure (Levinson 1994). In other words, Kapoor refused to be typecast or relegated to playing one or the other type of role, demonstrating, in quick succession, her ability to play both negative and positive roles in films released during the same year.12 Here, Kapoor plays Priya, a young woman who is a law graduate and is looking for a job as a legal assistant at the start of the film. Kapoor’s comic talents are on display at the outset, during a series of misunderstandings with her eventual husband, Raj (played by Akshay Kumar), as is her changing hair colour, which seems to aptly reflect her chameleon-like nature.13 Though, as Kapoor herself 11 Kapoor

also began an off-screen relationship with Shahid Kapoor during the filming of Fida which led to a scandal when photographs of the two kissing were circulated on MMS (Jain 2005: 338). Such online dissemination is itself an apt reflection, despite Kapoor’s own disavowal of social media, of the nature of stardom in an era of new media technologies, an issue that also arises, albeit in a fictional context, in her subsequent biopic Heroine (2012). 12 Interestingly, the DVD of Aitraaz includes a preview of Fida, featuring Kapoor in her vampish role. 13 Just before the film’s first song, which commences with a montage of Priya and Raj’s marriage ceremony, Kapoor is a brunette. However within the song itself (“Gela Gela Gela”), shot in Goa,

7 Having It Both Ways: The Janus-Like Career of Kareena Kapoor

97

notes in the DVD’s “Making of” feature, she plays “a typical Hindustani wife”, her role—and characterization—“assert[s] ‘tradition’ as a somewhat unstable essence” (Chowdhury 2010, 73), compounded perhaps by the larger shifts she undergoes in moving from Aaliyah (demure Muslim) to Neha (duplicitous vamp) to Priya (dutiful wife), all within a year’s time. The commercial success of Aitraaz also seems to gesture, at least in part, to audiences’ willingness to accept Kapoor in such dramatically different roles within a relatively short period of time. Additionally, even though one may argue that her role in Aitraaz is overshadowed by that of the vamp, played by Priyanka Chopra (who received an award for Best Performance in a Negative Role), Kapoor’s performance as the lawyer defending her beloved in the film’s courtroom climax does, in many ways, conjure up earlier scenes featuring Nargis as a barrister in Awara (Kapoor 1951). In other words, both within these three individual films and overall, as an actress developing and extending her range, Kapoor displays a high degree of female agency and takes the initiative, particularly in her relationships with men and within a male-centred industry and society.14 These three films also effectively demonstrate how Kapoor, as a star, not only establishes a “specific repertoire of gestures, intonations, etc.” which “carr[y] the meaning of her image” (Dyer 1998, 142) but also how she frequently deviates from her “standard” style or image, for example, in appearing sans make-up as the demure Aaliyah, even as she subsequently invests such characters with multiple, contradictory traits (demure but also engaging in liplock; dutiful but also driven).

Diasporic Roles: Kambakkht Ishq/Kurbaan Even as Kapoor branched out to make films set partially or entirely in the USA, her range also continued to broaden. If, as Dyer notes, “part of the business of studying stars is to establish what these recurrent features of performance are and what they signify in terms of the star’s image” (1998, 143), then the two films Kapoor appeared in during 2009—Kambakkht Ishq and Kurbaan—demonstrate her continued interest in succeeding in both mainstream and offbeat cinema (Jain 2005, 336). The characters she plays in these two films, and her respective appearances, could not be farther apart. In Kambakkht Ishq (Khan 2009), set in LA, Kapoor plays Simrita, aka Sim, an Indo-American medical student who moonlights as a model and is simultaneously attracted and repelled by her co-star Akshay Kumar, who plays a Hollywood stuntman. Meanwhile, in Kurbaan (D’Silva 2009), Kapoor is Avantika, a psychology professor at a university in Delhi who falls in love with a new Muslim professor, played by Saif Ali Khan, with whom she then returns to New York. Kapoor’s look in Kapoor’s hair has turned blond and remains so even afterwards when she announces her pregnancy. Later, in the film, however, when she meets the vamp character, Sonia (Priyanka Chopra), who is Raj’s old flame, she is again a brunette. 14 In such a way, to cross-apply Gandhy and Thomas’s observations regarding Nargis, one could say that the persona of Kapoor, “in all its contradictions provides an (ongoing) forum for working through difficult questions of a society in change” (1991: 123).

98

A. Gehlawat

these two films—again, released within months of one another—is strikingly different, as is the characterization she lends to both. Whereas in Kambakkht Ishq, Kapoor frequently appears in decidedly Western couture, including miniskirts and low cut tops, and performs in a series of over-the-top song and dance numbers including one, “Bebo”, whose title itself alludes to her,15 in Kurbaan, she (re)appears sans make-up in a film with no actual song and dance sequences which is more concerned with Kapoor’s growing realization that her Muslim husband is an Islamist terrorist. Kapoor’s radically differing looks and characters again attest to her evasion of “recurrent features” and the ensuing signification of this evasion for her star image (Dyer 1998, 143). To invoke Dyer, one might say Kapoor’s dual diasporic roles—as Simrita and as Avantika—present such a contradiction that one can frame the problem as “a clash between two complex sign-clusters,” in this case, between “the star as image,” e.g. as Bebo, and “the character as otherwise constructed” (1998, 130). Such a contradiction is further exacerbated by the radically disparate nature of these films, released side by side, with one firmly grounded in the “Bollywood ecumene” (Bhaumik 2007, 202) and the other, a decidedly hat-ke endeavour, eschewing not only the typical song and dance featured in Bollywood films but, along with it, Kapoor’s usual (glamourous) look.16

Playing Heroine, Wife and Prostitute Kapoor’s subsequent performance in Madhur Bhandarkar’s Heroine (2012) demonstrates a further instance of how her career path challenges previous conceptions of stardom, even as it provides another instance of the growing reflexivity on display in several of her films. Though Bhandarkar, known for his women-centric films and critiques of the industry, initially cast Aishwarya Rai in the title role, whom he described as the “perfect choice” for the role (Twitter Release of Poster 2011), after Rai abandoned the role due to her pregnancy, it was subsequently given to Kapoor whom several critics subsequently labelled crucial to the film’s success (Sen 2012; Chatterjee 2012). Linked to this acclaim was a sense that, though the role was not written with her specifically in mind, Kapoor was “play[ing] herself” (Chatterjee 2012). The film tells the story of fictitious Bollywood superstar Mahi Arora (Kapoor), including the ups and downs of her volatile career which often occur simultaneously, as when Arora releases a sex tape of her and fellow actor Aryan Khanna (Arjun Rampal), 15 “Bebo” is Kapoor’s pet name. As Kapoor herself notes, “What makes me? What I learned from them [her older sister Karisma and mother Babita] and bundled up into a package of Bebo” (Jain 2005: 325). Even beyond this song, the film’s frequent inclusion of “Bebo” on the soundtrack, usually uttered by a deep-pitched male voice and accompanying her arrival on-screen, serves as an aural instance of what Dyer calls an “objective correlative” (1998: 112), i.e. a reflexive allusion to the star herself. 16 Kambakkht Ishq, in keeping with the typical visual politics of the mainstream Bollywood film, plays up Kapoor’s “to-be-looked-at-ness”, particularly in its song and dance sequences (e.g. “Bebo”), while in Kurbaan Kapoor is framed “like the victim in a horror film” (Dwyer 2014: 145).

7 Having It Both Ways: The Janus-Like Career of Kareena Kapoor

99

which becomes a viral sensation on the Internet and helps relaunch her flagging career. Despite not being ostensibly based on her life, or on the life of any one particular star, this decidedly hat-ke film does incorporate several elements of Kapoor’s own star trajectory, such as her decision to star in Chameli as a way of breaking out of the stultifying career path she found herself on early in her career. Here, again, we see an instance of how Kapoor’s star image is so powerful that “all signs may be read in terms of it” (Dyer 1998, 131). Thanks to the dynamics of the star text at work, the sex tape scandal in Heroine functions as a plausible referent to Kapoor’s (actual/purported) persona even though, pace her disavowal of social media in real life, it is wholly fictitious. Even as it marks a return to a more negatively inflected role, Kapoor’s performance in Heroine inverts Dyer’s theorization to some extent, as such controversies, e.g. the leaking of the sex tape in the film, do not cohere with the particular aspects of the star’s life itself. Nonetheless, such purported coherence remains plausible in large part due to the sexuality and earlier sex scandal already imbuing Kapoor’s star text (cf. note 11), which help create a symmetry between Kapoor’s on-screen character and her real identity. Interestingly enough, after completing this “behind-the-scenes” film exposing all the depravities of both the Hindi film industry and its titular heroine, Kapoor married fellow actor Saif Ali Khan (who played her husband in Kurbaan) and, in another radical departure, particularly for female members of the “Kapoor khandaan” (Chopra 2011, 267), continued acting in films, appearing as a prostitute in her very next role.17 In Talaash (Kagti 2012), Kapoor plays Rosie, a street smart prostitute who helps a policeman (Aamir Khan) solve a murder mystery. Kapoor wears tight short skirts and low cut tops for this role and “blends in so well as to be virtually indistinguishable from the living prostitutes at the brothel” (Sen 2017, 165). Again, more than the role per se, what is striking and informs a key part of Kapoor’s star text is her juxtaposition of roles—newly married off-screen wife and on-screen prostitute, in this case—which again serve to distinguish her not only from other female members of the Kapoor clan but, indeed, from many actresses in the Hindi film industry, who either retire or reduce their on-screen appearances after marriage or, at the very least, only appear in demure or low-key roles once they have tied the knot.18 Kapoor once again vividly demonstrates her difference, playing a character who brings “oomph” and becomes the film’s “centrepiece” as a prostitute (Gupta 2012), even as she nuances this role, so as to serve both as “erotic conundrum and emotional refuge” for Aamir Khan’s character (Sen 2017, 166). In other words, though “encased in lycra, cheap baubles and garish make-up”, Rosie, as played by Kapoor, is “an odd sort of succubus”, one who seems “completely at home in the cityscape… she cruises for potential clients” even as she exudes a sense of melancholy (Sen 2017, 165–67). Similarly,

17 As

Jain notes, “For a Kapoor daughter it [acting] was mission impossible: girls from this conservative clan get married early, usually arranged, and start families. The boys go into the movies” (2005: 323). 18 Kareena’s older sister Karisma, who essentially stopped acting after her marriage in 2003, is a case in point.

100

A. Gehlawat

by yet again starring in a hat-ke film—in this case one directed by a woman— Kapoor demonstrates that, rather than merely “flirting” with art house cinema (Jain 2005, 323), such roles have become a key part of her stardom, both before and after marriage.

Contemporary Directions: Ki & Ka and Udta Punjab Kapoor continues to play both hat-ke and Bollywood roles, as can be seen in two of her most recent films, both released in 2016. While her character, Kia, in the more Bollywoodesque Ki & Ka (Balki 2016) is a glamourous, upwardly mobile career woman who despises the idea of settling down, in Udta Punjab (Chaubey 2016) she plays a doctor running a clinic for drug addicts in Punjab. As Kia, Kapoor seems on familiar terrain as the film begins, featuring the catchy “High Heels” song during its opening credits at a wedding. Yet even here Kapoor again deviates from the expected scenario and, rather than dancing expertly as she so frequently does in several of her Bollywood features, demurs from doing so even as she is prompted along by her friend, pointing instead to her watch as she half-heartedly parrots the dance moves of the others and clutches her cellphone.19 When a young man subsequently approaches her and asks her to dance, she tells him she is having her period and, upon receiving a call on her cellphone, she shuts off the music the rest of the party is dancing to, and proceeds to loudly explain over her phone that her friend’s life is ending because she is getting married. Once she finishes her call, oblivious to the now gaping party guests, she tells the DJ to resume the music. The feisty Kapoor meets her perfect match in Kabir (Arjun Kapoor), the scion of a rich Indian family who has no desire to pursue a career and instead wishes to become a homemaker. The two decide to marry, so that both can pursue their dreams without undue burdens, in a clever commentary on normative gender roles and marriage in the twenty-first century. Along with playing a career-driven woman, however, Kapoor engages in quite a bit of liplock with her younger male co-star throughout the film, an element that is also prominently featured on the film’s poster and DVD cover and which again runs counter to the traditional notion of what married Indian women are supposed to do (and not do).20 Though Kia and Kabir are headed to Chandigarh at the end of Ki & Ka, we never see them arrive, the film ending happily before they touch down. In Udta Punjab, however, Kapoor’s character is grounded from the get-go, again eschewing make-up and the other accoutrements of her Bollywood persona (e.g. cellphone, high heels 19 Kapoor’s guest appearances in Bollywood item numbers, including in Dabanng 2 (Arbaaz Khan 2012), Rowdy Rathore (Prabhu Deva 2012) and Billu (Priyadarshan 2009), are testaments to both her dancing skills and enduring celebrity. 20 Kapoor’s co-star Arjun Kapoor is five years younger than she is. This is rather significant in an industry which still frequently pairs heroes with heroines who are over ten years younger. Kapoor is also one of a handful of stars in the Hindi film industry who frequently engages in on-screen kissing, a trend which, as the discussion here has shown, transcends the Bollywood/hat-ke divide.

7 Having It Both Ways: The Janus-Like Career of Kareena Kapoor

101

and designer couture). Here, the opening credits song sequence, rather than featuring Kapoor at a wedding party, presents her in more of an activist mode, akin to her role in previous films dealing with social issues, e.g. Satyagraha (Jha 2013). Kapoor’s character, Preet, is a doctor dealing with the drug epidemic in Punjab, presenting a tough as nails veneer and, as in Dev, speaking truth to power. Eschewing the typical conventions of a Bollywood film, Udta Punjab instead focuses on a series of characters impacted by the devastation of drug addiction and political collusion and Kapoor’s character, while cynical, still works with a young Punjabi policeman, Sartaj, to combat the epidemic.21 As Preet, Kapoor provides good advice to the young policeman and also helps him infiltrate the warehouse where the drugs are kept, in an effort to stop the trafficking. Even as she deals with logistical details, going online to determine where the drugs are coming from and assembling a dossier against those involved in their distribution, she also initiates a date with Sartaj, once they have concluded their work. Unfortunately, when Sartaj’s younger, drug-addicted brother, whom Preet is treating, tries to run away from her clinic, she tries to stop him and is killed in the process. Yet once again these two films demonstrate Kapoor’s commitment to both the more conventional Bollywood cinema and a more socially committed hat-ke cinema, even as her characters in both of these films continue to innovate from within, whether with regard to evolving gender roles and relationships or in response to national health epidemics such as the ongoing drug crisis in Punjab.

Conclusions In a recent article examining the “hat-k¯e stardom” of Vidya Balan, Nandana Bose attempts to distinguish Balan from her counterparts, noting her “courageous performances” in “gutsy roles” (that “would sound the death knell for the careers of most mainstream female stars”) and how she has “successfully resisted the industry’s penchant for typecasting female stars in stereotypical roles” (2014, 396–97). What, then, of Kareena Kapoor? Bose mentions her in passing, noting that “for every… Chameli that Kareena Kapoor essays, a plethora of roles and even item numbers have already established and reinforced [her] glamorous persona and affirmed [her] beauty, not just during the foundational years but throughout [her] caree[r]” (2014, 397). While it is certainly true, as previously noted, that Kapoor is known for her glamour, one could also rather easily reframe the way Bose characterizes both Balan and Kapoor, arguing, for instance, that Kapoor has indeed had a “plethora of roles,” both in the commercial and hat-ke veins, for which she has won several awards, while Balan’s firm positioning in the hat-ke ecumene might be seen as a limitation.22 Similarly, to 21 Like Arjun Kapoor in Ki & Ka, the actor who plays Sartaj, Diljit Dosanjh, is (four years) younger

than Kareena Kapoor. 22 If one looks at the careers of the greatest male stars of Hindi cinema, e.g. Amitabh Bachchan and

SRK, one similarly sees their consistent success in multiple types of films, both “Bollywood” and “hat-ke”.

102

A. Gehlawat

reframe what Bose poses as a deficit on Kapoor’s part (her glamour), one could easily argue that, unlike Balan, who appeared “awkward” when “clad in western gear” (Bose 2014, 398), what crucially informs Kapoor’s star text is her range, e.g. being able to convincingly wear western attire (and play more Westernized characters) and appear glamourous, just as she can successfully appear in simple salwar kameezes sans make-up. Similarly, unlike Balan, whom Bose rightly observes plays “typically serious on-screen roles” (2014, 404), Kapoor displays an impressive range of character types and ensuing mannerisms, including serious (Dev, Kurbaan, Udta Punjab) and not so serious (K3G, Kambakkht Ishq), something, again, more “serious” actors like Balan are apparently unable to do, at least on-screen. More generally then, and as a way of concluding, one could argue that Kapoor’s stardom, unlike that of Balan’s (or any other primarily hat-ke star), is not merely reliant on new audiences such as those associated with the multiplex boom, but flourishes among a wide swath of the viewing public, both mainstream and hat-k¯e. To appropriate Bose’s take on Balan, one could say Kapoor is not only a “star who can act” (2014, 397) but one who has consistently appeared in a wide range of films throughout her career, not only more than any other actress but, arguably, to the point of rivaling SRK, whose range is in many ways eclipsed by Kapoor’s (cf. note 3).23 And while Balan may have strapped on a prosthetic belly to appear pregnant for a role, Kapoor, again in a departure not only from actresses of yesteryear but even those working in the industry today, continues to act even after becoming a mother—her latest film, Veere di Wedding (Ghosh 2018), promoted as India’s first “chick flick” (IANS 2016), is a raucous tale of four female friends and their personal and sexual lives. Kapoor’s character, Kalindi, set to marry her boyfriend, cancels the wedding following an argument and embarks on a trip to Thailand with her female friends, where they discuss their issues and reconnect. Upon returning rejuvenated, Kalindi proposes to her boyfriend and marries him. To return to one of the earliest studies of female stardom in Hindi cinema, one could claim Kapoor’s star text, both onand off-screen, “frequently encompass[es] behaviours that are decidedly subversive of the strict social mores of Indian society” (Gandhy and Thomas 1991, 108) even as her transgressions have helped forge new possibilities for Hindi film actresses, including, most significantly, that one can simultaneously be a star and an actress, something that may have once been “incompatible” in Bollywood (Jain 2005, 336) but appears increasingly possible when looking at the career of Kareena Kapoor.

23 This is a particularly relevant point, given that Bose argues Balan can, in many ways, be considered

a “fourth Khan” (2014). Yet such a claim, as Bose herself acknowledges, may indeed be “a tad premature” (2014: 395), particularly as it downplays Kapoor’s penchant for hat-ke films which, as this chapter has shown, is not merely relegated to “one-offs”.

7 Having It Both Ways: The Janus-Like Career of Kareena Kapoor

103

References Barthes, R. (1974) [1957]. The face of Garbo. In G. Mast & M. Cohen (Eds.), Film theory and criticism: introductory readings (pp. 567–568). NY: Oxford University Press. Basu, A. (2013). The face that launched a thousand ships: Helen and public femininity in Hindi film. In M. Sen & A. Basu (Eds.), Figurations in Indian film (pp. 139–157). NY: Palgrave Macmillan. Bhabha, H. (1990). Introduction: Narrating the nation. In H. Bhabha (Ed.), Nation and narration (pp. 1–7). NY: Routledge. Bhaumik, K. (2007). Lost in translation: A few vagaries of the alphabet game played between Bombay cinema and hollywood. In P. Cooke (Ed.), World cinema’s ‘dialogues’ with Hollywood (pp. 201–217). NY: Palgrave Macmillan. Bose, N. (2013). From Superman to Shahenshah: Stardom and the transnational corporeality of Hrithik Roshan. In M. Sen & A. Basu (Eds.), Figurations in Indian Film (pp.158–178). NY: Palgrave Macmillan. Bose, N. (2014). Bollywood’s fourth Khan: Deconstructing the ‘hatk¯e’ stardom of Vidya Balan in popular Hindi cinema. Celebrity Studies, 5(4), 394–409. Chakravarty, S. (2013). Con-figurations: The Body as World in Bollywood Stardom. In M. Sen & A. Basu (Eds.), Figurations in Indian Film (pp.179–201). NY: Palgrave Macmillan. Chatterjee, S. (2012). Movie review: Heroine. NDTV. Retrieved on October 15, 2017 from https://web.archive.org/web/20120924010548/http://movies.ndtv.com/movie_Review.aspx ?id=744. Chopra, A. (2011). First day, first Show: Writings from the Bollywood Trenches. New Delhi: Penguin. Chowdhury, P. (2010). Bollywood Babes: Body and Female desire in the Bombay films since the nineties and Darr, Mohra and Aitraaz: A tropic discourse. In R. B. Mehta & R. V. Pandharipande (Eds.), Bollywood and globalization: Indian popular cinema, nation, and diaspora (pp. 51–73). London: Anthem. David, A. (2015). King of bollywood? The construction of a global image in Shah Rukh Khan’s dance choreography. In R. Dudrah, E. Mader, & B. Fuchs (Eds.), SRK and global Bollywood (pp. 279–307). New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Dudrah, R., Mader, E., & Fuchs, B. (Eds.). (2015). SRK and global Bollywood. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Dwyer, R. (2014). Bollywood’s India: Hindi cinema as a guide to contemporary India. London: Reaktion. Dwyer, R. (2015). “Innocent abroad: SRK, Karan Johar, and the Indian Diasporic Romance.” In R. Dudrah, E. Mader, & B. Fuchs (Eds.), SRK and global Bollywood (pp. 49–69). New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Dyer, R. (1998) [1979]. Stars. London: British Film Institute. Ellis, J. (1982). Visible Fictions: Cinema, television, video. London: Routledge. Fanon, F. (1965). Studies in a dying colonialism. NY: Monthly Review Press. Gandhy, B., & Thomas, R. (1991) [1985]. Three Indian Film Stars. In C. Gledhill (Ed.), Stardom: Industry of desire (pp. 107–131). London: Routledge. Gehlawat, A. (2012). The construction of 1970s femininity, or why Zeenat Aman sings the same song twice. South Asian Popular Culture, 10(1), 51–62. Gupta, P. (2012). Howler hunt! The Telegraph. Retrieved on October 15, 2017 from https://www. telegraphindia.com/1121201/jsp/entertainment/story_16259714.jsp. IANS. (2016). Veere de Wedding a real chick flick, says Kareena Kapoor Khan. The Indian Express. Retrieved on October 20, 2017 from http://indianexpress.com/article/entertainment/bollywood/ veere-di-wedding-a-real-chick-flick-says-kareena-kapoor-khan-sonam-kapoor-2865038/. Iyer, U. (2016). Stardom Ke Peeche Kya Hai?/ What is behind the Stardom? Madhuri Dixit, the production number, and the construction of the female star text in 1990s Hindi Cinema. Camera Obscura, 30(3), 129–159. Jain, M. (2005). The Kapoors: The first family of Indian Cinema. New Delhi: Penguin.

104

A. Gehlawat

Jhunjhunwala, U. (2012). Kareena Kapoor: Powerhouse princess. In B. Patel (Ed.), Bollywood’s Top 20: Superstars of Indian Cinema (pp. 255–264). New Delhi: Penguin. Majumdar, N. (2009). Wanted cultured ladies only!: Female Stardom and cinema in India, 1930s– 1950s. Champaign: University of Illinois Press. Mulvey, L. (2011) [1975]. “Visual pleasure and narrative Cinema.” In T. Corrigan, P. White, & M. Mazaj (Eds.), Critical visions in film theory: Classical and contemporary readings (pp. 715–725). Boston: Bedford/St. Martin’s. Pendakur, M. (2003). Indian popular cinema: Industry, ideology and consciousness. Cresskill: Hampton Press. Pinto, J. (2006). Helen: the life and times of an H-bomb. New Delhi: Penguin. Roy, P. (2011, March 15–22). Sizzling Hot! Bollywood’s Top 10 Sexiest Women. Stardust. Sen, M. (2017). Haunting Bollywood: Gender, genre, and the supernatural in Hindi commercial cinema. Austin: University of Texas Press. Sen, S. (2012). “Heroine” review. Zee News. Retrieved on October 15, 2017 from http://zeenews. india.com/entertainment/bollywood/heroine-review-commercial-kareena-kapoors-bravest-filmtill-date_119482.html. Shingler, M. (2014). Aishwarya Rai Bachchan: from Miss World to world star. Transnational Cinema, 5(2), 98–110. Twitter Release of Poster. (2011). UTV Motion Pictures. Retrieved on May 13, 2011 from https:// twitter.com/utvfilms/status/68958698986414081. Zoom Planet Bollywood. (2015). Kareena Kapoor reveals why she stays away from social media on zoom. Retrieved on August 18, 2018 from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fbCygHoI95o.

Filmography Abbas-Mustan. (2004). Aitraaz. Mukta Arts. Ali, I. (2007). Jab We Met. Studio 18. Balki, R. (2016). Ki & Ka. Eros International. Bhandarkar, M. (2012). Heroine. UTV. Bhardwaj, V. (2006). Omkara. Eros. Chaubey, A. (2016). Udta Punjab. Balaji Motion Pictures. D’Silva, R. (2009). Kurbaan. UTV. Dutta, J. P. (2000). Refugee. HR Enterprises. Ghosh, K. (2004). Fida. Tips Films Pvt. Ltd. Ghosh, S. (2018). Veere di Wedding. Balaji Motion Pictures. Jha, P. (2013). Satyagraha. UTV. Johar, K. (2001). Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham. Dharma Productions. Kagti, R. (2012). Talaash. Excel Entertainment. Kapoor, R. (1951). Awara. RK Films. Khan, A. (2012). Dabangg 2. Arbaaz Khan Productions. Khan, S. (2009). Kambakkht Ishq. Eros International. Levinson, B. (1994). Disclosure. Warner Bros. Malhotra, S. (2010). We Are Family. UTV. Mishra, S. (2004). Chameli. Pritish Nandy Communications. Nihalani, G. (2004). Dev. Eros. Prabhu Deva. (2012). Rowdy Rathore. UTV. Priyadarshan. (2009). Billu. Eros Entertainment.

Chapter 8

Shahid Kapoor: Multi-Platform Mediations of a Mid-Level Star Madhavi Biswas

Stars are involved in making themselves into commodities; they are both labour and the thing that labour produces (Dyer 2004 p. 5).

Abstract While Shahid Kapoor is still relegated to the second level of stardom in Bollywood compared to the dominant Khan trio, he has managed to establish himself as an actor willing to take on experimental film roles. His roles, especially in three of his most critically acclaimed and successful films, Kaminey (The Scoundrels, Bhardwaj 2009), Haider (Bhardwaj 2014), and Udta Punjab (Chaubey 2016) have, I argue, established his image as a spokesperson for the specific dreams and anxieties of millennial youth. His dancing skills and the success of his film songs help him project and build on his stardom through his live dance performances while his tightly curated body images on popular platforms such as Twitter and Instagram keep his stardom sharply in focus. Kapoor’s stardom circulates through the multiple screens of contemporary media that invariably fracture the production and the consumption of star images, which he has used to his advantage, particularly in his dance shows where he glamorizes and retrofits his experimental and more nuanced film roles to project the image of a successful star. I apply the classic stardom argument of Richard Dyer in Heavenly Bodies of the star as both a commodity produced by an industry and as articulating “the promise and the difficulty of the notion of individuality”, as I trace the career graph of Shahid Kapoor. Kapoor’s well-chosen and critically acclaimed film roles are clearly commodified even as they provide a sense of “authenticity” in articulating the contemporary anxieties and desires of millennial along with showcasing his dancing talent. This tension between commodification and individuality is amplified and glamorized in his stage dance shows and his social media Shahrukh Khan, Salman Khan and Aamir Khan. They are contemporary Indian megastars whose film releases are widely anticipated and often prove to be spectacular hits. M. Biswas (B) University of Texas at Dallas, Richardson, TX 75080, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 A. I. Viswamohan and C. M. Wilkinson (eds.), Stardom in Contemporary Hindi Cinema, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-15-0191-3_8

105

106

M. Biswas

presence. Shahid Kapoor as a mid-level star is a relevant example of this tension as his “star image” is not completely impenetrable being prone to fissures, and his aspirations toward superstardom in his social media presence provide glimpses of the process behind the establishment of a star image. Keywords Bollywood · Stardom · Dance · Media

Social Media and Shahid Kapoor “Still waters run deep. He will rise on the 1st of December. Wait for it. #rajputpride.” Shahid Kapoor posted the above quotation on Instagram on October 17, 2017, with a full-frontal picture of himself in his role as Rana (King) Ratan Singh in a (then) forthcoming film, Padmawati (Bhansali), which was originally scheduled for release on December 1, 2017. The photograph, featuring a bare-chested Shahid wearing a low-wrapped dhoti (a traditional clothing worn around the waist), showcases his much-touted six-pack abs and muscular physique as he stands resolutely in front of flames. This photograph and the chatter created on social media, in which Shahid Kapoor has a considerable presence, expresses some central aspects of his stardom such as a contemporary star’s requisite presence on social media, his or her ability to intervene in the creation of the star text,1 and the limits of that intervention. Padmavati (later retitled Padmaavat in response to the controversy) is a mythicalhistorical epic of grand proportions directed by Sanjay Leela Bhansali, who is wellknown for creating over-the-top extravaganzas. The film’s plot concerns the siege of Chittor by Allauddin Khilji, the Sultan of Delhi. It is based on the popular myth of the fourteenth-century Rajput queen Padmini (aka Padmavati) of Chittor. Khilji, besotted by Padmavati’s beauty, invades her kingdom, and the Rajputs, led by Rana Ratan Singh, perish defending the queen’s honor and their kingdom. Padmini and all the women of Chittor jump into a group funeral pyre (the act of Jauhar), thus presenting Khilji a city of ashes when he finally enters it. The film has three stars: the top-tier actress, Deepika Padukone, plays Padmini while Shahid Kapoor and Ranveer Singh enact the roles of King Ratan Sing and Emperor Alauddin Khilji, respectively. Deepika Padukone and Ranveer Singh, already paired successfully in two previous blockbusters directed by Bhansali, have also tantalized the press and public with their off-screen relationship.2 Their established on-screen chemistry and their off-screen romance added an interesting dimension to the anticipated conflict between the Queen and the “evil” Sultan in Padmaavat. This anticipation initially made the film controversial with fringe groups who claimed that the film falsified

1 “[S]tar

text” is a term introduced by Richard Dyer, who pioneered the theory of stardom. He argues for including not just an artist’s film performances but articles, publicity material, posters, biographies and gossip as important elements that construct modern stardom. 2 They got married in November 2018.

8 Shahid Kapoor: Multi-Platform Mediations of a Mid-Level Star

107

“history,”3 despite the director’s and producer’s repeated clarifications that the queen and the villain do not share any screen space. The controversy snowballed out of all proportion with violent threats being issued to the director and the lead actress for supposedly sullying the honor of the legendary Queen, thus stalling the film’s release for two months. While this illustrates the swiftness with which extreme and fringe views can gather legitimacy and spread in the current media climate, it also, unfortunately, in this case, demonstrates the power of images that underpins the central argument in this article. The enflamed controversy was a dispute about the legitimacy of two images being posited as false and true. It is worth noting that neither the screen image (the enactment of Padmavati by Deepika Padukone) nor the “real” history (the pristine purity and honor of a mythical Hindu queen) is grounded in historical fact. To return to the pre-controversy tweet by Shahid Kapoor—the dynamics of the casting of Ranveer Singh and Deepika Padukone had left Kapoor, sandwiched between the eponymous queen and a compelling villain, somewhat eclipsed in the process. Kapoor, probably anticipating this, had agreed to sign for the part only after he was assured an equal number of lines along with Ranveer Singh (Filmfare 2016). The Instagram post by Shahid Kapoor followed upon a previous post by Ranveer Singh in which Singh posted a picture of himself as the demonic Alauddin Khilji, halfsubmerged in water, showing a chiseled torso and dramatic biceps under a scarred face. Kapoor’s post was likely a response to the excitement generated by Singh’s post, reminding his own fan base of the possibility of interesting depths in Ratan Singh’s character. The photograph also visually reminded his fans that despite the highly publicized stories and pictures of Ranveer Singh’s strenuous physical training for the role of Alauddin Khilji, Shahid Kapoor was one of the earliest stars among the younger generation associated with a perfectly-toned body, whose daily tweets and pictures about his workout schedules are a staple of his social media presence. The “Ratan Singh” photograph conflates Kapoor’s workout images of his muscled torso, which promote him as a contemporary, dedicated and sexy star, with his historical persona thus providing him the perfect opportunity of pitching his role to a dedicated audience. In addition to eliciting the usual positive responses, the post also triggered a competition between Shahid Kapoor and Ranveer Singh’s fans. Online magazines came up with instant headlines on Kapoor’s jealousy and links to videos that claimed to expose it, which then spilled into the interview rounds that Kapoor took for the film’s release. Such interviews inevitably asked him to evaluate his “positive” role vis-à-vis Ranveer’s more exciting “gray” role, which drew some testy responses from Shahid that in turn became further proof of “Shahid’s jealousy” (BiscootTV). Such a trolling of the stars, their complicity in the promotion and circulation of celebrity news, and their vulnerability regarding it are common phenomena of Internet-driven 3 Alauddin

Khilji, a powerful ruler of the Khilji Dynasty, ruled Delhi from 1296 to 1316. Padmini, however, is not a historical figure. She is first mentioned in Padmavat (1540 CE), an epic poem written by Malik Mohammad Jayasi, and has become a legendary character who is mentioned in several literary works and popular stories since then. Khilji’s siege of the kingdom of Chittor in 1303 is a historical fact, but there is little to corroborate that Padmini existed.

108

M. Biswas

stardom. Platforms such as Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and YouTube provide accessible venues that enable stars to participate more actively in the creation of the star text and have a measure of control over it. However, it is an unstable space that provides an equal opportunity for the fans to intervene and interact with stars that undercuts the mystique of stardom and weakens the star’s active control of the medium. Kapoor’s ability to advertise to a dedicated audience and his attempt to enhance or promote his star image is counteracted by the fans’ comparable ability to actively comment on or disrupt such actions. While the minor fracas about Kapoor’s post disappeared under the subsequent raging controversy that stalled the release of the film, the episode provides a window into the quotidian interactions and power equations of new media circulations beyond those of television and the big screen production companies that are involved in the making of star images. Shahid Kapoor, Ranveer Singh, and Ranbir Kapoor are in their thirties, and they occupy the middle rung of Indian stardom that is still dominated by the Khan trio (Shahrukh Khan, Salman Khan, and Aamir Khan) who are in their fifties and yet hold a firm sway on the public imagination. These senior stars, who have established their stardom over a much longer time, are also backed by powerful production companies that are solely dedicated to prestige projects tailored to fit their star texts. This makes it difficult for the middle-rung stars to capture and sustain public interest. Globalization has diversified entertainment media as well as initiated different modes of circulation. The plethora of cable channels, the Internet, and the more recent online streaming providers such as Netflix, Amazon Prime, and Hotstar, which have made international entertainment available to middle-class viewers, make it even more difficult for the middle-rung stars to capture national attention. The online space has become a dispersed space that facilitates the instant creation of celebrity status, but it is also shifting and unpredictable, not quite guaranteeing aspiring stars the ability to sustain these images or build upon them over time. Aswin Punathambedkar, in his book From Bombay to Bollywood (2013), emphasizes the role of new media such as the radio, television, the Internet, and mobile phones in the corporatization and transformation of the national film industry into a transnational, cultural industry. In a recent interview regarding media convergence in India, he notes that the potential for new modes of circulation like transmedia storytelling has not yet been tapped by media producers in Mumbai, which he views as still “largely driven by a marketing sensibility: pushing Bollywood content across platforms” (Punathambekar 2014). Punthambekar’s larger point about non-integrated content, at least concerning present digital media and networked communities in Bollywood, might well explain Kapoor’s successful social media presence. Kapoor’s largely organic interventions, which were attuned early on to the potential of social media, perhaps exploit this pre-corporate stage in digital media when individual interventions, for better or worse, are not swamped out by established and highly organized media firms pushing a much more tightly controlled and stable star image or a specific narrative.

8 Shahid Kapoor: Multi-Platform Mediations of a Mid-Level Star

109

Shahid Kapoor has, despite the unpredictability of the online medium, tried very hard to cultivate it by constructing his star text on this very instability that disseminates splintered images of masculinity. Accepting that the obvious, older onscreen/off-screen dichotomy does not work in the contemporary world of multiple screens and constant scrutiny, he has allowed his star image to openly oscillate between glamor, tightly curated domesticity, acting prowess and dancing skills while maintaining a certain “authentic” individuality. Thus, while he can capture headlines such as “Shahid Kapoor sets Twitter on fire as he goes shirtless” (2017), he does not shy from posting romantic pictures of him and his attractive wife or vacation pictures of his wife and infant daughter. This is still a rarity in an industry where most stars prefer to keep their private lives under wraps so that it does not interfere with their star images. While still pictures and posters advertise Kapoor’s “sexiness,” he uses his interviews to project the image of professional ambition and personal modesty. The fracturing permitted by multiple screens helps Shahid project different aspects of his persona to his fans. Shahid Kapoor’s image has thrived on these “differences” that allow him flexibility and are not jarring to a contemporary audience that is attuned to such ruptures.

Shahid Kapoor’s Film Roles While Shahid’s sustained online presence is responsible for his huge fan following, his film roles enhance both his star power and perceptions of his authenticity. His reputation, as a good actor and a star, is based on a surprisingly small number of films and in the face of his reputation for delivering more box-office failures than successes. He is recognized for going the extra mile to take on risky roles, such as forgoing his salary in Haider or dedicating nearly three years to his father’s production, Mausam (Season, Kapur 2011). Some of these projects paid off and became modest hits at the box-office. They have contributed mainly to his status as a serious actor willing to accept unusual roles. His association with the Hat-ke directors of New Bollywood such as Vishal Bhardwaj and Abhishek Chaubey has aligned him with a new, smaller Indian cinema that is experimental without being indifferent to commercial considerations. Such moves have provided him a stature that his peers have yet to achieve. His high-profile and carefully chosen roles subsequently channeled through his online mediations are crucial to defining his stardom. Shahid Kapoor became potential “star material” after the success of films like Ishq Vishq (Love etc., Ghosh 2003), Vivah (Marriage, Barjatia 2006) and Jab We Met (When We Met, Ali 2007). His much-publicized affair with Kareena Kapoor, who was a much bigger star than him generated excitement about their on-screen pairing. Jab We Met got him attention for his acting skills while films such as Fida (Infatuated, Ghosh 2004), 36 China Town (Abbas-Mustan 2006) and Kismat Konnection (Fate Connection, Mirza 2008) established his niche appeal in youthful, romantic roles. However, rather than capitalizing on this niche appeal as the urban “lover boy,” he chose to experiment with riskier roles with some successes and some failures. His

110

M. Biswas

breakthrough double role in Vishal Bhardwaj’s thriller Kaminey (Scoundrels, 2009) was followed by powerful performances in Haider (Bhardwaj 2014) and Udta Punjab (Flying Punjab, Chaubey 2016) that won him recognition as a serious actor. All three roles, though widely divergent in terms of genre and mood, have him playing a troubled youth negotiating contemporary issues, which is rare in an industry that often projects youth through the lens of romance narratives. In Kaminey, a crime caper, Kapoor has a double role as the classic good twin-bad twin, Guddu and Charlie, both of whom have speech defects—one stutters and the other lisps. In Haider, which is an adaptation of Hamlet, he plays a young Kashmiri student straddling the border between India and Pakistan as he searches for his missing father. Udta Punjab is a rare commercial film that deals with the problem of rampant drug addiction in the Indian state of Punjab. Shahid Kapoor plays Tejinder (Tommy) Singh, a drug-addicted Punjabi rapper. While the roles are not connected, in all three Kapoor speaks for the new generation, expressing their dreams, anxieties and obsessions. Mainstream Hindi cinema has sporadically attempted to provide a voice to the younger generation, notably in films like Bobby (Kapoor 1973) and Julie (Sethumadhavan 1975) in the seventies, and in Love Story (Kumar and Rawail 1981) and Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak (From Doom to Doom, Khan 1988) in the eighties. But it was often channeled as romantic rebellion emerging from a generational clash. Kapoor’s roles give voice to the specific anxieties and desires of a post-millennial generation struggling with a range of issues such as heady aspirations for upward mobility, terrorism, and drug addiction that extend beyond the romantic. Shahid Kapoor’s youthful looks threatened to typecast him precisely for such romantic roles at the beginning of his career. However, when fortuitously merged with the muscular build he developed for his role in Kaminey, his youthfulness gives credence and star power to these roles. These roles, in turn, feed into his star text elevating his image as a serious actor. A brief analysis of the self-reflexivity of Kapoor’s three roles in Kaminey, Haider, and Udta Punjab indicates their importance in defining his star image and their potential to provide a blueprint of Kapoor’s rise to stardom when viewed as an extra-diegetic arc. Kaminey (2009) was Shahid’s first big success, and his double role in the film is fortuitously emblematic of his early stardom. Double roles are ubiquitous in Indian cinema. Neepa Majumdar’s essay on doubling points out how such roles benefitted both the audience and the stars by allowing the audience to experience a pleasurable surfeit of the star body while at the same time enabling the star to showcase his or her histrionic talents (2003). Furthermore, she argues, double roles provided space for the exploration of different identities and ways of identifying with the “authentic” self of the star in allowing the audience both choice and disavowal. Kaminey similarly provides a space for the negotiation of not just Shahid’s star identity in the good/bad dichotomy but for a definition of his identity and persona vis-à-vis the star identities of megastars such as Amitabh Bachchan and Shahrukh Khan. Kaminey was the first film in which Shahid Kapoor shed his “chocolate-boy” image to play a street-smart crook. At this point in his career, he was not a star even though he had a few successful films to his credit. The film’s good twin/bad twin plot facilitates the disjunction between the roles of the earnest Guddu and the small-time

8 Shahid Kapoor: Multi-Platform Mediations of a Mid-Level Star

111

crook Charlie, wresting authority from the former in favor of the latter. In his earlier films, Kapoor might have played the kind of romantic hero the genuinely “good” Guddu (a suggestive cross-language pun) with a clear moral compass represents. Both Guddu and his girlfriend “Sweety” (who is not completely as guileless as her name suggests) are a mildly satirical version of such an ideal romantic pair. However, in the caper world of Kaminey, the narratorial authority is given to the lisping, smalltime gangster Charlie, who wants a “fortcut” to fame rather than the stuttering, earnest Guddu whose middle-class aspirations, carefully charted out on a map stuck to a door in his dingy shack, are cut short by his girlfriend’s pregnancy. In Kaminey—which is very conscious of its cinematic history, especially of the Bachchan phenomenon of the seventies—Kapoor’s double role is inevitably pitted against Bachchan’s superstardom and the myriad double roles demanded of and enacted by Bachchan at the time. Kapoor’s lisping, self-confident “Charlie,” the garrulous narrator of Kaminey, is an urban city slicker who is very different from the Bachchan persona of the smoldering and restrained “angry-young-man.” Kaminey pays homage to many Bachchan films in its obsessive use of train images, and specifically to Deewar (Wall, Chopra 1975), echoing its plotline of conflict between the brothers and their childhood trauma concerning their father. Yet its caper plot is completely divergent from the typical Bachchan film narratives. The stuttering Guddu might also remind the audience of another superstar, Shahrukh Khan, and his role as a stuttering psychopathic killer in Darr (Fear, Chopra 1993). It was an early film in Shahrukh Khan’s career and a risky choice, but it was widely appreciated and established him as a star. Shahrukh Khan’s career arc has moved from playing darker characters to more conventional romantic roles, but his unique dialog delivery still retains elements of that nervous stutter. Shahid Kapoor, who was previously often compared to Shahrukh Khan (Indianexpress.com), stands positioned in this film to discard his youthful romantic image for darker, more complex roles. His double role in Kaminey provides many opportunities for such sly metatextual doublings and differences. As a relatively unknown actor, Shahid Kapoor’s doubling might not have been as desired by the audience. However, Kapoor established his acting credentials by successfully enacting two distinct characters who not only look the same but are tantalizingly similar in their speech defects. The audacity of introducing two central characters in mainstream cinema while deliberately undercutting their expressive facility with speech defects, and then positioning the crooked twin to narrate the entire story with his lisp provides the audience plenty of opportunities to speculate on the “metatextuality” of the enactment regarding distancing and identification with the characters. Outside the diegetic content of the film, Kapoor could also be defined as a star in his own right in a double move of homage and distancing. Thus, at this point in his career, poised on the cusp of an image shift and aspiring to stardom, his film role seems to authenticate his similarity to superstars Amitabh Bachchan and Shahrukh Khan, while successfully underscoring his differences from them. Shahid Kapoor’s role as Hamlet in Haider (2014) has him essaying one of the most high-profile roles in theater and film. It is a role that requires both identification and distancing. Thus, one does not merely consider how well an actor embodies Hamlet

112

M. Biswas

but also how he compares to or contrasts with other Hamlets. Moreover, because Shakespearean film adaptations are a relatively recent phenomenon in Indian cinema, the film, and by extension, Kapoor’s role, solicit global comparisons. Shahid Kapoor plays Hamlet as a young and confused student that contrasts with both Laurence Olivier’s and Kenneth Branagh’s portrayal of a more mature Hamlet but finds some echoes in Ethan Hawke’s 2000 version of a “Gen-X” Hamlet. Kapoor’s portrayal thus establishes parallels in the tradition of Hamlet screen performances even as his enactment of the “Indian” version of Hamlet provides him a very distinct position in global cinema. Haider situates the Hamlet plot in the troubled politics of Kashmir. Kapoor plays a young Kashmiri Muslim student from a middle-class family who has been sent to the “mainland,” to keep him out of trouble. He comes back to a heavily policed state where Kashmiri Muslims face daily humiliations and “disappearances” of family members. Even as Haider gains recognition in global cinema as the “Indian” version of Hamlet, in the film it is Haider’s Indian identity itself that is in question. Kapoor compellingly enacts the dual fractured identity of Haider as a Kashmiri Muslim student demanding his basic rights as a citizen and as a youthful Hamlet dealing with his conflictual emotions regarding his parents. It is a role that requires the gravitas of a serious actor, and it elevates Kapoor’s stature as an actor. It also complicates his star text by positioning him as both “young” (in articulating the frustrations as a young Kashmiri Muslim and as a young man) and as “mature” (in being able to step into the mantle of a celebrated role). Playing such a demanding role at a relatively early point in his career, and holding his own among senior artists of the caliber of Tabu and Irfan helped him make the transition to a serious actor, and it won him numerous favorable reviews and the coveted Filmfare award. A strong nationalist identity is often an important component of the star text of most successful Indian stars. Raj Kapoor’s song in Sri 420 (Mr. 420, Kapoor 1955) is a classic example: “Mera joota hai Japani ye patloon Englistani/Sar pe laal top Rusi, phir bhi dil hai Hindustani” (My shoes are Japanese, these pants are English/The red cap on my head is Russian, still my heart is Indian). The assertion of the “Indian” heart as defining the core identity of the hero, irrespective of global trappings, retains moral authority in Indian cinema. Even Amitabh Bachchan’s disruptive “angry young man” persona of the seventies who fought against the “corrupt system” sought to preserve this idea of an essential “Indianness” that the star embodies. Bachchan embodied the anger and protest of the common “Indian.” Shahrukh Khan’s turn-ofthe-century persona of the global young man, who might be physically distanced from the motherland but whose heart remains essentially “Indian,” was repeated in many films such as Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge (The Brave Will Take the Bride, Chopra 1995), Pardes (Foreign Land, Ghai 1997), and Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham (Sometimes Happiness Sometimes Sorrow, Johar 2001). The first film produced by his now defunct film production company, Dreamz Unlimited was titled Phir Bhi Dil Hai Hindustani (Yet the heart is Indian, Mirza 2000), which is a direct line taken from the 1955 Raj Kapoor song. Haider is a rare film that resists an uncritical nationalist narrative and looks at the political turmoil in Kashmir from the perspective of the Kashmiris. Terrorism and

8 Shahid Kapoor: Multi-Platform Mediations of a Mid-Level Star

113

secession are viewed through the eyes of the local Kashmiris. The film’s portrayal of the brutalities committed in Kashmir during the nineties in the name of keeping law and order, and its harsh criticism of the arbitrariness of Armed Forces Special Powers Act (AFSPA) were criticized as unpatriotic at the time of its release. Haider’s Lal Chowk speech, which mixes fragments of Hamlet’s “To be or not to be” speech with his later mad ramblings, contains within it a withering critique of the Indian state and AFSPA. The film resolutely refuses to adhere uncritically to the nationalistic narrative and Kapoor as the central character directly articulates this critique. Though Shahid received both accolades and awards for his acting in Haider (2014), it does nothing to enhance his nationalistic credentials that are often entwined and cultivated in star personas. This calculated risk creates fissures in his star persona that he was willing to take at this point in his career. Unfortunately, as is evident from the Padmaavat furor, it is a role that seems untenable now in India, which has seen a striking rise in populism and a militant Hindu nationalism that seeks to silence any critique of the nation or its culture. Udta Punjab (2016) is a grim tale that takes a hard look at the addiction crisis in Punjab4 . Shahid Kapoor plays Tommy Singh, a high-strung, drug-addled Punjabi rapper whose paeans to the “white one” (cocaine), make him a hero to his young Punjabi audience “flying” high on the drug. The bare-tattooed chest, long-matted hair and foul-mouthed dialogues are pitch-perfect in Kapoor’s essaying of a Punjabi rock star who senses his inspiration drying as he sinks in the throes of drug abuse. Adored by the addicted youth of Punjab, Kapoor plays the self-proclaimed “cool dude” with a nervous and brittle energy that makes him look both ridiculous and a little vulnerable. The role, though vastly different from his previous film roles, once again harnesses his youthfulness to express a contemporary reality. In this case, it is a drug epidemic in Punjab, particularly widespread among its youth, which has largely been ignored by the rest of the country. The role, requiring him to bare his highly toned body and showcase his dancing skills along with his acting skills, seemed tailor-made for Kapoor. Kapoor’s stardom feeds into the role. He adds glamor to the role as a contemporary star playing a star. Such a role requires an established star rather than a newcomer, and Kapoor at this point in his career seemed primed to play the role of Tommy Singh. Moreover, the acting credentials he had garnered for his role in Haider, provide him the stature to glamorize and simultaneously “de-glamorize” the role of cocaineaddicted rock star who is losing his grip on stardom and reality. Despite its grim subject-matter, the film was a surprise commercial success. The pre-release censorship controversy provided the film good initial publicity. The Censor Board’s5 refusal to certify the film and its demand for cuts were widely viewed as unreasonable, partisan and out of touch. The entire controversy and the court case 4 Punjab

is a border state between India and Pakistan and has become major transit point for the passage of drugs from the Golden Crescent (Afghanistan, Iran, and Pakistan). As a result, the drug consumption in the state is significantly higher than the rest of India. 5 CBFC or the Central Board of Film Certification is a powerful government entity that grants permits for the exhibition of films. No film can be released in India without the permission of the CBFC.

114

M. Biswas

ruling in favor of the film’s producers generated goodwill for the film and those associated with it. The film’s producers held the moral high ground defending the film on its gritty “realism” and its ability to take on a serious issue such as drug addiction. Being associated with such a project boosted Kapoor’s acting credentials and his credibility. Kapoor’s role in Kaminey, Haider, and Udta Punjab and the circumstances of the films’ circulation are central to defining his stardom. It is a reminder of the stilldominant role of the big screen in defining stardom. It is worth noting, however, how all three films wisely highlight his dancing. This skill is both inextricably associated with the star’s individualized body and can be commodified as a commercial asset that feeds into his stardom. Common to all three films is a central dance track that forms the core attraction of that film.

Song-and-Dance Sequences Song-and-dance sequences are crucial to the success of Hindi films. They are central to advertising a film, building up anticipation for it, and ensuring its successful opening. They also have a more extended afterlife than the films—the videos circulate on television, computer, and phone screens and the audios on radios, cell phones, and disc jockey lists. All three films have very successful song albums helmed by highcaliber music directors such as Vishal Bhardwaj and Amit Trivedi and common to all three, despite the varying genres of the films, are carefully crafted and extremely successful dance-tracks. These dance tracks emerge from the dramatic context of the films but circulate independently long after their release, and Kapoor has adroitly intervened in extending their circulation by repackaging them as stage dance performances in various high-profile Bollywood events such as Filmfare Awards, Stardust Awards, and IIFA (International Indian Film Awards) ceremonies. The club song “Dhan te Nan,” composed by Vishal Bhardwaj, set to lyrics by Gulzar, and sung by Sukhwinder Singh and Vishal Dadlani, is one of the highlights of Kaminey. As Bhardwaj has explained in several interviews, the phrase “dhan te nan” is an intrinsically Indian sound cue, which originated in Indian cinema to signify a dramatic moment or an exciting action and has now percolated into Indian culture as a commonly used phrase. The song perfectly defines the mood of the film that is dramatic and action-packed. Many contemporary reviews of the film echoed the phrase to signify their appreciation of the film’s impact. Gulzar’s wacky lyrics such as “Aaja aaja dil nichodein/raat ki matki phodein/koi goodluck nikalein/aaj gullak ko todein” (Come on, come on, let’s wring the heart/shatter the pot of night/extract some good luck/today let’s smash the piggy bank…) shift smoothly between clever word play and philosophy as the music moves tantalizingly from a Tarantino nod to an energetic urban song. They provided a contemporary feel to the song and contributed to its popularity. In the film, Charlie and his best friend Mikhail, drunk and high on the dreams of striking it rich, enter a pub and join the ongoing song. Even though the song does not

8 Shahid Kapoor: Multi-Platform Mediations of a Mid-Level Star

115

focus exclusively on Shahid Kapoor, the song, the mood, the phrases, and the lyrics have become inextricably associated with him. Shahid had entered the film industry with strong dance credentials and his dancing skills, honed during his professional training with Shiamak Davar’s dance troupe, have been appreciated since his debut film Ishq Vishq (2003). The urban cool of the “Dhan te nan” song added glamor, grit, and contemporaneity to his dancing skills. Kapoor has strengthened this association by using it as the lead song in many of his Bollywood shows. His reputation as a premier dancer, cultivated by numerous appearances in high-profile film related shows, is thus symbiotically boosted by his successful film tracks that are eagerly awaited by his audience familiar with all his popular songs. The “Bismil” (wounded lover) song of Haider, like the “Dhan te Nan” song, is a staple of Shahid’s stage performances. The song repeats the composition team of the Kaminey song. It adapts the mousetrap sequence in Hamlet to a dance performance by Haider who is seeking to expose the stepfather’s guilt. The song is an eclectic blend of Kashmiri folk and western opera music, and Gulzar’s characteristic wordplay makes the song highly allusive using typical motifs of Urdu poetry alongside references to the local politics of Kashmir. Lines such as “Jhelum…Jhelum…laal laal hua, laal laal hua…Jhelum…” (Jhelum, Jhelum has turned red…it has turned red…”) refer to the circumstances surrounding Haider’s father’s murder, but they also voice the experience of many Kashmiris who witnessed the horror of unclaimed bodies washing down the shores of the river Jhelum (Asia Watch 67). Kapoor was required to execute a range of dramatic emotions in the dance and Bhardwaj, seeking a complete makeover of Kapoor’s previous dance moves, engaged a new choreographer, Sudesh Adhana, to craft his movements. Adhana used a blend folk art and martial art to project Haider’s anger and grief. Kapoor in the song is both a grieving son and a representative of the community as he moves with controlled aggression against the backdrop of the ruins of the Martand Temple in Kashmir. At this moment in the dance, passionately straining at his constraints and poised on the brink of action, Kapoor’s body also reinterprets the Hamlet trope of indecision. The blend of poetry and aggression in the film sequence are useful additions to Kapoor’s star image adding depth and passion to his youth. In a recent IFFA 2017 show, he gave the “Bismil” song a complete makeover against the backdrop of a futuristic theme as he executed vastly different, robotic moves clad in dazzling black and silver. And yet, the “Bismil” track, following on the heels of the comedic rendition of his “Saree Ke Fall Sa” (like the fall of a saree) song, shifted the mood of the performance to give it a sudden electric intensity, which was clearly a carryover from the film. The “Chitta Ve” (White one) song in Udta Punjab introduces Kapoor with a flourish, rapping atop a glittering stage lorry. He plays a rapper high on drugs, belting out his raw experience on stage to an enraptured audience: “Zindagi chill hai ya jiyo jiyo speed vich/azaadi lipti hai maza hai saara weed vich” (You live a chill life or live it on speed/freedom is rolled and all the fun is with weed). The rebellious, albeit tacky lyrics thrill and inspire his young audience, as do his antics when he jumps down on the stage with his unruly hair billowing around him to sing a love paean to cocaine: “Chitta ve/Kaiyaan nu hai khush kitta ve/Hai mittha ve…mittha ve/Kundi nashi wali khol ke dekh/Udta Punjab” (white one/you have made many happy/Sweet

116

M. Biswas

one, O sweet one/unlatch the lock of euphoria and look/Punjab flies high…). The lyrics parallel the unleashed, psychedelic mood of the performance, personifying the glamor and romance of drugs as Shahid calls upon his audience to answer his lead: “Open the lock of euphoria and see…;” and his thrilled audience chorus responds with “…Udta Punjab!” (flying Punjab). The song is unusual in setting up the rhythm and excitement in its first half through glittering lights and the stage-enhanced body of Shahid Kapoor, and then erasing his image in the second half while continuing with the frenzied vocals of the song. The focus of the camera shifts in the second half with an almost documentarylike intensity to the humdrum distribution networks of the drugs through the urban and rural landscape of Punjab, the widely divergent communities affected by the epidemic, and the dreary rehabilitation centers attempting to deal with the crisis. The palpable absence of Kapoor’s body in the second half of the song splinters the audience’s attention between the glamor and the horror of the addiction in Punjab and sets the mood of the film that exploits the star appeal of Kapoor to document an unpalatable contemporary reality. The song was shot with a live audience, and the following quote by an Indian Express article aptly captures the slippage between the star body of the actor Shahid Kapoor and the singer Tommy Singh that the film attempts: As soon as the word spread about Shahid shooting in the vicinity, hundreds of people thronged the film’s sets with full excitement and euphoria. This is the exact thing that the makers were looking for. They decided not to hire extras for the song and go ahead with [the] actual crowd present, who were all crazy for Shahid.

The merging of Shahid’s star body with Tommy Singh’s in the song and the ensuing separation of their bodies as Shahid Kapoor, the actor, enacts Tommy’s antics in his struggle with addiction, keeps the focus on Kapoor’s stardom as well as on his acting skills. Coming on the heels of his performance in Haider, this role cemented his credentials as a good actor. The song sequence in the film and the enraptured response of the audience fortuitously captures his star power. The numerous home videos of young aspiring rappers on YouTube that attempt to reproduce the “Chitta Ve” dance, many of them with carefully rehearsed intricate moves, are a tribute to Kapoor’s stardom and serve to extend it beyond the film. Shahid Kapoor has been selective about choosing his roles, and that has helped establish him as a star who takes up interesting projects. However, the failure of films such as Mausam (Season, Kapur 2011), Teri Meri Kahani (Your and my Story, Kohli 2012), Phata Poster Nikla Hero (The Hero Emerges from the Torn Poster, Santoshi 2013) and Shandaar (Fabulous, Bahl 2015) were setbacks. Mausam, directed by his father, to which he had dedicated two years of his career, was a big disappointment. His biggest success ironically was R… Rajkumar (R…Prince, Dheva 2013) in which he essays a predictable “roadside Romeo.” The film’s regressive plot and loud dialogues received poor reviews but the songs of the film were extremely popular. It provided Kapoor the opportunity to execute some good dance moves and got him back in the running as a star. Kapoor regularly includes the songs of the film in his dance performances. The lyrics of the song detached from the film sound more

8 Shahid Kapoor: Multi-Platform Mediations of a Mid-Level Star

117

funny than lewd, and the completely different context of the stage adds an aura of respectability to the songs. Kapoor’s strategy of promoting his songs through his dance performances has been very effective. While R…Rajkumar was a very successful film, some of his popular dance tracks from unsuccessful films, such as the “Pump it Up,” from Chance Pe Dance (Dance on Chance, Ghosh 2010) and “Tu Mere Agal Bagal Hai” (You are next to me) from Phata Poster Nikla Hero are frequently featured in his performances and are very well received by the audience. These dance performances are staged for high-profile events such as Filmfare Awards, International Indian Film Awards, Star Guild Awards, and the Miss India Competition. They are broadcast by big networks such as Sony Television or Zee TV, which keep Kapoor consistently in the public eye. He is often a staple of these shows. Even before the high-octane dance performances begin, he is introduced by other celebrities lavishing praises on him. At the time of the performance, the cameras frequently zoom in on other celebrities such as his co-stars or stars who may have even greater celebrity status than Kapoor. They form the front-row audience for his shows, clapping and reacting pleasurably to his performance. This “action-reaction framing” is typical of such shows, and it boosts his star image as it is not simply his skill that is on display but a reinforcement of his celebrity status affirmed by other stars. The intricately detailed stage backdrops and the elaborate choreography of these dance tracks enable the popular and familiar songs of Kapoor’s films to be remade many times over. The potential to remake and benefit from such designated “hit” tracks and the flexibility this space allows him to either detach the songs from the film or retain elements of a character allows Kapoor a considerable degree of control over the projection of his image. While stars are the most significant advertisements for their films, their control over their image within the story or their screen time in the film is subject to several factors that are not under their control. These dance performances allow Shahid much greater control in repackaging his image and provide infinite possibilities of projecting it differently, potentially highlighting his glamor and his contemporaneity. Moreover, clips of these shows can be disseminated by the star and his fans. Kapoor often posts clips of these performances to his Facebook page or Twitter feeds, as do his fans on Facebook or YouTube, easily multiplying the potential audience of these clips.

Image Shift: Millennial Youth to National Hero Shahid Kapoor, a fifteen-year-old veteran of the film industry, is now attempting an image shift pushing beyond his youth-oriented, contemporary persona through Rangoon (Burma, Bhardwaj 2017) and the now released Padmavati which has become a spectacular hit. His erstwhile eligible-bachelor image, which often had curious

118

M. Biswas

interviewers enquiring about his various affairs with attractive co-stars, has been replaced by a more mature Kapoor who appears on premium shows such as Koffee with Karan with his wife and might share some funny, intimate details about their married life with the viewers. His stint as one of the judges in the televised dance competition, Jhalak Dikha Ja (Reveal a Glimpse 2015), which coincided with his marriage, validated his expertise and primed him for such a transition. His latest Samsung Galaxy advertisement campaign also provides an appropriate vehicle for his smooth transitioning to an older, cooler, “know all” guy who can teach the younger, greener “Johnny” a thing or two about life. In Rangoon and Padmaavat, Shahid plays more mature roles. Rangoon is an ambitious period drama set against the backdrop of the Second World War. Kapoor plays Nawab Malik, an Indian National Army6 loyalist, who falls in love with an actress he escorts to the warfront. Malik’s allegiance automatically makes him a traitor in the eyes of the British-controlled Indian Army fighting against the Japanese at the time. While the film failed at the box-office, Shahid’s role in this film confirms his proclivity for picking up interesting projects. As a member of the INA, his loyalties conflict with the British Indian Army. Though most scenes highlight his defiance of the British officers, the film does include scenes of him killing Indian soldiers in the Indian army. However, in his pre-release interview of the film, Kapoor seems to suggest a much less-complicated interpretation of his character in the film: “[Nawab Malik] is a soldier, a patriot, very proper, very strong and he works with a purpose and that purpose is selfless. There is a huge romantic angle. But he is always a soldier first” (Kapoor 2017b “Interview on Rangoon”). The film does highlight Malik’s loyalty to his cause, but his patriotism is much more contested than Kapoor is willing to admit. Similarly, Kapoor’s efforts to promote his role in Padmaavat by emphasizing the nobility and “Indianness” of Ratan Singh’s character indicates a recognition of the advantages of aligning himself with a more essentialist notion of “Indianness.” The commercial trappings and the potential size and diversity of Padmaavat’s audience perhaps necessitate such an association. Kapoor seems cognizant of the national shift toward populism and conservatism, as any member of the Padmaavat team would be considering the enflamed controversy surrounding the film. His successful association with such an image will certainly not damage his stardom and might support his shift beyond youth-oriented roles. Considering his previous symbiotic alliances with directors such as Bhardwaj and Chaubey whose limited budgets benefitted from Kapoor’s star power just as his roles in their films boosted his acting profile, his possible shift will likely inspire stimulating roles that fit his move. While the big screen still provides the main impetus for stardom in Bollywood, the modest success of Kapoor’s “individuated” interventions in social media perhaps makes him a representative of a certain phase in Bollywood vis-à-vis digital media which might soon be overtaken by more corporatized efforts. However, male stardom in Bollywood 6 Under

Subash Chandra Bose, the Indian National Army collaborated with the Japanese during World War II hoping to gaining freedom from British Rule. After the war INA members were tried for treason by the British. This was extremely unpopular amongst the Indians who viewed them as freedom fighters. They are still widely idolized as patriots in Independent India for resisting British dominion.

8 Shahid Kapoor: Multi-Platform Mediations of a Mid-Level Star

119

has a much longer shelf life as is evident from the Bachchan and Khans examples, and if Kapoor maintains his judicious (if tenuous) hold over social media. There is reason to hope that he stays on that shelf for a while.

Afterword The unexpected blockbuster success of Kabir Singh (2019), the Hindi remake of Arjun Reddy (2017) directed by a first-time director Sandeep Vanga, has propelled Shahid Kapoor towards a superstardom that had hitherto eluded him. In a deeply problematic film that unashamedly romanticizes male aggression, Kapoor has, admirably, given his role a manic intensity that his fans love. Unlike the director, whose selfdefensive comments provided further fuel for the problematic gender dynamics in the film, Kapoor carefully kept silent during the initial five weeks of the film’s release. When he finally addressed the controversy, he chose to sharply focus on his role rather than his choice to play that role. While his interview (BollywoodHungama. com) did not address the main issue critics had with the film, he did point out correctly that the other elements in the film such as its photography, its music, and its focus on the actual social problem of alcoholism and anger-management did not get the attention they deserve. A media-savvy Kapoor, backed by his hard-earned reputation as a good actor and a commendable performance in the film, has thus managed to deflect some of the sharp criticism that has dogged the film’s director. It is worth noting that though Kapoor has used the traditional interview format and not Twitter to break his silence, it was dispersed widely by YouTube and Web-based links. Ironically, Kapoor has once again given voice to a fairly representative male figure of global India, not much changed from the previous millennium, who displays the unpleasant facets of a lingering, aggressive masculinity. The film’s success and the controversy it generated reflect the contradictions that define modern global India. On the one hand, the abysmal gender-politics of the film is celebrated unproblematically by a huge audience dazzled by the live-wire performance of a good actor, and on the other hand, it has generated enough criticism that has the actors and director defending the film in high-profile interviews.

References Asia Watch. (1993). The human rights crisis in Kashmir: A pattern of impunity. New York, London: Human Rights Watch and Physicians for Human Rights. BiscootTV. (2017). Shahid Kapoor’s Jealous ANGRY reaction on Ranveer Singh. In Padmavati. YouTube Video, 6:39. Oct. 13, 2017. Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v= ShC0KbwgOj4&t=21s. Accessed 8 November, 2017. BollywoodHungama.com. (2019). Shahid Kapoor’s reply to critics and haters who Bashed Kabir Sing|Sandeep Reddy Vanga. YouTube Video, 36:29. Jul 23, 2019. Available at: https://www. youtube.com/watch?v=vbhYXPPpREA. Accessed 5 August, 2019.

120

M. Biswas

Dyer, R. (1998). Stars (2nd ed.). London: BFI. Dyer, R. (2004). Heavenly bodies: Film stars and society (2nd ed.). London: Routledge. Express Web Desk. (2016). Here’s an interesting scoop about Shahid Kapoor’s Chitta Ve song form Udta Punjab. The Indian Express, May 20, 2016. Available at: http://indianexpress.com/ article/entertainment/bollywood/shahid-kapoors-chitta-ve-song-from-udta-punjab-interestingscoop-2810809/. Accessed 10 November, 2017. Filmfare.com. (2016). Here’s what Shahid demands from Padmavati. Filmfare Online; Available at: https://www.filmfare.com/news/heres-what-shahid-kapoor-demands-for-padmavati-15296. html. Accessed 10 November, 2017. Indianexpress.com. (2017). Shahid Kapoor: Was unfair to compare me with Shah Rukh Khan when I started off. The Indian Express Online; Available at: https://indianexpress.com/article/ entertainment/bollywood/shahid-kapoor-was-unfair-to-compare-me-with-shah-rukh-khanwhen-i-started-off-4750535/. Accessed 30 August, 2018. Kapoor, S. (2017a). Instagram Post. October 17, 2017. Available at: https://www.instagram.com/p/ BaE2JLygf8z/?tagged=rajputpride. Accessed 8 November, 2017. Kapoor, S. (2017b). ‘Shahid Kapoor on Rangoon’, for India Today by Suhani Singh, February 7, 2017. Available at: http://indiatoday.intoday.in/story/shahid-kapoor-rangoon-interview-kanganaranaut-vishal-bhardwaj/1/886958.html. Accessed 8 November, 2017. Majumdar, N. (2003). Doubling, Stardom, and Melodrama in Indian Cinema: The “Impossible” role of Nargis. Post Script, 22(3), 89–103. Punathambekar, A. (2013). From Bombay to Bollywood: The making of a global media industry. New York: NYU Press. Punathambekar, A. (2014). Situating Bollywood: An Interview with Aswin Punathambekar. Interviewed by Henry Jenkins, 29 January. Available at: http://henryjenkins.org/blog/2014/ 01/situating-bollywood-an-interview-with-aswin-punathambekar-part-two.html. Accessed 30 August, 2018. Shahid Kapoor sets Twitter on fire as he goes shirtless. (2017). The Deccan Chronicle, August 20, 2017. Available at: http://www.deccanchronicle.com/entertainment/bollywood/200817/shahidkapoor-sets-twitter-on-fire-as-he-goes-shirtless.html. Accessed 10 November, 2017.

Filmography Abbas-Mustan. (2006). 36 China Town. Trans TV and Mukta Arts. Ali, I. (2007). Jab We Met. Shri Ashtavinayak Cine Vision Ltd. Bhansali, S. L. (2018). Padmaavat. Bhansali Productions, Viacom 18 Motion Pictures and Paramount Pictures. Barjatia, S. (2006). Vivah. Rajshri Productions. Bhardwaj, V. (2009). Kaminey. UTV Motion Pictures and VB Pictures. Bhardwaj, V. (2014). Haider. VB Pictures and UTV Motion Pictures. Bhardwaj, V. (2017). Rangoon. Nadiawala Grandson Entertainment, Viacom 18 Motion Pictures and VB Pictures. Chaubey, A. (2016). Udta Punjab. Balaji Motion Pictures and Phantom Films. Chopra, A. (1995). Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge. Yash Raj Films. Chopra, Y. (1993). Darr. Yash Raj Films. Chopra, Y. (1975). Deewar. Gulshan Rai and Trimurti Films Pvt. Ltd. Dheva, P. (2013). R…Rajkumar. Next Gen Films and Eros International. Ghai, S. (1997). Pardes. Mukta Arts. Ghosh, K. (2003). Ishq Vishq. Tips Music Films. Ghosh, K. (2004). Fida. Tips Music Films. Ghosh, K. (2010). Chance Pe Dance. UTV Motion Pictures.

8 Shahid Kapoor: Multi-Platform Mediations of a Mid-Level Star

121

Johar, K. (2001). Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham. Dharma Productions. Kapoor, R. (1973). Bobby. R. K. Films. Kapoor, R. (1955). Sri 420. R. K. Films. Kapur, P. (2011). Mausam. Eros International Media Ltd. Khan, M. (1988). Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak. Nasir Hussain Films. Kohli, K. (2012). Teri Meri Kahani. Kunal Kohli Productions and Eros Entertainment. Kumar, R., & Rawail. R. (uncredited). (1981). Love Story. Rajendra Kumar. Kumar, R., & Rawail. R. (2008). Kismat Connection. Tips Music Films and UTV Motion Pictures. Mirza, A. (2000). Phir Bhi Dil Hai Hindustani. Dreamz Unlimited. Santoshi, R. (2013). Phata Poster Nikla Hero. Tips Music Films. Sethumadhavan. K. S. (1975). Julie. Vijaya Productions Pvt. Ltd. Vanga, S. (2019). Kabir Singh. Cine 1 Studios and T-Series.

Chapter 9

Action, Sensation and the Kinetic Body: The Stardom of Hrithik Roshan Shohini Ghosh

Abstract At the turn of the twenty-first century, the spectre of the Muslim, inexorably bound up with the figure of the Islamist terrorist, triggers a diversity of cinematic engagements in Bombay cinema. In the aftermath of 9/11, the Islamist terrorist is seen to possess a commanding global presence, transnational mobility and the capacity to unleash spectacular violence. The anxiety, dread, horror and fascination set in motion by terror-related violence and death-dealing become the vectors along which cinematic affect begins to travel. The Islamist terrorist, both visible and spectral, not only haunts and transfigures the diegetic world of Bombay cinema but inaugurates a new constellation of films whose affective registers reanimate the cinematic image. This emergent constellation is born when the “war film” becomes liberated from the confines of the combat zone and is catapulted onto a transnational arena. The soldier and spy merge into a singular figuration fusing the violent impulse of the former with the itinerant impulse of the latter inaugurating thereby a “new” cinema of action and sensation. Therefore, the soldier-spy films of Sunny Deol (Maa Tujhe Salaam, Verma in Maa Tujhe Salaam. Indian Movies, 2002, The Hero: A Love Story of a Spy, Sharma in The Hero: Love Story of a Spy. Time Magnetics, 2003, Jaal: The Trap, Dhanoa in Jaal: The Trap. Parth Productions, 2003) become early cinematic experiments in speed, movement and sensation. Running parallel to the soldier-spy films, another set of chronologically overlapping films produce a new force field of affects. The terrorist, who was thus far the hero’s antagonist, becomes the protagonist when the body of the star collides with that of the terrorist. Hrithik I place the word “new” in quotes because the new is never entirely new. It is inevitably constituted through both continuity and rupture. The challenge lies in identifying the “newness of the new”. For a detailed discussion, see Violence and the Spectral Muslim, Action, Affect and Bombay Cinema at the turn of the twenty-first Century, Ph.D. dissertation by Shohini Ghosh, School of Arts and Aesthetics, Jawaharlal Nehru University, 2017. This is not to argue that all new action films are driven by narratives of terrorism but that its new kinetic and affective energies have indeed been unleashed by the spectre of the terrorist. Combining “wirework” with “kung fu”, “wire-fu” refers to stunts where wires and pulleys allow its practitioners to perform stunts that are usually impossible for the human body to perform. S. Ghosh (B) AJK Mass Communication Research Centre, Jamia Millia Islamia, A Central University, New Delhi 110025, India e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 A. I. Viswamohan and C. M. Wilkinson (eds.), Stardom in Contemporary Hindi Cinema, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-15-0191-3_9

123

124

S. Ghosh

Roshan, in his early films Fiza (Mohammed in Fiza. UTV Motion Pictures et al. 2000) and Mission Kashmir, (Chopra in Mission Kashmir. Vidhu Vinod Chopra Productions, 2000) is arguably the first star on whose body these aspirations come to be inscribed. As the body of the star fuses with that of the terrorist, new possibilities in the realm of affect and signification are inaugurated. This essay argues that Hrithik Roshan’s stardom is inextricable from the movement and sensation of the new action cinema whose kinetic and affective energies have been unleashed by the spectre of the terrorist. Conversely, the kinesis of the new action cinema is driven by a star body that finds full and spectacular display through not just films but ads and campaigns for global brands. The emergence of Hrithik as a star also marks a significant moment in the history of Bollywood action cinema. Driven by the balletic athleticism of Hrithik’s star body and the pioneering innovations in action choreography, Bollywood witnesses the arrival of “wire-fu” films like Krrish (Roshan in Krrish. Filmkraft Productions, 2006), Dhoom 2 (Gadhvi in Dhoom 2. Yash Raj Films, 2006) and Krrish 3 (Roshan in Krrish 3. Filmkraft Productions, 2013) that allow action choreography to become spectacularly airborne. Central to the stardom of Hrithik Roshan is the sensational allure of kinetic and aerial mobility. It is through this sensorium that this essay contemplates the first decade of Hrithik Roshan’s stardom. Keywords Global stardom · Action hero · Kinetic body

The New Global Superstar In the year 2000, Hrithik Roshan emerged as Bollywood‘s newest superstar with three consecutive releases.1 In his debut film Kaho Na… Pyaar Hai (Say… You’re in Love) directed by his father Rakesh Roshan, Hrithik plays the dual roles of Rohit Mehra, a musically talented orphan struggling to survive in Bombay and the affluent Raj Chopra, a singer and entertainer living in New Zealand. The two lookalikes and their diegetic location in the film position Hrithik as both a local and global star within the Bollywood moment. The double role in Bombay cinema—a device that “doubles” the audience’s pleasure of viewing their favourite stars—has been the domain of well-established superstars.2 By casting Hrithik in a double role, the film positions the debutant as a superstar even before the film makes him one. Out of the 1 Hrithik Roshan started his career as a first assistant to his father Rakesh Roshan for films like King Uncle, (1993) Karan Arjun (1995) and Koyla (1997) before he was launched in Kaho Na… Pya Hai. As a child artist, he appeared in films like Aap Ke Deewane (Surendra Mohan 1980), Aasha (directed by Hrithik’s maternal grandfather J. Om Prakash 1980) and Bhagwan Dada (Om Prakash 1986). 2 For example, Ashok Kumar (Kismet, 1942), Nargis (Anhonee, 1952), Dev Anand (Hum Dono) Dilip Kumar (Ram Aur Shyam, 1967), Sharmila Tagore (An Evening in Paris, 1967), Rajesh Khanna (Aradhana, 1969), Amitabh Bachchan (Satte Pe Satta, Bemisaal and Desh-Premee, 1972: Don and Kasme Vaade, 1978 and 1978): Hema Malini (Seeta Aur Geeta, 1972), Sridevi (Chaalbaaz, 1982; Lamhe, 1991) and Shah Rukh Khan (Duplicate, 1998; Paheli, 2005; Don 2: The Chase Begins, 2006, Fan, 2016).

9 Action, Sensation and the Kinetic Body: The Stardom …

125

135 films released in 2000, only one was a blockbuster hit and it was Kaho Na… Pyar Hai. In her biography of Shah Rukh Khan, Anupama Chopra writes that Hrithik “hit the audience like a tsunami” with the third week box-office collections matching that of the first week (2007, 187). In 2000, India Today magazine featured him on the cover with the headline: “Heartthrob Hrithik”. The story claimed that with Hrithik’s arrival all the other actors were looking “a little more tired, a little more jaded” (Ibid, 187). Writer Suketu Mehta presents a similar description: Near riots are breaking out over Hrithik. A theatre owner from Raipur calls his father, frantic. He needs two hundred thousand pictures of Hrithik with his signature printed across them; a mob of women are besieging the theatre for them. When Hrithik visits the Taj Coffee shop another invasion of his female fans forces the staff to smuggle him out of the kitchen. In the suburbs, he is enjoying a quiet dinner at an Italian restaurant with his girlfriend when he is spotted. A crowd gathers and a passing double-decker empties out, as its passengers rush into get a good look at his face. …his film has experienced the fastest climb to the top in the history of Hindi cinema; 99% collection for the Bombay circuit in the first week. (2004, 417)

Deploying all the tropes of the Bollywood moment—music, dance, romance and a transnational spatiality, Kaho Na… Pyaar Hai launches Hrithik as a global star. In 2001, Hrithik becomes the ambassador for global soft drink major, Coca-Cola. The Coke ads play on the kinetic mobility of Hrithik’s body and citations from his debut film. In one ad, Hrithik and his film crew find themselves in a remote village in the desert where they hope the star will not be recognized and mobbed. Nobody does till a little boy starts dancing to a folk song that turns out to be the title song of Kaho Na… Pyaar Hai. Hrithik reprises his famous “hook step” with the boy infusing the moment with star energy. The ad concludes with the village elder telling Hrithik to join films since he dances so well! With Coke, Hero Honda, S Kumar’s and Home Trade, Hrithik in 2001 became the most sought after advertising icon in 2001, earning more money from advertising contracts than from films.3

The Star as Terrorist The release of Kaho Na… Pyaar Hai in January 2000 was followed by Fiza (Mohammad) in September and Mission Kashmir (Chopra) in October. With their plots embedded in the crisis of secularism and nationalism, both films have a dystopian undercurrent. The films did average business at the box office but consolidated Hrithik’s star status and his versatility as an actor. Set against the backdrop of the communal violence that gripped Bombay after the demolition of the Babri Masjid, Fiza is about a sister’s search for her brother Aman (Hrithik Roshan) who disappears after narrowly escaping death at the hands of a rampaging Hindu mob. Aman is rescued by the leader of an Islamist militant outfit of which he then becomes a part. 3 http://www.rediff.com/money/2001/may/05roshan.htm

(Last accessed: 28 October 2018).

126

S. Ghosh

Mission Kashmir is about Altaf, a young boy in Kashmir who witnesses the massacre of his family by a counter-insurgency unit of the Jammu and Kashmir police. The attack, as he gets to know later, was led by his foster father Inayat Khan (Sanjay Dutt). When Altaf discovers this fact, he runs away from home after a failed attempt to kill Inayat. He grows up in exile and returns as a trained militant whose sole mission is to kill Inayat and avenge the death of his family. For decades, Bombay cinema deployed the scenic locations in Kashmir as the backdrop for romantic encounters, tourism and the “picturization” of countless popular songs. The immortalization of Bombay stars against this backdrop was simultaneously accompanied by an emptying from this landscape, the people of Kashmir. At the cusp of the twenty-first century, the missing inhabitants return as militants to haunt the imagination of Bombay cinema thereby triggering a re-constellation of generic conventions and invoking a new sensorium. The militant’s return takes a spectacular turn with Hrithik’s star body. Both Fiza and Mission Kashmir arrived soon after the sensational success of Kaho Na… Pyaar Hai and the emergence of Hrithik Roshan as a star. Therefore, when the body of the star collides with that of the terrorist, the cinematic image is reanimated through a new affective subjectivity. In both films, Hrithik embodies the spectral Muslim whose subjectivity drives the narrative and the sensory spine of the film. The terrorist is no longer the hero’s adversary, as in the soldier-spy films of Sunny Deol, but a primary protagonist whose subjectivity provides the plot its affective force. Rustom Bharucha argues that the “terrorist” both “infiltrates and passes” (2014, 83). Here, “passing” is understood as a process, a movement which disallows the fixing of identities within a grid of signs. If the Kashmiri separatist of the soldier-spy films was impaled on a predictable grid of signifiers, the new militant has blasted it away. As the star and the terrorist fuse into a single figuration, it offers a tantalizing paradox. Unmoored from a grid of predictable signifiers, the terrorist passes unnoticed, but the star, whose body is always pursued by the fan’s desiring gaze, does not. Having seen the star (the actor) before the terrorist (the character), the relationship between the spectator and the on-screen protagonist stands transfigured. The spectacle of the transfigured body sears our gaze with a sense of moral ambivalence because the adversary is no longer the outsider. The Manichean divisions of good and evil are dismantled in favour of a more complex and ambivalent moral legibility. In Fiza, Aman’s transformation from victim to the perpetrator of violence is underscored by a prolonged sequence where he trains his body to become both shield and armament through a performance inspired as much by dance as martial arts. The sequence begins with a series of close-ups of a thoughtful Aman while the voice of the militant leader Murad Ali (Manoj Bajpai) urges him to prepare for battle: “Now you have to become strong”. Murad says: This is your biggest test. What happened with you is about to happen yet again. You can stop another riot. Get ready Aman otherwise like you there will be other Amans who will die even as they live.

What follows is a four-minute choreographed performance by Aman executed through an ensemble of stylized body movements against a mise en scene of “nowhere

9 Action, Sensation and the Kinetic Body: The Stardom …

127

spaces”; the rusted interiors of an abandoned mill, a debris of concrete rubble, back alleys filled with smoke and water and finally, the expanse of the sea. Barring the first sequence, where a few onlookers fleetingly appear at the edge of the frame, the camera focuses exclusively on Hrithik. It moves over his rippling muscles and lingers on the body as he runs, leaps, climbs, pumps iron, performs high kicks and breaks a slab of ice with his bare hands. The meditation on the star body is disrupted when, towards the end of the sequence, vignettes from the past begin their intrusion: Aman’s brutalization at the hands of Hindu rioters who try to torch a tyre around his neck, his running to save his life, his firing the gun to shoot the man who humiliates his sister and the look of shock and terror on the faces of his mother and sister. This sequence, though intended to underscore the remaking of Aman, does not propel the plot forward but is in fact, a cinematic detour; a tableau vivant of male “to-belooked-at-ness” invoked through a star body that is both balletic and kinetic. Bhaskar and Allen (2009) argue that in Fiza, the “muscular yet suffering body” of Hrithik Roshan “dramatizes at once the promise and pathos of Muslim youth” (2009, 318). In Mission Kashmir, the body of Hrithik charged with the aura of stardom provides an affective disruption to the narrative that, if the storyline alone was to be considered, would have resolved the issue of militancy in favour of the Indian state. Thus, the star body, by inviting split responses, creates a tension around assumed loyalties. The affect is heightened by the vitality of Hrithik’s muscular, mobile and infinitely agile star body. When in Mission Kashmir, the adult Altaf played by Hrithik Roshan makes his first entry, the kinetic mobility of his body finds full display as he descends upon an army bunker like a caped crusader. The sequence begins with the camera moving upward inside an army bunker and as it reaches the top, the roof prises open like a trap door. A man falls from the skies as it were, his shawl flying like a cape around his shoulders. The shawl flies off and settles on the ground as the man leaps up as though he can defy gravity. The men in the bunker are caught unawares and before they can figure what is happening, the intruder has landed on his feet with the grace of a dancer and knocked two of them out. Then jumping effortlessly, he lands on the soldier who has taken out a gun. Another soldier attacks him from the back. He turns leaps up and disarms the man with an elegant kick before turning around to face another soldier who has opened fire. Once again, he leaps into the air and dodges the bullet while taking aim and shooting the gun out of his attacker’s hands. The camera holds him in close-up as he tells the terrified soldier: “I have not come not to take your life but your jeep and wireless”. This sequence marks the grand entry of the star as terrorist while also marking a turning point for action choreography in Bombay films. The gravity-defying jumps executed by Hrithik were made possible by the innovations in wirework introduced by stunt coordinator and action choreographer Allan Amin who used, arguably for the first time in Bollywood, safety cables and harnesses, to perform dangerous falls and giant leaps. Amin’s innovations in Mission Kashmir won him his first Filmfare award. Later, in Dhoom 2, Hrithik Roshan and Allan Amin would return to set a new benchmark for action choreography in Bombay cinema.

128

S. Ghosh

Plasticity, Androgyny and the Kinetic Body In Bombay films, the star body finds display in both action and song-and-dance sequences.4 In Mission Kashmir, Altaf makes an impromptu appearance in a TV dance show manoeuvring an “accidental” meeting with Sufi (Preity Zinta), his childhood sweetheart. In a dance choreographed by Saroj Khan, both the male and female dancers perform similar movements. Unusually for an action hero, Hrithik performs steps that are fluid, androgynous and even feminine. Similarly in Guzaarish (The Appeal, Bhansali 2010), Hrithik performs an agile and androgynous ballet choreographed to the song “Jaane kiske khwaab…” (Who knows whose dream…). Hrithik’s easy “un-gendering” through dance shatters the binaries of “female emotionality” and “male rationality” allowing his body to be inscribed through not muscular corporeality alone but vulnerability, pain, suffering, loss and death. The “virtuous sufferer and the action hero can be combined in the same person” writes Linda Williams who points out that “pathos feminizes the man, even as a certain notion of masculinity is retrieved through action” (1998, 60). If Sunny Deol’s masculinity embodies an invincibility, then Hrithik’s emergent star persona embodies a vulnerability that constantly moves between the dualities of suffering and resilience, failure and triumph, death and regeneration. Death is a haunting spectre in Hrithik’s first three films. In Kaho Na… Pyar Hai, Rohit dies a shocking death while his doppelganger avenges the killing. In Fiza, Aman is constantly stalked by death before dying at the hands of his loving sister. Ira Bhaskar and Richard Allen observe that the “muscular yet suffering body” of Hrithik Roshan in Fiza “dramatizes at once the promise and pathos of Muslim youth” (2009, 318). In Mission Kashmir, death had been ordained for Altaf but the denouement of the film was pragmatically reworked to accommodate Hrithik’s newly acquired superstar status.5 The alienation and persecution suffered by the Muslim protagonists of Fiza and Mission Kashmir become thematic repetitions in Hrithik’s subsequent films. The mentally challenged Rohit of Koi… Mil Gaya (Found Someone, 2003) never ceases to be an outsider. Krishna, who later becomes Krrish the superhero, is described by Hrithik as a “misfit”, “loner” and a “have-not”. He says: Despite all the powers he has Krishna finds himself sitting by himself alone and hoping some time to find a friend and he does. In an animal. It is a horse that becomes Krishna’s friend. Since he has no friends, his super-powers having alienated him from everybody, Krishna’s friends are the trees, the rivers and the mountains.

4 For

another discussion of Hrithik Roshan’s body, see “From Superman to Shahenshah: Stardom and the Transnational Corporeality of Hrithik Roshan” by Nandana Bose (2013:158–178). The essay is exceptional for taking seriously male “to-be-looked-at-ness” and makes the point that the cinematic body of Roshan engenders both straight and queer spectatorial pleasures (159). However, the essay is unable to extricate itself from the tired framework of understanding body displays through “objectification”, “commodification” (165) and the supposed sin of “gratuitous eroticization of the Roshan body”(163). 5 Suketu Mehta writes that the sudden success of Hrithik’s debut film resulted in him being elevated in Mission Kashmir from number 3 on the star list to number 1.

9 Action, Sensation and the Kinetic Body: The Stardom …

129

Hrithik’s empathy with the “misfit” is partly biographical. He readily admits to his “debilitating bone problem”, admitting that the doctors were wary of him “walking around freely, forget acting or dancing”, making him all the more conscious of his “stammering and (…) extra thumb”. (Filmfare, June 2006, Pages 56–64). Like loss and death, betrayal and retribution also become recurring motifs in Hrithik’s films. In Krrish, Rohit is betrayed, incarcerated and nearly killed by his mentors; in Dhoom 2, Aryan’s love story is seared by the threat of betrayal; in Jodha-Akbar, Akbar suffers the consequences of treachery from those closest to him, and in Guzaarish, the ruthless betrayal by Ethan Mascarenhas’s best friend destroys his career and leaves him immobilized for life. In Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara (You Won’t Live this Life Again, Akhtar 2011), Arjun is haunted by the deception of a close friend who had an affair with his girlfriend and broke his trust. In Agneepath (The Path of Fire, Malhotra 2012), the affective spine of Vijay’s relationship with his foster father Rauf Lala (Rishi Kapoor) is riven by betrayal and retribution. If as Linda Williams claims “melodrama involves a dialectic of pathos and action”, then part of the lure of Hrithik’s star persona is his ability to embody both (1998, 69).

Hrithik and the “Haptic of the Heights” Vertigo, according to Joshua Clover, is the central sensation of art in the age of digital reproduction (2004, 39). In Dhoom 2, Krrish and Krrish 3, Hrithik’s expertise with “wire-fu” enables him to take flight, execute high falls, giant leaps and stunts in midair.6 Captivated by the airborne stunts of Zhang Yimou’s Hero (2002) choreographed by Tony Ching, Rakesh Roshan invited him to choreograph the action for Krrish (the sequel to 2003s blockbuster Koi… Mil Gaya) and subsequently, Krrish 3.7 In order to acquire the stance and skill for sustained periods of wirework. Hrithik underwent rigorous training in Wu Shu under Tony Ching,8 Hrithik’s expertise with “wire-fu” in films like Krrish, Dhoom 2 and Krrish 3 allows action choreography to become spectacularly airborne inaugurating, as it were, a “haptic of the heights”. This finds spectacular display in a sequence in which Krrish pursues arch-villain Dr. Arya (Naseeruddin Shah) through the city of Singapore as he tries to escape after killing a man. With his hair and black coat-tails billowing in the wind, the masked Krrish races 6 Chinese

martial arts films have a long history of using wires to make characters fly or execute stunts for stunts in mid-air. Wirework also allows the actors to focus their energies on executing complex body movements without expending energy on gaining height (Hunt 2003: 166). 7 Tony Ching Siu-Tung Ching is an internationally acclaimed action director from Hong Kong whose credits include A Chinese Ghost Story (Ching Siu-Tung 1987), Shaolin Soccer (Chow 2001), Hero (2002) and House of Flying Daggers (2004), the last two directed by Zhang Yimou. 8 Wu Shu (which literally means martial arts) is a national sport in China and draws from Northern styles of “kung fu” and other gymnastic performances. The differences between Northern and Southern styles of kung fu are popularly expressed in the phrase “Northern Leg, Southern Fist”. The North was flat and therefore the emphasis on high-flying kicks supposedly to knock enemies off their horses (Hunt 2003: 168).

130

S. Ghosh

through the streets of Singapore’s Chinatown leaping and flying through familiar landmarks of the city. When a river comes in his path, Krrish jumps lithely off the rails on the river bank and flies across the river by stepping lightly on the roofs of boats before a giant leap lands him on the other side. Spreading his hands, he glides up into the sky before alighting on the road over which Arya’s car has passed. The car races ahead and reaches a skyscraper where a helicopter on the roof waits to whisk Arya away. As Arya ascends the high rise in a glass elevator, Krrish spots him. Just at that moment, duty calls. The child is stranded in the middle of a busy road with a speeding vehicle about to run him over. Using his super-quick reflexes, Krrish scoops him up and rises high into the sky before landing gently to deliver him to safety. Meanwhile, the helicopter has flown off with Arya. Keeping his gaze fixed on the helicopter, Krrish resumes his pursuit on the busy road. He leaps gracefully from rooftop to rooftop of moving cars before vaulting into the sky and landing amidst the cascading waters of the giant Fountain of Wealth. Standing under thin sheets of cascading water, he heaves himself back into the sky and lands on the gigantic red beams of the fountain. Sliding down a slanting red beam, Krrish flies up into the sky again and lands on the red-tiled roof of the Lan Pa Set market over which stands the famous clock tower. In three-long leaps and an aerobatic somersault, he stands on the vertex of the clock tower. His eyes follow the chopper. With another aerobatic heave, he begins running through the sky in pursuit of his prey. The sensation of escalating height or movement along the vertical axis is intensified by the sensation of speed and movement across the horizontal axis. Aerial mobility has been central to the kinetic force of Hrithik’s action films. In another spectacularly choreographed sequence in Krrish, Hrithik chases a descending paraglider through a dynamic flight where he literally ricochets off gigantic tree trunks to propel himself through the air. The haptic of the heights—the exhilaration of flying and the fear of falling— so integral to the architectural imagination of the skyscraper become central to the cinematic sensation offered by Krrish. The haptic of the heights along with the thrill of speed are also the distinctive sensations of Dhoom 2. The spectacular heist films of the Dhoom series (Dhoom, Sanjay Gadhvi, 2004; Dhoom 2: Back in Action, Gadhvi 2006 and Dhoom3, Vijay Krishna Acharya, 2013) have been blockbusters that have set box-office records and new benchmarks for the staging of spectacular action.9 The protagonists of Dhoom—the transnationally mobile gadget meisters forever beyond the reach of the state—conform to David Lee’s contention that imagination and poetry are essential to the heist film as they encode “the values of imagination and creative effort into criminal activity” and in the process examine “criminals as rule-breaking artistic geniuses” (2014, 9). Hrithik’s Aaryan, the “master-heister” of Dhoom 2 not only brings creativity and style to his capers but also the kinetic force of aerial mobility. In the opening sequence of Dhoom 2, Aaryan literally descends from the skies to 9 In the Dhoom series, the antagonists—played by John Abraham, Hrithik Roshan and Aamir Khan,

respectively—are the protagonists. While the two cops, Jai and Ali (played by Abhishekh Bachchan and Uday Chopra) remain constant, the coveted role of the antagonist keeps changing. In all three films, the most dangerous weapon possessed by the master heisters is agility of mind and the body.

9 Action, Sensation and the Kinetic Body: The Stardom …

131

execute a heist on a train moving through the vast expanse of a desert in Namibia. During another theft, he appears from the skies and escapes with Sunehri (Aishwarya Rai) by diving backward off the soaring ramparts of a fort. When he tests Sunehri’s loyalty, it is by asking her to jump with him down a precarious gorge. At the climax of the film, Sunehri shoots him, and he falls down a height from where return seems impossible. The thrill offered by the haptic of the heights is critical to Hrithik’s kinetic mobility. There is an anecdote that Hrithik recalls. During a scripting session for Krrish 3, ideas were being explored about the superhero’s first entry. Many ideas were being discussed though none had been finalized. Yet one thing was clear. “We knew” says Hrithik, “that it would have something to do with the sky”. Therefore, it is only fitting that the risky adventure sport that Hrithik’s character chooses in Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara is skydiving. If the exhilaration of heights is intensified through the fear of falling, then in the words of Enda Duffy, “driving at higher speeds is a greater thrill because one is putting oneself at a greater risk of crashing” (Duffy 2009, 203). The “terror of the crash” that is suppressed when one gathers speed is the necessary complement to speed’s thrill (Ibid., 203). The pleasures of such a delirium find full expression in an extended chase sequence in Dhoom 2 when Aaryan, following a heist, is pursued by the cops. Aaryan drops down a sewer to dodge the cops and shoots skyward out of another, propelled by a powerful surge of water. The subsequent sequence gathers momentum by intensifying action across all three axes. Pursued by the police, Aaryan rollerblades down a busy highway moving rapidly between speeding vehicles. The horizontal rush of the movement is arrested when at a traffic intersection Aaryan glides up a slanted surface and flies upward. The elegance of this volant and balletic ascension into mid-air is captured in slow motion. As the cops close in, Aaryan rollerblades down a metal banister, and when he’s back on the highway, he gathers acceleration by using the magnets in his gloves and the metal bodies of cars to pull him through the traffic. When he finds himself caught between two red double-decker buses, he uses his magnetic gloves to move vertically along the sides of the buses. When the cop fires, he heaves himself higher till both his outstretched hands touch the top of the two buses. When another shot is fired, he hoists himself up in the air and executes perfectly an aerobatic somersault. As he lands elegantly on the roof of the bus, the sequence resumes the rush of horizontal movement.

Conclusion: Delirium of the Senses One of the spectacular highlights of the 2014 IIFA (International Indian Film Academy) awards in Tampa, Florida, was a dazzling performance by Hrithik to a medley of songs from his own films. The spectrality that impelled the kinetic journey of Hrithik’s star body found spectacular visibility, for a brief moment on stage, when he danced to the song from Mission Kashmir wearing sartorial signifiers of the Muslim. In the first decade of the new millennium, the spectral Muslim in Bollywood is invoked as much through anxiety and paranoia as desire and fascination. Hrithik’s

132

S. Ghosh

journey of stardom from Fiza and Mission Kashmir to Jodha-Akbar inaugurated a landscape of desires and a new realm of meaning and signification. While “action” is used widely as a generic descriptor to promote and distribute films, its designation is relatively recent (Tasker 2015, 1). The specific qualities of action include “pace, exhilaration: a visual, even sensual evocation of movement and violence” (Tasker 2004, 1). It is a fusion of form and content in which “action, agitation and movement” are paramount (O’Brien 2012, 2). Its most notable characteristic is suggested to be its “dynamic tempo” articulating and accelerating the “breathtaking pace of the stunting human body” (Bean 2004, 17). The “dynamic tempo” and “breathtaking pace” of Hrithik’s “stunting body” are kinetic and aerial mobility that finds display and circulation through not just his films but ad campaigns for global brands such as Coke, Rado and Sony Ericsson. On the Internet, the making of these ads is as popular as the ads themselves. Hrithik’s affiliation to global brands has kept his stardom in circulation during his hiatus between films. Sean French has suggested that one of the dark “perverse” pleasures of watching action films is that we respond to vitality and not morality (1996, 54). This essay argues that the vitality of Hrithik’s star body is driven by how it moves and how it offers infinite possibilities for sensory engulfment through the thrill of speed and the haptic of the heights.

References Abel, M. (2007). Violent affect: Literature, cinema, and critique after representation. Lincoln, London: University of Nebraska Press. Bean, J. (2004). Trauma thrills: Notes on early action cinema. In Taskar Y (Ed.), Action and adventure cinema (pp. 17–30). Routledge. Bharucha, R. (2014). Terror and performance. New Delhi: Tulika Books. Bhaskar, I., & Allen, R. (2009). Islamicate cultures of Bombay cinema. New Delhi: Tulika Books. Bose, N. (2013). From Superman to Shahenshah: Stardom and the transnational corporeality of Hrithik Roshan. In Meheli Sen & Anustup Basu (Eds.), Figurations in Indian Film (pp. 236– 252). Basingstoke and New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Chopra, A. (2007). King of Bollywood: Shah Rukh Khan and the Seductive World of Indian Cinema. New York: Warner Books. Clover, J. (2004). The Matrix. BFI Modern Classics, London: BFI Publishing. Duffy, E. (2009). The speed handbook: Velocity, pleasure, modernism. Durham-London: Duke University Press. French, S. (1996). The Terminator. British Film Institute, BFI Classics. Ghosh, S. (2017). Violence and the apectral Muslim: Action, affect and Bombay Cinema at the turn of the 21st Century. Unpublished dissertation submitted to the School of Arts and Aesthetics, Jawaharlal Nehru University. Hunt, L. (2003). Kung fu Masters: Stardom, performance and ‘authenticity’ in Hong Kong Martial Arts Films. In M. Jancovich, A. L. Reboll, J. Sringer & A. Willis. (Eds.), Defining Cult Movies. Manchester-NY: Manchester University Press. Lee, D. (2014). The Heist Film: Stealing with Style. London-NY: Wallflower Press. Mehta, S. (2004). Maximum City: Bombay Lost and Found. New York: Alfred A Knopf. O’Brien, H. (2012). Action Movies: The Cinema of Striking Back. London: Wallflower. Tasker, Y. (2002). Spectacular Bodies: Gender. London, Routledge: Genre and Action Cinema.

9 Action, Sensation and the Kinetic Body: The Stardom …

133

Tasker, Y. (2004). Introduction: action and adventure cinema. In The Hollywood Action and Adventure Cinema (pp. 1–13). Routledge. Williams, L. (1998). Melodrama Revised.’ In N. Browne (Ed.), Refiguring American Film Genres: Theory and History. University of California Press.

Filmography Abbas, K. A. (1952). Anhonee. KA Abbas. Akhtar, Z. (2011). Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara. Excel Entertainment. Amarjeet. (1961). Hum Dono. Dev Anand. Barot, C. (1978). Don. Nariman Films. Behl, R. (1978). Kasme Vaade. Rose Movies. Bhansali, S. L. (2010). Guzaarish. SLB Films. Bhatt, M. (1998). Duplicate. Dharma Productions. Chanakya, T. (1967). Ram Aur Shyam. Vijaya International. Chopra, V. V. (2000). Mission Kashmir. Vidhu Vinod Chopra Productions. Chow, S. (2001). Shaolin Soccer. Star Overseas Ltd, et al. Desai, M. (1982). Desh Premee. S. Movietone. Dhanoa, G. (2003). Jaal: The Trap. Parth Productions. Gadhvi, S. (2006). Dhoom 2. Yash Raj Films. Gowarikar, A. (2008). Jodha Akbar. AGPPL. Mohammad, K. (2000). Fiza. UTV Motion Pictures et al. Mukherjee, G. (1943). Kismet. Bombay Talkies. Mukherjee, H. (1982). Bemisal. Shri Lokenath Chandramandir. Om Prakash, J. (1980). Aasha. Filmyug. Om Prakash, J. (1986). Bhagwan Dada. Filmkraft Productions. Palekar, A. (2005). Paheli. Gauri Khan/Red Chillies Entertainment. Parashar, P. (1989). Chaalbaaz. Lakshmi Productions. Roshan, R. (1993). King Uncle. Filmkraft Productions. Roshan, R. (1995). Karan Arjun. Filmkraft Productions. Roshan, R. (1997). Koyla. Filmkraft Productions. Roshan, R. (2000). Kaho na… Pyar Hai. Filmkraft Productions. Roshan, R. (2006). Krrish. Filmkraft Productions. Roshan, R. (2013). Krrish 3. Filmkraft Productions. Samanta, S. (1967). An Evening in Paris. Shakti Films. Samanta, S. (1969). Aradhana. United Producers. Sharma, A. (2003). The Hero: Love Story of a Spy. Time Magnetics. Sippy, R. (1972). Seeta Aur Geeta. G.P. Sippy. Sippy, R. N. (1982). Satte pe Satta. N.C. Sippy. Siu-Tung, C. (2011). A Chinese Ghost Story. Film Workshop. Verma, T. (2002). Maa Tujhe Salaam. Indian Movies. Yimou, Z. (2002). Hero. Beijing New Film Picture Co. et al. Yimou, Z. (2004). House of Flying Daggers. Edko Films, et al.

Chapter 10

The Body and Its Multimedia Sensations: Forging Starry Identities Through Item Numbers Silpa Mukherjee

Abstract The item number is the driving force behind the transformation of cinedancing in relation to the star and as a corollary, positioning the star body within the discourse of post-network status of film publicity, marketing culture, branding, and value creation across media templates. I engage with the item number as the explosive interface that mutates the sensation of stardom. The performative charge of item numbers provoke dynamic interface processes that forge a sensational image of the star body through “inherently rhizomatic and hyper-visible sites” beyond cinema in music television, radio, print, live stage, new media as well as other ancillary industries like merchandize endorsements and product branding (Nayar in Seeing stars: Spectacle, society and celebrity culture. Sage, New Delhi, 2009). Extra-filmic stardom proliferates across networked media where every public appearance, statement, “tweet” and sound bite made by the star (or a controversial/leaked/morphed orphan video that floats on Web space) generates a ripple of sensations (Cashmore in Celebrity/Culture. Routledge, NY, 2006). The chapter will locate the new erotics of the star body after globalisation and in a post-network society, a body that “deterritorializes geographical and cultural borders” and conjures the erotic spectacle of the “global celebrity” (Redmond in A Companion to Celebrity. Wiley Blackwell, UK, 2016). This chapter will offer insights on the role of dance in the shifting notions of a star’s screen position. If at one point the item girl was an ‘outsider’ to the narrative, today lead heroines perform these dance spectacles. I do a comparative study of major (Malaika Arora, Aishwarya Rai, and Kareena Kapoor) and minor stars (Sambhavna Seth, Rakhee Sawant, Veena Malik, and Sherlyn Chopra), their performance of item numbers and the discourse generated in the popular press about them. The last two decades have shown how fringe actors acquired short lived stardom owing to their performance of certain item numbers (Rakhi Sawant and Isha Koppikkar). At the other end of the spectrum we have seen how big stars like Madhuri Dixit can add value to aid the publicity and marketing of films (Madhuri Dixit’s number “Ghagra” in Karan Johar’s blockbuster hit film Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani 2013).). The chapter aims to make an intervention in the existing academic discourse on cinematic S. Mukherjee (B) Film and Media Studies Program, University of Pittsburgh, 5833 Beacon Street, Pittsburgh 15217, PA, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 A. I. Viswamohan and C. M. Wilkinson (eds.), Stardom in Contemporary Hindi Cinema, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-15-0191-3_10

135

136

S. Mukherjee

‘trash’ and ‘sleaze’ by underlining the obvious but understated edge of technology mediating the sensation of ‘sleaze’ and bringing it in close connection with mainstream stardom in the case of the item number. Sleaze here is an aesthetic mode of the cine-erotic that is widely recognized from Hollywood’s genre of exploitation films (with lesser-known starlets, low budget productions, lurid mise-en-scene, and deliberate investment in trash). While I am immensely indebted to previous studies of stardom especially Neepa Majumdar’s logic of the “split discourse of female stardom in India” which stages a debate about the class position of the performer and the respectability of the medium, I move away from purely socio-cultural connotations of stardom. I acknowledge new media studies and propose a study of the item number as an interface for stardom. I make use of gossip journalism and magazine covers to trace the sensation of the erotic in star bodies. Narratives of cosmetization of the star body (botox, silicone implants, size-zero figure and six-pack abs) further the logic of the fractal nature of the affective body which can mutate in contact with technology. The glamour associated with big male stars and their dance numbers that work as promotionals for big budget films will be discussed in this chapter. The numbers themselves operate as star texts creating value for the film. Male dancing in item numbers, as I show through my case studies, performatively create star narratives: Shahrukh Khan’s global stardom created by his dancing on live stages across continents is cited in his item numbers; Salman Khan performatively addresses his Muslim (often based in the Middle East and Europe) and working-class fans through his item numbers which act as standalone pieces and Ranveer Singh’s item numbers (across media templates of film, video, live show and endorsements) assert his taporiness—a crucial marker of his star narrative. In each of these cases, the item number ascertains the “global citizenship of the Bollywood star” (Nayar 2016). Some of these male dance numbers have not been considered as item numbers. However, they fit my taxonomy of item numbers as hybrid ensembles that not only reframes the logics of sensation around the body of the performing star but also operates as standalone star texts outside the narrative of the films and even the ecology of the song’s lyrics and picturization. Keywords Item girls Celebrity · Body Networks · Sexuality Interface · Item boy Media

From Sleaze to Celebrity Glamour When I saw ‘Bhojpur Ki Helen’ enter the coffee shop, I had difficulty in identifying her; the excessively visible breast implants were missing. From my clothes and demeanour, she recognized me right, came smiling to my table and ordered food for me and black coffee for herself; clearly a local star, the manager at the selfservice cafe came to our table to greet Seth. Sambhavna Seth grew up in south Delhi, attended a non-honours course in Maitreyee College and participated in collegiate

10 The Body and Its Multimedia Sensations …

137

dance festivals.1 When she arrived in Tinsel Town with aspirations of becoming a dancing star, all she found herself doing was item numbers in B grade films: some of which are interestingly distributed by big players like Eros and feature A circuit music stars like Usha Uthup and Sunidhi Chauhan.2 In a typical B grade venture Bhavnao Ko Samjho (2010) by popular comedians Sunil Pal, Johnny Lever and Kapil Sharma, Shambhavna Seth was seen in an item number, ‘Mai Chamak Odhni Dal Chali’ (I wear a blingy wrap). The number though sung by Sunidhi Chauhan has low production value. Set in a wedding party in a working class neighbourhood, citing the Bhojpuri milieu, the design is excessively iridescent and deliberately trashy. Seth’s dancing is marked by vigorous pelvic thrusts and heaving breasts reminding the spectators of her affiliation with the live stage in the north Indian hinterlands. She says: I found it increasingly difficult to survive in Bombay, there was never enough money… when friends suggested that I take up offers from some Bhojpuri producers I agreed, thinking that they will release in U.P-Bihar, my family will not get to know…little did I know that I will become a star there. By the time I was invited to Bigg Boss in 2008 (the show wanted a Bhojpuri dancer for TRP factors), I had done close to 50 songs in Bhojpuri movies, I had worked opposite A list male stars from Bombay like Ajay Devgan and Akshay Kumar.3

Although not a multiplex star, restricted mostly to B films, Seth’s celebrity status is predicated on her multi-platform exposure: reality television, dance shows on the small screen, live shows’ telecast as news, multiple controversies churned out by gossip journalism and her leaked sex videos from the Bigg Boss set circulating as pornographic material on YouTube as well as mohalla (neighborhood in South Asia) level porn sites like xxxgossip.com and doodhwali.com. I refer to sleaze in the title of this section not as a judgement on taste but a measured cinematic investment in the aesthetics of trash which generates pleasurable verisimilitude outside of the Bhojpuri milieu, now diffused in the porosity of a larger new media ecology. She acknowledges her own use of casting couch in her earlier years with frank alacrity; she even mentioned names off the record. When she got a few breaks in mainstream Hindi films, like “Aashiqui main teri” in 36 China Town (dir. Abbas-Mustan 2006), Seth invested in a PR team (name undisclosed) that successively curated her image as the “controversy queen.”4 A year ago, Sambhavna Seth was again doing the rounds in the media when it was reported that the much publicised item number opposite John Abraham in Aneez Bazmee’s Welcome Back, 2015 did not reach the theatres: rather it was Seth’s role in the song that was snipped. A very patchy edit of the song shows her in one shot, and as soon as she turns round, the shot is replaced by a close shot of Lauren Gottlieb. When asked about the faux pas in the Welcome Back item 1 Interview

with Sambhavna Seth at Café Coffee Day near Saath Bungla, Versova, Bombay. 25/01/2016. 2 Ladki Badi Bindaas in Mirchi: It’s Hot (Dinesh D. Awasthi 2004), Koi Dil Se Gaya in Khallas: The Beginning of End (dir. Sumeet Chawla 2007), Give Me Money Money in Mudrank: The Stamp (dir. Shakir Shaikh 2009) etc. 3 Ibid. 4 Ibid.

138

S. Mukherjee

number, 20-20, Seth says that she went into depression for a while and personally contacted Ganesh Acharya, the choreographer for the song. The choreographer’s response was a shocking eye opener for her; Seth says: I looked very fat in the song! So they replaced me with Lauren…I used to do Bhojpuri movies, so I never really cared about maintaining a slim body. Also, Bhojpuri audience demands a round belly, full breasts and even fuller hips. I was aware of Bollywood’s recent fitness fetish, but didn’t realize that they would side line my dancing skills because my body didn’t fit the standard…what you are seeing now is Sambhavna Seth after six months of rigorous crunches and dieting.5

Plumbing through the inescapable but rancorous network of publicists and PR firms charging exorbitant fares for image grooming, and parasitic dependence on loan sharks to afford that publicity and also a glamorous lifestyle to get noticed in tinsel town, the starlet vying for celebrity status often shares the same experiences as that of the aspiring model. Elizabeth Wissinger and Joanne Entwistle have pointed out the labour and effort, endless possibilities and yet, the precariousness associated with the model’s work; work that capitalizes on the body’s susceptibility to enhancement, pulling the body into productive matrices to fit the ever-changing ideal of the glamorous (2012). Wissinger also brings to light the “biopolitics of beauty” governing decisions about organizing market forces around the body’s potential to grow fitter, stronger, more attractive, or connect, mutate under the effects of drugs, cosmetics, or the hypodermic needle (2015). The mediatised sensational body of the celebrity is a charged geography, a space that can be endlessly morphed, scrutinised, surveilled and traded. Jacki Stacey and Sara Ahmed term the fleshly surface of the body as the “bodyscape” a potential “dermography”, a spatial notion of the body that can be infinitely stretched and bound (2001). Wissinger coins the term “glamour labour” to denote the infrastructure behind all aspects of a celebrity’s image from physical presentation, to personal connections, to friends and fun and the effort of putting up a cool quotient (ibid.). The pull for glamour labour has intensified with digitalisation of lives; the constant desire for liveness, the urge to stay online which is a new addition to the celebrity’s already hyper-mediatised image. The medicalization and mediatization of everyday life of a model aimed at the maximization of lifestyle, potential and health reminds one of the starlet’s desperate attempts at constant sensational somatic presentations, not only at physical sites but also virtual (technological mediations affecting the body from being polaroided and subjected to photoshopping conventions on the Web). With the low-angled shots of Malaika Arora swinging her slim waist atop a train in Chhaiyya Chhaiyya, the in-your-facedness of the lyrics “patli kamar matka ke” (shaking her slim waist) accompanying Shilpa Shetty’s movement vocabulary in “UP Bihar Lootne” to directly referencing Katrina Kaif’s shimmying hourglass body in “Chikni Chameli” as “kamsin kamariya” (petite waist, the word kamariya actually refers to a body shaped to the perfect hourglass), thinness has become a standard of the item numbers. In 2002, Bombay Times runs a story titled “No More Full Figures: Thin is ‘In’ in Bollywood” and discusses the actress/female star body type 5 Personal

interview. Versova, 25/01/2016.

10 The Body and Its Multimedia Sensations …

139

standardized by item numbers like “U.P Bihar Lootne”.6 Critics Taran Adarsh and Komal Nahta debate whether this fascination for thinness in the industry comes from the fact that satellite programming has exposed and modified Indian audience tastes to appreciate international television “where stars are pretty but not plump” and the sudden influx of supermodels in the film industry.7 Sambhavna Seth’s response opens up the debate of choreographers repeatedly opting for foreign dancers (who are taller, slimmer, fitter and obviously lighter in skin complexion) for item numbers to cater to a shifting audience base who constantly stream videos from an infinite online archive that allows quick retrievals and comparisons along with making suggestions. With YouTube emerging as the most important platform for promoting and releasing film music, the circuits of celebrity glamour have expanded. A multiplex release is no longer the only touchstone of a star narrative. Spectatorial desire constantly expands, mutates and moves across classes and identities on Web-based entertainment media like YouTube. With working-class users jostling with the NRI population on YouTube, a celebrity’s glamour today is brewed in the new media ecology around her.8 This media ecology is created by television appearances, reality shows, live performances, controversies, leaked tapes and fan/user remixed videos and the economy of likes and comments around that video. If low-resolution aesthetics have strong links with lowbrow pornography which is banned by the state, decried by the right wing and certain feminist groups alike, high resolution, gloss tinted images of starlets as pin-ups offer the promise of quick (often global) stardom. It then becomes a marker of a high-end lifestyle and entertainment that only few can afford. The stardom that I mention in this context is unlike the stardom that signifies narrative, the building of a story of the star and composed of the interplay between on-screen (now many more screens) and off-screen lives of the figure (Dyer 1986). The term starlet on the other hand denotes an embryonic form which bids to mutate into something more substantial through virality. This is a case of “quick”, ephemeral ‘glamour’. TV had the notion of five minutes of fame, now Internet circulation might acquire something even more fleeting. Veena Malik, a model and dancer from Pakistan, stirred up the biggest controversy when she posed in the nude with “ISI” tattooed on her left upper forearm for the cover of men’s magazine, FHM’s Indian edition of December 2011. Veena Malik too entered Bombay cinema after her stint in Bigg Boss (Season 4, 2010) during which she gained quick 6 ‘No

More Full Figures: Thin is “In” in Bollywood’ in BT by Gaurl Sinh. Times News Network. May 4, 2002. Retrieved from ProQuest Historical Newspapers Times of India (1861–current), p. A1. 7 Ibid. The article quotes Shilpa Shetty who suggests that the new generation of actresses are health conscious; she herself makes an effort to stay in shape with regular exercise. Although the svelte body type was always the key requirement for an item girl, it was really with the entry of foreign dancing stars in Bombay that the uber fit body gained prominence; a body that is not only slender, but visibly fit, one that can withstand the image of the laborious star behind the item number (a new ingredient for the choreography). 8 Working class users of YouTube barely survive the digital divide and English language media aided by the affordability of touchscreen devices’ audio-visual cues. On the other hand the NRI users’ comments reek of materially comfortable lives and acquired tastes and appreciation of music.

140

S. Mukherjee

celebrity attention. Several videos of Malik with her co-participants, Ishmeet and later Ashmit Patel, leaked from the Bigg Boss set (specifically a bathroom video of Malik and Patel) were circulating on YouTube. Immediately after the FHM controversy, Malik was chosen to perform in an item number for the film Gali Gali Chor Hai (A thief in every alley, Rumi Jaffrey, 2013), titled in the song promo as ‘Channo, the Item Bomb’. A highly self-reflexive item number with double entendres lyrics points to the public secret about the ambiguous status of the item girl in the film industry; a public woman yet an unreachable celebrity.9 A quick look at the career graph of another starlet, Sherlyn Chopra, helps to further substantiate the quick and short-lived glamour of the controversial celebrity. Chopra was banned from Twitter because there was a feeling that the “obscene” images she uploaded on the micro-blogging platform would lead to a controversy. Chopra is the only Indian celebrity who was banned from Twitter when her nude photos on the site displeased a rights group in Bombay who also threatened her with legal action against obscenity.10 Chopra seized the headlines of leading film journals when she became the first Indian to earn the title of ‘The Playboy Girl’, earning a Playboy cover for herself.11 Sherlyn Chopra’s much awaited and already controversial 3D film Kamasutra (Paul 2013), whose promotion is being done exclusively through the two item numbers of the film performed by the starlet, is yet to release. Her provocative global stardom is different from Bollywood’s A circuit female actors. This is a stardom proliferating through peer networks of her fans on social media and the starlet’s constant “personal” interactions with these fan pages. Questions related to respectability and preservation of family honour and anxieties over public obscenity earn the wrath and displeasure of many. This shrouds the image of the starlet who gains celebrity status by performing hypersexualized stunts in Bombay cinema. Ridiculed for her antics, vilified for her self-amplified skin exposure, Rakhi Sawant managed to gain celebrity status for herself by shocking polite society. Much 9 Like

“Channo ki choli mein bum atom bum hai/Channo heroine se bolo kya kam hai/Khud malamaal hai par maal ki deewani hai/Channo ko padh lo open kahaani hai” (Channo’s blouse contains atom bombs/Is Channo any less than the heroine/flourishing herself, yet passionate about attractive men/Scan Channo coz her story is public), I use the term “public secret” in the same vein as Michael Taussig to refer to things that draw an invisible curtain on certain facets of the social fabric to preserve the status quo. 10 Prithwish Ganguly, ‘Twitter bans Sherlyn Chopra from posting ‘bold’ pictures’ on Dna, 22nd June, 2010. Retrieved from http://www.dnaindia.com/entertainment/report-twitter-bans-sherlynchopra-from-posting-bold-pictures-1399695. For further reference check http://www.asiantribune. com/news/2010/06/24/starlet-sherlyn-chopra-banned-twitter-obscenity. 11 Owing to the hubbub created since 2012 over all the social media platforms—Facebook, Twitter, Imgur, 4Shared, and Metacafe over Chopra’s nude photo on the magazine cover, the recently digitized entertainment magazines like Playboy and Indian film journals like Stardust widely circulated the Playboy photo shoot of the starlet on the web. ‘Sherlyn Chopra Nude Pics Released by Playboy on 15th August; Sunny Leone has competition?’ published on 16th August, 2014, Stardust. Retrieved from http://www.magnamags.com/ stardust/top-stories/sherlyn-chopra-nude-pics-released-by-playboy-on-15th-august-sunny-leonehas-competition/5044.

10 The Body and Its Multimedia Sensations …

141

of the threat that Sawant poses comes from her dubious social standing, a marginal entity in the film industry but one who was not ready to be cowered under the weight of the A list stars. Neepa Majumdar’s work tells us that the notion of respectability for female stardom (the dichotomy of the cultured and vulgar actresses) was critically important in a period when the middle class was consolidating a position for itself in colonial India (2009). Rakhee Sawant’s existence as the embryonic starlet speaks volumes about the largely bourgeois nature of the A circuit which creates liminal entities of fledglings from dubious classes; exploiting the affective charge of their performative gestures and yet expressing affront and disgust for those same sensational performative elements, vital and yet slighted personalities. Sawant threw respectability to the wind, left drawing room courtesies in the back seat and left everyone else fretting with her controversies.12 She has faced police action for violating laws, especially stage censor board dictates’ in Maharashtra. Her much controversial “Kajra Re Nights” in Sangli, Nanded and Kolhapur landed her in police custody when she went ahead with the live show despite not receiving a green signal from the censors (although “Kajra Re Nights” were deemed to be Pune police’s fund raiser shows!).13 She screamed aloud her identity as the struggling artist (in an industry where even the protégés of veterans often do not manage to find enough work but are abashed to be vocal about it); the extra-filmic knowledge of how many times she auditioned to bag her first A grade and hit item number, “Mohabbat Hai Mirchi” from Chura Liya Hai Tumne (dir. Sangeeth Sivan 2003) is alarming. She is repeatedly known to have publicly made statements that conjure a sensorium of the dark underbelly of the spectacular item number circuit of the Bombay film industry: a sexist space that requires conformity to codified standards of physical attributes and is extremely hostile to greenhorns who try to fit in, especially people with limited financial means and no references from the industry veterans who are then threatened with casting couch and forced to agree to nudity on-screen. Gossip framing her celebrity persona around the cult of glamour conjured through its material practices of botox, liposuction, strict diet regimens and silicone implants reveal the scramble for cosmetically eroticized bodies in the film industry. The sensation of the star body works under the spell of the personality in the case of the A list actors, the apparatus behind the body always masked under the bildungsroman of the star. However, the starlet moves through the network of in-your-face sensations, her bildungsroman involves a deliberate unmasking of the infrastructure backing her potent body. The process of unmasking in the case of Rakhee Sawant is a performative gesture working through the explosive interfaces of her item numbers, part of her cultivated celebrity persona.

12 In

2004, Sawant had accused singer Mika of sexual harassment. shows draw censor flak’ in Times News Network. June 16, 2006, p. 13. Retrieved from Proquest Historical Newspapers: Times of India (1861–current). 13 ‘Rakhi

142

S. Mukherjee

The Celebrity of the Fraternity Doesn’t Err… Princilla Pena Ovalle, in her study of the interconnections dance and female stardom for Latinx women in America, points out that Jennifer Lopez’s “selfcommodification” renegotiates her star persona across Hollywood film, music television, fragrance and retail fashion; the multiple media planes have enabled her image to utilize multiple bodily codes. MTV and Lopez’s mutual dependence chronicled her rise to multimedia fame. Her dancing style has brought the “butt” into the commodified space of mainstream beauty as the signifier of Latina female in mainstream media. Similar to Jennifer Lopez’s stardom associated with her sexualized dancing style and mediated by the interconnected networks of MTV and brands of fashion consumables, Malaika Arora exploited the sensational interface of item numbers to build her celebrity status. Her glamorous image thus pans across media texts which are rhizomatically connected to the interface: her initial days of modelling and video jockeying for MTV in the early 1990s, her image as the “fashionista” with her own clothing line, her much talked about marriage into Salim Khan’s family, as “the judge” of dance reality shows and her occasional appearances in blockbuster item numbers. Her photo-shoot for the 2009 cover of THE MAN, a luxury lifestyle magazine for men labelled her as the “erotic goddess”.14 She is unabashed about her overtly sexual image. In a recent interview, she says, “I love dancing. I enjoy it a lot. And I’m not apologetic about being an item girl at all…I have no plans to act in films. I don’t enjoy it.”15 The garb of respectability that seems to work in favour of her career and professional image in the film industry largely comes from the fact that despite doing hypersexualized stunts on top of the moving train in “Chhaiyya Chhaiyya”, her honour was shielded under the aegis of the traditional Khan family, her marital home. Gossip around Salman Khan as the brother and son who makes every possible effort to keep the family honour unruffled has preserved the halo of respectability around Malaika Arora, the married celebrity who performs item numbers in Bombay cinema.

Blockbusters and for a Few Endorsements More An article in 2004 in Times of India provides a table of statistics called “Item Fare”. The table represents the financial earnings of stars from certain item numbers: the

14 Retrieved

from http://forum.xcitefun.net/malaika-arora-sizzles-on-the-man-magazine-t19722. html. 15 ‘Malaika Arora Khan: Not apologetic about being an item girl’ in Mid Day. By PTI|Posted 23Jan-2015. http://www.mid-day.com/articles/malaika-arora-khan-not-apologetic-about-being-an-itemgirl/15935178.

10 The Body and Its Multimedia Sensations …

143

average budget of an item number is more than one crore, and Aishwariya Rai charged 45 lakhs for “Ishq Kamina”.16 The years 2002–2003 were interesting in the career of Aishwariya Rai. She was officially invited to be on the jury in Cannes Film Festival (2002) and featured on the cover of TIME magazine (2003) after she walked the red carpet in Cannes and also signed an endorsement with L’oreal. Rai is the second Indian film star to earn a place on the cover of TIME after Parveen Babi. Launching her star persona to a global audience as the glamorous face of Bombay cinema17 Rai chose to do an item number, “Ishq Kamina” opposite Shahrukh Khan the same year, 2002, the stars were seen in Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s blockbuster operatic melodrama and India’s official entry to Oscars, Devdas.18 A year later, Rai was seen in Rituporno Ghosh’s much talked about, poetic film Chokher Bali (2003) in the character of Binodini. Rai’s otherwise typical film persona of the demure, beautiful and yesteryear angel of the house was fractured by her performance in Ishq Kamina, where she bites her lips, winks, wraps the free end of her knee-length sari around her shimmying hips, thrusts her pelvis and gyrates in abandon to the foot tapping number in a tabela (cow shed) on a rainy night cracked open by lightning. Along with her unimpressive little stint in Hollywood with Mistress of Spices (Mayeda Berges, 2005), her Bombay films, in the year 2005, fell flat at the theatres. However, her performance in “Kajra Re” was enough to undo all slips and catapulted her to a different kind of stardom. Rai’s global stardom is intricately linked to the judiciously crafted economic moment when all mothballed but redundant markers of Indian culture went for a toss and thus went global. Nikhat Kazmi in her article “We Are Like That Only: Popular culture defies all boundaries” cited Kajra Re as the most favourite song in South Africa.19 Based on a report from Fakir Hassen from Johannesburg, Kazmi suggested that “Kajra Re” was the new age anthem which had transcended class, spatial, national and territorial boundaries, and it was foot tapping and raunchy. This 16 ‘Make way for item boys: Hunk quotient’ by Faheem Ruhani, September 10, 2004, p. A1. Retrieved from ProQuoest Historical Newspapers: Times of India (1861–current). 17 Aishwariya Rai almost joined the league of vivacious stars like Parveen Babi whose 19th July, 1976 TIME cover was titled Asia’s Frenetic Film Scene and featured her in a black sequinned bra). 18 Shobha De in her episode on Koffee With Karan blatantly refers to Aishwariya Rai as “the worst dressed Indian”, a “vain girl” vying for a place in Hollywood which is “full of light eyed women with pale skin and great figures and perhaps more talented.” The episode was possibly shot in advance of the session with the woman in question as her apologia to the critic is aired two months in advance. ‘Shabana Azmi and Shobha De’ Koffee With Karan. Talk Show/English/Star World. 26 Feb 2005|Season 1|Episode 14|46 min http://www.hotstar.com/tv/koffee-with-karan/1525/shabanaazmi-and-shobha-dey/1000004956. In the episode with Aishwarya Rai, she names the people who have seen her closely in her off-screen life and who are hugely responsible in creating her star persona on-screen like her makeup artist, Mickey Contractor. She also snaps back at her critics for their ignorance of the fashion system outside India She also slams gossip journalism that has often tried to malign her by coming up with what she claims to be ‘stories’. ‘Aishwarya Rai’ Koffee With Karan. Talk Show/English/Star World. 11 Dec 2004|Season 1|Episode 4|45 min http://www.hotstar. com/tv/koffee-with-karan/1525/aishwarya-rai/1000004947 (reduce the length). 19 ‘We Are Like That Only: Popular culture defies all boundaries’ by Nikhat Kazmi. January 14, 2006, p. 30. Retrieved from ProQuest Historical Newspapers: Times of India (1861–current).

144

S. Mukherjee

period that print journalism touts as one in which there was free flow of culture across national borders was coterminous with the phenomenon of Bollywoodization of Hindi cinema: an offshoot of globalization and the liberalization of the economy when the well-settled NRI population was lured to make investments in the Indian economy. In the process, the new money that flowed into the cinema concentrated on the ancillary sector of film production and thus allowed for the production of films that capitalised on corporate-industrial-finance capital and exported a feel-goodversion of Indian culture to the diaspora.20 Aishwarya Rai’s global celebrity status would not have been possible without the rise of Bollywood as a globally marketable commodity along with its ancillary consumer products ranging from fashion brands (sportswear from Adidas as well as designer sarees) to Bollywood gossip Websites. The second half of 2000s saw a rediscovery of Indian cinema in the west. Bollywoodization took a different turn, capitalizing on global media networks, appropriating global space and in turn borrowing heavily from it. A new branding of popular Hindi filmic dance was seen when Farah Khan was invited to choreograph Shakira’s performance for her chartbuster number Hips Don’t Lie (2005) at MTV Music Awards, New York, 2006. It was also the period when the business economy consolidated itself around high fashion, location photo shoots on super yachts, training supermodels with rigorous exercise and high-protein diets. Beer baron, Vijay Mallaya launched his Pirelli style calendar in 2003 as the annual Kingfisher Bikini Calendar under the moniker of United Breweries Group of India’s Kingfisher beer. Spearheaded by photographer Atul Kasbekar, the calendar features bikini models shot in exotic locations. The famous photo-shoots of Kingfisher has been the launch pad for many of the leading stars of Bollywood today like Deepika Padukone and Katrina Kaif. Needless to say these media events created a surge of interest in Bollywood as a new economy. Aishwarya Rai’s rise to stardom is imputed more to her appearances on media networks other than the filmic; her performances in award ceremonies and other stage shows, her episodes on television shows, film festival circuits and her famously touted

20 Asish Rajadhyaksha has noted the gap between Bollywood and Indian cinema as a problem of defining culture economically by pointing out political events of the late 1990s like Bombay cinema gaining industry status, BJP’s own brand of culture nationalism, and the telecom boom in the country. He writes: “Bollywood admittedly occupies a space analogous to the film industry, but might best be seen as a more diffuse cultural conglomeration involving a range of distribution and consumption activities from websites to music cassettes, from cable to radio…while Bollywood exists for, and prominently caters to, a diasporic audience of Indians, and sometimes (as, for example, with Bhangra-rap) exports into India, the Indian cinema—much as it would wish to tap this ‘nonresident’ audience—is only occasionally successful in doing so, and is in almost every instance able to do so only when it, so to say, Bollywoodizes itself…” (2003).

10 The Body and Its Multimedia Sensations …

145

“private” performance at the Mittal girl’s wedding in France.21 She balanced herself as the face of the Indian woman with her long list of endorsements, Nakshatra diamonds, Lux soap, L’oreal hair color, Coca Cola and Longines watches, than her film personas. She danced to “Kajrare” along with Amitabh Bachchan and Abhishek Bachchan at the 2005 IIFA in Amsterdam. Choreographed by Shiamak Davar, the performance was a hit for the NRI population who had gathered to witness the film award show. Being performed live on stage, the raw sensuousness of Aishwariya Rai in the film version of the song was toned down. The IIFA performance was choreographed to be a comic act by the Bachchans in which Aishwariya Rai’s costume (plain white mermaid style ghagra and a much fuller choli, hair tied in a shabby shrinking ponytail and extra mellow make-up) and movements were redefined for “family viewing” on television and to recreate the logic of changing Indian culture which is progressive and yet conscious of its rich heritage, on an international stage. Six years later, a married Aishwariya Rai changes her opinion on the song; she looks at it as a “family song” that she had done in Bunty Aur Babli (Ali 2005) with her husband and father-in-law, she would not repeat it with anyone else. She is known to have refused Shahrukh Khan to join him on “Kajra Re” for an award show gig around Bollywood heroines that the actor wanted to end with Aishwariya Rai.22 In an early article on her by Shobhaa De titled “Silence of the Lambs”, Aishwariya is criticised for not speaking out against Salman Khan’s untoward advances on her (despite being an “empowered woman” and “not a bimbo”).23 De writes that Aishwariya’s behaviour in her personal life is extremely baffling: on one hand, “she vamps it up on-screen with her Ishq Kamina in Shakti”, and in the same week off-screen “she plays a victim to the Khan”.24 Usha Iyer’s dissertation on the role of dance in the creation of female stardom in Indian cinema highlights how the introduction of 21 Multi Billionaire NRI Lakhshmi Mittal’s daughter’s wedding (2004) happened in France with a budget of over 30 million pounds and almost all the leading stars of Bollywood (including Javed Akhtar who scripted a play to be staged on one evening of the 6 day event and Bollywood designers Tarun Tahiliani, Abu Jani and Sandeep Khosla), coffee plantation workers from Brazil, Thai orchid arrangers, chaikankari beeders from Lucknow and many such otherwise slowly perishing artists from around the world were flown to the chateau in Versailles where the grand Bollywood style wedding happened in a no-paparazzi but only restricted footage condition. Satirist Bachi Karkaria in her incisive article ‘Hum Aapke Hain Crore’ said, “Mittalji…didn’t you march into the most arrogant bastions of culture and force it to surrender to ours?…it wasn’t some token “Chhaiyya Chhaiya” wiggle…ballet got trampled under bhangra. Your Moolah Ruse worked!…your benign hand anointed Bollywood…Not only did your grand gesture boost the current stock of our filmi folk but it also secured their future…” Ishara Bhasi, ‘The marriage wow!’. India Today. Paris, July 5, 2004|UPDATED 09:58 IST. http://indiatoday.intoday.in/story/wedding-of-steel-tycoon-lakshmimittals-daughter-vanisha-in-paris/1/196531.html. Bachi Karkaria. ‘Hum Aapke Hain Crore’, Times of India. June 27, 2004, p. 12. Retrieved from ProQuest Historical Newspapers: Times of India (1861–current). 22 ‘Aishwarya Rai Bachchan won’t do Kajrare with Shah Rukh Khan’ by Prashant Singh, Priyanka Srivastava and Shaikh Zaid|Mail Today. January 13, 2011|UPDATED 11:26 IST. http://indiatoday. intoday.in/story/aishwarya-rai-bachchan-wont-do-a-kajra-re-with-shah-rukh-khan/1/126375.html. 23 ‘Silence of the Lambs’ by Shobhaa De. September 30, 2002, p. 5. Retrieved from proquest Historical Newspapers: Times of India (1861–current). 24 Ibid.

146

S. Mukherjee

dance into the performance repertoire of the Hindi film heroine repeatedly produces fractured narratives, split characters and doubled personas (2014). Rai’s performance in “Ishq Kamina” reverberates with her split characters fluctuating between the coy Paro in Devdas and the sexually confident film star, Aishwariya Rai in Ishq Kamina as well as her off-screen doubled personas as “the powerful ambassador of Indian culture” and “submissive tortured girlfriend”. Her star image oscillates between being traditional and western: in 2004, she got a wax doll at London’s Madame Tussaud’s, and at the same time, a limited edition Paro Barbie (designed on her Devdas avatar) was released by Mattel.25 She is the only Indian actress to be invited to The Oprah Winfrey Show (2005) where too Rai impressed a global audience with her persistent commitment to a notion of Indian culture.26 The female star that doubles up as the item girl when required treads the tightrope of glamour and respectability. The fact that marriage bestows a different order of confidence (and arrogance in some stars) in female actors and thus defines their stardom in a new way is best exemplified through the career of Kareena Kapoor Khan. Although born in the illustrious Kapoor family, a family that was always ahead of its time in terms of the filmic personas that they had created, Kareena Kapoor in the earlier years of her career was rather conservative in her choice of films. She responded to her raison d’etre in choosing unconventional characters after playing westernised, clueless and spoilt brats for many years. Anupama Chopra points out a defining feature of Kareena Kapoor’s star identity: her family name ensures that she always remains a star. Chopra writes: “Interestingly, the flops haven’t kayoed her market. Despite the duds, she remains resolutely A-list, commanding over Rs. 1.25 crore per film” (2003). It was only in 2008 that the younger Kapoor sister shed all her inhibitions about shedding clothes onscreen. It was not simply about exposing skin, 2008 was a year when thinness among actresses in Bollywood was redefined by Kareena Kapoor by unveiling her “size-zero figure”. A near-item number in her film, Tashan (dir. Vijay Krishna Acharya), “Chhaliya Chhaliya” launched Kareena Kapoor in a new avatar: filmed like a magazine cover photo shoot the song featured Kapoor in bikinis and subtle and sensual dance moves for the first time on-screen. Overnight, Kareena Kapoor gets slated as a youth icon. Much criticised for her visible “fatness” in her version of “Yeh Mera Dil” in Don (dir. Farhan Akhtar 2006), her next item number Marjani with Shahrukh Khan in Billu (dir. Priyadarshan 2009) becomes an instant hit.27 Her stardom earned more layers when she endorsed a model of laptops marketed by Sony Vaio as “the size-zero 25 http://www.desiblitz.com/content/indias-tulip-aishwarya-rai-bachchan-turns-42. 26 The snippets of the show can be retrieved from the article ‘Ash on The Oprah Winfrey show!’ April 26, 2005 17:22 IST. http://www.rediff.com/movies/2005/apr/26ash.htm. Aishwariya Rai also went to David Letterman’s show in 2005. In every public appearance of hers, she has been criticised for her phoney English accents and her bad taste in clothes, the usual response from foreign audiences, “She could have looked ravishing in a saree and would have represented the country as well.” Retrieved from ‘Letterman unveils Ash to America’ Times of India PTI|Feb 9, 2005, 02.29 PM IST. http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/entertainment/hindi/bollywood/news/ Letterman-unveils-Ash-to-America/articleshow/1015866.cms. 27 ‘I’m better than size zero: Kareena Kapoor’ Sun, 8 Feb 2009–01:42 pm, New Delhi, PTI. http:// www.dnaindia.com/entertainment/report-i-am-better-than-size-zero-kareena-kapoor-1228762.

10 The Body and Its Multimedia Sensations …

147

laptop”. In keeping with her new found image of the fashionista and the size-zero actress, Kapoor has written a book, a fashion manual named Style Diary of a Bollywood Diva (2012) edited by Shobaa De, something that the star claimed has largely remained unattempted by celebrities with the exception of Victoria Beckham.28 A secure position within the Pataudi family allows Kareena Kapoor to experiment with her star persona. She, thus, performs in item numbers like Fevicol from Dabangg 2 (dir. Arbaaz Khan 2012) with extreme abandon. Her stardom proliferates to the television network when Salman Khan decides to launch Fevicol on an episode of Bigg Boss (season 6) and performs the number at Big Star Entertainment Awards (2012). Kareena Kapoor made a particular statement: “I have no qualms in doing item songs. For this, I would like to give all credit to my husband Saif Ali Khan. If Saif wouldn’t have given the permission then it wasn’t possible for me to do anything”.29 Despite her dithering public statements, the married Kareena Kapoor is an assertive performer on-screen. In her episode on the third season of Koffee With Karan, she accepted that she indeed considers herself what Karan Johar refers to as “the Heroine par excellence in Bollywood”, a star who can execute all possible roles, even that of an item girl.30

Rockstar or Stud? The Curious Case of the Item Boy In this section, I attempt to position the looked-at-ness of the star male body as the item boy within existing academic discourse on the unclothed body’s dubious status for moralists and feminists. The item boy image is an in-between position adopted by the male star in Bombay cinema. He is both the face of benign and “utopian” masculinity of studio era Hollywood dancing star, Rudolph Valentino as well as Fred Astaire’s dancing body. Valentino was a marker of “misplaced female desire”, a product of “female fantasy” (Studlar 1993: 40). Astaire’s dancing body was a substitute imaginary offered by the post-war musicals of the 1930s to foreground “an alternative style of masculinity, one grounded in spectacle and spectatorship”, different from film noir’s insistence on restoring the binaries of gender roles (Cohan 1993: 66). Owing to the relatively negligible amount of male nudes floating in the art circuit compared to their female counterpart, there is a noticeable dearth of scholarship on the subject. Barring a few women’s “adult entertainment” magazines and the “sex feature/pleasure corner” in some regular women’s magazines and the genre of gay pornography, explicit images of the male body as a desirable object is nowhere to be 28 ’Diary

of a Bollywood Diva’ by Priyanka Sinha Jha. Screen. November30–December 6, 2012. Kapoor’s interesting statements’ TNN|Hiten J Trivedi|April 06, 2016. Retrieved from http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/entertainment/hindi/bollywood/Kareena-Kapoors-interestingstatements/Kareena-Kapoor-Khan-I-wouldnt-have-done-item-songs-without-Saifs-permission/ photostory/51596526.cms. 30 ‘Kareena Kapoor and Saif Ali Khan’ Koffee with Karan 5 Dec 2010|Season 3|Episode 5|41 min. Talk Show/English/Star World. http://www.hotstar.com/tv/koffee-with-karan/1525/ kareena-kapoor-and-saif-ali-khan/1000004235. 29 ‘Kareena

148

S. Mukherjee

found. However, the position of the male model as a pin-up in a women’s magazine as the “looking object” is not the same as the female model’s: Richard Dyer points out the “instability” in the male pin-up’s gaze; if the female nude’s gaze is marked by a coy inviting smile, the male model is almost always looking away from his viewer (signposting an indifference) or looking the viewer straight in the eye (but with a distinct nonchalance) (1992: 123).31 Dyer notes that the power play between the sexes is implicit even in the male nude pin-up; it almost always refuses to be the object by looking away or assumes its sexual superiority by casting a hard, piercing “castrating” look at the viewer (clenched muscles, erect penis with prominent veins on it and jittery elbows mark the “hardness” with which the male nude assaults his “passive” female viewer) (128, 132). The ways in which the feminist antipornography position has seeped even into readings of male nudes, ruling out any reading of the naked male body alternative to the essentialist one of its threating penetrative sexuality assaulting the relatively weaker and passive female is remarkable.32 In my discussion on the image of the item boy, I move away from feminist film theory and underline the otherwise assumed technological nature of proliferation of the star image and the ways in which it re-negotiates the circuits of affective fascination for the hypersexualized male body and the notions of respectability even in the bildungsroman of the male star.33 Most male item numbers operate as promotional tracks absent from the film text or are inserted as opening or closing title tracks in the theatrical release of the films. 31 Richard Dyer’s chapter on gay pornography is a subtler argument for social construction of experiential knowledge about the male sexual body not falling into the trap of feminist essentialisms and stands as one of the few unapologetic scholarly works in defence of gay porn as that which in its formal elements preserves the “gay dream of combining romance with promiscuity, security and freedom, making love and having sex” (1992: 139, 140, 146). 32 In studies of gay photography, film and video pornography, the partner who is “subordinate” in terms of age, class, ethnicity or sexual behaviour (i.e. masculinity in terms of degree of gayness) is looked upon as the object of desire, who is assaulted/denigrated/consumed by the more “dominant/superior” partner or the spectator; the “bottom” or the penetrated partner is compared to the female who according to the antiporn feminists is subjected to violence and denigration in heterosexual pornography. Jeffery Escoffier’s linear historiography of gay cinema in America mentions the existence of iconic male bodies in the shape of “hustlers” and “transvestites” in the films of Andy Warhol-Paul Morrissey (2009: 37). They were male bodies that divorced their bodies from the conventional masculine sexual positions and roles: the “hustler” cedes his bodily sexual preferences for money, he is the “gay-for pay” man and the “transvestite” forgoes his male body and socio-sexual roles that come with it (ibid.). 33 The debate on male stardom in the south has been formed through the prism of the “obscene intimacy between film and politics”, the male star being engaged with as the “ideological construct” (MGR’s working class following despite his antipoor policies as pointed out by MSS Pandian, mass film hero, Megastar Chiranjeevi’ s extra filmic terrain ranged from his formation of the Telugu Desam Party and NGOs and charity shows notes S. V. Srinivas). With his examples of the careers of N. T. Rama Rao, Shivaji Ganeshan, MGR, Madhava Prasad suggests that cine politics is an ‘ideological novelty’ that anchors the experience of cinema to create a unique sociopolitical event around the figure of the film star. While the anchor for the study of male stardom in south India has been political, I engage with male cine stardom in cosmopolitan Bombay as a visceral sensation framed around the body of the male film star, whose image circulates through the technical matrices of the interface of the item number.

10 The Body and Its Multimedia Sensations …

149

Incidentally, male item numbers are almost always performed by A list stars. Being sheltered from the onslaught of male starlets or models who work under the extrafilmic image of the amateur actor who vies for a celebrity status often by being the “hustler”, the male item numbers are consummate star texts and thus do not raise questions of obscenity in the public sphere. By virtue of their extra-filmic nature, the male item numbers feed into the star narratives of the actors performing in them; they are essentially versatile stars, who can act and also exploit their star personas to promote films. The spectacle of the male star body becomes a marketing device for the films. I look at the item numbers themselves as star texts and borrow Ranjani Mazumdar’s rock star analogy for the male super star performing on the live stage show to investigate the item boy image of the star; like the film star as the rock star of the stage, the star’s filmic and extra-filmic personas coincide in his item boy image. Male item numbers consciously respond to the moment in Bombay films’ history when cinema recognizes the importance of the televized live stage show and thus the profilmic space remediates the visual aesthetics of the live stage space and in the process reframes stardom that operates through these allied circuits of cinema and the mediatised stage show. I wish to point to the way Shahrukh Khan’s extra-filmic persona as the rock star, feeds into his image as the item boy on-screen, the superstar who flaunts his shirtless body and dances with a bevy of foreign background dancers (as Khan’s television audience is used to watching him in global live stage shows).34 In 2005, Shahrukh shared screen space with Malaika Arora in an item number in Kaal (dir. Soham Shah), a number that was packaged as the opening credit song with no narrative relevance to the film text. The song was designed by Sharmishtha Roy in the shape of a two-tiered stage to clearly demarcate the individual star spaces for the two stars to appear in a single song similar to live stage shows. Khan’s second item number (2007) was the self-reflexive number “Dard-e-Disco” which became an instant hit owing to the extrafilmic information around that song to bolster the film’s promotion. While Khan was seen sporting slit vests in “Kaal Dhamaal”, “Dard-e-Disco” featured him in his much publicized shirtless avatar, flaunting his freshly acquired “six-pack abs”. Shahrukh’s statements regarding the two item numbers signify his warping reservations against his image as the item boy, quite similar to A list actresses’ anxieties about choosing to do an item number. For “Dard-e-Disco” Khan became himself, armed with his six-pack abs. Film journalism noted how the dance sparked off the six-pack phenomenon among Bombay’s male stars. Shahrukh Khan began to be hailed as the fitness icon for Indian

34 With

the example of Shahrukh Khan’s Temptation tour (2004), Ranjani Mazumdar suggests that the live stage show that travels across the world reflects the expanded market for the star image. The live stage show is intermedial in nature, borrowing its visual iconography and the tech wizardry to support that mise-en-scene from rock concerts (e.g. Woodstock and the Beatles mania, Michael and Janet Jackson’s shows) captured on video and broadcast for a television audience. This became immensely popular in India, a country which does not have indigenous rock stars but hosts a population that is culturally trained to appreciate a cinema that is frequently interrupted by song and dance interludes.

150

S. Mukherjee

men; he was also approached by fitness expert Deanne Pandey to launch her book on staying fit.35

Performing Maleness in a Hindu Ethnoscape Turning attention to two dance numbers of Salman Khan, “Jumme Ki Raat” (Kick, dir. Sajid Nadiawala 2014) and “Selfie Le Le” (Bajrangi Bhaijaan, dir. Kabir Khan 2015) which I see as item numbers. These item numbers are performative moments of fantasy within films set in ethnoscapes that are essentially Hindu: saffronized in tone and affect in Bajrangi Bhaijaan and erased of specific markers but an assumed majority ethos that is global and hipster in Kick. In these item numbers, Salman Khan ceases to play the characters in the respective films, becomes the star that he is and directly addresses his fans. Shohini Ghosh writes of Salman Khan’s unique star narrative based on his Muslim fandom who relate to his amoral personal life fraught with his status as the sub judice star for a significant number of years.36 The working class ghettoised Muslim population left bereft since the Babri Masjid demolition finds solace in Salman Khan’s star persona: A Muslim man himself who usually plays Hindu characters on-screen. However, post-Dabangg Salman khan’s stardom has expanded its market from the single screen to the multiplex and even addresses his fan base in Arab countries. Jumme Ki Raat was promoted through the days on television, radio and as a video on YouTube with the following lines “THIS EID/JUMME KI RAAT/BHAI KE SAATH”. Salman Khan, the hero for the working classes arrives on-screen, looks straight into the camera, toys with a red hot burning piece of coal, throws it on the electric wires which catch fire and light up the space that the star walks through, his aviators fly off into the air and he winks into the camera, mimes screaming “Arre Jumme ki raat hai…” (Hey it’s the night of Jumma) and convoking everyone else to dance with him. The soundtrack is deliberately lowbrow; it opens with the sound of banjo followed by dhol-tasha, the signature music of any working-class urban Indian neighbourhood festival, also a regular scene at the Bombay streetscape with Islamic processions and ganapati festivals. A clear break from the narrative, the lyrics of the song dissociate it altogether from the film’s veiled global Hindu ethnoscape. Temple, Hindu marriages, Brahmin father, Punjabi mother conjure the world of Devi Lal Singh, Salman Khan’s character in the film. Devi Lal transforms into a stranger character in this song for whom “jumma baar” (Friday, the day set apart for collective day time prayer of the Islamic community) is meaningful. The performative quality of the song transforms the religious moniker of jumma baar into a constellation 35 ‘How Shah Rukh Khan got his six-pack abs. True story’ Gitanjali Roy in NDTV December 10, 2013 15:31 IST (New Delhi). Retrieved from http://movies.ndtv.com/bollywood/how-shah-rukhkhan-got-his-six-pack-abs-true-story-615059. 36 ‘The Irresistible Badness Of Salman Khan: What Ek Tha Tiger means in relation to Salman Khan’s peculiar stardom’ By SHOHINI GHOSH in The Caravan. 1 October 2012. http://www. caravanmagazine.in/perspectives/irresistible-badness-salman-khan.

10 The Body and Its Multimedia Sensations …

151

of night time youth activities: going out dancing, sexual license and immersion in corporeal pleasures. Interestingly, the song is placed within a part of the narrative that is based in Poland. Jumme Ki Raat is shot in an underground tunnel with an abandoned rail track, but it quickly transforms into a pub with disco lights hinting at Devi Lal foraying into Polish underground pubs. Salman Khan sports cow boy clothes that he is not seen wearing through the film. His character is earthy, middle classy and naive. This particular item number ensures that Salman Khan’s stardom proliferates to his atypical networks; European Muslims, multiplex, YouTube, youth clubs and luxury fashion brands. The audio track of “Selfie Le Le Re” opens with electronically synthesized percussion (similar to a mohalla DJ mixing jagrata tracks travelling on the back of a truck with his tech paraphernalia) accompanied by chants of “jai hanuman ki, jai”. With a distinct drum beat, the bass line is pumped further and the chants convert into the refrain of the number, “jai jai bajrangbali, tod de dushman ki gali” (“Hail, bajrangbali, overwhelm the enemy bastion”). The refrain hauntingly resounds with the 1992 Hindu Nationalist chant “Ek Dhakka Aur Do, Babri Masjid Tod Do” (With one more push demolish the Babri Masjid). A cymbal is struck, a lion roars, a piercing drum roll and a bass line chorus singing the refrain till it breaks into the full throttle voice of Vishal Dadlani mouthing the lyrics of the first stanza of the song. Beyond the hook, “chal beta, selfie le le”, the mukhda is taken over by the hipster rap of Badshah. The audio track of the song is significant as it conjures the sonic affect of hipster Hindutva; a bird’s eye view of large numbers of bajrangis moving towards the festival ground, the only identifying marker being their glowing “bhagwa jhanda” saffron temple flags. In the subsequent shots, the men and little boys dressed as monkey gods, lines of bajrangis in saffron drawing the rope attached to the idol, and the larger than life idol of the monkey god is revealed. With the first cymbal stroke, Salman Khan’s silver mace pendant swinging round his neck and his bicep is seen, the next drum roll is accompanied by a deep focus shot highlighting Khan’s eyes positioned in the line of bajrangis pulling the rope. When the music breaks into Dadlani’s voice, a low-angled shot reveals his dancing body from his back till the time the star turns, smiles and a long shot captures his full frame; a superstar greeting his fans with a Namaste. At this point, Pawan Kumar Chaturvedi is not a bajrangi of the ranks bearing the idol, he assumes his star identity; Pawan Bajrangi takes a backseat as Salman Khan asserts his stardom. Incidentally, Salman Khan is seen sporting a white tee shirt with minimal colour on his shirt, distancing the star from the ordinary crowd of bajrangis, his attire has nothing Bajrangi about it. Shohini Ghosh explicates the connotations of Bajrangi in the film, “When Salman Khan makes his flamboyant entry in Bajrangi Bhaijaan dancing in front of an enormous idol of Hanuman, the film may seem like a misplaced Eid offering. For Muslims, as indeed for many of us, the word “Bajrangi” had become inseparable from Babu Bajrangi, convicted of mass killings in Naroda Paitiya and the belligerent foot-soldiers of the Bajrangi Dal. But by the time the film ends, “Bajrangi” has been effectively hijacked

152

S. Mukherjee

by “Bhaijaan” inaugurating the possibility of new associations.”37 I wish to point out that the Bhajrangi identity of Salman Khan’s character Pawan Kumar Chaturvedi is nuanced even in his entry number. Sartorially, he is distanced from the bajrangis; he puts on a saffron kurta after the number. In terms of movement vocabulary, the turn-and-hug-your-neighbour step is indeed a marker of Eid celebrations. The selfiestyle filming of the song’s hook line adds to the effect as it cites Salman Khan’s off-screen appearances which are heralded by crazy fans who can kill themselves to get a selfie clicked with the star. With the mukhda (the first paragraph of the song in the Indian classical tradition) rap, Salman Khan morphs into his berserk screen persona performing his signature dance steps. The song is indeed an item number severing all ties with the narrative, having a life of its own as the audience who are yet to meet bajrangi Pawan can never imagine Salman Khan as anything other than his star persona at this point. Despite the creation of a Hindu ethnoscape with its sonic and colour templates, the song is designed like a fancy dress show, different groups of fans offering their eulogies to the star, dancing with him, following his steps. It is no co-incidence that the colour blast at the culmination of the song fades out everything else but the silhouette of Salman Khan (not the giant monkey god!); the song is a star text in itself.

‘I’m Sexy and I Know It’: The Looked-at-Ness of Ranveer Singh The close, low-angle steady cam shots track his rhythmic stride to the soundtrack, the subsequent shots of his tacky leather shoes, black flared bottom pants, red shirt and a tackier black leather jacket sticking to his ultra-slim bopping waist lead up to the face of the star: John Travolta in the opening credit sequence of Saturday Night Fever (dir. Badham 1977) does not dance. It is not a dance number; it creates cinematic space with the Bee Gees’ disco number Stayin’ Alive as a background to Travolta’s sensual and rhythmic walk through the city, his dance-like gait sculpting the neighbourhood. Cinematically, Travolta enthuses the mundaneness of cultural markers like a pizza joint, shop windows, a can of paint and upper-class sexy women “who do not give him a fuck” with his rhythmic movement through spaces. Marsha Kinder argues that “polyrhythmic plasticity” works as a racial and subcultural specificity often identified in black masculine culture (the rhythmic movement on the dance floor, basketball court, the jazz stand and in bed) which in the case of Saturday Night Fever is exemplified in Travolta’s pervasive “style” (1978). Travolta’s style is explicitly sexual in nature, and it locates his character, Tony Manero in the film as a bluecollared Italian American whose only passion in life is to look like the stars pinned

37 ‘In Bajrangi Bhaijaan, Hindutva Meets its Nemesis Right at Home’ BY SHOHINI GHOSH. The Wire. ON 24/07/2015. http://thewire.in/2015/07/24/in-bajrangi-bhaijaan-hindutva-meets-itsnemesis-right-at-home-7159/.

10 The Body and Its Multimedia Sensations …

153

on his walls, Al Pacino and Sylvester Stallone on the posters of Serpico and Rocky, occasionally indulge in gangsterism to help his buddies and dance in the disco. Ranveer Singh played a tapori (vagabond) character, Bittoo in his blockbuster debut, Band Baaja Baaraat (dir. Maneesh Sharma 2010) and has capitalised on his debut moment to cultivate a star narrative. I situate the mutations undergone by the cinematic tapori in the figure of Ranveer Singh. As a male dancing superstar who deliberately fashions himself as a new age tapori: to-be-looked-at and a rebel male whose rise to superstardom is based on his public persona, one that goes against all the norms observed by A list actors. His star persona is imbricated in the polyrhythmic quality of his somatic presence, his eagerness to dance and the performative charge of his overt sexuality, one that Marsha Kinder identifies in Saturday Night Fever’s Tony Manero as subcultural, associated and appealing to certain groups of rebel male identities. Ranjani Mazumdar has traced the cinematic tapori who armed with his body language and street speech asserts his dignity, creates space for himself in his mohalla. The tapori fights his marginality through a performative persona. Interestingly, Mazumdar positions the cinematic tapori within a wider intertextual landscape of rebel-male images of Hollywood. The cinematic tapori in that sense can be seen as a residue of Tony Manero and Manero’s heroes Al Pacino and Sylvester Stallone’s screen personas. What I wish to underline in the image of the new tapori star is the changing infrastructure of film culture in digital India: unlike his predecessors in the industry like the Khans who have portrayed tapori characters in their blockbuster films, Ranveer Singh manages to create a seamlessly tapori persona both on- and off-screen and openly acknowledges the role of extensive mediatisation in the consolidation of his stardom. His stardom is thus based more on his extra-filmic media texts: his unique choice of endorsements, his appearances in “bizarre” clothes at fashion shows and publicity events (which shocks polite society and yet does not alienate his stardom from the multiplex), his live stage shows, his peculiar uploads on YouTube, his participation in his own ROAST (inspired by American celebrity roasts, AIB Knockout was designed as a platform for celebrities to hurl abuses and mock each other’s on and off-screen lives), one that was re-uploaded on YouTube despite the legal charges of obscenity against it, and his tapori behaviour on Koffee With Karan. He is the only A list actor who endorses a condom brand, Durex, and appears in its advertisement rapping and dancing in the music video DO THE REX, like an item boy. The number was choreographed by Bosco-Caesar, the dance style henceforth became known as the Rex. Caesar shares his fun memories with Ranveer Singh on the set. The “ever energetic” Singh jokes about the Rex step saying that “it gives him the post-coital feeling of ecstasy”.38 The advertisement is intermedial in its visual iconography; it traces the journey of the item number from the studio memo to its viral circulation on YouTube to the controversy it sparks off in the media, the star receiving an award for the number and the number’s afterlife in the theatre, television screen, cell phone streaming apps, pub circuit and yoga clubs. Within one evening, the advertisement was flagged on YouTube and thus removed by the official Durex 38 Interview

with Caesar Golsalves, Versova, 05/01/2016.

154

S. Mukherjee

channel. The threat evolved not so much from the fact that an A circuit star rapped and danced to endorse a brand of condom but from its viral circulation within a short span of time. In his other big advertisement item number, Ranveer Ching, a Yash Raj Films production, Ranveer Singh endorses Ching’s Chinese food brand. Ranveer Ching is another stylized music video designed by Wasiq Khan and choreographed by Ganesh Acharya where Singh has his own Manchow Rap mukhda and dances as the item boy. He is featured in fancy dress: round black glasses, a top hat with door locks hanging on it, danglers pierced to his ear lobes, dominatrix-like leather clothes and ankle-high boots with wings attached at his heels like spurs on a cowboy’s shoes. Similar to “Selfie Le Le”, Tattad Tattad is located in a hipster Hindu ethnoscape. It is an overwhelmingly detailed mise-en-scene created by production designer, Wasiq Khan with the cultural fixities of Gujrati film posters on billboards. A huge cut-out of the monkey god mutilating its own chest to reveal the image of lord Rama and bhakts (literally translated as devotees but refers to the foot soldiers of the Hindu Right) dressed like the blue gods is splintered by the entry of the eponymous protagonist of the film, Ram bhai. Like Saturday Night Fever’s Tony Manero, he is conscious of his looked-at-ness: he enters the scene reclining on a consciously designed “Gujrati” bike, clicking his own selfie, he is the tapori star posing for his fans, removing his shirt and clenching his biceps while his female fans click his photos on their phone cameras (a few of them also swoon). Although dressed in a traditional Gujrati shirt and casual jeans, Ram bhai’s masculinity is performative: he sheds the conventional shirt and foregrounds his open sexuality by kissing in the air, winking, vigorous pelvic thrusts, swaying his waist and hips and heaving his chest to flex and clench his biceps. His movement vocabulary is choreographed like the female item numbers, with a line of male background dancers paying adulations to the star; here the male star is self-absorbed and coquettish even with a group of deliberately asynchronized male dancers wowing his dance and copying his signature hair ruffle. Singh publicly speaks in a language dotted with taporiness. In The Making video of his item number entry song in Raamleela, “Tattad Tattad”, he says that “for the once in his lifetime he got to look that hot and it has been chaapoed (stamped) on celluloid”.39 Unlike his peers, he does not make a narrative out of the labour that he had to put in behind the ultra-muscular body in “Tattad Tattad”, rather he flamboyantly masks his effort and basks in the glory of his new on-screen image.

CODA This chapter engages with the erotic spectacle of the star machinery in which the item number becomes the explosive interface. This interface navigates between the circuits of sleaze and scandal to global celebrity status for Bollywood stars. The figure of the starlet, an embryonic form of fast-tracked celebrityhood with an orchestrated 39 Song Making of (Tattad Tattad)|Goliyon Ki Raasleela Ram-leela. Eros Now. Published on Oct 2, 2013. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gQbpDwhSuPI.

10 The Body and Its Multimedia Sensations …

155

private life, takes shape in a very different trajectory from the narrative of vertical growth and obscuring of private life of the A league star. The item number as an interface stages a dialogue between these two kinds of stardom. Being the biggest money spinners for the films, item numbers can potentially mutate star narratives in certain ways. This gap is most noticeable in the case of item girls, owing to the film industry’s nature of being mired in feudal notions of family honour, class and respectability in its biased treatment of gender. It is an unmentioned code of the industrial ecology, in which the erotic spectacle of the female star body is in constant need of either restriction or rationalization. The male item numbers, albeit few in number, are restricted only to the established stars. My intervention in contemporary stardom in Bombay cinema is premised on the item number as a powerful interface for the star narrative. While the chapter foregrounds the item number as a distinct form of star text, the moniker shifts in meaning with respect to the male star. The male item number is a consummate star text built on the spectacular combination of the star’s on-screen and off-screen personas, the affect of the female item number still gestures towards the split discourse of female stardom, treading the narrow tightrope of respectability and the sensation of distant, larger than life celebrity glamour. The item number is hinged on the lookedat-ness of the body of the star, its re-scalability, its cosmeticization and mediatisation. But one needs to bear in mind that the hypersexual charge of the item boy is devoid of any sensation of the B circuit which still appears to be the vortex of debates for the item girl’s performance, ecology and aesthetics.

References Ahmed, S., & Stacey, J. (2001). Thinking through the skin. London and NY: Routledge. Bhasi, I. (2004). The marriage wow!. India Today. Paris. http://indiatoday.intoday.in/story/weddingof-steel-tycoon-lakshmi-mittals-daughter-vanisha-in-paris/1/196531.html. Cashmore, E. (2006). Celebrity culture. NY: Routledge. Chopra, A. (2003). Starry heights. India Today, 72. Cohan, S. (1993). Feminizing the song and dance man: Fred Astaire and the spectacle of masculinity in hollywood. In S. Cohan & I. R. Hark (Eds.), Screening the male: Exploring masculinities in hollywood cinema. London, NY: Routledge. Dyer, R. (1986). Heavenly bodies: Film stars and society. London, NY: Routledge. Dyer, R. (1992). Only entertainment. London: Routledge. Entwistle, J., & Wissinger, E. (2012). Fashioning models: Image, text and industry. London, New York: Berg. Ganguly, P. (2010). Twitter bans Sherlyn Chopra from posting ‘bold’ pictures. DNA. Retrieved from http://www.dnaindia.com/entertainment/report-twitter-bans-sherlyn-chopra-from-postingbold-pictures-1399695. Gehi, R. (2007). Some item numbers are ridiculous: Malaika Arora Khan. Hindustan Times Mumbai. http://www.hindustantimes.com/india/some-item-numbers-are-ridiculousmalaika-arora-khan/story-.html. Ghosh, S. (2012). The Irresistible badness Of Salman Khan: What Ek Tha Tiger means in relation to Salman Khan’s peculiar stardom. The Caravan. http://www.caravanmagazine.in/perspectives/ irresistible-badness-salman-khan.

156

S. Mukherjee

Ghosh, S. (2015). In Bajrangi Bhaijaan, Hindutva Meets its Nemesis Right at Home. The Wire. http:// thewire.in/2015/07/24/in-bajrangi-bhaijaan-hindutva-meets-its-nemesis-right-at-home-7159/. Hadi, S. (2012). Bollywood PRs—A devious lot. Times of India. Retrieved from. http://timesofindia. indiatimes.com/nri/citizen-journalists/citizen-journalists-reports/sabah-hadi/Bollywood-PRs-Adevious-lot/articleshow/11446925.cms. Iyer, M. (2005). ‘Item boys welcomed by the girls: Say male actors can bring in as much oomph as female’ TNN The Times of India (1861–current); Retrieved from ProQuest Historical Newspapers: The Times of India. p. 6. Iyer, U. (2014). Film dance, female stardom, and the production of gender in popular indian cinema. Ph.D. Dissertation, University of Pittsburgh, Pittsburgh. Jha, P. S. (2012a). Diary of a Bollywood Diva. Mumbai: Screen. Jha, P. S. (2012b). Star Samaritan. Mumbai: Screen. Jha, P. S. (2012c). Tiger Territory. Mumbai: Screen. Joshi, N. (2010). Sallu Boti, anyone? Bollywood’s Bhai returns with a new look and a masala punch. Outlook. http://www.outlookindia.com/magazine/story/sallu-boti-anyone/267041. Kadam, P. (2011). Now, Veena Malik does an item number in Mumbai: DNA. http://www.dnaindia. com/entertainment/report-now-veena-malik-does-an-item-number-1625097. Kamath, S. (2014). Dabanng 2: All brawn, no brain. The Hindu. http://www.thehindu.com/features/ cinema/dabanng-2-all-brawn-no-brain/article4229118.ece. Karkaria, B. (2004). Hum Aapke Hain crore. Times of India, p. 12. Retrieved from ProQuest Historical Newspapers: Times of India (1861–current). Kazmi, N. (2006). We are like that only: Popular culture defies all boundaries, p. 30. Retrieved from ProQuest Historical Newspapers: Times of India (1861–current). Khan, T. N. (2016). Fast forward: How Ranveer Singh made it. The Caravan. http://www. caravanmagazine.in/reportage/fast-forward-ranveer-singh. Khatri, D., & Dangor, K. (2007). From Russia with long legs. India Today. http://indiatoday.intoday. in/content_mail.php?option=com_content&name=print&id=2905. Majumdar, N. (2009). Wanted cultured ladies only! Female stardom and cinema in India: 1930– 1950s. Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press. Mazumdar, R. (2012). Film stardom after liveness. Continuum, 26(6), 833–844. https://doi.org/10. 1080/10304312.2012.731258. McDonald, T. J. (2013). Doris day confidential: Hollywood, sex and stardom. London, NY: I.B. Tauris. Mukherjee, D. (2009) Good girls, bad girls. Seminar 598, June 21–27. Nayar, P. K. (2009). Seeing stars: Spectacle, society and celebrity culture. New Delhi: Sage. Nayar, P. K. (2016). Brand bollywood care: Celebrity, charity, and vernacular cosmopolitanism. In P. D. Marshall & S. Redmond (Eds.), A companion to celebrity. UK: Wiley Blackwell. Ovalle, P. P. (2011). Dance and the hollywood latina: Race, sex and stardom. New Brunswick, New Jersey, London: Rutgers University Press. Pandian, M. S. S. (1992). The image trap: M.G. Ramachandran in film and politics. New Delhi: Sage. Rajadhyaksha, A. (2003). The ‘bollywoodization’ of the indian cinema: Cultural nationalism in a global arena. Inter-Asia Cultural Studies, 4(1), 25–39. Redmond, S. (2016). Global celebrity. In P. D. Marshall & Sean Redmond (Eds.), A companion to celebrity. Wiley Blackwell: UK. Roy, G. (2013). How Shah Rukh Khan got his six-pack abs. True story. NDTV. Retrieved from http:// movies.ndtv.com/bollywood/how-shah-rukh-khan-got-his-six-pack-abs-true-story-615059. Ruhani, F. (2004). Make way for item boys: Hunk quotient, p. A1. Retrieved from ProQuoest Historical Newspapers: Times of India (1861–current). Sabharwal, R. (2010). Rakhi gets rid of her breast implants, New Delhi: Hindustan Times. http:// www.hindustantimes.com/tabloid/rakhi-gets-rid-of-her-breast-implants/story.html. Sahgal, G., & Khan, A. (2012). Heroine looks set to reiterate the fact that Kareena Kapoor is indeed bollywood’s one of the most versatile actresses. Mumbai: Screen.

10 The Body and Its Multimedia Sensations …

157

Singh, P., Srivastava, P., & Zaid, S. (2011). Aishwarya Rai Bachchan won’t do Kajra re with Shah Rukh Khan. Mail Today. http://indiatoday.intoday.in/story/aishwarya-rai-bachchan-wont-do-akajra-re-with-shah-rukh-khan/1/126375.html. Singh, P. (2015). Kareena Kapoor: Doing item songs very important to me. Hindustan Times. Retrieved from http://www.hindustantimes.com/bollywood/kareena-kapoor-doing-item-songsvery-important-to-me/story. Sinh(a), G. (2002). No more full figures: Thin is “In” in bollywood in Bombay Times. Times News Network. Retrieved from ProQuest Historical Newspapers Times of India (1861–current), p. A1. Srinivas, S. V. (2009). Megastar Chiranjeevi and Telugu cinema after N.T. Rama Rao. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Stacey, J. (1994). Star gazing: Hollywood cinema and female spectatorship. London, NY: Routledge. Studlar, G. (1993). Valentino: ‘Optic intoxication’, and dance madness. In S. Cohan & I. R. Hark (Eds.), Screening the male: Exploring masculinities in hollywood cinema. London, NY: Routledge. Thomas, R. & Gandhy, B. (1991). Three Indian stars. In C. Gledhill (Ed), Stardom: Industry of desire (pp. 107–131). London: Routledge. Wissinger, E. A. (2015). This year’s model: Fashion, media, and the making of glamour. NY, London: New York University Press.

Film References Abbas-Mustan. (2004). Aitraaz. Mukta Arts. Ali, S. (2005). Bunty Aur Babli. Yash Raj Films. Abbas-Mustan. (2006). 36 China town. Mukta Arts. Akhtar, F. (2006). Don. Excel Entertainment. Ali, I. (2007). Jab we met. Studio 18. Acharya, V. (2008). Tashan. Yash Raj Films. Awasthi, D. (2004). Mirchi: It’s Hot. Basra Studio. Badham, J. (1977). Saturday night fever. Robert Stigwood Organization. Bhansali, S. (2002). Devdas. Mega Bollywood Pvt Ltd, Red Chilies Entertainment. Berges, P. (2005). Mistress of spices. Bhansali, S. (2013). Goliyon Ki Raasleela Ram-Leela. Bhansali Productions, Eros International. Bazmee, A. (2015). Welcome back. Base Industries Group, Swiss Entertainment Pvt. Ltd. Chawla, S. (2007). Khallas: The Beginning of End. Radha Pushpa Entertainment. Ghosh, R. (2003). Chokher Bali. Shree Venkatesh Films. Jaffrey, R. (2012). Gali Gali Chor Hai. One Up Entertainment Pvt Ltd. Khan, A. (2012). Dabangg 2. Arbaaz Khan Productions. Nadiawala, S. (2014). Kick. Nadiawala Grandson Entertainment. Priyadarshan. (2009). Billu. Red Chilies Entertainment. Pal, S. (2010). Bhavnao Ko Samjho. Leo 1 Productions. Paul, R. (2013). Kamasutra 3D. Rupesh Paul Productions. Sivan, S. (2003). Chura Liya Hai Tumne. PFH Rave Productions. Shah, S. (2005). Kaal. Dharma Productions, Red Chilies Entertainment. Shaikh, S. (2009). Mudrank: The Stamp. Aditya Cinema. Sharma, M. (2010). Band Baaja Baraat. Yash Raj Films. Vamsi, K. (2002). Shakti: The power. Sridevi Productions.

Part III

The ‘Outsiders’

Chapter 11

The Plough and the Star: The Improbable Celebrity of Nawazuddin Siddiqui Clare M. Wilkinson and Sreenidhi Krishnan

Abstract Nawazuddin Siddiqui is only one of the many stars who came to fame in the Hindi film industry without any of its customary dynastic ties. His difference from fellow contemporary outsiders owes itself to his often-cited rural background, and an expansive and deliberative approach to acting derived from his drama school training. Lacking many of the characteristics that usually launch actors towards stardom, Siddiqui instead has built his persona upon the careful choice of widely varying characterizations, and a dedication to his craft that has allowed him to upstage even the industry’s megastars in films where he took on character roles. Siddiqui’s star person owes itself crucially to the stitching together of origins, training and craft in the continual public recital of his life story. Drawing on theories of narrative as well as of contemporary film stardom, we argue that the “telling” of his story serves as a rich performative resource to synthesize and legitimize his stardom. Keywords Bollywood · Hindi film · Performance · Identity · Celebrity narrative

A Career in Three Acts The actor Nawazuddin Siddiqui may be said to have undergone three discoveries: first, as a scene-stealer in a small role in the Anurag Kashyap film Black Friday (2007); second, as a charismatic lead in the same director’s violent epic, Gangs of Wasseypur (2012) and third, as an effortless filmi villain in the unapologetically popular Salman Khan vehicle, Kick (Nadiadwala 2014). Not coincidentally, Black Friday and Kick mark the ends of the spectrum of films and roles that Siddiqui has taken on in the course of his career, one rooted in the “anti-mainstream” sensibility of small budget

C. M. Wilkinson (B) · S. Krishnan Washington State University Vancouver, 14204 NE Salmon Creek Avenue, Vancouver, WA 98686, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 A. I. Viswamohan and C. M. Wilkinson (eds.), Stardom in Contemporary Hindi Cinema, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-15-0191-3_11

161

162

C. M. Wilkinson and S. Krishnan

film, the other located firmly within the territory of popular, commercial Bollywood. Siddiqui’s career parallels Irrfan Khan’s, another highly respected actor who has juggled commercial and art film output.1 Unlike Irrfan Khan, however, Siddiqui’s appearances are awaited with a degree of anticipation that is connected, even now, to the delight critics take in his sudden and surprising rise to fame. Siddiqui’s rural origins, and his eventual success in spite of repeated initial setbacks, has meant that he adds to each film choice a discursive rationalization that draws heavily upon his life story more than any other living star. Siddiqui’s transformation from small film support actor to major industry star has been remarkably quick. By 2011, Siddiqui had had only a few extremely brief appearances in either major film releases or small hatk¯e (Hindi: offbeat) films.2 By the end of 2012, however, interviews with Siddiqui began to proliferate in the press and in visual media; his upcoming roles became industry news items and the variety and substance of those roles increased dramatically. Fuelling this dramatic change in his fortunes were appearances in three high profile films: Kahaani (Ghosh 2012), a highly successful thriller with Siddiqui in a prominent supporting part; the previously mentioned Gangs of Wasseypur; and Talaash (Kagti 2012), in which he played an arresting character role. Kahaani and Talaash were both commercial hits; and Gangs is to this day considered one of the most significant achievements in low budget, non-commercial Indian film-making of recent years. Before 2012 was over, Siddiqui announced his upcoming appearance in Kick (Nadiadwala 2014). Given that its star, Salman Khan (unlike his fellow superstar namesakes, Shah Rukh and Aamir) had little to no connection to art or offbeat films, and whose recent stratospheric success had come from unrepentant action films like Wanted (Deva 2009), Bodyguard (Siddique 2011) and Dabanng (Kashyap 2010), this casting of a former struggler in hatk¯e films was unexpected to say the least. Siddiqui is not alone among the many successful “outsiders” to the industry whose enormous appeal derives at least in part from the exception they offer to the general rule of industrial dynasties dominating its topmost ranks. His “struggler” narrative (“struggler” is the English word used freely in both English and Hindi discourse to denote a person who is trying to establish themselves at any level of the industry) has become a resilient frame for his star persona, in which the industry’s slights as well as its biases are showcased. In a larger sense though, as a Muslim with only minimal cultural capital, educated in Hindi-medium schools, dark-skinned and physically unremarkable, Siddiqui’s life story taps into Indian anxieties about communalism, class and the body. In this paper, we are interested in how Siddiqui’s self-narrative has adjusted itself to each new stage of his career as his prominence and choice of roles have increased. With “honesty”—evident both in his unpretentious background and in his philosophy of acting—as a key component in his persona, Siddiqui’s life story has nevertheless been subject to new revelations and some revision. Theories 1 Irrfan

Khan has, at the time of writing, an international career which Nawazuddin Siddiqui does not have. With Siddiqui’s upcoming appearances in two high profile global television productions, McMafia (Watkins 2018) and Sacred Games (Kashyap and Motwane 2018), this may change. 2 These films have low budgets and challenging themes, intended to attract a select, urban audience.

11 The Plough and the Star: The Improbable Celebrity of Nawazuddin …

163

of narrative and memory reassure us that no life story can be expected to remain consistent, yet it is readily apparent that the divergences and deviations in Siddiqui’s life story have in any case not significantly disrupted public perception. We contend that the resolution of the discrepancies in Siddiqui’s past hinge very specifically upon the way in which his origins and class are sutured to his reputation as an outstanding actor. On the one hand, Siddiqui’s acting abilities may be regarded as natural gifts that have been unaffectedly nurtured by his humble upbringing; on the other hand, there is ample evidence that acting, for him, is conscious, cultivated and cerebral practice. For Siddiqui, acting is an even more complex refractor of his stardom than we have been led to expect.

An Unlikely Star Retrospectively locating and sharing the brief film appearances of Nawazuddin Siddiqui in the years before he became famous offer some satisfaction to those who know what these minute roles portend. The complicated chronology of his film releases [Siddiqui’s late-arriving fame has triggered the late theatrical launch of films he made early on like the 2012 festival hit Miss Lovely (Ahluwalia 2014) and 2013’s Monsoon Shootout (Kumar 2017)], only add to this effect. No articles or reviews touch upon his brief appearances in box office hits Munnabhai MBBS (Hirani 2003), Sarfarosh (Matthan 1999) and Paan Singh Tomar (Dhulia 2012). Even his role in Black Friday (Kashyap 2007) which has figured in accounts of his rise owing to the fact that this was his first film with frequent collaborator, Anurag Kashyap, was not much commented upon. His most substantial role by 2009 was in Firaaq, Nandita Das’s film on the aftermath of anti-Muslim violence in 2002 Gujarat. While Firaaq was critically acclaimed, it was not widely seen, and in reviews, the unnamed Siddiqui was simply described as “an auto-rickshaw driver” (Gupta 2009). In the 2010 critical and box office success Peepli Live (Rizvi and Farooqui 2010), he was merely one of the ensemble. Siddiqui’s stunning performance in Gangs thus caught Indian media by surprise. Now regarded as a modern masterpiece, Gangs of Wasseypur Parts One and Two tackle industrial and social change in post-Independence India, the influence of films on the lives and aspirations of small-town gangsters, along with the more familiar reference points of Hindi melodramas—love, betrayal and murder. A solid supporting character in Part One of Gangs of Wasseypur, Siddiqui was the unquestioned lead actor in Part Two, carrying the entire film on his shoulders as the head of a sprawling criminal empire. Among the pleasures of watching the two Gangs of Wasseypur films is noticing what Bingham terms its “dense intertextual web of references” to old Hindi films, the iconic films of Scorsese and DePalma, and to 1970s Japanese yakuza films (Bingham 2015, 9). Siddiqui’s own character, the detached, dope-addled Faisal Khan, benefits from a similarly complex set of dramatic precedents (he is both hapless Fredo and ruthless Michael Corleone, for example) but comes to life as a result of Siddiqui

164

C. M. Wilkinson and S. Krishnan

capturing Faisal’s physical and emotional particularity. Sinha (2012) perceptively writes that Gangs’ reconfiguration of the small-time hero, a man in control of his own, thoroughly envisioned, but yet bounded world, relied strongly on two possibilities expressed by Manoj Bajpai on one the hand and Nawazuddin on the other. Bajpai’s fiery, sexually assertive Sardar was cut from more conventional cloth than was Siddiqui’s character Faisal Khan, Sardar’s drug-addicted younger son. Faisal’s progressive shift from family after-thought to fearsome gang leader is complicated and conflicted. Small, tentative and a newcomer to the authority effortlessly wielded by elders, Faisal’s rise to power is as unlikely as is Siddiqui’s rise to stardom. Having to carry the second part of the Gangs film almost single-handedly meant that Siddiqui’s embodiment of the doomed gangster left an impression that outstripped the other characters. Extended screen time stretched over nearly two films is ideal for an actor to exhibit his range, but “range” as an actorly attribute is less common in Hindi films than manifesting distinctly different emotional keys (humour, romance, anger and so on). Siddiqui, in Gangs, had the time and space to put onscreen what Ayaz (2017) has aptly noted as “…his unpredictability, always a step ahead of [the audience]. As you watch him on-screen, there’s nail-biting excitement as well as dark stirrings and discoveries”. Siddiqui, one could argue, makes Faisal’s foibles and “filmi” heroics understandable as the entailments of coherent psychology. Even though Gangs was not a conventional Indian commercial hit (its sex, violence and cursing put paid to any such pretensions), it was widely praised in India and around the world and confirmed Siddiqui’s viability as a lead actor in small budget cinema. The two other releases in Siddiqui’s 2012 annus mirabilis won him National acting honours. Siddiqui’s role in Talaash as an ill-fated, small-time criminal was very much in line with many of the other roles that he has played in his career. Nevertheless, there was no mistaking the pathos and closely observed detail with which he invested the character of the conniving yet pitiful Tehmur. For his work in Talaash, he won the Zee Cine, Screen, Asian Film, and the National Film Awards (the last one given in recognition of Siddiqui’s multiple roles throughout 2012). Kahaani, in contrast, gave Siddiqui the opportunity to show his range with the role of the confident and acerbic National Intelligence Service (NIS) officer A. Khan. Kahaani was a commercial feature very much of the moment, with the emotionality and revenge-driven plot of a commercial film combined with art film features such as documentary-style photography of Kolkata street life, solid production values, a “naturalistic” aesthetic and high calibre acting. As the short-tempered Intelligence Bureau investigator squaring off against the sympathetic police officer Satyoki Sinha and tenacious amateur detective Vidya Bagchi, Siddiqui injects vital energy into each scene in which he appears. With the villain largely absent from the film, it falls to Siddiqui to supply the antagonism of a negative role as a “rude, cold, imposing Intelligence Bureau hotshot” (Chopra 2012) and “bureaucratic ruthlessness personified” (Edwards 2012), while managing to plausibly stake out a morally upright position in the drama. The segue to the prominent supporting roles in Salman Khan’s Kick and Bajrangi Bhaijaan (Khan 2015) arguably issues from Kahaani more so than either

11 The Plough and the Star: The Improbable Celebrity of Nawazuddin …

165

Talaash or Gangs, for his performance in Kahaani confirms not just his screen presence, but his ability to adopt an acting style that is simultaneously highly regarded while being distinctly adapted to mainstream films. Filming on Kick began in summer 2013, while movie releases in India that year for Siddiqui included a supernatural thriller, Aatma (Verma 2013) and the anthology film Bombay Talkies (Johar et al. 2013) where he played the lead in an adaptation of a Satyajit Ray story directed by Dibakar Banerjee. His most critically acclaimed film that year was The Lunchbox (Batra 2014) a 2013 festival (and later international) hit film in which he played opposite Irrfan Khan. New York Times critic A. O. Scott observed that Siddiqui “has some of the needy, jumpy energy of a young Tony Curtis, making him a perfect comic foil for Mr. Khan” (2014). The cheeriness and naivety that Siddiqui brought to his characterization of the hapless Shaikh marked an equally vivid contrast with his previous roles, and he was named Best Supporting Actor for this performance in the 2014 Filmfare Awards (“Filmfare Awards Winners From 1953 to 2018” n.d.).

Media Responses Siddiqui came to the notice of the media with very few of the customary, predetermined anchor points for fame: he was not related to any acting stars or industry professionals; he was not a beloved, long-serving character actor; he was not already known as a model or sports-star or reality-show winner. Siddiqui in 2011 and 2012 had none of the polish that comes from intensive grooming—actual and metaphorical—of would-be stars to prepare them to appear in the variety of media settings in which they find themselves. Early interviews grappled uncertainly with the novelty of Siddiqui’s work and persona. One of the earliest was a roughly twenty-five-minute affair with a peculiarly named website “Bollywood Helpline”, that appeared a month after the release of Gangs in June 2012 (Bollywood Helpline 2012). Dressed in an unremarkable brown shirt, only slightly less dull than the blue wall behind him, Siddiqui stares nervously into the camera and offers the skeleton of his life story. Later that year, Taran Khan, in a long-form profile in Caravan, extracted some opinions from the actor on his views of acting and the commercial film industry that have been his stock in trade until the present. She struggled, however, to elicit any hint that Siddiqui yet knew how to “tell himself” in a capable fashion: her inquiries were stymied repeatedly by what she describes as “monosyllabic responses and grunted, interrogative ‘Aen?’” (Khan 2012). Despite these difficulties, interviews like these meant that Siddiqui’s life story was taking shape in the popular imagination. Raised in a family of Muslim farmers in Budhana, Uttar Pradesh, Siddiqui was the eldest of nine siblings. He has described his life with mordant alliteration as “Gehun, ganna aur goli” (Hindi: Wheat, sugarcane and bullet) (Bari 2012). Following his discovery of acting, he endured long years of struggle after graduating from the National School of Drama (NSD) in Delhi, including journeying to Mumbai in the fleeting hope that he might get work there.

166

C. M. Wilkinson and S. Krishnan

This narrative acquired more flesh as further interviews and newspaper features described his move to Haridwar to pursue an undergraduate degree in Chemistry, his stint as a watchman, and details of a sojourn in Baroda, Gujarat, where he was employed as the chief chemist at a petrochemical factory (e.g. India Today 2012; Chettiar 2012). Each new snippet of information underlined the contrast between his current career as an acclaimed and increasingly popular actor and his mundane past. The fascination with his rural upbringing tapped well-established urban fantasies and prejudices about villagers, and the years of impoverished “struggling” propped up contradictory convictions about the perspicacity of an industry that does in fact recognize raw talent (underwritten, in Siddiqui’s case, by his admission to the élite National School of Drama), and its dogged refusal to look outside established channels for new blood. The wrinkle in the narrative of the humble villager made good that Siddiqui’s educational background presented—his degree in chemistry and his short-lived career as an industrial chemist in no way suggested destitution—was easily dismissed when it was clear that he was uncomfortable speaking English, the outcome of having been educated in Hindi-medium schools that are regarded (fairly or otherwise) by the middle and upper classes as second-rate. With Kick, Siddiqui demonstrated to critics and audiences alike that he could not only slip into a commercial film sensibility, but that he could craft a memorable villain that dexterously tacked between straightforward melodrama and subtle parody. When Kick came out on the Eid holiday in 2014 (Eid fell in July that year), anticipation for Siddiqui’s performance was arguably as great as it was for Khan’s. Siddiqui’s villainous character was entirely a creation of the commercial industry, yet he refused to talk about it in the dismissive terms often reserved by serious actors for describing their forays into the popular industry. Instead, Siddiqui chose to maintain a focus on his acting and in widely cited comments remarked Kick was “completely different from what I have done before. I have mostly played the lower middle-class person but not here. My character is gray and quite thrilling” and talked favourably about the “working environment” on set (PTI 2014). Backing up the observation that the role was not just in a new kind of film, but a new kind of character, Siddiqui quipped that his mother would finally be pleased with his high standard of dress in the film (2014). In fact, a key scene involved Siddiqui as Shiv Gajra getting a suit fitting—an ironic touch in light of Siddiqui’s earlier failure to secure a stylist to dress him for his appearances with films like Miss Lovely and The Lunchbox at the Cannes Film Festival (Friday 2014). Kick, in Siddiqui’s own words, liberated him to take on commercial roles that in turn would carry him through the poorly paid projects that he would take on because of the quality of the script or the appeal of the character (Indo-Asian News Service 2014). From 2014 onwards, Siddiqui’s film credits have included small films, like Liar’s Dice (Mohandas 2013 released 2014), Haraamkhor (Sharma 2017), Monsoon Shootout (Kumar 2017), Raman Raghav 2.0 (Kashyap 2016), interspersed with large, commercial ones like Bajrangi Bhaijaan (Khan 2015) and Raees (Dholakia 2017), co-starring some of the industry’s most prominent stars. In addition, he has been able to slot in intermediate films with high profile supporting casts (or directors) that

11 The Plough and the Star: The Improbable Celebrity of Nawazuddin …

167

have played to his acting strengths, like Badlapur (Raghavan 2015), Manjhi (Mehta 2015), Te3n (Dasgupta 2016) and Mom (Udyawar 2017). His intermediate films have had variable box office success, but have typically drawn positive reviews for his performances. His comedy forays Freaky Ali (Khan 2016) and Munna Michael (Khan 2017) (the second with rising star, Tiger Shroff, himself a son of the film star Jackie Shroff) have fared the worst, but the 2017 comedy-thriller Babumoshai Bandookbaaz (Nandy 2017) was a small but unexpected hit. In contrast to the dominant trend in Hindi film to steer performers into the same kinds of roles, Siddiqui’s offers and choices have propelled him towards new characterizations and acting challenges. The most identifiable connective tissue between his roles is his ability to play morally complex characters, garnering the engagement of the audience without necessarily demanding their sympathies. Were Siddiqui an actor confined to hatk¯e films, this might not merit much attention; however, he has managed this feat in films with popular ambitions. Take, for example, Badlapur, in which he plays Liak, a petty crook who manages, in the first scene of the film, to murder the wife and child of Raghav Purohit, the film‘s nominal hero (Varun Dhawan). The conceit of the film is that Raghav Purohit’s single-minded pursuit of revenge re-orients its moral compass, with the terminally ill jailbird Liak taking the blame for Raghav’s murders so as to allow him a chance to wipe the slate clean of his misdeeds. The absence of a clear line between what is good and what is bad sits a little uneasily with what is typically the case in a commercial film. In fact, the brilliance of Siddiqui’s performance is that we do not have to believe that Liak is redeemed to feel the impact of what he chooses, of his own free will, to do. The Filmfare review summed up Siddiqui’s value to this film, and to the industry generally, commenting that: Nawaz singlehandedly is responsible for making this film fresh, funny, quirky and sublime. His deft nuances, the way he makes an edgy character seem so real and fascinating is the reason why he’s one of the most exciting actors in Indian cinema today. (Gupta 2015)

None of his films to date has ushered Siddiqui into the romantic or action leading man status enjoyed by stars such as the Khans (Salman, Aamir and Shah Rukh), or Akshay Kumar, but arguably this was never the point. Instead, Siddiqui has become a star quite unlike any of them.

Stories About Siddiqui Now an entrenched figure in the landscape of film stardom in India, Siddiqui has become a familiar face on television and on the web, in print and online articles. Popularly referred to as Nawaz, his roles, his background, and increasingly his life off-screen are fodder for news and entertainment features just like any other mainstream celebrity. Whatever Siddiqui may or may not have expected or intended with his rapid rise to fame, conformity with the expectations of star-making forces at work in journalism, marketing and film-making was more or less inevitable.

168

C. M. Wilkinson and S. Krishnan

While the work of the film actor is still considered to centre on the act of rendering a performance in front of the camera, the “job” of the actor extends far beyond the limits of the set or the location. When stars are not promoting a film project that is in release, they are doing the work of renewing their own star brand via televised or text interviews, now increasingly available to watch online (accessible to a broad swath of people via the wide availability of handheld devices like phones). The rise of social media means that an actor, as a public entity, is able to (or may feel compelled to) engage at least some people almost all of the time. Last but by no means least, product endorsement, long a stalwart parallel activity for film stars, has ballooned in the twenty-first century era of rampant consumerism, to the point that fortunes may be made through advertising contracts even more than through film. Siddiqui has “performed” in these disparate arenas as certainly as he has in his films, with an appeal that is captured in a description of him as “aspirational yet relatable” (Misral 2017). At the same time as the star is ubiquitous on a number of different media platforms, so the former informal means of access have diminished, and no contemporary Hindi film star, including Nawazuddin Siddiqui, is likely to forge direct, individualized, professional relationships with extra-industry figures or institutions any more. Present-day celebrity instead develops out of a multitude of assemblages of producers, consumers and mediating technologies. The actor’s niche in the “ecosystem” of celebrity, media and commerce is co-constructed with institutions and interests both within and outside the film industry. In 2012, Siddiqui professed not to have a manager and claimed to manage his own dates, but by 2016, a manager was making public statements on his behalf (Hindustan Times 2016a). The contemporary talent management agency, with other rafts of specialist services brought onboard for special public appearances, are now facts of life in present-day Hindi film, particularly as the potential sources and sites of celebrity commentary have skyrocketed. As essential as journalists, critics, managers, marketers and public relations personnel are for crafting Siddiqui’s public identity, Siddiqui, like all other contemporary celebrities, is both the most important producer and the product of these collaborative efforts. This is no more evident than in the life story, which is among the public performances that most depends upon the star him or herself in order to create its effects—that is, to persuasively connect actions and events into a sequence that leads miraculously to the present moment. The disclosure of private experiences to public scrutiny, modelled on confessions or acts of witnessing, is presumed to be honest and truthful; should the actor fail to assure the audience of the genuine nature of his or her narrative, it will disrupt rather than consolidate the teleological philosophy to which celebrity life stories subscribe. In order to get at what the actor’s performance effaces, we can turn to Erving Goffman’s (1981) conceptual separation of the contributory strands of a piece of discourse in his model of “shifts in footing”. Goffman argues that in any speech act, there may be several, unmarked participants among both the listeners and the speakers. For example, the animator, or the person speaking, can be conceptually separated from the author of their speech, or the person who crafts its content, as well as the principal, or whoever is behind the intent of the message. The

11 The Plough and the Star: The Improbable Celebrity of Nawazuddin …

169

fact that all three roles may be occupied by a single person at once does not mean that they necessarily always are. When a celebrity, like Siddiqui, speaks in a video interview, we can be certain, at the very least, that he or she is the animator of what is said (unlike print or online interviews where the animator position is presumed but not proven).3 Can we say with the same assurance he is the author and the principal as well? It is hard to discount completely the role of management teams in some aspects of the authorship of the life history or the interests of film production companies in the recital of a life history during the promotion of a film. On the other hand, to claim that authorship of Siddiqui’s own personal history is out of his hands is absurd, not to speak of the fact that the presumption that he is author as well as animator of what he says is essential if his interviews are to successfully add to his distinct celebrity persona: that is, a man without personal artifice, but with considerable skill at the artifice that is screen acting. Then again, as no less of a global superstar Shah Rukh Khan has pointed out, the celebrity self is not wholly coterminous with the “self” experienced in the mundane and intimate areas of existence. As Siddiqui’s star has risen, so we should probably expect some ripples to extend into the authorship of his own life story. None of this means that Siddiqui is being consciously deceptive in his account of his origins. Historians, linguists and scholars of rhetoric have known for some time that no oral history or life story is a straightforward account of facts. In fact, a coherent identity may depend crucially upon sufficient flexibility around a resilient core to allow the life storyteller to revisit and tweak some of its elements. Jens Brockmeier, in his essay on “autobiographical time”, argues that in spite of a life story appearing to have its invariant origin point in the past, in actuality, it flows from the present, with new events and experience demanding that one “rewrit[e] the text of one’s identity” (Brockmeier 2000, 55). In the telling of ourselves, we are repeatedly called upon to manage ruptures and contradictions between our past and present, so that our story retains both integrity and meaning (Cohler 1982). Conceiving of life history as narrative, and human beings as authors and not just reciters of remembered events, explains why memories sometimes seem fickle. The celebrity narrative, specifically the kind that reflects on the actor’s history and entry into the film industry, diverges from mundane life stories in that its performative character is greatly enhanced. In India, long-form celebrity interviews first took shape in film magazines like Filmfare, Stardust and CineBlitz, often accompanied with a star fashion shoot, not unlike similar feature-length interviews in western media. The television and internet video interview also bears a strong similarity to North American and Western European celebrity interview precedents, although some recent formats like the courtroom conceit adopted by Aap ki Adalat represent a break (Kumar 2010, 7). The ends of such speech events, however, remain the cultivation of a relationship of the star with the audience, mediated by the interviewer as proxy. The interviewer poses questions intended to draw forth responses that, 3 For

this reason, we have chosen in this article to opt (with just a few exceptions) for text sources from major outlets where confidence as to the actual speech acts reported having taken place is high.

170

C. M. Wilkinson and S. Krishnan

according to discourse norms, are expected to be candid and revelatory; in effect, a person whose celebrity is at least in part founded on acting a role that is not them has that celebrity confirmed through the successful execution of speech acts in which they must not appear to be acting at all. Gabler (2000) refers to these speech situations as “lifies” (tapping the neologism “selfie” to convey the extent to which the “life” that is captured, like the “self” in handheld camera photographs, is mediated and infinitely referential). The distinct nature of the relation between fan and star in South Asia, nurtured by devotional practices in both Hinduism and Islam that emphasize the revitalizing powers contained in the “gaze” from actor to viewer (see Lutgendorf 2006), works against certain kinds of cynicism that would regard examples of “lifies” as entirely self-interested. Many in the audience may indeed be entirely ignorant of what Rojek (2015) terms “techniques of staging and persuasion” that point towards an illusory “intimacy” between star and fan, particularly when filmed interviews offer to the viewer a mode of self-presentation that is unusually naturalistic (at least when set against the emphatic style of acting that appears in mainstream films). But with greater media exposure, there can be little doubt that audiences are increasingly conscious of the parallel intent of the interview to cultivate a particular kind of person or a particular kind of celebrity, whose answers in an interview tend to trace and retrace largely familiar territory. Film stars do not and cannot make-up their “lifies” without limit, in other words. Moreover, the sense of an unburdening, of the “confessional” nature of the star interview, only works towards the construction of a persona by making the audience complicit. In this situation, a pragmatically small, but morally large gulf exists between relating one version of a story and later providing a different one. Given then that narrative is a creative, dynamic phenomenon, as opposed to a simple act of replaying and reiterating a set of “facts”, how are the inevitable adjustments and variations that arise in the telling of oneself to be accommodated in the harsh glare of celebrity scrutiny? Here is where Siddiqui’s telling of himself as a burgeoning actor, and the ever-expanding significance of acting and film in his retrospection, comes into play. In the two sections to follow, we sketch the basic contours of Siddiqui’s narrative of stardom; first, his roots in the Uttar Pradesh village of Budhana and second, the development of his acting career.

Out of Budhana Siddiqui’s outsidership is a distinct and irreplaceable component of his stardom. In particular, the intransigence of Siddiqui’s rural origins to normative understandings of film celebrity, particularly in an industry that is notoriously insular, ensures that they are ceaselessly revisited. The core stories of Siddiqui’s childhood and life in Budhana have largely remained consistent through repeated tellings, be it his time spent in the sugarcane fields (Chopra 2013) or in the river with water buffaloes (Sinha 2012). So too his stint at the National School of Drama (NSD) that underwrites his

11 The Plough and the Star: The Improbable Celebrity of Nawazuddin …

171

acting capabilities, and his struggles in Delhi, and later Mumbai. With retellings though, new facets and details come to light, and previously sidelined storylines are woven in. In part, these additions reflect simply the larger number of interviews that Siddiqui has done. At the same time, they illustrate both his greater command of the interview form and the release of details that take on particular meaning as they are cross-referenced with his films. For example, in 2015, in the flurry of interviews surrounding his lead performance in Ketan Mehta’s film Manjhi—The Mountain Man, Siddiqui upended some presumptions about what his village upbringing entailed by explaining that he belonged to a zamindar or landowning family. Appearing on the television chat show Guftagoo, he responded to the question of the interviewer about the title Nambardar in his name, a designation that comes ultimately from the early nineteenth century for revenue collectors and village headmen (Marriott 1955). Siddiqui claimed to be grateful for the opportunity to clarify that he actually hails from an “…acchi khaasi raees zamindar family”, (Hindi: a proper, rich zamindar family), cautioning his audience, it seemed, not to mistake rural simplicity for the absence of status. At the same time, the effect of laying claim to zamindari forerunners was not just to interject some unexpected grace notes into a life story that had hitherto been a compendium of hard times; it also drew some subtle distinctions between Siddiqui and his character, Dashrath Manjhi. Viewers who imagined Siddiqui was in any way playing himself in taking on the role of a low caste labourer would instead have to acknowledge that this was a role that Siddiqui mastered via training, not as, in the phrasing of the commercial cinema, a “spontaneous actor” (Chakravorty 2015). With Manjhi came more descriptions of the kind of meticulous preparation that Siddiqui was becoming known for. A report on the film in First Post described how: Siddiqui spent a month in the village, learning the villagers’ way of life and knowing the real Dashrath. “It’s important to give references to your audience,” he said. “I found out in my research that before the death of his wife, Dashrath was a 5 foot-something loud speaker. Full of life”. (Ramakrishnan 2015)

Qualification of his rural roots in no way means that Siddiqui has distanced himself from them. On the contrary, Siddiqui’s claim on the well-worn label of “aspirational” in contemporary India comes directly from his ability to blend “common man” practices with a sense of ease in the milieux of the global élite (the Cannes film festival, for example). Siddiqui has spoken repeatedly of his unpretentious tastes and habits; for example, his preference for Parle-G biscuits or his reluctance to give up the habit of always carrying a twenty rupee note in his pocket for emergencies [see also his video interview on an All-India Bakchod podcast (All India Bakchod 2017)]. He returns often to Budhana and in one infamous episode, looked set to play a role in the village Ramleela (a folk play about the life of the god Ram that is conventionally staged by local communities across India in the days before the festival of Dussehra). Beset by criticism and threats from the Shiv Sena (a Hindu nationalist organization), Siddiqui withdrew at the last minute, lamenting that he would not be able to fulfil a “childhood dream” to take part (Hindustan Times 2016b).

172

C. M. Wilkinson and S. Krishnan

Siddiqui’s embracing of his “common man” origins, in other words, goes alongside a certain amount of effacement. Towards the end of 2016, a year that Siddiqui started and ended with lead roles in Raman Raghav 2.0 and Freaky Ali, respectively, the Hindustan Times published a long-form photo shoot and feature about the star set in Budhana (Singh 2016). The first image is of him in a working man’s outfit of kurta-pajama and shouldering a bundle of sugar cane. In two other photographs, however, he is shown wearing a gray tailored suit, sitting on a bicycle and engaging some local children in gilli danda (a popular stick and ball game). In these two photographs, Siddiqui’s ambivalent, liminal status as someone in the village, but no longer entirely part of it, is underscored by the incongruousness of the suit against the backdrop of scruffy children, and weather-worn doors and pakka (baked brick) walls. The suit, as well as the casual clothes in which the photo collection is concluded, clearly corresponds with the urbane sartorial image that he has cultivated since 2012. (Photographs of Siddiqui in magazines at time of writing showcase a metropolitan dress sensibility—scarves, jeans, relaxed shirts, stylishly cut hair and facial hair).

The Making of an Actor Siddiqui is perhaps unique among Hindi film actors for how he publicly discusses the ways in which he applies his formal training to the roles he takes on, as well as the way in which he uses “acting as vocation” to explain his choice of commercial roles. It is important to note here that he is certainly not the only “serious” actor currently working in the industry. Naseeruddin Shah and Om Puri already blazed a trail in which they alternated commercial film roles with acting in international or parallel film productions. In the present, Rajkummar Rao, Manoj Bajpai and Kangna Ranaut are all associated with higher than average acting skills, with Bajpai and Ranaut, like Siddiqui, depending upon their acting ability to offset the drawbacks of being industry outsiders. More so than the other so-called “thespians” in the industry, however, Siddiqui not only roots his celebrity resolutely in a commitment to the craft of acting, but reflects at length about what acting, as practice, involves. Talking about the roles he has taken on, or about his philosophy of acting in general, makes up the bulk of the most cerebral and distinguished (in Bourdieu’s (1984) sense of “having distinction”) aspects of his persona. The origins of Siddiqui’s interest in acting, and the nature of his training, have acquired shades and contours as his filmography and media interactions have multiplied. Throwing over a secure career in industry to join the NSD was due, as he’s always claimed, to having been enraptured by a play that he saw with one of his friends in the Mandi House area (Chopra 2013). In 2013 however, he described receiving acting training at the Bharatendu Natya Akademi (BNA) in Lucknow (Indo-Asian News Service 2013). This fact was repeated in 2015 (Singh 2015) and several times in 2017, notably in an interview on Anupam Kher’s talk show People. Also in 2015, he revealed that he had been involved in Gujarati theatre while employed as an industrial chemist in Baroda (Vadodara) (Unny 2016; Sattar 2016). In fact, during

11 The Plough and the Star: The Improbable Celebrity of Nawazuddin …

173

the promotional period of Babumoshai Bandookbaaz, he explained that the reason he stayed in Baroda for as long as he did, apart from the money he earned, was that he enjoyed acting in Gujarati plays (Aap ki Adalat, and his interview with Anupam Kher). Once again, it is important to stress that these interpolations need not reflect an earlier lack of candour, but rather meaningful elaborations upon an acting history that reflect Siddiqui’s sense of his emerging celebrity persona. The imprimatur of NSD education upon Siddiqui’s acting abilities, as well as his association with small budget, so-called “realistic” films, left little space for a more expansive and diverse acting background to be discussed in the first years in which his fame began to grow. Rather a necessary narrative economy led him to segue from graduation to job to acting in rapid succession, with relatively little deviation. Just as with the revelation of his zamindar roots, however, the benefit of adding in the Baroda and Lucknow acting interludes has been to allow Siddiqui to emphasize a deeply rooted and longestablished desire to act. If these experiences did happen to disrupt a narrative in which NSD previously existed by itself, then this would be a remarkably shrewd way in which to remediate the harm. Wrinkles in the origin and development of his interest in feature films play out in a similar fashion. From earlier protestations that his childhood was far removed from the world of films and movie halls, in recent years reports have been written on watching films in the village projected on a sheet: Behind the screen, you could see silhouettes of buffaloes being taken to the water, which became the backdrop to Mithun’s and Jeetendra’s dance sequences. Our seats were brickswe sat on our haunches with our knees bent to watch the movies, sometimes for as long as five hours. No city person can sit like that for even five minutes. (Singh 2016)

In the following year, an interview touched upon his trips to the local town to see films in a “tin shed.. screening C grade fare” (Bhutia 2017), and in Aap Ki Adalat, he talked about a yearly trip to the city 40 km away during Eid or Diwali, to watch the latest release, only made possible by the money he saved through the year. From these accounts, we can conclude that his exposure to films was certainly not minimal, although it would be hard to say that it was anything more than haphazard. Filling in the history of Siddiqui’s relationship to mainstream films allows for the sharpening of his identity as an outsider, a desultory consumer of the very entertainment that one day would showcase and celebrate him. Nevertheless, it is Siddiqui’s theatrical training while attending NSD and then working professionally after graduation that provides the language and philosophy of acting that he elaborates, specifically framing each new role as a new challenge to his abilities. Siddiqui consistently and forthrightly talks about the preparations he makes for his roles, his interest in observing and mentally cataloguing samples of human behaviour for later use, and the thrill of pushing beyond his comfort zone in the characters he plays. The quest for new challenges effectively rebuts objections to the commercial roles he plays, in part because in challenging himself to do new things, he taps into a growing intuition among viewers that he is perhaps incapable of doing anything badly. He even managed to justify thereby his role in Munna Michael,

174

C. M. Wilkinson and S. Krishnan

a fully-fledged naach-gaana (Hindi: song and dance) film after previously insisting that his audiences would never see him “dancing around trees” (Vyavahare 2012). Where once he proclaimed that actors are not like stereotypical screen “heroes” who are compelled to dance, he now pronounced dancing acceptable if it was solely for the purpose of exploring characters with different dimensions (Indian Express 2015, India Today 2015, Indian Express 2018). Compounding all of this is Siddiqui’s approach to screen acting that nimbly conflates adaptability with proficiency in dramatic technique. His advocacy for an acting style that is “subtle”, “underplayed” and “neutral” (People 2017) explains the recurrence of terms like “shapeshifter” to refer to his screen roles, “a man who blends in and transforms himself into the character almost at will, an actor who does not need costumes or accessories to attract attention on screen” (Friday 2014). Siddiqui is also described as having a capacity for self-effacement while at work that is completely out of keeping for the normal way in which stars either announce their presence or have it announced for them on set. Rachel Dwyer (Dwyer and Patel 2002) has argued that popular Hindi film acting among its stars skews emphatically towards consistency across roles and across film careers. This is an example of “personification”, (where the star persona is elevated over character), a style of film acting that Barry King (1985) differentiates from “impersonation” (which requires that the actor be submerged under an accumulation of a character’s behavioural minutiae). However, Siddiqui does not just opt for the personification’s “other” of impersonation through the skilfull achievement of a characterization’s mimetic elements; instead, he lays claim to techniques associated with some version of Stanislavky’s famous “method”. Talking about various observational exercises, or drawing on his memories of friends, neighbours and acquaintances to infuse a role with “truth”, clearly connects him to the philosophy and techniques with which method has been associated. He has described a singular moment in his acting training when, performing in an NSD production of Ivanov, he was forced to turn inward for the key to his role: I always used to play comic parts till a French director introduced me to another person within me. We were doing Chekhov’s Ivanov and it was excruciating for me. If a comedian is asked to walk straight he will always do something weird, but never walk straight. I couldn’t get my walk right for a good 15 days. My teacher killed that habit of mine….I saw how much was untapped within me. I realised there are so many people within this one person. Like within you there’s a violent woman, a sweet child, a mature girl, a friend, an enemy, and many more. It all just needs to be discovered and that’s what an actor does. (quoted in Unny 2016)

In his film career, he has talked about using his own desperation and (literal) hunger to win a minor role as a cowed criminal suspect in John Matthew Mathan’s Sarfarosh; the transposition of the mannerisms of a fellow struggling actor into the part of Shaikh in The Lunchbox and the insertion of his fumblings in romantic relationships into now famous and highly quotable scenes in Gangs of Wasseypur part II.4 For Badlapur, the Hindustan Times (2015) describes a source telling them that 4 The

scenes in question concern Faizal Khan’s “courtship” of Mohsina Hamid (Huma Qureshi), first, the now famous “permishun” scene in which Mohsina sharply cautions Faizal not to place his

11 The Plough and the Star: The Improbable Celebrity of Nawazuddin …

175

[H]e prepared by “visit[ing] the Nasik jail to take inspiration from prisoners…” mingl[ing] with the prisoners to understand their way of life. “He chatted with them to get an insight into their daily life and adapt to their body language — like how they eat, take a bath and stay inside the jail. For a few days, he even lived the life of a prisoner to get into the skin of his character”.

At the time of writing, Siddiqui is on the cusp of the release of two biopics of two widely disparate figures. These performances promise to pull together various threads of his acting philosophy—testing limits, trying on different characterizations, eliciting truth in one’s performance—not just within the scope of each film, but as two companion pieces. As Saadat Hasan Manto in Nandita Das’s 2018 film Manto (screened at the Cannes Film Festival), Siddiqui plays a literary and historical figure whose writings on the fallout from Partition made him one of the most celebrated authors of the post-Independence era. Then, as Shiv Sena supremo Bal Thackeray, he will bring to the screen a man whose right-wing politics (featuring hostility towards both Muslims and immigrants to Maharashtra) are almost diametrically opposite. The challenge of Manto seems to pale into insignificance compared what is at stake in playing Thackeray, given that Siddiqui himself embodies much of what Thackeray fought against his entire political life (a Muslim in-migrant to Mumbai from Uttar Pradesh). Given the rich intertextuality of mainstream film that has for decades elaborated distinct celebrity identities across and between films, suturing actors to certain films and roles almost in perpetuity, this is a remarkable achievement.

A Different Kind of Star By 2018, Siddiqui could lay claim to an enviable critical and popular reputation. Facilitating his particular brand of stardom is an earthiness that comes from his hinterland beginnings and an effortless skill to craft multidimensional characters. All together this adds up to an on-screen charisma that has seen him steal scene after scene from some of the nation’s biggest stars. Standing in for the multitudes that, like him, have few of the obvious attributes to become a film star, he commits these acts to the delight of both critics and audiences. Siddiqui is not the first and will not be the last “outsider” to make good in the Bombay film industry; however, his rise to the top ranks of film stars is so contrary to convention that its unexpectedness has itself become a storyline. How on earth did this provincial, unremarkable man make such an impression on a tightly knit and exclusive industry? The groundwork has been laid, as it turns out, to define a new kind of star, one who is not simply a fine actor who can succeed playing second leads, villains and well-etched characters, but one who offers an alternative to the traditional screen hero as a film’s lead. Siddiqui’s divergence from normative hero material in his small stature and lack of good looks (best understood in the Indian hand on hers unless he “take(s) permission” and second, a shy confession that he’d like to have sex with her, at which point she slaps him with her shoes and chases him out of her room.

176

C. M. Wilkinson and S. Krishnan

context as not being fair-skinned) has been a repeated theme in his interviews. In self-deprecating statements about being a “reject piece” (Aap Ki Adalat 2017) or about his dark complexion and “ordinary” looks (Saxena 2016), he has not just offered a critique of industry norms but cultural ones as well, that, like his old village compatriots, look askance at his shakal and soorat (Hindi: looks, face). Attempting to understand Siddiqui’s stardom with reference to models of film stardom developed for the American and European film industries forces us to conclude that he spans several subcategories of stardom at once. Starting with Christine Geraghty’s (2007) foundational division of forms of the “star” into celebrity, professional and performer, it is immediately apparent that Siddiqui combines elements of the star as professional and the star as a performer. The professional, in Geraghty’s terms, emerges out of the deployment of an identification based upon a reliable and engaging embodiment of a distinct character “type” from film to film, while the star as performer is a master craftsperson hailed for the diligence and high standards with which each role is brought to life. As a professional, Siddiqui remains distinctly (though not exclusively) associated with roles as lower-class men, seemingly effortlessly imbuing them with menace, humour, or gravitas. At the same time, his stardom as a performer comes to the fore in the diligence with which he has endeavoured to impress upon filmmakers and audiences that the training that makes him so effective a screen actor is also what permits him to experiment with different, unexpected roles. His growing catalogue of confessions notwithstanding, Siddiqui’s reputation for self-effacement contributes powerfully to his stardom as a performer. Siddiqui has played Hindu and Christian characters (he played a priest in the 2016 film Te3n (Dasgupta)) and never seems out of place playing Muslim characters, unlike the industry’s three Khan megastars (all Muslims), none of whom have played more than a handful of Muslim characters in the course of hundreds of films between them. But neither does he seem to be trapped within a screen image that constrains him in this regard. Instead, the repeated invocation of his commitment to acting produces palimpsests rather than unequivocal readings of identity. Siddiqui is a Muslim it is true, but his dedication to his calling is what allows him to layer characterizations and possibilities that prevent his “professional” stardom (in Geraghty’s sense) from locking him into a stereotype. As a professional and as a performer, Siddiqui also fulfils the requirements in another classificatory scheme, created by King (2008) of the “exemplar”—the performance of a self that is consistent with audience expectations of an actor who has consistently been associated with high standards for his craft. Siddiqui’s own preference in terming himself an “actor” and not a “star” (Saxena 2016) activates a well-known contrast that the film world recognizes between the fixed nature of stardom and the fluidity of stagecraft. At the same time, Siddiqui seems closest to the “romantic” celebrity in King’s classification, epitomizing an unlikely and thus utterly authentic outsider who feels increasingly called upon to elaborate upon processes of “becoming” and “being” that are less and less contingent upon his professional abilities. Here is where the life story of Siddiqui and its cultivation of “everyman” or “common man” persona come to the fore, such that his celebrity resides not in

11 The Plough and the Star: The Improbable Celebrity of Nawazuddin …

177

the pursuits of the rich and famous, but in renewing his links to his home village or retaining the habits of a film “struggler”. Somewhat perversely, in an industry that is so linked to glamour and shifting urban (and now global) sensibilities, Siddiqui’s star identity remains rooted in rural and lower-class ground. And just as paradoxically, the life story out of which this identity is embellished has grown more complex and nuanced with its telling, although not as yet to the point that his ordinary man persona has been challenged as just another great performance. Returning again to Geraghty’s scheme, he has also, in recent years, been slowly turning into a star as celebrity, not because his off-screen life is necessarily overtaking his on-screen incarnations, but because there has been a distinct uptick in stories about his fashion choices, his brand endorsements, along with tales of scandal and misbehaviour that typically attach themselves to the industry’s main stars. Siddiqui’s celebrity status, with all of its benefits, drawbacks and absurdities, was put into stark relief with the short-lived release of his 2017 memoir, An Ordinary Life. Overlooked were the by-now familiar stories of his background and struggle for success as his frank admission of multiple sexual relationships before marriage seized the public imagination. The backlash was swift and prompted Siddiqui to take the book off the market to assuage hurt feelings, as he explained it (although perhaps also to forestall legal action). Stepping back proved to be judicious. With the intrusion of the furious controversy surrounding Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s film Padmaavat (Bhansali 2018), the book furore died away quickly and Siddiqui emerged relatively unscathed.5 Another reading might be that the impact of his confession was ultimately beneficial to his emergence as a novel kind of film hero. Whatever harm he risked to his reputation as a decent family man and honest broker of his own narrative was of necessity set against the benefits that have accrued him via the affirmation of his evident sexual and romantic appeal to (at least some) women. Having rebutted the main obstacle to his being a conventional screen hero—an alleged failure to live up to the hero’s physical and sexual attractiveness—he may now, dutifully, remain silent. Moreover, Siddiqui never wavered on his insistence that including controversial events and relationships in his book issued from the same commitment to honesty that infuses his acting. Once again, Siddiqui’s dedication to his craft served as the connective tissue between the constant and the fluid components of his self-narrative. Thus, even as the details and dissonances of his life story have accumulated, Siddiqui has evaded fixity, a necessary condition, perhaps, for him to take on a role as utterly counterintuitive as Bal Thackeray. Siddiqui’s enthusiastic embrace of the role, no less than the determination of Thackeray’s heirs and the Shiv Sena itself to see him perform it, marks the culmination of Siddiqui’s embodiment of an actorly ideal. 5 Padmaavat, a romantic epic based on a fictionalized telling of the war between Ratan Singh (Shahid

Kapoor) and Allaudin Khilji, centring on Khilji’s obsession with Ratan Singh’s wife Padmaavati, was beset by controversy from the moment it was announced. Plagued by production delays caused by vandalism of the film‘s sets, and threats to the cast and director, the film was released late, and criticism raged over its treatment of sensitive themes like the depiction of Muslims on-screen, violence and sexuality, and the representation of mass self-immolation of women. In the end, despite not being released in several Indian states, the film was a critical and commercial success and is one of the top box office grossing Hindi films of all time (Indian Express 2018).

178

C. M. Wilkinson and S. Krishnan

Siddiqui being offered to play Thackeray is telling of how he may have transcended the limits not just of his origins and his appearance, but his Muslim identity. A 55-second video titled Sixteen Point Six Six that was released on Siddiqui’s twitter feed in April 2017 is indicative. In it, Siddiqui silently holds up cards proclaiming that a “DNA test” confirmed he was made up of 16.66% of all important world religions. He ends the video by claiming that despite these ratios of religiosity, he has discovered in his soul that he is 100% an “artist”. As straightforward as the intent of the video seems to be—a call for religious tolerance and an assertion of human universality—it is important to note the context in which it appeared. Coming a few days after singer Sonu Nigam’s tweets against the loudspeaker amplification of morning azaan (Hindi/Urdu: Muslim prayers) in Mumbai, equating it to gundagardi or bullying, various publications quickly branded Siddiqui’s video as his reply to Nigam’s “intolerance” (Shiksha 2017; The Hindu 2017; Indian Express 2017). Whether Siddiqui intended the video to be read this way, its impact depended crucially upon Siddiqui’s own persona as a “shapeshifter” (even in such overdrawn characterizations of Muslim, Hindu, Christian and so on) to make its point: if I can be anything, so I am everything. On its surface, a relatively innocuous endorsement of multiculturalism and religious tolerance, 16.66% is, on second glance, proposing a far more significant principle for the present moment in India. What Siddiqui is professing in 16.66% echoes his revelation at the NSD that “inside this one person there are so many people. It all just needs to be discovered and that’s what an actor does”. Siddiqui has, thus far, shown no interest in following the well-beaten path of several Indian film celebrities into politics, yet there is a clear sense in which his life story, his acting, and the way in which he has negotiated his stardom have implications for the present moment that is as much, if not more, politically meaningful.

References All India Bakchod. (2017). AIB Podcast: Feat. Nawazuddin Siddiqui. https://www.youtube.com/ watch?v=IuPR-iwylcg&t=110s. Ayaz, S. (2017, May). On Nawazuddin Siddiqui Birthday, a review of how this superstar of strugglers conquered a behemoth called Bollywood. The Indian Express. https://indianexpress.com/ article/entertainment/bollywood/nawazuddin-siddiqui-birthday-how-superstar-of-strugglersconquered-bollywood-4662667/. Bari, N. (2012, September 8). Rural rockstars: Nawazuddin Siddiqui carved his own space in Bollywood through his unique roles. India Today. https://www.indiatoday.in/magazine/nation/ story/20120917-rural-rockstars-nawazuddin-siddiqui-gangs-of-wasseypur-i-and-ii-7597202012-09-08. Bhutia, L. G. (2017, April 14). The art and attitude of Nawazuddin Siddiqui. OPEN Magazine. http:// www.openthemagazine.com/article/cover-story/the-art-and-attitude-of-nawazuddin-siddiqui. Bingham, A. (2015). Directory of world cinema: INDIA. Bristol, UK: Intellect Books. BollywoodHelpline. (2012). A candid talk with Nawazuddin Siddique Part-1. https://www.youtube. com/watch?v=TsUNCWfxhpg.

11 The Plough and the Star: The Improbable Celebrity of Nawazuddin …

179

Bourdieu, P. (1984). Distinction: A social critique of the judgement of taste. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press. Brockmeier, J. (2000). Autobiographical time. Narrative Inquiry, 10(1), 51–73. Chakravorty, V. (2015, August 14). Nawazuddin Siddiqui’s continuing climb proves talent conquers all. Mail Online. http://www.dailymail.co.uk/indiahome/indianews/article-3198777/ WEEKEND-ENTERTAINMENT-Nawazuddin-Siddiqui-s-continuing-climb-proves-talentconquers-all.html. Chettiar, B. (2012, August 7). Nawazuddin Siddique: A journey from a watchman to bollywood|Latest News & Updates at Daily News & Analysis. Dna. http://www.dnaindia.com/ entertainment/interview-nawazuddin-siddique-a-journey-from-a-watchman-to-bollywood1724636. Chopra, A. (2012, March 9). Review: Vidya Balan rocks in Kahaani. Rediff. http://www.rediff.com/ movies/review/review-vidya-balan-rocks-in-kahaani/20120309.htm. Chopra, A. (2013, December 26). How Nawazuddin Siddiqui made it big. VOGUE India. https:// www.vogue.in/content/nawazuddin-siddiqui-made-big/. Cohler, B. J. (1982). Personal narrative and life course. Life Span Development and Behavior, 4, 205–241. Dwyer, R. & Patel, D. (2002). Cinema India : The visual culture of Hindi film. New Brunswick, New Jersey: Rutgers University Press. Edwards, R. (2012, May 12). Kahaani. Variety. Filmfare Awards Winners From 1953 to 2018. (n.d). Filmfare.Com. Accessed January 5, 2019. https://www.filmfare.com/awards/filmfare-awards/winners. Friday. (2014). Nawazuddin Siddiqui: Bollywood’s reluctant hero. https://fridaymagazine.ae/lifeculture/nawazuddin-siddiqui-bollywood-s-reluctant-hero-1.1377767. Gabler, N. (2000). Life: The movie: How entertainment conquered reality. New York: Vintage. Geraghty, C. (2007). Re-examining stardom: Questions of texts, bodies and performance. In Sean Redmond & Su Holmes (Eds.), Stardom and celebrity: A reader (pp. 98–110). London: SAGE. Goffman, E. (1981). Footing. In E. Goffman (Ed.), Forms of talk (pp. 124–159). Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Gulf News. (2017). Nawazuddin Siddiqui turns dancer for new film, 2017, July 9 edition. https://gulfnews.com/entertainment/bollywood/nawazuddin-siddiquiturns-dancer-for-newfilm-1.2055243. Gupta, S. (2009). Movie review: Firaaq - Indian express, Mar 20 edition. http://archive. indianexpress.com/news/movie-review-firaaq/437021/. Gupta, R. (2015, February 20). Movie review: Badlapur|Filmfare.Com. Filmfare. http://www. filmfare.com/reviews/movie-review-badlapur-8476.html. Hindustan Times. (2015, February 15). Nawazuddin Siddiqui seeks inspiration behind bars for Badlapur. https://www.hindustantimes.com/. https://www.hindustantimes. com/bollywood/nawazuddin-siddiqui-seeks-inspiration-behind-bars-for-badlapur/storyUf25iMJ9RKiY3Inw2cEYEN.html. Hindustan Times. (2016a, January 18). Nawazuddin Siddiqui denies assaulting woman, police verifying details. https://www.hindustantimes.com/. https://www.hindustantimes.com/bollywood/ woman-files-fir-against-actor-nawazuddin-siddiqui/story-D0qZAsP4oSxJcbLSfxhsjJ.html. Hindustan Times. (2016b, October 7). Nawazuddin Siddiqui pulls out of Ramleela event after Shiv Sena protests. https://www.hindustantimes.com/. https://www.hindustantimes.com/ bollywood/nawazuddin-siddiqui-pulls-out-of-ramleela-event-after-shiv-sena-protests/storyJ7IhaXawaXY1UOmnIGqBWO.html. India Today. (2012, November 12). Bollywood diaries! Nawazuddin Siddiqui’s journey from a watchman to darling of crossover cinema. https://www.indiatoday.in/movies/celebrities/story/ nawazuddin-siddiqui-anurag-kashyap-gangs-of-wasseypur-talaash-120499-2012-11-04. India Today. (2015). Nawazuddin Siddiqui: I’ll learn dancing and dance around trees, 2015, Feb 26 edition. https://www.indiatoday.in/movies/bollywood/story/nawazuddin-siddiqui-badlapurcollections-dancing-dance-around-trees-242135-2015-02-26.

180

C. M. Wilkinson and S. Krishnan

Indian Express. (2017, April 24). Watch: Nawazuddin Siddiqui gets his DNA tested, bares his religion and his soul in this hard-hitting video. The Indian Express. http://indianexpress.com/ article/entertainment/bollywood/nawazuddin-siddiqui-hard-hitting-video-reveals-his-religionand-his-soul-watch-video-4625996/. Indian Express. (2018, February 19). Padmaavat box office collection: Sanjay Leela Bhansali film mints Rs. 525 crore worldwide. The Indian Express. http://indianexpress.com/article/ entertainment/bollywood/box-office-collection/padmaavat-box-office-collection-5069970/. Indo-Asian News Service. (2013, March 14). Theatre doesn’t have money, promote it: Nawazuddin Siddiqui. Mid-Day. https://www.mid-day.com/articles/theatre-doesn-t-have-money-promoteit-nawazuddin-siddiqui/204140. Indo-Asian News Service. (2014, August 8). Nawazuddin Siddiqui hopes kick success will benefit his upcoming films. Mid-Day. https://www.mid-day.com/articles/nawazuddin-siddiqui-hopes-kicksuccess-will-benefit-his-upcoming-films/15515157. Khan, T. N. (2012). Showtime: The late but unstoppable rise of Nawazuddin Siddiqui. The Caravan. 31 July. King, B. (1985). Articulating Stardom. Screen, 26(5), 27–50. King, B. (2008). Stardom, celebrity and the para-confession. Social Semiotics, 18(2), 115–132. Kumar, S. (2010). Gandhi meets primetime: Globalization and nationalism in Indian television. Champaign, IL: University of Illinois Press. Lutgendorf, P. (2006). Is there an Indian way of filmmaking? International Journal of Hindu Studies, 10(3), 227–256. Marriott, M. (1955). Little communities in an indigenous civilization in village India. Studies in the little community. In M. Marriott (Ed.), Village India: Studies in the little community (pp. 171– 222). Chicago: Chicago University Press. Misral, S. (2017, January 17). Nawazuddin Siddiqui, the new favorite in the brand world—Times of India. The Times of India. https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/entertainment/hindi/bollywood/ news/Nawazuddin-Siddiqui-the-new-favorite-in-the-Brand-world/articleshow/51078798.cms. PTI. (2014, July 24). Kick was a good opportunity, says Nawazuddin Siddiqui. India Today. https:// www.indiatoday.in/movies/bollywood/story/kick-nawazuddin-siddiqui-good-opportunitysalman-khan-sajid-nadiadwala-201429-2014-07-23. Ramakrishnan, S. (2015, August 21). ‘Manjhi’ Was the toughest role of my life: Nawazuddin Siddiqui—Entertainment News, Firstpost. Firstpost. https://www.firstpost.com/entertainment/ manjhi-was-the-toughest-role-of-my-life-the-many-candid-faces-of-nawazuddin-siddiqui2395172.html. Rojek, C. (2015). Presumed intimacy: Parasocial interaction in media, society and celebrity culture. Hoboken, NJ: Wiley. Sattar, S. (2016, August 14). An offbeat act. The Telegraph-India. http://www.telegraphindia.com/ 1160814/jsp/graphiti/story_102109.jsp. Saxena, D. (2016, July 17). I am an actor, not a star: Nawazuddin. Hindustan Times–Lucknow. https:// www.pressreader.com/india/hindustan-times-lucknow-live/20160717/281689729156849. Scott, A. O. (2014, February 27). ‘The Lunchbox,’ with Irrfan Khan: Mumbai mix-up. The New York Times (sec. Movies). https://www.nytimes.com/2014/02/28/movies/the-lunchbox-with-irrfankhan-mumbai-mix-up.html. Shiksha, S. (2017). Nawazuddin Siddiqui reveals He’s ‘16.66% All Religions, 100% Artist’— NDTV Movies. NDTVMovies.Com. http://movies.ndtv.com/bollywood/nawazuddin-siddiquireveals-he-practices-all-religions-in-video-titled-16-66-1685206. Singh, S. (2015, August 31). Nawazuddin Siddiqui: Bollywood’s hero next door. India Today. https://www.indiatoday.in/magazine/profile/story/20150831-nawazuddin-siddiqui-meanstreet-star-820326-1999-11-30. Singh, V. (2016, October 8). A day in the village with actor Nawazuddin Siddiqui. https:// www.hindustantimes.com/. https://www.hindustantimes.com/brunch/a-day-in-the-village-withactor-nawazuddin-siddiqui/story-RMlohgcbzqbbd6Z2HNvvpK.html.

11 The Plough and the Star: The Improbable Celebrity of Nawazuddin …

181

Sinha, C. (2012, September 29). Now starring: Nawazuddin Siddiqui. OPEN Magazine. http://www. openthemagazine.com/article/art-culture/now-starring-nawazuddin-siddiqui. The Hindu. (2017, April 24). Nawazuddin Siddiqui says he is 16.66% All Religions. The Hindu (sec. Entertainment). http://www.thehindu.com/entertainment/nawazuddin-siddiqui-says-he-is-1666all-religions/article18199951.ece. Unny, D. (2016). Nawazuddin Siddiqui: The anti-hero. OPEN Magazine. http://www. openthemagazine.com/article/art-culture/nawazuddin-siddiqui-the-anti-hero. Vyavahare, R. (2012). Aamir Khan has no airs about himself: Nawazuddin Siddiqui - Times of India. The Times of India, 2012, July 11 edition. https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/ entertainment/hindi/bollywood/news/Aamir-Khan-has-no-airs-about-himself-NawazuddinSiddiqui/articleshow/14821029.cms.

Filmography Aap ki Adalat. (2017). Nawazuddin Siddiqui. August 20. Zee TV. Ahluwalia, A. (2014). Miss lovely. Easel Films. Banerjee, D. (2013). Star. (Bombay Talkies anthology). Viacom 18 Motion Pictures. Batra, R. (2014). The Lunchbox. Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures. Bhansali, S. L. (2018). Padmaavat. Viacom 18 Motion Pictures. Das, N. (2009). Firaaq. Percept Picture Company. Das, N. (2018). Manto. Viacom 18 Motion Pictures. Dasgupta, R. (2016). Te3n. Reliance Entertainment. Deva, P. (2009). Wanted. Eros International. Dholakia, R. (2017). Raees. Red Chillies Entertainment. Dhulia, T. (2012). Paan Singh Tomar. UTV Motion Pictures. Ghosh, S. (2012). Kahaani. Viacom 18 Motion Pictures. Hirani, R. (2003). Munnabhai MBBS. Vinod Chopra Productions Entertainment One. Kagti, R. (2012). Talaash. Reliance Entertainment. Kashyap, A. (2010). Dabangg. Shree Ashtavinayak Cine Vision Ltd. Kashyap, A. (2007). Black Friday. Adlabs Films. Kashyap, A. (2012). Gangs of Wasseypur I and II. Viacom 18 Motion Pictures. Kashyap, A. (2016). Raman Raghav 2.0. Reliance Entertainment. Kashyap, A., & Motwane, V. (2018). Sacred Games. Phantom Films and Reliance Entertainment. Khan, K. (2015). Bajrangi Bhaijaan. Eros International. Khan, S. (2016). Freaky Ali. Pooja Entertainment and Films Ltd. Khan, S. (2017). Munna Michael. Eros International. Kumar, A. (2017). Monsoon Shootout. DAR Motion Pictures. Matthan, J. M. (1999). Sarfarosh. Eros Entertainment. Mehta, K. (2015). Manjhi—The Mountain Man. Viacom 18 Motion Pictures. Mohandas, G. (2013). Liar’s Dice. Silk Road Cinema. Nadiadwala, S. (2014). Kick. UTV Motion Pictures. Nandy, K. (2017). Babumoshai Bandookbaaz. KNKSPL/Movies By The Mob. Raghavan, S. (2015). Badlapur. Eros International. Rizvi, A., & Farooqui, M. (2010). Peepli Live. UTV Motion Pictures. Sharma, S. (2017). Haraamkhor. Indian Film Studios. Siddique. (2011). Bodyguard. Reliance Entertainment. Udyawar, R. (2017). Mom. Zee Studios. Verma, S. (2013). Aatma. Wide Frame Pictures. Watkins, J. (2018). McMafia. BBC Worldwide.

Chapter 12

Indie, not Indian—Kalki Koechlin and the Representation of the White Indian Star in Bollywood and Hatk¯e Cinema Midath Hayder Abstract This chapter will analyse ethnicity, femininity and celebrity feminism through the star text of critically acclaimed actor, Kalki Koechlin (b. 1984). Koechlin’s stardom is unique in that are very few other white stars currently in contemporary Indian cinema. Though she has managed some success in Indie cinema, her contact with mainstream audiences has usually been in supporting roles, with her leading roles restricted to hatk¯e (off-beat) film roles. Nevertheless, the shift from hatk¯e lead to mainstream support role and then subsequent move back to indie cinema is indicative of the precarious nature of minority ethnic stardom, suggesting the limits of the white star in Bollywood. As an Indie star, Koechlin has been presented as someone who relies on talent and hard work rather than glamour for her career. Many of her roles are of young confident modern women allowing Koechlin to present on-screen alternative types of femininity. As such, Koechlin’s reliance on theatre work and ability to write screenplays places her stardom in a different alignment to others. Furthermore, as an activist and celebrity feminist, Koechlin has presented herself as an ethical star. This chapter will argue that Koechlin’s stardom complicates ideas of Indian citizenship by presenting alternative forms of femininity/ethnicity in relation to the conventional Hindi cinema heroine. Koechlin’s ambiguity (signified by the fact that many of her roles tend to be NRI or unexplained) is further echoed off-screen as model/star/method actor, Indian/foreigner, which enables Koechlin to embody a unique position in contemporary stardom. That she has yet to star in a mainstream lead role suggests that the audience for a white star in Bollywood is complicated, hence, problematizing who counts as an Indian in a diverse nation. Keywords Race · Gender · Femininity · Ethnicity · Hatk¯e · Stardom Kalki Koechlin made her debut in the hatk¯e (different/off-beat) film, Dev.D (Kashyap 2009). Her nomination and win for Filmfare Best Supporting actress, frequent appearances in theatre, as well as her tendency to associate with films that are dramas, or niche films would affiliate her as a credible actor rather than star. While she has M. Hayder (B) University of Sussex, Falmer (Brighton), UK e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 A. I. Viswamohan and C. M. Wilkinson (eds.), Stardom in Contemporary Hindi Cinema, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-15-0191-3_12

183

184

M. Hayder

appeared in a few mainstream films as support characters, most of her main role performances have been in hatk¯e films. This includes Margarita With a Straw (Bose 2015), in which Koechlin required six months of training in order to portray the main character Laila, who has cerebral palsy and has to move around in a wheelchair, for which she won a national film award. As the daughter of French immigrants, a fairskinned white Indian national (born in India), Koechlin complicates some of the discourses that face contemporary Indian film stars. Koechlin is unique in this era of stardom: a naturally fair-skinned star, with a European heritage, in an era that is fascinated with fair skin products and in an industry whose cinema is in negotiation with western influences. Goldie Osuri states that “Bollywood has been one of the major cultural forms through which [the] discursive embodied validation of light-skinned women is manifested” (Osuri 2008, 115). Koechlin’s refusal to endorse fairness creams (sometimes referring to as skin-lightening creams) means that she shuns or attempts to subvert her whiteness, as something to aspire to which she is commended for. It frames her as an ideal citizen who makes ethical choices, as she disavows her whiteness as opposed to capitalizing on it. This means that she remains inoffensive by not flaunting her privilege. Challenging this in an industry which benefits from light-skinned women brings a diverse voice to a debate that often is ignored by the mainstream. However, as a marginal star, these protests may not get widespread attention. In this chapter, I will explore Koechlin’s stardom, the politics of fairness and ethnicity and the issues and frustrations of the marginal star. The focus in this chapter will be on her films and as well as journalistic discourse from interviews. I have taken into account her recent turn as a feminist and activist and the ways this has inflected her stardom. The chapter will analyse both her hatk¯e films and then her mainstream film appearances. Finally, the chapter will attempt to understand her feminism in relation to her position as a white Indian. Feminism in India has received renewed interest within domestic debates since the Delhi rape in 2012 which sparked national outrage, international coverage and internal discussions about women in contemporary India. Koechlin is to referred to as being “angelic” (Paul 2016a, b) and often states in interviews that her looks are a “constraint” (Vohra 2013). She has also stated that she is frustrated with having her ethnicity/nationality constantly questioned and being mistaken for a foreigner (Nagpaul 2015) and is vocal about the obsession with fair skin (Paul 2016a, b). However, Koechlin’s image and particularly her whiteness/Europeanness has been a central theme which has to be contended with and which she indulges. For example, one photo-shoot entitled “Finding Neverland” (Filmfare 16 February 2011) has various captions such as “Kalki caught in the perfect babe-lost-in-the-woods look”, “The long wait for prince charming of course” and “Cinderella’s searching for her slippers: would you help her out?”. The photoshoot hints at the connection between the star and her ethnicity by appropriating the star with European folk tale. Additionally, the emphasis on her vulnerability portrays her as demure demonstrating the ways in which a white star, of European descent is presented as non-threatening and even infantile. The taboos of mixed race or miscegenation are curtailed here, as she is depicted here alone in the woods. The

12 Indie, not Indian—Kalki Koechlin and the Representation of …

185

European fairytale theme has been chosen strategically to emphasize and play with these aspects of her stardom. In another photo-shoot titled “Basic Instinct” (Filmfare 8 July 2009) the images use the iconography of the femme fatale/vamp, who was usually depicted as an Anglo-Indian or foreigner in 60s Hindi cinema who was also depicted as westernized (Gangoli 2005). The captions and comments on the images suggest her inherent sex appeal and sexuality, which is often attributed to foreign women. Conversely, any threat is negated with some of her poses (such as covering her mouth, in an “oops” pose, wide eyes making her appear innocent and childlike) which makes her appear modest. These poses, themes and outfits are strategically deployed to avoid any potential threats that her ethnicity may present. Koechlin first film was Dev.D in which she portrays a sex worker who runs away from home. This debut was prophetic, as audiences could expect her to keep portraying alternative roles. The reception to her was positive, and she won best supporting actress at the Filmfare awards in 2010. However, she was unable to build upon this momentum immediately and it was not until 2011 that she featured in more substantial roles. It was in this year that she appeared in five films; a leading role in Shaitan (Nambiar 2011), a supporting role in the multistarrer, Zindagi Na Milegi Dobarra (Akhtar 2011) for which she was nominated for Best Supporting Actress (Filmfare), the title role That Girl in Yellow Boots (Kashyap 2010), based on her own screenplay, a side role in My Friend Pinto (Dar 2011) and a cameo in the British film Trishna (Winterbottom 2011) as herself. She would go on to portray smaller roles in Shanghai (Banerjee 2012) and Ek Thi Daayan (Iyer 2013). The next major film she appeared in was Yeh Jawaani Hai Dewani (Mukherji 2013) which she was nominated for a best actress award. Her next mainstream film was in a minor role in the film Happy Ending (Raj and Krishna 2014) but would return to more hatk¯e dramas in lead roles such as Margaretta with a straw and Waiting (Menon 2015) in which she played lead roles. Her image becomes viral through her associations with activism, most notably with the video “Rape—it’s your fault” which was a satirical response to the Delhi rape in 2012. She has spoken of abuse in her childhood and is vocal about her feminism. This has manifested in her spoken word poetry, such as “Dear Men” and “Printing Machine” which are available on YouTube. Rosie Thomas (2005) discusses the construction of modern Indian femininity through a study of Fearless Nadia (Mary Evans Wadia, B. 1908, D. 1996). In contemporary India, it would be myopic to assume such debates are replicable from the 1930s, because the current context must contend with a globalized post-economic liberalized, consumerist India (though they do remain as a foundation for current discourse). Koechlin’s marriage to Anurag Kashyap, echoes Nadia’s marriage to film director Homi Wadia, demonstrating the industries relaxed attitudes towards conjugal relationships. A study of Koechlin reveals the fluidity of contemporary forms of Indian femininity. However, according to Thomas, Nadia’s “[Whiteness] … simultaneously recognised and disavowed, undoubtedly, underpinned the ambivalent frisson of her erotic appeal, the classic colonial miscegenation fantasy” (Thomas 2005, 55). It would seem that ambiguity is the common feature for both Nadia and Koechlin. Ethnic fluidity has become a feature of Koechlin’s characters: they have ranged from non-resident Indians (NRI), to light-skinned Indians, to mixed-race (e.g. European

186

M. Hayder

and Indian), to white French. In Koechlin’s films, her ethnicity seems to matter less. The politics and representations of the gori (white woman) are in constant negotiation and in a recent turn have shifted to be more inclusive (Gehlawat 2015).

Hatk¯e Heroines In Nandana Bose’s article on Vidya Balan, she details the ways in which Balan has become a viable post-millennial star due to changes in the industry and technologies, such as the use of video games for marketing purposes (2014). These changes in exhibition, content and marketing, have enabled Koechlin to become a marginal star. The multiplex theatre has become a staple in cinema viewing since 1997 (Bose 2014), hence the split between the mainstream and hatk¯e is relatively new, with the latter engaging a younger and more cosmopolitan audience (Gopal 2011, 15), one which may be more open or receptive to newer visions of representations and world views. The variety of cinema in the films exhibited in the multiplex theatres is symptomatic of a post-liberalization economy. As such the potential for more diverse stars that may not normally be able to achieve fame through mainstream stardom is heightened. The move towards the big blockbuster or the independent film demonstrates the range of choice offered to consumers, replicating a Hollywood/independent style binary for audiences and for studios to target audiences. For urban audiences, the hatk¯e film offers alternative or potentially taboo subject matter, such as the use of drugs, sex or graphic violence which many of Koechlin’s films present. It is in these conditions that Koechlin as an alternative star in India can materialize. The sexual availability of white European women has always been a source of both desire and anxiety for Indian men. This has been negotiated in earlier cinema namely through Fearless Nadia (Thomas 2005). Koechlin is an ambiguous star whose whiteness needs to be negotiated. Koechlin differs from Nadia in that she is a white Indian as opposed to a foreigner. Koechlin’s characters are often there as romantic partners for Indian men, but as noted before do not end up with a happily ever after (Gehlawat 2015). It is not to say that the same taboos of miscegenation exist but to highlight that the Bollywood heroine’s function, to be the reward of the Bollywood hero remains unfilled. Though she is unable to perform the duty of the heroine, she is able to function alternatively and without the same restraints as the Indian cinema heroine. For example, her characters as sex workers forgo the traditional depictions of innocent and pure and become self-empowered. In Dev.D her sex work as Chanda enables her to have complete freedom from her parents, live independently and finish her education. In That Girl in Yellow Boots, sex work (which is a crucial element in the film’s narrative) allows her to pay rent and look for her father. Thus, the taboo of sex work is presented as a choice that enables certain characters to live or survive, and less a moral dilemma (that a conventional heroine may have to contend with). Absent are the older forms of the innocent fallen woman who turns to sex work or the vamp, who uses her sexuality to display her decadence, presenting another way of being, and another type of heroine who is more nuanced, in the characterisation.

12 Indie, not Indian—Kalki Koechlin and the Representation of …

187

In Shanghai, a political thriller, Koechlin portrays a young activist, Shalini Sahay. In the film, there appears a film star named Tina, who is hired by corrupt politicians to perform at a party. Hereby, there are two contrasting images of the NRI, one educated and wanting to rid the country of corruption, and the white immigrant, who relies on her beauty and partakes in the corrupt system by performing for the immoral ministers. The way that the film presents this binary is relevant to Koechlin’s situation as an ethnic white star in Indian cinema. The ideological work of Bollywood is to depict an idealized, modern, aspirational nation, with a Hindu identity, that is tolerant of others and on the one hand, Koechlin’s appearance in Indian cinema is evidence of this, as she has been able to participate in the industry. On the other hand, her status as a marginal star proves presents some of the difficulties and problems that she poses for the status quo and thus highlights the contradiction of being a white Indian star. Being a peripheral star, however, allows Koechlin certain freedoms, such as being critical or outspoken in a way that would be controversial if she was a mainstream star. Shalini, the activist, echoes the star career of Kalki, the fringe star. The contrast of the apolitical glamour star Tina to the dogmatic, down to earth Shalini, presents a binary opposition between the consummate citizen, one that works for change (evidenced by Koechlins outspoken views), and one that maintains the status quo (Tina), one that Koechlin disavowals by being the opposite of the glamour star. This is an example of how film role and star text help construct each other. Koechlin’s characters are consistently strong, determined and modern. Her success as a hatk¯e heroine suggests the diversity in stardom in indie cinema and an acceptance of her white ethnicity in a national context, one that remains hostile to foreigners. However, despite her accomplishments there remain certain prerequisites in contemporary Bollywood: female stars needs to be fair-skinned but not white.

Marginal Star to Mainstream Koechlin’s appearances in mainstream films enabled her to appeal to a broader audience. A study of these films indicates the difficulties she has had integrating into the industry. Her foray into mainstream cinema is the biggest indicator of the limits of the marginal star. Koechlin has stated before: I have never been offered song and dance roles. I think it is because of the image I have created for myself with the choice of roles I make. I have this theatre, parallel cinema actress image attached to me. I have tried to break it because I love good cinema. I would love to do a rom-com and get the guy in the end rather than him killing me or me beating him up. (Indian media news) (PTI 2016)

The reflection on her own casting and the attempt to break away from dark film roles presents the issues that she has faced in her career. Koechlin’s observation of the lack of song and dance offers is noteworthy, considering that many female stars have songs attributed and associated with them and this is often crucial for their success/brand. Koechlin’s typecast as a “parallel cinema actress” means she is often

188

M. Hayder

not considered as the type of star that is associated with the more glamorous song and dance sequence and this may hinder her value as a star and limit her casting to certain roles in the eyes of directors. As such her appearance in major hits such as Zindagi Na Milegi Dobarra (Akhtar 2011) and Yeh Jawaani Hai Dewani (Mukerji 2013) are the most telling for the white Indian star. Though language was not such a problem, she was cast in supporting/minor roles, despite the critical praise for her acting performances in hatk¯e cinema, suggesting her incompatibility with the mainstream. Though she is modern, in comparison to other stars (such as Katrina Kaif and Deepika Padukone) who are better suited to portray the type of heroine that mainstream Bollywood needs for blockbusters. Koechlin’s appearances in films such as Zindagi Na Milegi Dobarra, My Friend Pinto (Dar 2011) and Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani demonstrates an attempt to move towards mainstream romance/comedy films and diversify her image. However, the following analysis of her film roles will demonstrate the limitations and the difficulties of the Indian white star in mainstream Bollywood. In Zindagi Na Milegi Dobarra, Koechlin portrays Natasha, the fiancée of one of the main characters, her character Natasha is an uptight and spoilt designer with affluent parents and is engaged to Kabir. Her antithesis is the free willed Laila, portrayed by the mixed-race Katrina Kaif. Laila presents behaviours associated with the vamp such as drinking and engaging in sex but is framed positively (Gehlawat 2015, 83). Laila is rewarded with finding her romantic partner, whereas Natasha’s engagement is called off at the end; demonstrating a shift in depictions of Indian femininity (and whose behaviour gets rewarded with a fulfilled and successful relationship). Another element that differs is the scenes of the engagement party, etc., where there is no mention or issue with Kabir marrying a white woman and hence is normalized. Whereas many other films such as Marigold (Carroll 2007) problematize the Indian/white couple, here the couple is presented as already accepted. The film produces three women of different ethnicities and nationalities as sexually available for the modern Indian men; however, it is Natasha that is ultimately rejected, and the NRI who is accepted as the bride. Natasha takes on the burden of Indian woman but does not get the Indian man (Gehlawat 2015, 84) presenting an inversion of the binary of the Indian woman and the Anglo-Indian in contemporary Bollywood (Gehlawat 2015, 85). The definition of what it means to be Indian has been broadened to include more diverse ethnicities, but ultimately the cinematic heroine must be Indian or ethnically Indian as in the case of Laila. Contrary to this role is her other appearance in mainstream cinema—Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani. In this film, her character Aditi is a “bad girl”, who ends up getting married. Unlike Natasha she does end up marrying an Indian. Here, the transformation of bad girl to bride presents a taming of the white Indian. In both these films, Koechlin’s characters, as romantic interests, are very much at the mercy of the Indian characters and are less independent than those she plays in hatk¯e films. This is not to say that hatk¯e films are inherently subversive, but that the space enables Koechlin to play roles that are varied, whereas the mainstream roles force Koechlin to play characters that adhere to more conventional and conservative ideals, thus maintaing the status quo.

12 Indie, not Indian—Kalki Koechlin and the Representation of …

189

This brief period in the mainstream highlighted some of the hindrances that a white star may face in Bollywood. Where many white bodies in Bollywood films appear as back up dancers, they may appear in side roles too. Koechlin’s appeal is partly because of her different/alternative look, but which is mediated through the anxieties around whiteness, and the fascination to transnational and national audiences who look to Bollywood, for fair faces, but not necessarily for white ones. Koechlin’s precarious position in the mainstream is predicated on her being an awardwinning supporting actress, but not someone who can take the place of the heroines portrayed by major stars. The ideological work that Bollywood produces, that of the normative relationship, is still apparent in the small roles that she does have. Though Bollywood has in recent years renegotiated this relationship, white stars in popular cinema remain elusive and their treatment anxious. Koechlin is not an outsider, as she is an Indian national and this grants her some fluidity for film roles as language is not a complication. However, in the post-liberalization culture, stars are not just in films but also appear on fashion runaways, in adverts and campaigns, and as guest judges on television, and Koechlin’s absence/exclusion from this kind of “celebrity labour” demonstrates the marginal position that perceived outsiders have in Bollywood. It is not for this chapter to speculate as to why Koechlin has not achieved more mainstream success, but to understand the conditions that created/allowed her stardom to flourish and to examine the circumstances in which her stardom might be hindered. Her appearance as a supporting character in two successful films presents her position within the industry as a marginal star. It is within hatk¯e cinema, whereby Koechlin has less commercial pressure and is able to star in more complex roles featuring darker themes. Her position in the mainstream is perhaps demonstrated in the film Happy Ending, in which her character Vishakha, is insignificant to the story (unlike her other two mainstream films). The fickleness of Bollywood means that being a white Indian may have some novelty; though this will always limit the sustainability of a film career.

Celebrity Activism—“God forbids multiplicity for a woman in our society” Current discussions and debates on gender equality centre on violence against women, female infanticide, beauty standards, eve-teasing (cat calling) as well as media handling of sexual harassment which were sparked by the Delhi rape which received international attention in 2012. In cinema, there have been some responses (such as an increase in heroine led films). Koechlin’s spoken word poetry is a curious response, as she has managed to make her activism a part of her artistic expression, but not a part of her film roles. In interviews, Koechlin is often questioned about feminism and this has become a bigger part of her star text in recent years. She has performed a few spoken word pieces and been a part of campaigns on the issue. Many stars align themselves with campaigns; however, in Koechlin’s case, she has been

190

M. Hayder

more vocal than most with regards to her beliefs. For example, Koechlin’s refusal to endorse fairness creams is a political stance against beauty standards. Koechlin has been vocal in her stance on political issues. Her participation in the satirical video “Rape—it’s your fault” which went viral was perhaps her first public foray into adding a political voice to her star text. In Kalki’s stardom, this has pertained to being vocal in interviews as well as creating spoken word videos. These videos are widely available on YouTube demonstrating another way in which contemporary stars have some control over the content that shapes their star discourses. Koechlin’s appearance in feminist Internet videos demonstrates an alternative path for Koechlin and another way for audiences to experience her work. Her initial appearance was in ‘Rape—it’s your fault’, a satirical video that was critical of the media response and comments made by religious leaders after the Delhi rape victim in 2012. In the video, her name is not featured, which is indicative of her place as an indie star as she is not instantly recognizable as others. However, in her spoken word videos the “Printing Machine” and “Dear Men” she is named. Her screen writing debut in That Girl In Yellow Boots, as well as appearing in her friends film A Death In The Gunj (2016), directed by Konkona Sen Sharma means that for the hatk¯e star, being able to create one’s own work (spoken word or film) provides freedoms to create opportunities for women, allowing her to have some agency with regards to her roles and voice in her poetry. In “Printing Machine”, Koechlin appears wrapped in bandages around her body, and lip syncs, music plays and the video slightly resembles a music video. In one line she states “God forbids multiplicity for a woman in our society”. Here, she questions the media, namely the print media and their coverage of sexual assaults and their problematic ways they have discussed this issue. Furthermore, in this comment, she is able to voice one of the many frustrations which are true of her own stardom that her fluidity or multiplicity makes her a difficult star to contend with. That as a French and Tamil speaking, white (of French heritage) Indian star who appears in hatk¯e films depicting complex characters and who is vocal about her opinions, denies her spaces in the mainstream but cements parts of her in the fringes. Multiplicity it seems is indeed forbidden for female stars. Comparisons to other stars in this chapter serve to provide a comment on the discourses that are unique to Koechlin’s stardom. As an award-winning credible actor, Koechlin’s political stance mimics that of earlier politically conscious stars such as Shabana Azmi, who has similarly been outspoken and starred in art/parallel cinema. Koechlin has not been the subject of controversy as others, and as such demonstrates the difference of the ethnic star. Whereas Azmi is able to appear in Om Shanti Om (Khan 2007) as a parody of herself, Koechlin’ stardom is more ambiguous (as seen in her cameo in Trishna). As an outsider, Koechlin is less likely to cause controversy, due to her place within the industry, as not quite mainstream, but also her ethnicity not allowing her to be not quite Indian either. Another example of this is Kangana Ranaut, who has spoken about feminism and other issues in the Indian film industry which has led to controversy. Koechlin has yet to be at the centre of such criticism. The difference in treatment of both stars highlights the difference in their statuses and the way that they are seen by audiences. Koechlin’s spoken word pieces

12 Indie, not Indian—Kalki Koechlin and the Representation of …

191

have not featured as publicly as Ranauts comments, and ethnicity is a key difference between both stars. As a perceived outsider her words mean that she is less likely to disrupt the status quo. This enables her to voice her criticisms but means that these criticisms are less likely to be listened to, such are the limitations of the white Indian star. In this sense, a star like Koechlin is more likely to be seen rather than heard. As Koechlin is not a mainstream star and tends to portray supporting roles in popular films, her resistance to fairness creams and selective appearances for brands marks her differently from other stars. Koechlin does not present the same assimilation discourses of consumerism that other stars have been able to embody. For many female Bollywood stars, an association/proximity to whiteness is lucrative and demonstrates a cosmopolitan and aspirational figure. For Koechlin, her whiteness is part of her appeal but also a hurdle, in terms of appeal for a mainstream audience (and the types of roles she may get). It does, however, provide her an alternative voice in which to voice her concerns—one that other stars may not access to. In sum, Koechlin is very much hatk¯e, not just in her film choices but also as a star. Her looks are different to industry standards as are her career choices (working in theatre, being selective with her endorsements). Her fluidity and ability to work in various shows and formats demonstrates the neo-liberal assertiveness that gives newer stars the ability to have some freedom towards the direction of their careers, to choose alternative roles in hatk¯e or attempt to broaden their appeal through more commercial roles. Discourses on art vs commercial cinema are inevitable and for Koechlin are also profitable as someone who has created a persona of being associated with quality works. Although it must be noted that Koechlin’s place in the industry is precarious. As a hatk¯e heroine and outsider with few connections to the industry, the Koechlin name does not have the same gravitas as a household name like a Chopra or Kapoor does. The implications of her marginal stardom mean that it is very difficult to see her being able to attain the level of success that other stars such as Katrina Kaif, Sunny Leone and other marginally ethnic stars have managed to. In essence, Koechlin is excluded from the assimilation functions and lifestyle consumerist ideals that the mainstream heroine often represents despite her fair skin and whiteness. Ironically, it is her proximity to Indianess that has complicated her ethnicity, and hence her mainstream potential. Considering the implications of the mainstream heroine, who often is unable to be as vocal, and instead faces greater pressures to conform to ideological functions, as well as being limited to glamorous roles, this exclusion may not necessarily be a detriment. It has created a different path for her, one that she has taken to, and used to voice her criticisms of Indian society and culture, in which she occupies a marginal (because she belongs to an ethnic minority group) position. Conversely, there are limits to what impact a film star can have, as a celebrity she maintains structures of privilege in her beauty and power but a reading of her stardom exposes the tensions inherent in the Bollywood star system. Her recent ventures in cameos, documentaries and a TV show in which she takes road trip around Indian with her father, as well as stints in the theatre suggests that her film career itself might not be sustainable. In an interview, Koechlin states that her National Award “endorses my national identity” (Paul 2016a, b) and is evidence of the ongoing battle to be accepted as Indian. Ultimately, the mainstream cinema has not been able to be

192

M. Hayder

robust enough to adapt to changing ethnoscapes so easily, meaning that Koechlin’s on-screen roles and star text persona will remain Indie and not Indian.

References Bose, N. (2014). ‘Bollywood’s fourth Khan’: Deconstructing the ‘hatk¯e’ stardom of Vidya Balan in popular Hindi cinema. Celebrity Studies, 5(4), 394–409. Dyer, R. (1997). White. Oxon: Routledge. Gangoli, G. (2005). Sexuality, sensuality and belonging: Representations of the ‘Anglo-Indian’ and the ‘Western’ woman in Hindi cinema. In R. Kaur & A. Sinha (Eds.), Bollyworld popular Indian cinema through a transnational lens (pp. 143–162). London and New Delhi: Sage publishing. Gehlawat, A. (2015). Twenty-first century bollywood. Oxon: Routledge. Nagpaul, D. (2015). Indianexpress.com. Available at: http://indianexpress.com/article/ entertainment/play/on-a-winning-curve/. Accessed 30 Oct 2017. Osuri, G. (2008). Ash-coloured whiteness: The transfiguration of Aishwarya Rai. South Asian Popular Culture, 6(2), 109–123. Paul, U. (2016a). Filmfare.com. Available at: https://www.filmfare.com/interviews/marriage-againno-probably-not-kalki-koechlin-13409.html. Accessed 30 Oct 2017. Paul, U. (2016b). Filmfare.com. Available at: https://www.filmfare.com/features/id-prefer-sex-overfood-kalki-koechlin-15321.html. Accessed 30 Oct 2017. PTI. (2016). Kalki Koechlin reveals why she’s never done an out-n-out masala film. DNA India. https://www.dnaindia.com/entertainment/report-i-have-never-been-offered-songand-dance-roles-kalki-koechlin-2221990. 10 June 2016. Thomas, R. (2005). Not quite (pearl) white: Fearless Nadia, queen of the stunts. In R. Kaur & A. Sinha (Eds.), Bollyworld popular Indian cinema through a transnational lens (pp. 35–69). London and New Delhi: Sage publishing. Vohra, M. (2013). TimesofIndia.com. Available at: https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/ entertainment/hindi/bollywood/news/My-looks-are-a-constraint-for-me-Kalki-Koechlin/ articleshow/19677585.cms. Accessed 30 Oct 2017.

Filmography Akhtar, A. (2011). Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara. Excel Entertainment. Banerjee, D. (2012). Shanghai. Dibakar Banerjee Productions. Bose, S. (2015). Margarita with a straw. Viacom 18 Motion Pictures. Carroll, W. (2007). Marigold. Hyperion Pictures. Dar, R. (2011). My friend Pinto. UTV Motion Pictures. Gopal, S (2011) Conjugations. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. Iyer, K. (2013). Ek Thi Daayan. ALT Entertainment VB Pictures. Kashyap, A. (2009). Dev—D. UTV Motion Pictures. Kashyap, A. (2010). That Girl in Yellow Boots. Sikhya Entertaiment. Khan, F. (2007). Om Shanti Om. Red Chillies Entertainment. Menon, A. (2015). Waiting. Ishka Films, Drishyam Films. Mukherji, A. (2013). Yeh Jawaani Hai Dewani. Dharma Productions. Nambiar, B. (2011). Shaitan. AKFPL, Getaway Films.

12 Indie, not Indian—Kalki Koechlin and the Representation of …

193

Raj, N., & Krishna, D. K. (2014). Happy ending. Illuminati Films. Sen, K. (2016). A Death in the Gunj. MacGuffin Pictures, Studioz IDrream, Moh Maya Films. Winterbottom, M. (2011). Trishna. Revolution Films, Film i Väst. Bob Film Sweden, Anurag Kashyap Films.

Chapter 13

Akshay Kumar: The Khiladi of the Box Office Tutun Mukherjee

Abstract This essay traces Akshay Kumar’s journey towards stardom. The journey was tough and demanding and serves as a lesson in determination, patience and hard work as the non-negotiable qualities to succeed in the extremely competitive and unpredictable film world. One needs formidable calibre to hold the notoriously fickle attention and interest of the audience. With more than 115 films in twentyfive years, Akshay Kumar has proved his “staying power”. He made his name as an “action hero” early in his career after establishing his worth as a bankable player (khiladi) of the box office. Forty-odd formula films later, sustained hard work and tenacity steered Akshay Kumar’s putative growth as a successful actor and a star. Recognition of his acting prowess came as Filmfare and other awards from the film fraternity, followed by critical acclaim as National Padmashri Award in 2009 and the National Best Actor Award in 2017. Keywords Akshay kumar · Bollywood · “masala” formula · Content analyses · Stardom Stardom is not a fluke. One must work hard to achieve it as it means winning the admiration and accolades, even a fan following, of millions. Very often the terms “actor” and “star” are used alternatively and/or synonymously and are generally accepted as such. Film critic Stephen Whitty nuances the terms and explores the subtle differences between them. He says, “There are actors, and there are stars, and on those rare occasions when the first becomes the second it can be truly mysterious, satisfying and remunerative–for the actor, that is. But a star becoming an actor–that transformation is even rarer. And while it doesn’t necessarily bring more money, it brings recognition and an even greater reward for audiences” (Whitty 2013). He goes on to explain that being an actor and being a star are different jobs requiring different skill sets. Very few people can truly handle both with élan. Acting abilities and camera-comfort determines an actor but what exactly are the qualities that make a star? Is it just good looks or sex appeal? Is it talent? Is it someone with whom viewers can easily relate? Or is it just the opposite, someone completely unattainable, who T. Mukherjee (B) 15 Navanirman Nagar, Road no.71, Jubilee Hills, Hyderabad, Telangana, India e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 A. I. Viswamohan and C. M. Wilkinson (eds.), Stardom in Contemporary Hindi Cinema, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-15-0191-3_13

195

196

T. Mukherjee

lives in the silvery realms of the imaginary? Or, is it a secret combination of all of the above? Patsy Rodenberg, a leading acting and voice coach who has trained famous actors and stars (Daniel Craig, Orlando Bloom and others), believes that learning to channel positive and attentive energy enhances personality and gives it charisma. Commenting on “Secrets of Star Quality”, she says, “…people believe presence is something you either have or haven’t got, that the charisma you see shimmering around a famous actor is not tangible and can’t be accessed. I don’t agree. You might not have the make-up, clothes and lighting effects that enhance the stars but you can learn to find your true charisma. Presence and charisma are only forms of energy – clear, attentive energy” (Daily Express 2009). This essay traces Akshay Kumar’s journey towards stardom and an assessment of Akshay Kumar (henceforth, Kumar) as an adroit player (khiladi) of the Hindi film formula and his mastery of it to achieve fame as both an actor and a star. Success in Hindi film industry is elusive and not easy to grasp. It requires dedication and hard work as well as certain degree of self-confidence to interpret variety of characters to be played in front of the all-seeing camera. For an “outsider” not already related to the film fraternity, it is a tough game to play and the stardom that may come at the end of a resolute single-minded struggle is the test of resilience, patience and acting prowess. Such is the success story of an unlikely star, Akshay Kumar. What special energy does such an outsider to Hindi film industry Kumar possess? What special qualities has he painstakingly honed over the years to carve a niche for himself as both “star” and “actor” among film viewership that ensures box office success of his films? Talking about Stars, Dyer (1991, 43) comments, “one of the problems in coming to grips with the phenomenon of stardom is the extreme ambiguity/contradiction…concerning the stars as ordinary and the stars-as-special. Are they just like you or me, or do consumption and success transform them into (or reflect) something different?” In a 2017 television interview, Kumar said that whatever be the actor’s calibre, it is most important for him to be a good human being, true and sincere in his efforts and disciplined in his life and work (https:// www.youtube.com/watch?v=BaesL7QJLFU). There is no doubt that he followed these strictures himself, especially in his later years when his early “fast and furious” pace had calmed down. His dedication to work, punctuality and professionalism was appreciated by all and went a long way to fortify his success. Akshay Kumar was born to a Punjabi family in Amritsar on 9 September 1967 and was raised in Old Delhi. His given name at birth is Rajiv Hari Om Bhatia and, it is said, he holds a Canadian citizenship (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Akshay_ Kumar_filmography). From childhood, Kumar was eager to learn martial arts and acting. His father was very supportive and promised to send him to Bangkok for martial arts training if he passed his board exams with first class. Akshay did so and was gifted a ticket to Bangkok. His uncle got him to work as a waiter in the Metro Guest House where he would cook and wait tables while training in martial arts. He returned to India in the 1980s after obtaining a six-degree black belt certification and did all kinds of odd jobs. On a friend’s suggestion, he tried modelling and changed his name from Rajiv Om Bhatia to “Akshay” after a favourite film character. He came to Bombay [Mumbai] to try his luck in Hindi films. His film debut was a 7-second

13 Akshay Kumar: The Khiladi of the Box Office

197

appearance as a karate instructor in the film Aaj (Bhatt 1987). His first released movie was Saugandh (Sippy 1991), though he had signed couple of films earlier which did not take-off. His breakthrough came with the suspense thriller Khiladi in 1992 directed by Abbas Burmawalla, the first film of what later came to be known as the khiladi-series. From 1990 onwards, Kumar starred in a number of films with directors like Pramod Chakravorty, Sameer Malkan, David Dhawan, Umesh Mehra and others reputed to deliver commercially viable “entertainers” and “thrillers” with an eye on the box office using the customary Hindi film formula spiced up with the “masala” ingredients of romance, action, raunchy song and dance sequences. Eminently forgettable, these films met with varying degree of commercial success, though some like the thriller Mohra (Rai 1994) were big musical hits, nevertheless established Kumar as an “action hero”. His martial arts training stood him in good stead. Taking advantage of the filmic enhancement of physical appearance and style, Kumar reinforced this image to suit the genre he was selected for. He played the hero in about forty films through 1990s, the high point being 1994 which saw the release of twelve films in a single year. Each successive appearance in the genre solidified his screen persona until he no longer merely played a role but assimilated it into a composite package made up of his physique and personality to fit the screen character. This showed care and hard work put into the entire process. Yet, since quantity does not guarantee quality, it is clear that though the number of films indicates the commercial bankability of Akshay Kumar, this in no way guarantees the quality of the films which were actually typical formula runners. However, this was a landmark year for his career as he was nominated for the Filmfare Best Actor Award for his role in the Yash Chopra produced Naresh Malhotra directed romance Yeh Dillagi co-starring Kajol and Saif Ali Khan. This film, inspired by the 1954 Humphrey Bogart–Audrey Hepburn–William Holden starrer Hollywood film Sabrina (Wilder 1954) is an entertaining romance that became an important milestone as Kumar began to show his acting calibre in a mellowed down emotional role. That the nomination for best actor was not an uncommon occurrence was proved with another nomination in 1997 for Filmfare Best Supporting Actor Award for Yash Chopra’s huge musical hit Dil to Pagal Hai. The year 1994 also recalled his “khiladi” image, resuming the series with Main Khiladi Tu Anari directed by Sameer Malkan that set Kumar on the path of success and he has never looked back. In 1995, he starred in Sabse Bada Khiladi, Khiladiyon Ka Khiladi in 1996, both commercial successes directed by Umesh Mehra, followed by Mr. and Mrs. Khiladi in 1997 with David Dhawan, International Khiladi (1999) with Umesh Mehra and Khiladi 420 with Neeraj Vohra in 2000 in which he played dual roles, one with negative shades, and won critical praise for both his acting panache and daring stunts. These films with slight variations in the storyline were the same hero-centric Bollywood formula thrillers presenting the hero either as a cheerful layabout who transforms into a saviour for the heroine and her family, or a police officer/detective who unravels sinister conspiracies and wins accolades and also the heroine. All were stereotypical masala entertainers with song-dance-fights-chase framework, with villains and item numbers thrown into spice up the action. A film or two had the hero in dual role, one good and another with negative overtones. Though the films fared well commercially,

198

T. Mukherjee

none was in any way extraordinary. After eight “Khiladi” titles, which were treated as “franchisee series” with Kumar in the lead role, he began to be called the Khiladi Kumar of Bollywood, so much so that Khiladi Akshay returns in 2012 in comic dual roles as Bahattar Singh/Tehattar Singh in Khiladi 786 (Mohan) in his home production “Hari Om Entertainment” with his wife Twinkle Khanna as one of the producers, which also launched a reality game-show titled Khatron ke Khiladi. A film worth mentioning was the tense psychological thriller Sangharsh (1999) directed by Tanuja Chandra, produced by Mukesh Bhatt and written by Mahesh Bhatt. The lead actors were Kumar, Preity Zinta and Ashutosh Rana. A loose adaptation of Silence of the Lambs (Demme 1991) Sangharsh was about a CBI case to solve a series of child abductions and murders. By the year 2000, Kumar had established his worth as a hero with “staying power” delivering repeated box-office hits. The point to note about the films is their herocentricity, hence their dependability on Kumar to pull the weight of the film. The female cast carries only cosmetic (literally!) significance and the villains are all stereotypes. This also marked the subtle change in the power dynamics that now the producers–directors depended on Kumar for success and not vice versa as had been earlier. Thus, forty-odd formula films later, sustained hard work and determination to succeed ensured Akshay Kumar’s putative growth as a successful “hero” of action films. But he was yet to be recognized as an actor and a star. Used to doing back-to-back action films, the year 2000 also saw the unfolding of Kumar’s superior acting abilities with Priyadarshan’s hilarious comedy Hera Pheri in a star cast with Paresh Rawal, Sunil Shetty, Tabu, Kulbhushan Kharbanda and Gulshan Grover. A remake of the 1989 Malayalam film Ramji Rao Speaking (Lal, Siddique-Lal) the story is about a landlord and his two tenants, all in desperate need of money. A chance ransom call via cross-connection prompts them to hatch a plan to expropriate the money themselves. Hilarious incidents occur as their wacky plans fail and confusion prevails, finally to be sorted out satisfactorily at the end. The super success of the film depended on the brilliant acting and comic timing of the three, Paresh Rawal as the short-sighted landlord Babu Bhaiya and his two impecunious tenants, the cunning and tricky Raju (Kumar) and the simpleton Shyam (Sunil Shetty). Actors and directors agree that comedy is harder to perform than emotional drama (see Marks 2011). A successful comedy requires a well-conceived humorous script, taut dialogue and adept actors with comic flair and fine sense of timing for successful effect. Almost all great actors have enacted comic roles. Hindi films have produced memorable comic actors from Bhagwan dada, Johnny Walker, Kishore Kumar, Tuntun, to Priti Ganguly, Asrani, Rajpal Yadav, Anupam Kher, Paresh Rawal among others along with recent comers like Omi Vaidya and Sharman Joshi. Bhagwan dada, Raj Kapur and the very talented Mehmood were exceptional for adding pathos to humour rather in the manner of Charlie Chaplin and Robin Williams. Some comic actors fall back on repeated tricks like Rajendranath losing his trousers or Keshto Mukherjee’s cross-eyed drunken stammer. As with other kind of roles, it is easy to become typecast. Comic interludes have always been considered an important masala or ingredient in Hindi films (perpetuating the concept of Nava Rasa) just like the invariable vidushak in classical Indian drama. But humour to be

13 Akshay Kumar: The Khiladi of the Box Office

199

successful and effective needs skilful handling of the entire composition and must be an integral part of the diegesis, not an extraneous imposition. Performing comedy also requires certain finesse and adroitness honed to a sharp sense of accuracy and timing. Ham-handed treatment by bad directors—and actors—reduces “humour” to cheap execrable sexual innuendo, tasteless and vulgar body gestures or even worse, physical deformity, to induce forced laughter. Hence, Priyadarshan’s wholesome comedy was a welcome entry into the genre and Hera Pheri can be counted among the evergreen cult comedy films like Chalti ka Naam Gadi, Padosan, Munna Bhai MBBS and 3 Idiots. It fetched Paresh Rawal several prestigious awards and Kumar the recognition as an actor of yet uncharted depths who was now ready to cross genres. Kumar admitted: “I used to do a lot of action films and was bored of them, but no one offered me any other role. Priyadarshan saw promise in me” (Bhagat 2017). The sequel, Neeraj Vora directed Phir Hera Pheri drawing on the success of the earlier film, was released in 2006 repeating the trio of Rawal–Kumar–Shetty. Earlier in 2002, Vikram Bhatt had tried to revive the unbeatable trio in Awara, Pagal and Diwana with a convoluted story of an underworld don Baba Baldev Prasad (Om Puri) leaving diamonds in a bank to be divided among his son, daughter and sonin-law (Kumar). The son tries to frame the son-in-law as a murderer to be rid of him and rob his sister of the legacy. After many twists and turns, the evil is defeated and the righteous is victorious. Paresh Rawal, Sunil Shetty and Johnny Lever played cameo roles to provide the comic relief. The difference of this film from a well-made comedy is that the comic element seemed deliberately inserted and not integral to the drama. The stunt and action sequences for Kumar, choreographed by Dion Lam of the Hong Kong-action-films fame, were praiseworthy and the film was commercially well received. The year also saw the release of Dharmesh Darshan’s Dhadkan, a romantic drama, pairing Kumar with Sunil Shetty again, with Shilpa Shetty as the heroine. The story is a formulaic triangular love story about A loves B who loves C but as the story unfolds B starts to love A that upsets C who turns wicked. Kumar plays the role of Ram in love with his wife Anjali (Shilpa) who was forced by her father to marry the rich man Ram but loves the poorer Dev (Sunil). But as time goes on Anjali falls in love with her gentle and caring husband (who showers affection on his ungrateful step-family). She rejects Dev who returns to claim her after making money and who now plans a vendetta against Ram but finally allows the goodness of his heart to prevail. The mediocre and overused plot-line was overwhelmed by surprising box-office collections that made the film the highest grosser of the year. The film is another landmark in Kumar’s cross-over films for his restrained acting and emotive characterization of Ram as well as for Sunil Shetty who bagged the Filmfare Best Villain Award. The songs by Nadeem–Shravan were instant hits and were well integrated into the filmic diegesis that contributed to the overall success of the film. This led to another emotional family drama Ek Rishtaa: The Bond of Love (Darshan 2001) bringing Kumar and Amitabh Bachchan together for the first time. Again, the plot was a typical confrontation leading to temporary estrangement and separation over property and career decisions of the father and the son both rigid in their own views, subtly spurred on by a villainous outsider who has inveigled himself

200

T. Mukherjee

into the family with plans to usurp the property and wealth. The film won praise for Kumar’s controlled acting face-to-face with the great Bachchan for whom the role was a repetition of many others where he escalated his performance as Angry Young Son facing his intransigent father (e.g. Shakti, Sippy, 1982; Sharabi, Mehra, 1984) to Angry Ageing Father facing his stubborn son/protégée (e.g. Mohabbatein, Chopra, 2000; Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham, Johar, 2001). Exploiting this successful musical romance trend, Dharmesh Darshan directed Kumar again in 2002 film Haan Maine Bhi Pyar Kiya, where the hero Raj Malhotra (Kumar) does the good turn of uniting the estranged couple Shiv and Pooja (Abhishek Bachchan–Karisma Kapoor). The film had mediocre success and led to a sort of sequel in Andaaz (Kanwar 2003) which inverts the earlier plot so Raj Malhotra (Kumar) unites with his beloved Kaajal (Lara Datta) with help from Jia (Priyanka Chopra) after misunderstandings, travail and much suffering. The music is again by Nadeem–Shravan. Another film where Kumar’s film character plays cupid for two lovers was 2004 David Dhawan directed, Mujhse Shadi Karogi with Salman Khan and Priyanka Chopra which was a major success. An off-beat role for Kumar was of a blind man in Vipul Shah directed hit film Aankhen (2002) (the third film with the same title, by the way), an adaptation of Shobhana Desai’s Marathi play Andhalo Pato about a disciplinarian and honest bank manager Vijay Singh Rajput (Amitabh Bachhan) planning a bank heist as revenge when he is unfairly sacked for beating up a cheating employee. His clever plan is to train blind men to rob the bank as they will never be suspected of the crime. Akshay Kumar, Paresh Rawal and Arjun Rampal play the role of the three-blind men hired by Rajput and trained for the heist by Neha (Sushmita Sen), a teacher for the visually impaired who is forced to do the needful after Rajput kidnaps her small brother. The heist is successful and the three escape. Ilias (Rawal) has the jewels but his face is seen on security camera and the police search for him. Rajput demands the stolen jewels from the blind men who trick him in many ways. Rajput holds Ilias captive and tickles him for information. Ilias becomes breathless and dies. The imbroglio ends with the discovery of the jewels from Ilias’ musical instrument and Rajput’s imprisonment after his confession to the police. But anticipating audience dissatisfaction that Bachchan’s character is initially denied justice that set him as the anti-hero on the path of wrong-doing, the film offered a second ending showing Rajput waiting on a railway platform having bribed his way out of prison and the two blind men in the train compartment. When Rajput smiles and says another plan is afoot, the others pull out their pistols. Still doing multiple films each year, Kumar starred in typically inane Bollywood films with tortuous story lines through 2001 to 2004. Abbas–Mustan produced and Vikram Bajaj directed 2001 film Ajnabee (a tame adaptation of the 1992 Alan J. Pakula’s thriller Consenting Adults) quite pointlessly shot in Dubai, Switzerland, Geneva, Mauritius and aboard a cruise-liner brings Bobby Deol as Raj Malhotra and Kareena Kapoor and Bipasha Basu in a murder mystery where Kumar as Vicky Bajaj plays a villain who dies at the end of the story. The film is worth mentioning as an indicator of the path of Kumar’s growth as an actor in a role that won him critical acclaim as well as his first Filmfare Award for Best Villain and IIFA award for

13 Akshay Kumar: The Khiladi of the Box Office

201

Performance in a Negative Role. Bipasha Basu was also praised for her acting. Two films with revenge as plot were Talash: The Hunt Begins (Darshan 2003) and Hatya: The Murder (Kashmiri 2004) that show Kumar’s character avenging the murder of his father. The latter film had a weird twist that when the son (Kumar) is also killed by the villains, he resurrects as a shape-changing snake with magical powers and hence a more ferocious enemy bent on vengeance. In 2004 saw nine film releases starring Kumar and as can be expected, were of unequal quality. For instance, there was a cluster of multistarrer action-thriller films with police work as the theme: Khakee, Aan: Men at Work, and Police Force: An Inside Story. Khakee directed by Raj Kumar Santoshi who also co-wrote the script with Sridhar Raghavan presented Amitabh Bachchan as the lead protagonist, an honest police officer entrusted to escort safely to court an alleged terrorist—actually a wrongly implicated Mumbai doctor Iqbal Ansari (Atul Kulkarni); Kumar in an ambivalent role as a corrupt cop who turns good; several others as cops in the police party; Ajay Devgn as the terrorist-villain Aangre who must stop Ansari from giving evidence in court; Prakash Raj as the top cop and the villain’s mole. The female cast comprised Tanuja, Aishwarya Rai, Jayaprada and Lara Dutta. The film with a taut script, crisp dialogue and thrilling action sequences showing the police thwarting Aangre’s multiple attacks and sabotage attempts received positive reviews and did good business. Aan: Men at Work directed by Madhur Bhandarkar featured Kumar as activist DCP Hari Om Pattnaik who when posted at Mumbai Crime Branch discovers that the officers are either lackadaisical and disinterested, missing necessary impetus to fight the criminal activities instigated by three-mafia dons Walia (Jackie Shroff), Manik Rao (Manoj Joshi) and Yusuf Pathan (Irrfan Khan) who have divided Mumbai into three territories for themselves. Shatrughan Sinha plays a lazy cop, a role Bachchan declined as he was shooting for Khakee, Paresh Rawal as a fun-loving cop, Om Puri as a sincere one and Sunil Shetty as “encounter specialist” who chases the stooges rather than the top bosses. Raveena Tandon, Lara Dutta and Preeti Jhangiani provide the romantic pairing. The attitude of the force changes and the officers are energized after the new DCP takes charge. Crime is controlled and the dons are arrested. The film was quite disappointing. Other than Kumar and to some extent Shetty and Rawal, the acting was monotonous, especially tedious was Shatrughan Sinha’s typical pose and dialogue delivery. More particularly, the film lacked the investigative and dialectical quality and the compact form and tight editing expected of a Bhandarkar film as his later films exhibit. The third film of this cluster, Police Force: An Inside Story was also a dismal one. Perhaps among the last films starring Amrish Puri, the plot revolved around Puri as Mr. Pandey who mentors new police officers about their duties, especially professional honesty and servicemindedness. Though not made overt, the strong message of the film was that of personal choice each officer must make about ethics, personal integrity and allegiance to his profession. The latter two films did not fare well but were obviously intended as whistle-blowers for the criminals + politicians + police evil nexus, making evident the canker of greed, corruption and dishonesty that corrode the social system that upright and honest officers must confront and defeat. A 2005 film Insan (Subhash) with Kumar as auto-driver Amjad and Ajay Devgn as inspector Ajit Rathod was also about honesty and integrity. Setting aside the inane supplementary themes of

202

T. Mukherjee

Avinash (Tusshar Kapur) running around to become a film actor and of Amjad trying to woo and win his beloved, the film actually focuses on the difficult choice Amjad must make about human values when he learns that the terrorist inspector Rathod has captured his long-lost brother Azhar. When Azhar refuses to give up his violent plans, Amjad shoots him down stating that those who kill innocent people in the name of jihad must die too. The need to target corruption in police force reprised as Gabbar is Back in 2015 with Kumar playing professor Aditya Singh Rajput whose alternate persona is of vigilante Gabbar a la Amitabh Bachchan in Shahenshah (Tinnu Anand, Anand D. Ghatraj, 1988). Thematically similar on the matter of personal ethics, professional integrity and allegiance was the film Ab Tumhare Hawale Watan Saathiyon (Sharma 2004) pitching Bachchan as a dedicated major in the Indian Army and his son (Bobby Deol) a brave officer in the Navy who establish their family values and dedication in their service to the nation. However, the grandson (Bobby Deol in dual roles) lacks these values and joins the Army with plans to quit to go abroad to start a business. His cowardly and dishonest antics in a crucial encounter lead to serious repercussions and he is chastised by his superior officer Major Rajeev Singh (Kumar). He also discovers that the girl he fancied was married to the major. In the finale, he faces a dilemma and must choose his course of action when he learns that Rajeev Singh was a prisoner of war in Pakistan and that terrorists in Kashmir in collusion with the Pakistan Army were planning to attack Amarnath temple. Despite the “patriotic” theme, the film lacked both vigour and interest and was quite dull in comparison with similar and more successful films of this genre like Border (Dutta 1997) or Lakshya (Akhtar 2004). Presenting Kumar again as Raj Malhotra was Subhash Ghai produced Aitraaz in 2004. Directors Abbas–Mustan claimed the film was loosely inspired by the real-life case of NBA player Kobe Bryant, who was accused of sexual assault by a fan. But actually, the film’s plot appears much closer to Barry Levinson’s 1994 erotic thriller Disclosure based on Michael Crichton’s novel and starring Michael Douglas and Demi Moore. Disclosure, a big commercial hit, showed the hero working in a digicom company being superseded in promotion by his female colleague who pushes him for a sexual relationship and when rebuffed, initiates a sexual harassment case against him in combination with malicious conspiracies to discredit his professional work and get him fired. The film was a gripping drama with board-room manipulations, court scenes with digital recording and virtual reality playing an important part in the denouement. This is exactly how Aitraaz is conceived but with typical Bollywood additions. Raj Malhotra (Kumar), happily married to Priya Saxena (Kareena Kapoor), is framed and accused of sexual misdemeanour by Sonia Roy (Priyanka Chopra) the wife of Raj’s boss Ranjit Roy (Amrish Puri). After she is named as the new CEO of the company, Sonia promotes Raj’s colleague Rakesh over him and they conspire to discredit Raj’s work. Sonia’s devious plans have a reason. It is revealed that five years earlier, Raj and Sonia had an affair in South Africa but Sonia chose to abort their baby and break the relationship to marry the rich although much older Ranjit Roy. After meeting Raj again, she wants to resume their sexual relationship and when rebuffed plans to destroy Raj’s personal happiness and career. Like the Hollywood film, this

13 Akshay Kumar: The Khiladi of the Box Office

203

too became a high grosser and fetched critical acclaim for Priyanka Chopra’s negative characterization. A string of twelve typical Bollywood formula films with masala combination of action and romance follow through 2005 and 2006 like Meri Biwi ka Jawaab Nahin (Iqbal) with Sridevi as the hero’s simple-minded activist wife; Waqt: Race against Time (Amritlal Shah) with Bachchan and Kumar replaying father–son estrangement that ends with the patriarch father delaying his last breath to see and bless his newborn grandson; Family (Rajkumar Santoshi) with Bachchan playing a don who kills innocent Shekhar (Kumar) during a shoot-out that motivates Shekhar’s brother Aryan to avenge his death; Dosti: Friends Forever (Darshan) about defying class divisions for friendship with Kumar again as Raj Malhotra dying a noble death for his friend Bobby Deol, with Kareena Kapoor, Lara Dutta to provide the romance; triangular love stories like Raj Kanwar directed Humko Deewana Kar Gaye with Katrina Kaif and filmed in Canada, and Mere Jeevan Saathi directed by Dharmesh Darshan with Amisha Patel and Karisma Kapoor who plays an obsessive femme fatale like Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction. A quite inane Priyadarshan film was the 2005 comedy Garam Masala, a remake of his Malayalam film Boeing Boeing, with Kumar and John Abraham as two photographers who are flirting with several girls create mayhem. The film fetched Kumar the Filmfare Best Actor in a Comic Role Award. Kunder’s 2006 film Jaan-e-Mann brought Salman Khan and Kumar together again after the earlier success of Mujhse Shadi Karogi. This too was a typical triangular romance of Suhan (Salman Khan) separating and subsequently divorcing his wife Piya (Preity Zinta) who relocates to New York. Suhan is unable to meet alimony payments, so his lawyer uncle suggests hooking Piya with her college friend Agastya Rao (Kumar), a NASA scientist. The denouement unites Suhan and Piya when Suhan learns that Piya kept herself and their little daughter away so he could build his career without encumbrance. A very illogical ending considering she was demanding alimony from him. But perhaps this was to force him to work harder in the kind of convoluted logic expected of Bollywood cinema? The film met with mediocre success and was noted only for Anupam Kher’s dual roles, one as a dwarf lawyer. Kumar starred in comedy–romances directed by Vikram Bhatt (Deewane Huye Pagal in 2005 after the earlier Awara Paagal Diwana in 2002), Niraj Vora: [Phir Hera Pheri (mentioned above)] and Priyadarshan’s Bhagam Bhag (2006) with Govinda. The last film was interesting as it pitched three exceptional comic actors Paresh Rawal, Govinda and Kumar together and was, as expected, a chaotic comedy. By this time the impact of globalization had become clearly evident in Bollywood production and collection trends as producers eyed overseas markets targeted the exponentially growing Indian diaspora audience. Gradually, few Western producers were roped in as well as actors and technicians. Regardless of the themes which remained typically Indian in their family orientation, attitudes and prejudices, music–dance components and complicated storylines, the locations were increasingly Westernized settings, costumes and behaviour of the actors, whereas earlier only few song sequences were shot abroad to glamorize a film. The financial investments grew proportionally to match the outlay. The films were released simultaneously in India and abroad and the producers aimed at maximum collection in the

204

T. Mukherjee

opening week keeping in mind the risk of viewers’ waning response to the film in the long run. Television and cable network revenue was also kept in mind and much hyped-advertising techniques and music release functions were organized. Assisting these initiatives were film-based programmes and film festivals held around the world to enhance the popularity of Hindi films as IIFA programmes through the years held in the metropolises of different countries show. There was no doubt that Bollywood films had widened the catchment area globally in financial terms. This was a major influence on films made in the new millennium and affected every aspect of film-making. The impact of globalization was evident in films starring Akshay Kumar. The comedy trend continued into 2007 and 2008 with “foreign” locations in hit films like Heyy Babyy, Welcome (with Nana Patekar and Anil Kapoor), Tashan (with Anil Kapoor) and Singh is Kinng that had a similar sounding comedy Singh is Bliing in 2015 directed by Prabhudeva. The difference in the use of foreign locations was that in the pre-1990s films “foreign locations” (or even Kashmir) were used majorly as scenic background to exoticize song sequences; whereas the films of the globalized era tried to integrate the storylines with the locations. The first of the four films, Heyy Babyy produced by Sajid Nadiadwala and directed by Sajid Khan who also wrote the script with Milap Zaveri starring Kumar and Vidya Balan along with Riteish Deshmukh, Fardeen Khan, Anupam Kher and Boman Irani had an interesting history. Wikipedia describes it as “a remake of the 1990 Malayalam movie Thoovalsparsham which itself is an adaptation of 1987 American film Three Men and a Baby which in turn was based on the 1985 French movie Three Men and a Cradle and which was also remade in Telugu as Chinnari Muddula Papa and in Tamil as Asathal. A Marathi Movie Baalache Baap Brahmachaari is also based on same theme released in 1989. Following the Bollywood trend of the globalized era, it was filmed in Sydney. The plot unfolds with three happy-go-lucky men Arush, Tanmay and Ali, who are also womanizers forced into taking care of a baby girl left outside their door with a letter claiming her to be the daughter of one of the three men. Unable to find her mother among all the women they had slept with, they try to give the baby away but end up loving and caring for her. After some time when her mother Isha (Vidya Balan) comes to claim her, it is revealed that Arush and she had an affair but his womanizing ways had separated them. The film ended with the expected romantic outcome and was a commercial success. Sajid Nadiadwala-Sajid Khan combination returned with another comedy Housefull reprising Kumar as Aarush (as in the earlier film) with Riteish Deshmukh and Arjun Rampal making the trio paired with Deepika Padukone, Lara Dutta, Jiah Khan and with Randhir Kapoor and Boman Irani in a complicated story shot in London and parts of Italy. The lukewarm success was followed by Sajid Khan’s Housefull 2 in 2012 starring Kumar with Riteish Deshmukh, Shreyas Talpade, John Abraham, Asin Thottumkal, Jacqueline Fernandez and veteran actors Rishi Kapoor, Randhir Kapoor, Mithun Chakravorty and Boman Irani. Though panned by critics, the comedy was a commercial success. Nadiadwala’s next film in the series was Housefull 3 in 2016 directed by Sajid-Farhad featuring Kumar with Riteish Deshmukh, Abhishek Bachchan, Jacqueline Fernandez, Nargis Fakhri, Lisa Haydon and Boman Irani. Chunkey Pandey as “Akhri Pasta” figures in all three films which

13 Akshay Kumar: The Khiladi of the Box Office

205

was shot mostly in England and the youngsters although with Indian names were called Bunty, Teddy, Gracie, Jenny, Sarah. Kumar’s character as Sandy/Sundi was supposed to suffer from dissociative identity disorder. The comedic elements emerged from the crazy mix-ups and cross-connections in a complicated narrative. Whatever the quality of the film, the financial interest of the producers was satisfied as the opening week’s collection grossed hundred crore rupees. Three more films released during 2007–2008 also had complicated narratives combining criminal networking, greed, romance and action, considered the right mix for a hit movie, and covered several continents with a large dose of “love for India and all things Indian” thrown into re-connect the NRIs. The “desi is best” element was the dominant theme of the commercially successful film Namastey London (Shah 2007) critiquing racial differences. It showed expatriate Manmohan Malhotra (Rishi Kapoor) settled in UK, ignoring his wife because she can’t speak English nor mix with the Whites (re-construct) and giving daughter Jasmeet (Katrina Kaif) British education to transform her into “Jazz”. Sudden circumstances lead him to believe in all things Indian so he wants an “Indian” husband for Jazz (Dilwale Dulhaniya le Jayenge style), visits India and forces her to marry villager Arjun Singh (Kumar) who can’t speak English! Jazz refuses to acknowledge this marriage, prefers the Englishman Charlie Brown but changes her mind when insulted by Brown’s family with racial slurs and scorn. A parallel line shows another expatriate in love with an English girl facing racial problems when her family demands his conversion into Christianity. Arjun Singh who wants to win Jazz’s love, comes to London, highlights the “glories” of India in his interactions with the British (Purab aur Paschim style). Later when Indians defeat the British team in a rugby match (Lagaan style) and Brown racially abuses them, Jazz realizes her errors. She returns to India and Arjun, and they ride his bike into sunset! The most successful among the 2007 releases was Priyadarshan’s super-hit entertainer Bhul Bhulaiya, a mix of ghost-plus-detective story with a large dose of comedy, a remake of 1993 Malayalam film Manichitrathazhu. The star cast included, besides Kumar in the role of a US-trained psychiatrist Dr. Adiyta Shrivastav, Vidya Balan as Avni, Amisha Patel, Shiny Ahuja, Vikram Gokhale as support cast. The story elaborates a haunted ancestral palace where a dead courtesan Manjulika’s singing and dancing are heard in a particular chamber. She had been brought from Bengal by an ancestor king Vibhuti Narayan but had fallen in love with another man whom the king got killed. The family assembles when a newly married couple Siddharth and Avni return from the USA. All are intrigued by the haunting song and sounds of dancing bells and one or the other family member is suspected by turn of creating the mischief. Avni is the most curious and enters the chamber. She appears to be possessed by the spirit as she sings and dances like Manjulika. She also attempts repeatedly to kill her husband Siddharth. In trying to solve the mystery Dr. Aditya understands that Siddharth resembles his villainous ancestor and that Manjulika’s restless spirit seeks revenge for her lover’s murder. To resolve the issue, a confrontation is arranged and her spirit is invoked through Avni on Durgashtami day (when Goddess Durga slays the wicked asura, metaphorically denoting the victory of good over evil) and Avni as Manjulika is allowed to kill a dummy dressed as Siddharth/Vibhuti Narayen.

206

T. Mukherjee

The film does not show a spirit but Avni as possessed by the spirit of Manjulika whose presence is triggered to satisfy her thirst for revenge. The spirit is thus satisfied and departs forever and the audience breathes a sigh of relief as all ends happily. Such improbable fantasies woven around stories of haunting have generated a hugely popular genre with unflagging appeal as proved by unforgettable films like Mahal (Amrohi 1949), Madhumati (Roy 1958), Bees Saal Baad (Nag 1962), Kohraa (Nag 1964), Milan (Rao 1967), Mehbooba (Samanta 1976), Raat (Varma 1992), Raaz (Bhatt 2002), Bhoot (Verma 2003) to name a few. The masala for these films comprises a mysterious location, a leitmotif song that echoes invitingly accompanied in some cases with sounds of dancing bells (ghungroo), silhouettes of enigmatic ghostly presence, strange happenings and gripping suspense leading to a climactic denouement about an unsettled spirit from earlier times/life seeking answers. These films are distinctly different from gruesome horror films and hold an enchantment missing in the latter type. The challenge for a successful film of this genre is to get repeated viewing even after the end is known. Bhul Bhulaiya scored on this. With the additional comic element, the film was an appealing package of nava rasas that the audience wanted to consume again and again. Priyadarshan’s next two comedy films with Kumar titled De Dana Dan (2009) and Khatta Meetha (2010) were mediocre successes. Although rated by Kumar among his best films in terms of acting, Nagesh Kukunoor’s 2008 film 8x10 Tasveer, a murder mystery scripted and directed by him and shot in Canada was not successful. It had Kumar in dual role in with Sharmila Tagore, Girish Karnad, Benjamin Jilani, Javed Jaffrey and Ayesha Takia in supporting roles. Kumar as Jai has the supernatural gift of being able to look at a photograph and grasp that person’s thoughts and experience at the time of being photographed. He puts this to use to probe his father’s death by heart attack after his suspicious fall from his yacht by “entering” the photo taken by his mother few moments before the fall. The tense unravelling of the mystery brings many surprises including the re-appearance of Jai’s twin Jeet. Though well-made with a paranormal element that kept the suspense alive, the film failed to click. The reason for this was attributed to post-production legal hassles between producers and distributors as well as the producers’ failure to capitalize on Akshay Kumar’s presence in the film. The films of 2009 and 2010 used a new ploy of getting Hollywood stars for brief appearances as themselves as in Sajid Nadiadwala produced Sabir Khan directed Kambakht Ishq pairing Kumar with Kareena that brought in Sylvester Stallone, Denise Richards, Brandon Routh and Holly Valance in some blink-and-miss moments and was shot in Kodak Theatre and Universal Studios in Hollywood. The film opened to good response that matched the tempo of the beginning of the film that tapered down as it progressed. This was reflected in the mixed critical response to the film. While some critics trashed its bad script, screenplay, dialogues and music, some others like Adarsh (2009) described it as an entertaining madcap adventure. Rachel Saltz from The New York Times concluded that “[the film] has only one frantic desire: to entertain. It spottily succeeds, despite its frequently crude humour, relentless pace and a few unpalatable racial bits” (Saltz 2009). Following the trend, the 2009 film Blue (D’Souza 2009) written by American writers Joshua Lurie and

13 Akshay Kumar: The Khiladi of the Box Office

207

Bryan M. Sullivan and directed by Anthony D’Souza had Kylie Minogue singing a musical number. The film was not a success. Another film which had better success was Brothers (2015) based on the story Warrior written by Gavin O’Connor on sports politics. It was directed by Karan Malhotra with stunt and MMA scenes choreographed by Eric Brown and Justin Yu of Los Angeles. From 2010 onwards, Kumar reduced his films to four or five per year saying: “I want to do four films a year. Who doesn’t want his film to be a hit? I remember my debut Saugandh. No one knew me. I was not an industry child. Every night when I go to bed, I thank God for all he has given me” (Bhagat 2017). Indeed, from his debut in 1991, he had come a long way. He could now refuse “to have a typical single image” (ibid.) and choose different genres. This must have been a tough decision but proved ultimately right not to depend on repeat formula and remain typecast. The choice must have been a tough one in an industry that runs on satisfying desires (Gledhill 1991). Confident of his “bankability”, he decided to break out of a generic mould and stretch himself as an actor when most heroes would have preferred to work within the parameters of personas they and their fans had established. It is correctly believed that actors find the character inside themselves; stars find themselves in the character (Barba and Savarese 2005, 274). Also, as suggested by Basinger (2007), an actor works within a genre, a star is his/her own genre. Kumar, the hero and actor was now a star. His brand name could sell films and drive their marketing. Dyer (1991, 60) explains that “Criticism and commentaries are oddly situated in the star’s image. They are media products, part of the cinematic machine, yet it is commonly held that they are to be placed on the side of the audience—the consumers of media texts—rather than that of the industry—the producers of media texts”. Besides the usual comedy fare like Action Replayy (Shah 2010) with Aishwarya Rai; Tees Maar Khan (Khan 2010) with Katrina Kaif; Desi Boyz (location: London) (Dhawan 2011) with John Abraham, Chitrangada Singh, Deepika Padukone and Sanjay Dutt in a cameo role as Mr. Khalnayak; Thank You (Bazmee 2011) with Bobby Deol, Suneil Shetty, Irrfan Khan, etc., about three married men trying extra-marital affairs for fun and shot in Canada. Akshay Kumar gives a fine portrayal in Nikhil Advani directed Patiala House (2011) produced partially by his home production company as a Punjabi boy Pargat Singh Kahlon/Gattu in London who yearns for a career in cricket as a fast bowler and ultimately play for the English team. His father, however, would rather die than allow his son to do so. Friends and neighbours in Southall rally around Gattu and convince his father to drop his racial prejudices. After Gattu wins the match for his side; his father apologizes and compares his bowling with that of the legendary Indian cricketer Lala Amarnath. Since cricket pivots the plot, cricketers like Andrew Symonds, Nasser Hussain, Kieron Pollard were roped into appear as themselves in the film. Kumar returned to the action genre with Prabhudeva directed Rowdy Rathore (2012), a remake of the Telugu film Vikramarkudu (2006) and produced by Rajat Rawail, Sanjay Leela Bhansali and Ronnie Screwvala. Kumar plays dual roles as petty criminal Shiva and ASP Vikram Rathore, a disciplined and respected police officer who suffers a brain injury and is not expected to survive. Shiva and Rathore meet first in enmity and then in friendship to help each other pursue and kill criminals. Shiva promises to look after Rathore’s small daughter and also finish

208

T. Mukherjee

his task of eliminating criminals. Despite the unenthusiastic critical response, the film did excellent business in both domestic and overseas markets and was declared a “blockbuster” in India. Kumar also returned as “khiladi” in the Punjabi-Hindi film Khiladi786 (2012) and as Bakshay Kumar in the Punjabi film Bhaji in Problem (Kang 2013), both part-produced by his home production company. He also produced Marathi films 72 Miles: Ek Pravas (Patil 2013) and Antar (Sarwate 2014) though he did not act in them. His film Joker (2012) directed by Shirish Kunder and produced by Farah Khan did not fare well but had an entertaining story about an NRI scientist in USA Agastya coming to his village Paglapur to see his ill father. He finds the village totally neglected by the area administration. In fact, it doesn’t even figure on any map of the area. Agastya wants to improve the situation and plans a publicity hoax by creating a crop circle (recalling Shyamalan 2002) to claim the presence of aliens and thus grab the country’s attention. The ploy is successful and Paglapur becomes a media cynosure. Agastya then reveals the hoax. But the village gets a surprise when real aliens come to visit! A landmark satirical comedy in 2012 was OMG: Oh My God! co-written and co-produced by Akshay Kumar and Paresh Rawal based on a Gujarati play Kanji Virudh Kanji and the Australian film The Man Who Sued God and directed by Umesh Shukla. OMG has a middle-class shopkeeper Kanji Lalji Mehta (Rawal) an atheist who doesn’t show enough respect to godmen and hence is cursed by them. A lowintensity earthquake destroys his shop, the only loss in the neighbourhood that is seen as divine punishment. Kanji seeks insurance reimbursement but is refused as the clause maintains that natural calamity as “Act of God” was not covered by insurance. Kanji decides to fight the case in court and confronts hassles when asked to prove the “Act” was God’s. A real-estate agent riding a snazzy bike called Krishna Vasudev Yadav (Kumar), who is actually (the Hindu god) Krishna, comes to his help. The narrative moves towards a fine ending. It recalled several earlier films depicting humorous interface between God and man like Rajendra Kumar’s Jhuk Gaya Aasman (Tandon 1968), Jeetendra’s Lok Parlok (Rao 1979) and the engrossing black comedy Sanjeev Kumar–Vikram Gokhale starrer Yehi Hai Zindagi (Sethumadhavan 1977). With brilliant acting all around and supported by veterans like Om Puri, Govind Namdeo, Mithun Chakravorty, Mahesh Manjrekar, the film received critical acclaim, did extremely well and was declared a blockbuster. Photographer Dabboo Ratnani declared that Akshay Kumar is a delight to work with and one of the best comedic actors in Bollywood with his impeccable comic timing (Indo-Asian News Service 2017). Another significant film in 2013 was Special 26 aka Special Chhabbis, a heist crime thriller directed by Neeraj Pandey, starring besides Kumar, Anupam Kher, Manoj Bajpayee, Jimmy Shergill. The story was based on the meticulously planned 1987 Opera House heist when a criminal group posing as CBI officers executed an income tax raid on a famous jeweller in Mumbai and decamped with a huge booty. The case remains unsolved. Other films through 2013–2014 were action formula films like Once Upon a Time in Mumbai Dobara (Luthria 2013), Boss (D’Souza 2013) and Entertainment (Samji and Sajid 2014) in which the eponymous hero is a dog that is gifted a legacy by its owner in Bangkok being chased by criminals;

13 Akshay Kumar: The Khiladi of the Box Office

209

comedy films like The Shaukeens (Sharma 2014) a remake of 1982 Basu Chatterjee film Shaukeen and partly shot in Mauritius; vigilante films like Gabbar is Back (Krish 2015), Holiday: A Soldier is Never Off-Duty (2012) part-produced by Hari Om Entertainment and directed by A. R. Murugadoss about pursuing terrorists and sleeper cells; Baby (2015) directed by Niraj Pandey about a team of secret agents hunting and eliminating terrorists after the 2008 Mumbai attack. This film was followed by a spy thriller sequel Naam Shabana (2017), directed by Shivam Nair and produced by Neeraj Pandey and Aruna Bhatia. Taapsee Pannu as Shabana reprises from the earlier film as a college student recruit being trained as a secret agent. Pannu did justice to the meaningful role given to a woman actor. Kumar, Prithviraj Sukumaran, Manoj Bajpayee, Anupam Kher played supporting and extended cameo roles. All the thrillers and vigilante films were slick fast-paced action-packed entertainers that were critically commended and declared “hits”. Indeed, one needs formidable calibre to hold the notoriously fickle attention and interest of the audience and Kumar has proved his ability to do so by taking on variety of roles in varied genres. It is clear he gives his best to each role. He has taken special efforts to reflect an earthy quality and certain degree of “ordinariness” in the commercial products he endorses too, like vests, cement, building material. Increasingly the locations of his films are rural India and his clothes, habits, lifestyle stress, his “simplicity” and “ordinariness” suggesting deglamorized roles with social relevance. By 2016, Kumar could choose his films. Realizing that a star held a position of social power and could motivate action by determining moral and ethical behaviour, Kumar selected films that entertain and are also meaningful. According to Richard Dyer, “stars are representations of persons which reinforce legitimate or occasionally alter the prevalent conceptions of what it is to a human being in this society” (Dyer 1991, 20). Kumar firmly believed that lending his name to worthy causes would strengthen them. He chose to do Airlift in 2016, researched and directed by Raja Krishna Menon describing the evacuation of Indians from Kuwait during Saddam Hussain’s invasion. Kumar’s role of Ranjit Katyal recalled businessman Mathunny Mathews who spearheaded the evacuation operation. Kumar also chose Jolly LLB2 (Kapoor 2017), a black comedy on India’s legal system where law is manipulated by the powerful and the common man is not served by the police, administration or the judiciary and cases drag on for years. The film through courtroom drama shows a small-time but determined lawyer Jagdishwar Mishra (Kumar) confronting a ruthless and exploitative lawyer. As a sequel to the earlier 2013 film, its hard-hitting theme was well appreciated and Kumar carried the role and the film with aplomb. The highlight of 2017 was Kumar’s satirical comedy Toilet: Ek Prem Katha the thrust of which was the social initiative of stopping open defecation in rural areas in strong support of the government’s Swachh Bharat Abhiyan (Clean India Mission). The film was among the highest grossers in recent years and interestingly, seems to have inspired China to launch a similar mission. Kumar’s next film Padman (2018), part-produced by his wife’s company and directed by Balki, carried another important and relevant social message on menstrual hygiene, a vital subject for women’s health and wellness in India. The film drew upon a story by Twinkle Khanna called “The Legend of Lakshmi Prasad” describing the excellent work of Arunachalam Muruganantham, a

210

T. Mukherjee

social activist from Tamil Nadu who introduced low-cost sanitary pads. A high point in Kumar’s career that won him critical acclaim and commercial success was his role in and as Rustom (Desai 2016) based on the unforgettable1959 K.M. Nanavati case about marital relations and infidelity leading to murder. The earlier film versions of the case were R. K. Nayyar directed Sunil Dutt-Leela Naidu starrer Yeh Rastey Hain Pyar Ke (1963) where the “adulterous” wife dies, and Gulzar directed Achanak (1973) in which the husband (Vinod Khanna) is sentenced to death after he shoots his wife and her paramour. Rustom recounts “three shots that shocked the nation” story about the eponymous naval officer learning of his wife’s infidelity on returning home after a long spell of duty. His wife admits being seduced by the rich businessman “friend” Makhija but insists that she had ended the affair. Rustom Pavri meets Makhija, shoots him and surrenders to the police. Public and media justify his action. During the gripping murder trial, a conspiracy involving commanding officers of the navy gets revealed that establishes Rustom’s patriotic credentials. This presents Rustom as a righteous and upright person. This proves the theory that a character in a film is seldom the result of a single shot (in this case, literally). It is built up through several episodes and sequences. The result was that the jury rules that Rustom shot Makhija in self-defence and frees him. The end matches the real story of the Nanavatis immigrating to Canada. The film was a tense well-made drama, recreating the 1950s ambience well. It was a major blockbuster. Kumar’s intense yet calm acting was admired and fetched him the National Award. A forthcoming film to recreate the 1940s ambience would be the historical sports drama Gold (Kagti 2018) focusing on Indian hockey team’s success in the 1948 Summer Olympics. Another film generating lot of interest is the forthcoming bilingual sci-fi film 2.0 (S. Shankar, 2018/19) which pairs Kumar with the ebullient actor Rajanikanth. With an estimated budget of Rs. 543 crores, this could be the most expensive film made till date. What is noticeable now about Akshay Kumar is best expressed in the Hindi word thehraav, a certain degree of calm and serenity in his personality and career. The frenetic pace of his younger years has given way to poise, confidence and assurance to do justice to any role he chooses to play. I recall a memorable comment that great actors like Katherine Hepburn or Dustin Hoffman are like orchestras, full of many different parts, while legendary stars like Bette Davis or Cary Grant are instruments that play one part but with endless variations. How does one describe Akshay Kumar’s prowess? He played the directors’ hero with endless variations in a genre; as an actor and a star he spread his wings and effortlessly enacted challenging roles in different genres—emotional, dramatic, comedic—playing them differently like orchestras. His has been a long and challenging journey of growing as a hero, actor and a star. An adroit khiladi of the box office, he is now uncontested as one of a kind.

13 Akshay Kumar: The Khiladi of the Box Office

211

References Adarsh, T. (2009). Kambakkht Ishq Review 3.5/5|Kambakkht Ishq Movie Review|Kambakkht Ishq. Public Review| Film Review. Accessed June 28, 2019. https://www.bollywoodhungama.com/ movie/kambakkht-ishq/critic-review/. Barba, E., & Savarese, N. (2005). A dictionary of theatre anthropology. Abingdon: Oxon. Basinger, J. (2007). The star machine. NY: Alfred A. Knopf. Bhagat, S. (2017). I don’t want to have a typical single image. In The Sunday Magazine, Feb 4. Daily Express. (2009). Secrets of star quality. October 12. http://www.express.co.uk/ expressyourself/133518/Secrets-of-star-quality. Dyer, R. (1991). Stars. BFI Publishing, 1981. Gledhill, C. (Ed.). (1991). Stardom: Industry of desire. New York, London: Routledge. Indo-Asian News Service. (2017). Akshay Kumar’s sense of comic timing is impeccable: Popular photographer Dabboo Ratnani|Bollywood. Hindustan Times. September 10, 2017. https://www.hindustantimes.com/bollywood/akshay-kumar-s-sense-of-comic-timing-isimpeccable-popular-photographer-dabboo-ratnani/story-8Cd1us8maNCRh3sR9TNMOI.html. Kumar, A. Wikipedia. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Akshay_Kumar. Saltz, R. (2009). The bollywood sign. In The new york times, 2009, July 2 edition, sec. Movies. https://www.nytimes.com/2009/07/03/movies/03kamb.html. Whitty, S. (2013). Movie stars vs. actors: How to tell the difference. In Inside Jersey. April 21. http://www.nj.com/entertainment/index.ssf/2013/04/movie_stars_vs_actors_how_to_t.html.

Filmography Abbas-Mustan. (1992). Khiladi. United Seven Combines. Abbas-Mustan. (2004). Aitraaz. Mukta Arts. Acharya, VK. (2008). Tashan. Yash Raj Films. Advani, N. (2011). Patiala House. Bhushan Kumar Productions. Akhtar, F. (2004). Lakshya. Excel Entertainment. Amrohi, K. (1949). Mahal. Ashok Kumar Productions. Anand, T. (1988). Shahenshah. Shiva Video. Balki, R. (2018). Pad Man. Columbia Pictures. Bazmee, A. (2007). Welcome. Firoz Nadiadwala Productions. Bazmee, A. (2008). Singh in Kinng. Vipul Amrutlal Shah Productions. Bazmee, A. (2011). Thank You. UTV Motion Pictures. Bhatt, V. (2002). Raaz. Mahesh Bhatt Productions. Bose, S. (1958). Chalti ka Naam Gaadi. K.S. Films. Chatterjee, B. (1982). Shaukeeen. Senmit Movie Visuals. Chopra, A. (1995). Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge. Yash Raj Films. Chopra, Y. (1997). Dil to PagalHai. Yash Raj Films. Demme, J. (1991). The Silence of the Lambs. Orion Pictures. D’Souza, A. (2009). Blue. Shree Ashtavinayak Cinevision. Darshan, S. (2005). Dosti: Friends Forever. Shree Krishna International. Darshan, S. (2006). Mere Jeevan Saathi. Shree Krishna International Pvt. Ltd. Desai, T. S. (2016). Rustom. Zee Studios. Deva, P. (2012). Rowdy Rathore. SLB Films. Deva, P. (2015). Singh is Bliing. Grazing Goat Pictures Pvt. Ltd. Dhawan, D. (1997). Mr. and Mrs. Khiladi. D.M.S. Films. Dhawan, D. (2004). Mujhse Shaadi Karogi. Nadiadwala Grandson Entertainment. Dhawan, R. (2011). Desi Boyz. Eros International.

212

T. Mukherjee

Dutta, J. P. (1997). Border. J.P. Films. Fazil. (1993). Manichitrathazhu. Swargachitra Appachan. Ghanekar, G. (1989). Balache Baap Brahmachari. V. Shantaram Productions. Gowariker, A. (2001). Lagaan. Aamir Khan Productions. Gulzar. (1973). Achanak. Shemaroo Video Pvt. Ltd. Hirani, R. (2003). Munna Bhai M.B.B.S. Vinod Chopra Productions. Hirani, R. (2009). 3 Idiots. Vinod Chopra Films. Joffe, M. (2001). The Man Who Sued God. Buena Vista International. Kamal. (1990). Thoolvalsparsham. Evershine Productions. Kang, S. (2013). Bhaji in Problem. Viacom 18 Motion Pictures. Kanwar, R. (2006). Humko Deewana Kar Gaye. T-Series. Kanwar, R. (2013). Andaaz. Shree Krishna International. Kapoor, S. (2017). Jolly LLB 2. Fox Star Studio India. Khan, F. (2010). Tees Maar Khan. Hari Om Productions. Khan, S. (2007). Heyy Baby. Eros International. Khan, S. (2010). Housefull. Eros International. Krish. (2015). Gabbar is Back. Sanjay Leela Bhansali Films. Kukunoor, N. (2009). 8x10 Tasveer. Percept Picture Company. Kumar, M. (1970). Purab Aur Paschim. Manoj Kumar Productions. Kunder, S. (2006). Jaan-e-Mann. Nadiawala Grandson Entertainment. Kunder, S. (2012). Joker. Hari Om Entertainment. Levinson, B. (1994). Disclosure. Warner Bros. Luthria, M. (2013). Once Upon A Time in Mumbai Dobaara! Balaji Motion Pictures. Lyne, A. (1987). Fatal Attraction. Paramount Pictures. Malhotra, K. (2015). Brothers. Dharma Productions. Malhotra, N. (1994). Yeh Dillagi. Yash Raj Films. Malkan, S. (1994). Main Khiladi Tu Anari. United Seven Creations. Mehra, U. (1995). Sabse Bada Khiladi. Keshu Ramsay Productions. Mehra, U. (1996). Khiladiyon Ka Khiladi. DMS Films. Mehra, U. (1999). International Khiladi. DMS Films. Menon, R. (2016). Airlift.T-Series. Mohan, A. R. (2012). Khiladi 786. Eros International. Murugadoss, A. R. (2014). Holiday: A Soldier is Never Off-Duty. Hari Om Entertainment. Nag, B. (1964). Kohraa. Geetanjali Films. Nag, B. (1988). Bees Saal Baad. Nishi Productions. Nimoy, L. (1987). Three Men and a Baby. Touchstone Pictures. O’Connor, G. (2011). Warrior. Mimran Schur Pictures. Pandey, N. (2013). Special 26. Friday Filmworks. Parashar, P. (2004). Meri Biwi Ka Jawab Nahin. Iqbal Productions. Patil, R. (2013). 72 Miles- Ek Pravas. Grazing Goat Pictures Pvt. Ltd. Priyadarshan. (2000). Hera Pheri. Base Industries Group. Priyadarshan. (2007). Bhool Bhulaiyaa. T-Series. Priyadarshan. (2009). De Dana Dan. Eros International. Priyadarshan. (2010). Khatta Meetha. Cape of Good Films Pvt. Ltd. Rai, R. (1994). Mohra. Trimurti Films Pvt. Ltd. Rao, A. S. (1967). Milan. Rajshree Pictures. Rao, T. R. (1979). Lok Parlok. Sree Pallavi Productions. Reddy, V. (1990). Chinnari Muddula Papa. Nallini Cini Creations. Roy, B. (1958). Madhumati. Bimal Roy Productions. Samanta, S. (1976). Mehbooba. Mushir-Riaz. Santoshi, R. (2004). Khakee. DMS Films. Santoshi, R. (2006). Family- Ties of Blood. AB Corp Ltd. Sarwate, G. (2013). Antar. Grazing Goat Pictures.

13 Akshay Kumar: The Khiladi of the Box Office Serreau, C. (1985). Three Men and a Cradle. Jean-Francois Lepetit Productions. Sethumadhavan, K. S. (1977). Yehi Hai Zindagi. B. Nagi Reddy Productions. Shah, V. (2010). Action Replayy. Blockbuster Movie Entertainers. Shah, V. (2005). Waqt: The Race Against Time. Vipul Amrutlal Shah Productions. Shah, V. (2007). Namastey London. Vipul Amrutlal Shah Productions. Sharma, A. (2004). Ab Tumhare Hawale Watan Sathiyon. Movie World. Sharma, A. (2014). The Shaukeens. Cape of Good Films. Shivdasani, D. (2001). Yeh Raaste Hai Pyaar Ke. Deepak Shivdasani Production. Shukla, D. (2004). Police Force: An Inside Story. Hardesh Gupta Productions. Shukla, U. (2012). OMG! Grazing Goat Pictures. Shyamalan, M. N. (2002). Signs. Touchstone Pictures. Singh, S. (2017). Toilet: Ek Prem Katha. Viacom 18 Motion Pictures. Sippy, R. (1991). Saugandh. Ashok Adnani Productions. Subhash, K. (2005). Insan. DMS Films. Tandon, L. (1968). Jhuk Gaya Aasman. R.D. Bansal Productions. Varma, R. G. (1992). Raat. Varma Creations. Vasu, P. (2001). Asathal. Mala Cine Creations. Verma, R. G. (2003). Bhoot. Dream Merchants. Wilder, B. (1954). Sabrina. Paramount Pictures.

213

Chapter 14

Waif to Warrior—Kangana Ranaut Maithili Rao

Abstract There are outsiders and then there are outsiders in Bollywood. It is difficult for an actress to break into an industry dominated by star dynasties unlike legendary male stars, almost impossible when the actress comes from a small town in remote Himachal Pradesh. Kangana Ranaut infiltrated an incestuous world minus credentials of a modelling career, television stint or a powerful godfather. I propose to chart Ranaut’s career through a new Bollywood sensibility that incorporates society’s shifting attitudes to women and their aspirations. Kangana Ranaut is an exceptional myth-buster because she is not a conformist in attitude and appearance. There is both disdain and confidence in not courting powerbrokers and the camps that carve out niches for themselves and their protégés. As for appearance, she has a deceptively waif-like fragility that made her standout in early films—Gangster’s isolated victim of revenge and the self-destructive vulnerability of an actress on the verge of a breakdown in Woh Lamhe. Kangana reinvented screen sexiness along the way as she mastered English and a distinct fashionista avatar, neither succumbing to the ideal of native voluptuousness nor assembly line Western glamour. Her first National Award for best supporting actress (in Fashion) was for the honest-to-chiselled-collarbone super model insecure in her temporary perch on the fashion ladder. The journey from vulnerability to strength speaks of her ability to choose the right challenging script and mould her evolving personality to portray roles that reflect India’s changing social reality in Tanu Weds Manu and Queen. She is now the first choice of commercially successful auteurs (Vishal Bharadwaj and Vikas Bahl) who make distinctly personal films using traditional narrative tropes. Keywords Myth-buster · Sexuality · Stardom · Subversion “Success is the best revenge…women should answer back with either sarcasm or success. That really kills” (“Success is the best revenge” 2016). This was Kangana Ranaut’s devastating put down that bordered on arrogance to a begrudging Bollywood establishment that never really accepted her. This was meant to end an ongoing battle that pitted the three times National Award-winning rank outsider against entrenched M. Rao (B) #206 Brigade Splendour, 23/1 Lalitha Mahal Road, Mysore 570011, India e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 A. I. Viswamohan and C. M. Wilkinson (eds.), Stardom in Contemporary Hindi Cinema, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-15-0191-3_14

215

216

M. Rao

Mumbai Moghuls who quite expectedly sided with Hrithik Roshan accused of cyberstalking and then denying his affair with his co-star. Ranaut got prime time coverage on NDTV, interviewed by a sympathetic Barkha Dutt, the doyenne of TV, not afraid to take on filmdom’s powerful A-listers. The interview went viral tagged as “kickass Kangana”. It was aired in May 2016 after the National Awards ceremony. Characteristically, Ranaut wearing a strapless gown for the official function was cause for caustic comment because the unwritten dress code for such events is a dressy sari (and a modest choli). Trust Ranaut to flout convention with panache. It is totally in character with the public persona she has projected. It is not surprising that she gets away with breaking precedents, cheered on by her fans who are also called on to defend her more outré pronouncements. The PR bonus is how she wins the reluctant admiration of even her inveterate critics who are discomfited by her no holds barred interviews and the composure with which she makes statements guaranteed to shock. She has mastered the media game, no more the gauche girl from the hills patronized by a sneering media on the Bollywood beat. Her detractors were temporarily silenced while Ranaut basked in the triumph of a third National Award—for best actress consecutively in 2015 and 2016. She had earlier won the best supporting actress for Fashion. This put her in the league of multiple National Award winners—the distinguished pack led by Shabana Azmi (5), Mohanlal (5, including one as a producer, two special jury mentions), Amitabh Bachchan (4), Naseeruddin Shah, Kamal Haasan, Mammootty and Sharada (3). Ranaut sits pretty on her unshakeable perch. This and subsequent incendiary TV appearances sent ripples of alarm through smug Bollywood power wielders who closed ranks resolutely against the feisty feminist, accusing her of playing the woman/victim card. There is no holding Ranaut back. An unlikely stormy petrel, she came up with the 2017 Cos I have a Vagina Re (parody of the popular Chittiyaan Kalaiyaan Ve from the film Roy (Singh 2015), a must on the playlist be it weddings or parties) on YouTube. It upped the ante against not just the regular item girls but dared a subtle send-up of top female stars who shimmied, thrust bosoms and hips for a special number though they did not act in the films. This widely watched video also invited slut shaming but the breezy, care a damn attitude of the video is funny and liberating. Funnier than her comic roles in forgettable multi-starrers, truth be told. To quote from that memorable interview again: “I am not ashamed of anything, not my past, not my affairs, not my body and most definitely not my desire. So ‘slut-shaming’ won’t work either” (2016). She is a true trailblazer—for the choices she made, both in her life and in her films. Ranaut has broken every taboo and every stereotype that is part of the basic character construct of the heroine, most often a decorative pillar of Hindi film industry’s superstructure. She was perilously close to getting caged into the neurotic, distractingly sexual stereotype in her early films but she chose—or the scripts did—the next few films that broke the mould. There has been nobody like her, who played the bad girl who smoked, drank, had sexual relationships with many men in her first few films and still went on to be a top star. Ranaut stands out as unique when we cast a brief glance at the more unconventional heroines of Hindi films: the outsider Hunterwali (Wadia 1935) Nadia to indigenous icon of a Mother India (Khan 1957) or home-bred

14 Waif to Warrior—Kangana Ranaut

217

rebels like Nirmala of Kunku (Shantaram 1937) and the strong women portrayed by Meena Kumari and Nutan. Vidya Balan is the only contemporary who was briefly ensconced as the female Khan after the explosive The Dirty Picture (Luthria 2010). Ranaut has risked so much and reaped the rewards, in critical acclaim if not box office success every time. Where does Kangana the woman end and Ranaut the actor begin? The osmosis between private individual and the screen image had been subterranean hitherto till it gushed out with volcanic force. Some may not like inyour-face Kangana—as even some feminists do—but you can only ignore Ranaut the actor at your own peril. Not all nonconformists are subversive. When the two are combined in the petite dynamo called Kangana Ranaut, the effect is lethally disruptive to Bollywood’s entrenched patriarchy. She has not merely ruffled feathers—of strutting male and demure female plumage—but has had a tsunami-like impact. Ranaut is constantly in the public eye—on TV and print—in a media outreach that goes beyond pre-release publicity for a widely anticipated film. She lets loose shock and awe with the élan of a commando and the strategic surprise of a guerilla fighter, not afraid to get down and dirty and accusing a top producer/director of nepotism on his popular show. Ranaut seems to revel in being controversy’s combative child. She makes it impossible to separate the actor from the outspoken woman in the public domain, because one infiltrates the other. Ranaut is as unconstrained in her interviews as she is in her performances. She was never beholden to the big producers and production houses for her remarkable success, starting as a raw outsider with no connections, with neither a notable modelling career nor a stint on television. She has truly made it on her own, surviving an abusive relationship with an older, married minor actor notorious for his bad behaviour, and banked on her talent and elfin charm to grab roles that inhabited a markedly grey area. Her early directors were still making their way in the industry and the films owed much to Ranaut’s uninhibited performance. There are outsiders and outsiders in Bollywood. It is difficult for an actress to break into an industry dominated by star dynasties, unlike legendary male stars who had no film connections, almost impossible when the actress comes from a family of civil servants in a remote Himachal Pradesh small town near Mandi, studied in Hindi medium and contemplated getting into medicine or engineering. She also dreamt of dance, painting, theatre, and the latter aptitude took her to Delhi where she did a brief stint of theatre training under Arvind Gaur of the Delhi theatre group Asmita. Like many other hopefuls, she made her way to Bombay, struggled and even slept on the street, as she confessed in an interview. Ranaut infiltrated an incestuous world minus any credentials that would give her a footing. She did not have a powerful godfather after she relocated to Bombay with nothing more than talent and determination to rough it out against odds. Ranaut is an exceptional myth-buster in a business that constantly forges new myths because she is not a conformist in attitude and appearance. There is both disdain and confidence in not courting powerbrokers and the camps that carve out niches for themselves and their protégés. As for appearance, she has a deceptively waif-like fragility that made her standout in early films Gangster (Basu 2006), Woh Lamhe (Suri 2006) and Fashion (Bhandarkar 2008), for her paradoxical

218

M. Rao

“sexual boldness”. She represents the new millennial woman, free to articulate what she wants on her own terms—be it career, her sexual choices, way of life—and has the grit to achieve it. Ranaut might be an exception in Hindi films, but she is also part of the quiet social revolution churning under the placidity of an apparently static, basically conservative India. Ranaut’s triumph can be read as part of the larger social process when it comes to the evolution of stars in different spheres. The most obvious equivalent is the meteoric rise of other stars worshipped (manically) in India—cricketers, icons of a national religion. This millennium saw players, with nothing more than sheer talent and hard work for assets, break into the cricket pantheon whose gods hitherto came from the big metros (with a few exceptions, the most prominent being Kapil Dev). M. S. Dhoni (on whom a film has already been made) exemplifies the success of small-town cricketers coming from cities not known for sporting prowess or a proven history of success in domestic tournaments. From railway ticket inspector to India’s most successful captain, Dhoni’s has been a magical fairy tale. He is the first rock star of Indian cricket, and there are many other successful players from the hinterland who have made it to the Indian team. Ranaut belongs to this aspirational generation. Her story is unique in Hindi cinema because she broke all taboos and unwritten rules—political correctness, assumption of humility, choosing roles that stay in the safe confines of decorous femininity—with impunity. It was chutzpah bordering on arrogance. In an earlier interview with Prashant Singh of Hindustan Times (9 September 2015), Ranaut affirms: “What matters is the way you think…Just love yourself, and don’t subject yourself to comparisons. I started utilizing everything (I had) as a boon, as opposed to thinking…” The process of internalizing her experiences to get under the skin of a character had started, and she analyses it rationally. It is the recognition of the fusion of intuition, observation and intelligent absorption of personal experience that goes into the craft of acting. The external process needs to be discussed first. Kangana reinvented screen sexiness that was subtle, while she mastered English and forged a distinct fashionista avatar, neither succumbing to the native ideal of voluptuousness nor the assembly line Western glamour. She was a quick learner to prove the media wrong and other actors who mocked her accent, clothes and general gaucherie. She also took a calculated risk in the choice of her first few films where her roles were transgressive—both in intent and in execution. Ranaut played a young woman whose sexuality was not constrained by marriage or even fidelity to first love, or a single man. She was almost always the woman caught in a triangle—sometimes because of circumstances and often of her own will. Her first co-star was Emraan Hashmi, dubbed the serial kisser, and Ranaut was his equal in portraying physical intimacy. This jeopardized her chances of “real mainstream” roles where the heroine’s sex appeal was on display for the male gaze but she was not free to express her sexuality for her own pleasure. The scripts gave Ranaut’s screen sexual persona autonomy. It was the Mahesh Bhatt banner, churning out genre films (almost B grade when it came to the horror genre) with new actors and directors, that spotted Ranaut’s potential. Anurag Basu’s Gangster tries to be film noir, but the sentimental streak

14 Waif to Warrior—Kangana Ranaut

219

running through the narrative subverts the dark intent. It was the other Anurag, Kashyap, who made his mark with noir (Paanch, 2003; No Smoking, 2007; Dev. D, 2009). What worked for Gangster was its risqué attitude that made the old subject of a bar dancer and gangster falling in love rather trendy. The film does not attempt the panache that women in classic film noir flaunt—subtly or in your face—and Ranaut’s physical frailty dictates emotional vulnerability for her character. What you get is a qualified “boldness” physically with an aura of melancholy that wraps her up like an invisible cloak. So, even as this alcoholic gangster’s moll alternates between sexy sashaying down the street and drunken lurch, she conveys the feeling of being there and also not there. Simran (Ranaut) is the essential loner in the trio of loners who play out the drama of love, lust, betrayal, guilt, redemption and vengeance. Daya (Shiney Ahuja) has the mafia for family—a protective shell as long as he remains within it and abides by the rules—and Akash’s (Emraan Hashmi) undercover Indian agent identity is hidden under the guise of a sympathetic singer who woos Simran, offering her a shoulder to cry on. Simran, even as a chawl-dwelling bar dancer, is without any family or friends. So she clings to Daya, the silent, undemanding saviour, and when he has to be away, she transfers her dependency to the persuasive Akash. Gangster offered a novel, apparently amoral tragic love story to a receptive audience in 2006. The script does not delve below the surface, of deep changes in the characters of Daya and Simran. Within the emotional arc described by the script, Ranaut (a teenager at that time) hints at the absence of depth from the narrative. She stands up unflinchingly to the demanding close-ups—the favoured mode of Anurag Basu to suggest hidden motives and churn of emotions under the mask she puts on for the world. She carries off the femme fatale look—bright red lipstick, a halo of curls around a delicate, chiselled face and a drink clutched like a life support system, to complete the cliché. Heavily mascara-ed lashes flutter and droop warily to hide her expressive eyes. The acting is more external—getting the body language of an older woman right, her sexuality freed into making the first move (the kiss and then initiating intimacy), using the face as a mask that she deliberately lets slip for the moment of revelation—of a wound that has not healed, the corroding loneliness that she seeks to drown in drinks—and for a first film, the method is consistent. It is adequate for the story that sets out to shock the audience into submission with a heroine who is both sexually adventurous and also grieving for a child she considers her own, open about her vulnerability and deadly in revenge. Her emotional outbursts have a shrillness that this style of narrative demands. They are high-voltage punctuations of the would-be noir, complete with lurking shadows, red neon lights and rain-slicked streets. What is missing is the depth of agony. Woh Lamhe (Suri 2006) is the first of the three films where she plays a Bollywood heroine—the exactly same number that Smita Patil did. It is interesting that when Hindi cinema makes films centred on female stars, they are based on real actresses. Directed by Mohit Suri, it fictionalizes Mahesh Bhatt’s story as he delves into his past, extracting high-voltage melodrama from his turbulent relationship with the mentally ill Parveen Babi. The opening collage of images is a tribute to Ranaut who has by now arrived as the hot, dependable talent guaranteed to deliver, the tragic

220

M. Rao

portrait of a star who has to finally accept that she is mentally ill, to realize that her psychotic hallucinations of Rani, a friend from struggling days who failed, are fears of a fractured mind. A woman on the verge, so to speak. From the laughing beachside images to the elaborate preparation for what looks like a ceremonial bath, the camera caresses the details before we get to see Ranaut’s face, eyes closed and an enigmatic smile on her face, as she sinks into a tub on which she has lovingly strewn red rose petals with a yellow chrysanthemum to highlight the red as she slits her wrists. Flashbacks highlight the glitter and grime that halo Sana Azim (Ranaut), in an abusive relationship with an actor who pimps her and calls her a whore. She is celebrated as an exotic and blatantly sexy star, calculated to do the unexpected in public. She takes off her panty from under her gown and throws it in the face of Aditya (Shiney Ahuja), a struggling film-maker who deliberately needles her with insults so that she will act in his “different” kind of film. The ploy succeeds. Sana’s mood swings are unpredictable, even as she is happy to be working with Aditya. The image of Ranaut’s joyous face after washing off her make-up under a water hydrant as a semi-naked urchin splashes nearby is a teaser—is this the real face of Ranaut the actor? From an arc of unalloyed joy to extreme panic that makes her cower like a cornered animal, brittle and bitter, she slyly skips medication while suspecting Aditya (now really in love with her) of trying to kill her, it culminates in violent outbursts followed by guilt. It is a high-octane performance melodrama demands, and Ranaut delivers with total commitment to her role. Her body is a high-strung instrument that vibrates to every change of mood, and her eyes let us into the working of a tortured mind. How you portray schizophrenia on screen is determined by the script, the director’s sensibility and the actor’s own interpretation through her research (if any) or through intuition. For dramatic impact, we see Rani as a real figure, part of the crowd surrounding Sana, clamouring for attention. It is when Adi meets her ex-landlady that we get the explanation for her hysterical outbursts of fear. Indian directors will not trust subtlety—as in A Beautiful Mind (Howard 2001)—because they don’t believe their viewers can distinguish between what the character believes she sees and the reality. So, once the mystery is explained, we are directed to observe how the patient—her illness now defined for us—behaves and primed to spot the triggers that catalyse extreme mood swings, verging on violence. Ranaut follows the prescribed tropes and still manages to personalize Sana from being solely a tribute to Parveen Babi. It is a performance of assured maturity from a newcomer. It is better to abandon chronology, and see Ranaut’s essaying of a film star as a unit in itself and note similarities and differences. Once Upon a Time in Mumbai (Luthria 2010) is a fictionalized but recognizable film about the rise and death of Bombay’s first Don, Haji Mastan, at the hands of his ambitious protégé. Ranaut plays Rehana, a Bollywood star who has risen to stardom from a child actor—a rarity. Her costume, set in the 70s, is faux Hollywood and reminds us of Mumtaz in her heyday. Her film-within-film scenes are glamourous and standard-issue dramatics. Rehana tells a journo that she thought it was all play as a child and now, she is past the age of playing games. She has won an award for best actress, a dream girl who is being asked who her dream man is. Rehana’s answer is a clue to her cynical attitude to the

14 Waif to Warrior—Kangana Ranaut

221

industry and its patronizing lechers. No movie star but someone who will win her heart in 7 seconds. Sultan, the hero (Ajay Devgn), is her ardent admirer who piques her interest with his directness and persistence. Ranaut really doesn’t have much to do except be a pert, pretty and trendy arm candy and finally a trophy wife, but she invests the early encounters with playful banter and willingness to be amused—and won. Her dress changes from slinky gowns to churidar kameez with head veiled. The script demands loyalty to her man, whether he is a criminal or a reformed would-be politician, and Ranaut delivers with charm and grace. An interesting piece of trivia was common knowledge. Haji Mastan was obsessed with the late Madhubala and married Sona, a lookalike who was a very minor actress. The director wisely settles for extra glamour. Rehana is a successful star with poise and modern attitude to relationships. She openly plays hostess at Sultan’s parties before they marry. Is this cashing on Ranaut’s roles as a sexually confident woman? The acid test was Vishal Bharadwaj’s much anticipated—and failed opus—Rangoon (2017) where she played the swashbuckling action star of the 40s, Miss Julia with her signature shout “Bloody Hell”. However strenuously Bharadwaj denied, Miss Julia connects—in collective film memory—to Fearless Nadia. The film gives Julia a native identity and petite, agile athleticism unlike Mary Evans’ robust frame. She is a young girl picked up from a street acrobat gypsy family by the imperious Rustom Billimoria (Saif Ali Khan). He is the Svengali who grooms her into the blockbuster delivering star, complete with haughty manners and condescending demeanour, for the studio he owns. Julia’s only ambition, till she gets lost in the jungles bordering Burma, is to graduate from mistress to Mrs. Rusi Billimoria. Under Ranaut’s sleek filmstar façade lurks the wild gypsy ancestry that gradually surfaces when she is rescued by Nawab Malik (Shahid Kapoor), an Indian Army soldier who joins Subhash Chandra Bose’s INA, keeping his army cover intact to better help the nationalistic cause. It is an intended epic that packs in too much, where individual segments are brilliant—in concept, acting and execution—but the parts don’t hold together in a script that is too ambitious and attempts too much: from a segment of film history, to a love triangle to the guerilla struggle against the British Army and the ultimate sacrifice by even the hitherto Anglophone Rusi. The film is not all about the big dramatic moments. There is an extended segment where Julia, Nawab and the Japanese prisoner are caught in survival stakes. The Japanese prisoner and Julia talk in their own language, happily at cross purpose as they trudge through the forest. Julia turns into a child when she recalls her childhood as a street performer and Rusi bought her for 1000 rupees from her mother. She is merry and casual. A warm moment between strangers divided by race, nationality, language and yet sharing their past and dreams because the human need to communicate is greater than the dire circumstances. Ranaut is charmingly spontaneous. Ranaut’s performance is finely nuanced and tone perfect—the veneer of cultivated sophistication peeling away to reveal the passionate woman; early sexual frisson sparked by Nawab’s insolent indifference to the abandon of wild animal coupling in the mud. That choreographed scene could have been so easily risible. Instead, there is insatiable passion and playfulness that demands a lot from the body language of the actors who are covered in wet mud. It is earthy, limned with animal magnetism.

222

M. Rao

The moot point is: What does an actor bring to portraying an actor of another era performing her craft? There is of course the diligent research into the 40s action genre for the film-within-film scenes. Julia has to be different from Nadia. Ranaut is more delicate in her leaps and fences with feminine grace. The other challenge is to bring out the difference between Julia the woman (in the throes of dilemma between loyalty to her mentor and passion for a soul mate) and the performer onstage to entertain the troops and let the two coalesce at one critical juncture when Rusi learns of her affair. It is a high-voltage scene, choreographed fencing intercut with repressed emotions bursting through onstage demeanour. All three main actors give first-rate performances though a lot more is asked of Ranaut (physically and emotionally). She delivers impressively, slipping in and out of the duality of Miss Julia the star and the woman who discovers her true passion, with ease. Her first National Award for best supporting actress was for the honest-to chiselled-collarbone super model Shonali, insecure on her temporary perch on the fashion ladder. Fashion is basically Priyanka Chopra’s film, charting her life and career in the big bad cut-throat world of haute couture Indian style, as told by Madhur Bhandarkar who churns out tabloid quickies on trendy subjects. Ranaut’s swag and strut through the film are riveting. Every glance, grimace, cynical curl of the lip and knowing-it-all world-weariness, she owns the screen when she appears—as the snooty diva demanding attention, possessive and neurotic when the boyfriend of the moment gets a call from another woman, snorting coke expertly and using her cigarette as a style statement. Take the scene of her drunken toast to Rahul and Janet—attention-seeking voice and gestures, totally unembarrassed when she forgets the bride’s name. It is revealing of her need to hold centre stage, always. When the downfall comes, as it inevitably will for a compulsively self-destructive diva, Ranaut makes superb use of hesitant body language and defeated look on her washed-out face. Shonali’s well-timed appearances are punctuation marks to signify the acme of achievement initially—an alluring, aspirational figure. Then as the trajectory keeps going down as Meghna’s career arc rises, Shonali becomes a cautionary stereotype of abject degradation of a ruling star pulled down by the ruthless glamour industry. Ranaut’s role might have been written as a stereotype, but she makes it a very real woman, vulnerable and flawed. In the final segment of the film when she is a pitiable waif living on the streets, she speaks so much with her eyes, body and imperceptible half gestures. She is mostly silent, but it is an eloquent silence of someone trying one last time to regain herself and pay back Meghna’s compassion and trust. Once again, there is an echo of a real life parallel with a top model Gitanjali Nagpal, daughter of a naval officer, when she was found begging on Delhi streets, ravaged by drink and drugs. Ranaut played another high-profile model in Raaz: The Mystery Continues (Suri 2009), a paranormal mystery, accentuated with possession by a ghost. Tantrik rituals, revenge and reparation by a murdered man are ingredients of a B grade Hollywood spooky thriller crossed with Indian exotica. Nandita, a model living with a TV reality show host, is marked for possession. She is first the victim, scared out of her wits, falling out of a bathtub as she is about to be drowned. She is haunted by fears of

14 Waif to Warrior—Kangana Ranaut

223

hell and ghosts when she is in the thrall of possession. The gamut of expressions is strictly within the prescribed range—terror, followed by a zombie-like trance, stirring awake from it and then, primal scream of fear, flight, distorted face and unrecognizable heavy voice when possessed. Levitation, a feral look and then total vulnerability are reeled out. Ranaut follows the prescribed grammar of the genre. She is also burdened with original sin: she tempts her boyfriend—a TV journalist upholding professional integrity on screen—to sell his ethics so that they can have a nice apartment in Bombay. Often, the genre demands corruption of the innocent but Nandita is portrayed as not just another innocent. The woman at the centre of such horror films is highly sexualized—her clothes, heavy make-up that emphasizes eyes and lips, ending in suggested nudity. It is mandatory to the genre that her sexuality is central and she is punished for it even as the camera highlights her seductive body. The Bhatt camp has a scenario written out for the new actor who is willing to go against stereotypes and perhaps even labelled a star earmarked for slightly upscale supernatural thrillers spiced with sex. In Gangster and Raaz, Ranaut is torn between two men and gets pregnant as an unmarried woman. And in both films, she is not allowed to have a baby—the subtext can be read as the punishment for transgression. From such risqué beginnings, Ranaut transformed herself into India’s sweetheart with Queen (Bahl 2014), antirom-com trendsetter. She won her second National Award, this time for Best Actress for a heartwarmingly wholesome, if diffident girl, who grows into a broad-minded young woman who knows, most importantly, what she doesn’t want from life. Rani is the sweet girl next door—as sweet as the mithai her father sells—in Delhi’s staunchly Punjabi middle-class enclave. A biddable daughter, obedient wife material and potentially docile daughter-in-law, Rani is studying what else, domestic science. Bahl seems to know exactly how to spice up the selfdiscovery of a hesitant, protected girl just enough to cheer her growth but not too radically subversive to sour the essential sweetness of a charming naïf. Rani remains a quintessential Indian girl with a limited world view whose two weeks in Paris and Amsterdam have made her accepting and non-judgmental of other people, mores, cultures and ways of thinking. From the shock of having to share a room with three unknown men, she makes the best of the situation and what is more important makes friends with a melancholic Russian artist, a voluble Japanese who has lost his family in the tsunami and a hulk of a black man of whom she is initially wary (Indians’ inherent racism acknowledged), till she discovers the gentle giant in him. Along with the preconceived ideas about others, she learns to dress smartly and behave spontaneously when she finds her lost zest for life. Rani returns to the welcoming warmth of her loving family with enough steel in her spine to return the ring to the repentant fiancé who had dumped her two days before the wedding—for being a dowdy behenji he had courted, once he lands a job in London. She was shattered and abjectly begged him to marry her. From this wretched state to the late blooming of Rani is the engaging journey she takes us along. The closing scene has Ranaut walking out— not jauntily—but a happy, self-confident stride, and her face lit with a half-smile of satisfaction of rejecting the insensitive lout who wants to be taken back. Ranaut makes Rani’s changing perspective—that marriage is not the be-all and end-all for a girl—organic in an episodic narrative

224

M. Rao

with a linear spine. Even when she is in a potentially embarrassing situation, Ranaut makes us root for Rani and laugh with her than at her. Middle-class India fell in love with Rani. You saw this in an AD for a smartphone when an IPL star is teased for “watching Kangana again?” (performing the London Thumakda song from Queen) by teammate, none other than Indian captain Dhoni. An actress ultimately arrives when she is associated with cricket. The journey from vulnerability to strength speaks of Ranaut’s ability to choose the right challenging script and mould her evolving personality to portray roles that reflect India’s changing social reality. She is now the first choice of commercially successful auteurs (Vishal Bharadwaj and Vikas Bahl) who make distinctly personal films using traditional narrative tropes. Tanu weds Manu (Rai 2011) is a subversion of our construct of the small-town girl from an extended, traditional family. She smokes, has a boyfriend (a gangster), his tattoo on her chest, and shows it to the stolid, London-based doctor who falls hopelessly for her when he sees her asleep (after she deliberately takes sleeping pill to put off the bride-viewing). She is totally dismissive of his NRI status, contemptuous of his bride-finding mission. He is nerdy, sweetly old-fashioned in his choice of old Bollywood music and being a dutiful son agrees to an arranged marriage. The music harks back to a more decorous romance, and Tanu is anything but decorous, the way she wilfully flouts the decorum demanded of a virginal daughter of a middle-class family. Boyfriends come and go is her philosophy. Her vanity will not let anyone not succumb to her charm. She is unapologetically flirty, as if she can’t bear even a rejected suitor’s indifference. When Manu, after misreading the cross signals at a wedding where they meet again, persuades her father to let Tanu marry the gangster, you can see the dismay on her face. Her best friend Payal tells her off: grow up, don’t rebel for the sake of rebelling. College is behind them. Tanu is a rebel without a cause, set on running away to get married rather than go through a staid wedding blessed by her family. Tanu Weds Manu Returns (Rai 2015) is a wannabe screwball comedy that is driven by an implausible plot. Only Rananut’s double role makes the film (inexplicably successful at the box office) special. She won her second National Award for best actress for this sequel. The prelude, where Tanu after four years of marriage gets her husband shut up in a mental hospital, is a complete caricature. It at least establishes Manu’s diagnosis that she is bipolar. She returns home to Kanpur with a put-on English accent and the inevitable notoriety that envelopes her like an overpowering perfume. There is the infamous but riotously funny scene when Tanu saunters in nothing more than a towel and attitude to match when a groom has come to see her cousin. She embarrasses her family more thoroughly than they can ever imagine. She amuses the new tenant in the sprawling house as she dispenses sage advice to her cousin not to get into the boredom of marriage but live, even run away if needs be. The bipolar mood swings are borne out as she takes the new admirer Chintu to her old haunts, meets her exes and jumps into a baraat to dance in brief frenzy before walking away with a depressed look on her face that is shut to all emotion. It needs quicksilver control of expression. Capriciousness can be wearying for the viewer and worrisome for the actor.

14 Waif to Warrior—Kangana Ranaut

225

It is the portrayal of Dhatto, the rustic, practical Haryanvi girl so proud to be a pathbreaker for getting into Delhi University on sports quota that showcases Ranaut’s acting chops. Dhatto is a dedicated athlete who doesn’t want to be distracted by romance. She is a plainer doppelganger of high flier Tanu—no-nonsense boyish haircut, slight buck teeth and practical clothes. The sedate doctor turns stalker, and the much younger girl gives in, only to recover from her sentimental lapse and conceal her heartbreak, when the panic-stricken Tanu wants to win her husband back. Dhatto says with a matter of fact practicality: “what’s the use of getting on a bus that goes nowhere?” The Haryanvi lines spoken in a deeper voice than Tanu’s treble, tinkling laughter lurking under it, are a masterful display of craft that makes the two girls that have a strong resemblance so different in the manner of speech and body language. Tanu flaunts her seductive swag and Dhatto a heavy tread that roots her to the soil. Banno tera swagger lage sexy is a song both girls dance to. As Dhatto, Ranaut’s dancing has athletic vigour and she has an unaffected, easy laugh that speaks of innocence and trust while Tanu fakes joie de vivre in her practiced routine. There is another important point the film makes: Dhatto represents how girls use sports as an escape from the regressive patriarchy of Khap Panchayats to find independent identity. These three films that were commercially successful emboldened Ranaut to take on two more women-centric films where she plays the eponymous heroine. Rajjo (Patil 2013) is a dated disaster, bewailing the travails of a prostitute who wants to become a singer. Revolver Rani (Kabir 2014), on the other hand, is fated to be a minor cult classic. Where can India find the equivalent of Tarantino-esque territory? Why, Chambal of course. Chambal has occupied our public imagination as lawlessness defined, where the rule of the gun prevails and women can—in exceptional cases— break the patriarchal order. Revolver Rani is a pulp fiction satire on the rise of a woman politician who can outmanoeuvre and outshoot veteran politicos and then decline into stereotyped femininity. It is told with the sort of chutzpah incomprehensible or underappreciated by mass audience weaned on the heroic drama of Baghis fighting wars against ruthless Thakurs and conniving cops. The film peoples the broadly stylized black farce driven by kinetic energy with well written, over the top characters. Ranaut plays the widowed Alka Singh (she shoots the husband when she catches him with another woman) as a rambunctious, trigger happy, flamboyant strong woman in a male world. She is dusky, capricious, wild-haired and wild-eyed, brandishing her guns and gusto on every conceivable occasion. She has a voracious sexual appetite that exhausts her toy boy, a Bollywood aspirant. The plot is too labyrinthine to be summarized, powered by Alka’s changing priorities when she discovers she is pregnant, a slap in the face of all who had branded her barren. That is the ultimate insult. The film ends with a gore fest. Accompanying the final carnage is a contemporary homage, a chant that comes perilously close to desi rap, to Alka Singh as a forlorn Durga/Kali: as Durga she nurtures the child in her belly—that has become her obsession—while she is also the rampaging Kali who decimates enemies (improbably, seeing she is outnumbered and betrayed) in unstoppable rage. This is camp at its most outrageous, and Ranaut relishes her role with the kind of robustness unexpected of her.

226

M. Rao

There is something inherently unconventional about Ranaut that makes her forays into rom-coms unconvincing. Both Katti Batti (Advani 2015) and I Love NY (Rao and Vinay 2015) prove this. Katti Batti’s Payal is a rich brat dubbed maneater on the campus where she is queen with her unconventional hippie style. The elaborate sentimental drama of why she has walked away from a five-year live-in relationship with Maddy (Imran Khan) because she has cancer and wants to spare him heartbreak works only when she is fickle/angry/dismissive. I Love NY fails even to take off because of bad casting against a visibly uncomfortable Sunny Deol, and Ranaut’s spontaneity is expected to flesh out the sketchy role of a New Yorker in a bad relationship who bonds with a drunk stranger crash-landing in her apartment. Ranaut has shown that she is comfortable and competent in big ensemble films too, stamping her personality in roles as different as the amoral office worker sleeping with her married boss to get extra perks in the predictably schematic Life in A…Metro (Basu 2007) and Kaya the efficient mutant awakening to human emotions in the process of carrying out her evil master’s dream of ruling the world in Krrish 3 (Roshan 2013). There is a metallic glitter to her appearance, not just because of the armour plate costume moulded to her lithe body. It highlights her cheekbones and imperious, unfeeling stare. Her bad mutant who turns into a good girl is more interesting than the titular heroine. The much anticipated Hansal Mehta directed Simran (2017) is a complete Ranaut vehicle. He is a generous director whose films are actor-centric, not plot-driven. Ranaut is in practically every frame, and it takes unflagging energy of a marathon runner and the speed of a sprinter to hold the viewer for two hours single-handedly. It demands supreme self-confidence in her craft to carry an entire film on her slender shoulders because there are no other characters she can play against. She is playing with and against the American system that is shown as tilted against brown immigrants. So, the Gujarati who has dhanda (business) in her DNA subverts capitalism by robbing banks to get out of her gambling debt to a loan shark. What is on display here is more than craft. It is her seamless ability to get under the skin of a character with many shades—criminal, addicted gambler, sexy swagger that is still not acceptable in a heroine who has one night stands and comes on to men she meets at a bar. When Simran puts on the demure Indian girl act for a prospective groom and his relatives, Ranaut makes us accomplices of her “acting”. She goes back to being her rebellious, wilful self with seamless ease. She makes us care for a woman who is not really likeable. Ranaut is credited with writing part of the dialogues for Simran, setting off yet another controversy with the writer. She had co-writing credits for Queen too. She did a short course of script writing in the USA and invests a lot more than expected in her films that are character-driven. Three National Awards in a career count of 31 films in a decade is indeed remarkable. Ranaut has set up her own production house, Manikarnika. Her ambitious biopic Manikarnika, The Queen of Jhansi bears the production house name though it is unclear if Ranaut will take producer credit. Ranaut is part of an ecosystem, not very conducive to really independent cinema. Neither has she shown an inclination for truly offbeat films. She is not risk averse as is abundantly clear from her career so far. Her hunger for good roles that can reach

14 Waif to Warrior—Kangana Ranaut

227

a large audience is the dilemma she has to resolve, because recent ambitious films with known auteurs have not succeeded at the box office. Director Patty Jenkins, who created a feminist superwoman icon for our times in Wonder Woman, said something that is so relevant to nonconformist women everywhere, “If women have to always be hard, tough and troubled to be strong, and we aren’t free to be multi-dimensional…we haven’t come very far, have we?” (Miller 2017). It is a question that haunts a woman like Ranaut who aspires to be more than a brilliant actor in a milieu that demands a basic degree of conformism to succeed in the entertainment business. Today, there is no comparison with the parallel cinema of the 70s and 80s which had government funding through NFDC even though a majority of films were antiestablishment. That paradox has vanished forever. Indie cinema leads a precarious existence, dependent on the festival circuit to find regular theatre release. Traditional narrative tropes, song and dance, are not anathema to indie films as it was to most parallel film-makers. Ranaut has alienated the most powerful mainstream film-makers. She has spoken of her intent to step into direction. Weaned on a new genre—not totally indie nor crassly mainstream—Ranaut is free to carve a different path, of a cinema where meaningful content and popular entertainment can work in harmony now that she has her own production house. Will she take up this challenge? We can be sure of one thing. Kangana Ranaut will not cease surprising us.

References Miller, J. (2017). Patty Jenkins responds to James Cameron’s unsolicited wonder woman criticism. Vanity Fair. August 25, 2017. https://www.vanityfair.com/hollywood/2017/08/wonder-womanjames-cameron-patty-jenkins. “Success is the Best Revenge”. (2016). Images. May 4, 2016. https://images.dawn.com/news/ 1175273.

Filmography Advani, N. (2015). Katti Batti. UTV Motion Pictures. Bahl, V. (2014). Queen. Viacom 18 Motion Pictures. Basu, A. (2006). Gangster. Vishesh Films. Basu, A. (2007). Life in A…Metro. Ishana Movies. Bhandarkar, M. (2008). Fashion. Madhur Bhandarkar Productions. Bharadwaj, V. (2017). Rangoon. Viacom 18 Motion Pictures. Howard, R. (2001). A Beautiful Mind. Brian Grazer Productions. Jenkins, P. (2017). Wonder Woman. RatPac-Dune Entertainment and DC Films. Kabir, S. (2014). Revolver Rani. Wave Cinemas. Khan, M. (1957). Mother India. Mehboob Productions. Luthria, M. (2011). The Dirty Picture. Balaji Motion Pictures. Luthria, Milan. (2010). Once Upon a Time in Mumbaai. Balaji Motion Pictures. Mehta, H. (2017). Simran. T- Series, Paramhans Creations Entertainments, Adarsh Telemedia. Patil, V. (2013). Rajjo. Four Pillars Entertainment.

228

M. Rao

Rai, A. L. (2011). Tanu Weds Manu. Shailesh R. Singh Productions. Rai, A. L. (2015). Tanu Weds Manu Returns. Krishika Lulla, and Aanand L. Rai Productions. Rao, R., & Vinay, S. (2015). I Love NY. T-Series. Roshan, R. (2013). Krrish 3. Filmkraft Productions Pvt. Ltd. Shantaram, V. (1937). Kunku. Suri, M. (2006). Woh Lamhe. Vishesh Films. Suri, M. (2009). Raaz: The Mystery Continues. Vishesh Films. Wadia, H. (1935). Hunterwali. Wadia Movietone.

Part IV

Women on Top

Chapter 15

Unstarry Stardom: The Making of Anushka Sharma Kanupriya Dhawan, Sreenidhi Krishnan, Arpita Sinha and Clare M. Wilkinson

Abstract The glitterati world of Bollywood has rendered a “mythical” quality to its “stars”, but “media-myths” are more than mere accidents. The journey of a person to a persona is a precarious one, where every “act”, choice and character role that a person chooses shapes their identity. It is in this context that despite an unexceptional entry into the Hindi film industry, having charted the formulaic route of modelling to movies, Anushka Sharma carved out a niche for herself—as a dependable and fine actor with a mind for production as well as entrepreneurship. Over the years, Sharma has come to, in so many ways, revisit female celebrity in India through her choice of roles, political views, participation in social campaigns and business ventures. Through her films, Sharma has managed to hit the interstitial zone of Bollywood stardom that can effortlessly juggle commercial success and maintain a socially responsible artiste persona. This paper examines Sharma’s entry into film production with offbeat choices like NH10 (Singh 2015), Phillauri (Lal 2017) and Pari (Roy 2018). Through a detailed analysis of NH10, a multiplex horror film, this paper also examines her role as a diversifying insider in the industry and how her entrepreneurial choices helped Sharma fashion a unique and important star persona. In a world where female actresses are often typecast, Sharma managed to strike a balance between the typical roles that she initially portrayed and her subsequent roles that are rarely essayed by women. The paper argues that her diversified star persona as an actress, an entrepreneur and a socially responsible and sensitive “star” defines what is expected of the “new kind of star” in the world of “multiplex cinema”. Sharma’s rise to stardom and her place in the industry with reference to her contemporaries hold potential to redefine the position occupied by female artists in the industry and female celebrityhood in India. Through tracing Sharma’s career, this paper also charts the shifts in the industry that has facilitated the rise of a new type of a female Hindi film star in the new millennium, redefining the parameters which determine success and stardom for women in the industry. K. Dhawan · A. Sinha Department of Anthropology, Washington State University, 14204 NE Salmon Creek Avenue, Pullman, WA 98686, USA S. Krishnan · C. M. Wilkinson (B) Department of Anthropology, Washington State University Vancouver, Vancouver, WA, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 A. I. Viswamohan and C. M. Wilkinson (eds.), Stardom in Contemporary Hindi Cinema, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-15-0191-3_15

231

232

K. Dhawan et al.

Keywords Female stardom · Modern heroine · Multiplex cinema · Star · Entrepreneur Unapologetic, confident and comfortable, that’s what Anushka Sharma stands for…Young, successful, still not happy with where she stood, Anushka went on to change the industry norms. (Sabharwal 2017)

A New Kind of Star Whether Anushka Sharma has “changed … industry norms” is yet to be seen; nevertheless, the quote that opens this chapter sets out the parameters of her stardom that we seek to explore. Sharma is currently one of the highest-paid actresses in the Hindi film industry. Since 2012, she has appeared in Forbes India’s Celebrity 100, a list based on the income and popularity of Indian celebrities (2017 Celebrity 100 2017). In 2018, she peaked at the 16th position with an estimated annual earning of |45.83 crore (US$458.3 million), making her the third highest-paid actress and female celebrity in the country (2018 Celebrity 100 2018). Her rise in the industry has been rapid, but her fame does not rest exclusively upon her film roles. It does not derive entirely from her non-film activities either. Rather the particular configuration of on- and off-screen components that Sharma has effected hold the key to her celebrity, and it is in her film production ventures that these strengths converge. Born in Ayodhya (Uttar Pradesh, India) in 1988 and brought up in Bangalore, Sharma hails from an army family (Anushka Sharma Bio 2018, 2019) and credits her upbringing for “shaping me as a person and contributing to my life reaching here” (Gupta 2012). After receiving her education at the Army School in Bangalore, the actress then enrolled in The Mount Carmel College, Bangalore. She then interrupted her studies to take up modelling, eventually completing a humanities degree by correspondence (Anushka Sharma 2019). The fact that Anushka chose a modelling career over a conventional degree path aligns her with other model-turned-actresses like Deepika Padukone and Aishwarya Rai. At the same time, the fact that she completed a degree contributes to Anushka’s distinct persona as an articulate modern feminist (Education qualification of Anushka Sharma 2017). Thereafter, Sharma’s progress in the industry was seemingly formulaic, including a stint in modelling, commercials and acting lessons followed by auditions. She moved to Mumbai where she enrolled herself in the prestigious modelling institute The Elite Model Management and made her runway debut at the Lakme Fashion Week for designer Wendell Rodricks in 2007 (Anushka Portfolio 2017; Posts Tagged Elite Modeling Agency 2019). Sharma retrospectively explained her entrance in acting in these terms; “I think I was born to emote and act. I would walk down the ramp and smile and they used to say, ‘give us a blank look.’ It was really difficult, not to smile” (Ten Facts about Anushka 2015). She won a role opposite Shah Rukh Khan in Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi (Chopra 2008) at age 19.

15 Unstarry Stardom: The Making of Anushka Sharma

233

This, her first film, was also her breakout film (Hindustan Times 2017; MansworldIndia; Fridaymagazine 2016; Indiatvnews 2015), earning her immediate success with a Filmfare Award for Best Actress nomination. Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi is the story of an introverted man Sahni (Khan) falling in love with the vivacious Taani (Sharma), while Taani herself falls in love with Sahni’s alter-ego, Raj (Raj conforming more closely to Khan’s habitual screen persona than Sahni). The template for Sharma’s roles for several subsequent films was set in Rab Ne: loud and chatty, ready to enrol in dance competitions with strangers, getting into brawls with competitors, sneaking out of home for late-night bike rides, indulging in “gol-gappa” (North Indian street food) eating competitions to win a bet and dancing in the rain. Sharma was next seen in Badmaash Company (Sethi 2010) and in the same year, Band Baja Baarat (Sharma 2010), her most impressive performance during her initial years in Hindi films. Described as “incredibly at ease” (Hindustan Times) as Shruti Kakkar opposite Ranveer Singh’s Bittoo Sharma, Sharma “comes into her own” (NDTV) as the street smart, middle-class Delhi girl who plans on setting up her own business as a wedding planner. Sharma is as loud as the narrative itself, as garish as the weddings she plans and as vulnerable as a rom-com allows its protagonist to be. In the following years, Sharma was cast in some of each year’s highest-grossing Hindi films with some of its biggest male stars, namely, Akshay Kumar (Patiala House, Advani 2011), Shahid Kapoor (Badmaash Company, Sethi 2010), Aamir Khan (PK, Hirani 2014), Salman Khan (Sultan, Zafar 2016) and Ranbir Kapoor (Sanju, Hirani 2018). She won the Best Supporting Actress award at Filmfare for her role in the Jab Tak Hai Jaan (Chopra 2012). With these films, Sharma rose through the ranks in Bollywood and became a bankable A-list star. With Matru Ki Bijlee Ka Mandola (Bhardwaj 2013)—Vishal Bhardwaj’s absurd comedy involving a quirky businessman (Pankaj Kapur), his manFriday (Imran Khan), his spirited daughter (Sharma), and a pink buffalo—there is a change in Sharma’s cadence as Bijlee. But she is still the “dependably feisty yet achingly vulnerable” (Masand 2013) character that the audiences have seen her play over and over again. In PK (Hirani 2014), alongside Aamir Khan, a satirical-comedy about an alien who discovers Earth and its skewed moral compass, Sharma’s role was described as spunky (Kamath 2014), plucky (Tsering 2014) Hollywood, spirited (Sen 2014), sprightly (Das 2014), feisty (Chatterjee 2014) etc. Though none of these observations means her performances were sub-standard, it is telling that the roles that were offered to Sharma or perhaps allowed to her by the industry were repetitive. Restricting what Sharma could explore as a female lead, these roles prevented Sharma from displaying any range in her acting ability. Initially, Sharma’s transcendence of these roles, and of the stardom they offered her, came with diversification in her star text off-screen.

234

K. Dhawan et al.

The Business of Stardom While Sharma is not the first, and likely not the last female star to take on additional off-screen projects, she has made a particular point by differentiating her endeavours from others. That her marriage to cricket star Virat Kohli (Virat Kohli Ties Knot with Anushka Sharma in Italy 2017) was not the prelude to her retirement from the industry is not surprising in an era in which many female stars continue to act no matter their marital status. Rather, her differentiation is most obviously manifested in her efforts to position herself less as a placid embodiment of starry charisma than as a public figure attuned to the desires and interests of the middle-classes, particularly young, educated women. She is the first Indian actress for whom the category of “public woman” has not been limited to the sphere of performing arts, advertising and modelling, but also incorporates the world of business and entrepreneurship. To date, she is the only Indian actress to have been featured on the cover page of Entrepreneur Magazine in 2017. Previously, the only Indian actors who made space for themselves on the cover page of this magazine include Shah Rukh Khan and Hrithik Roshan. Her clothing line, Nush was not aimed at the élite, high-fashion market, but instead was pitched as “styling made easy” and priced between 699 and 3500 rupees (Chablani 2017; The Story of Nush 2007). She has also vocally supported causes like animal rights and gender equality. In 2016, the actress was named People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) India’s “Hottest Vegetarian” and its “Person of the year” in 2017 (Anushka Sharma, Kartik Aaryan Win India’s Hottest Vegetarian Title 2018). She has announced plans to open an animal shelter near Mumbai (Anushka Sharma to Finally Open an Animal Shelter and Veterinary Hospital 2019), launched the PAWsitive campaign to raise awareness that animals suffer when people set off firecrackers during Diwali (Chotrani 2016) and demanded a ban on cruel carriage rides in Mumbai (Anushka Sharma Tweets for Ban on Horse-drawn Carriages 2014). Sharma is also one of the few actresses who has spoken out against the pay disparity in the Hindi film industry but in ways that do not alienate her from her peers. It is therefore a qualified feminism, one that charts a course between silence and assertion in ultimately non-threatening ways. Anushka’s pro-feminist leaning echoes McRobbie’s use of the term “popular feminism” (McRobbie 1999), used in the context of Drew Barrymore’s feminism. Often equated with “third-wave feminism” and “postfeminism” which focuses on independence, confidence and autonomy, this kind of feminism is particularly congenial for mainstream female stardom. Marshall’s (2014) observation regarding celebrities and their political stand can assist us in contextualizing such a feminism and its relation to celebrities. He notes that celebrity agency rarely associates itself with an overtly political or social movement as it is often “reduced to privatized, psychologized representation of activity and transformation”.

15 Unstarry Stardom: The Making of Anushka Sharma

235

The Diversifying Insider: Entering Film Production I have always been a risk-taker, and setting up Clean Slate, allows me to push the envelope even more. (Anushka Sharma Wants to Take Risks as Producer 2015)

Inside the industry, the most important step she took was to set up a production company in 2014 at the age of 25 with her brother, called Clean Slate Films (Mukherjee 2018). This company has already produced and co-produced three critically and commercially successful films: NH10 (Singh 2015), Phillauri (Kumari 2017) and Pari (Roy 2018). Producing has long been a role in film-making that women could occupy: Juhi Chawla was business partner with Shah Rukh Khan in their maiden production house Dreamz Unlimited. Other female actors like Ameesha Patel, Dia Mirza, Manisha Koirala, Lara Dutta, Sushmita Sen, and Preity Zinta have all tried their luck at film production in the past, but few have been successful and most of them have discontinued their production ventures. With Clean Slate Films, Sharma joined a small niche group of contemporary female actors who have taken up producing: Priyanka Chopra, with Purple Pebble Pictures (Indian Express 2016); and Deepika Padukone who is producing a film based on the life of the acid attack survivor Laxmi Agarwal (Times of India 2019). Where Clean Slate carved out a distinct space for itself was in the choice of subject matter and treatment that offered Sharma unconventional starring roles (Hindustan Times, Singh 2015). Choosing non-traditional film scripts and playing characters imbued with a sense of identity and agency, Sharma’s persona in these films deviates not just from the traditional depiction of women in Bollywood but also from her screen image as the happy-go-lucky, bubbly young woman. Her Clean Slate Films has been instrumental in cementing the notion in Bollywood that female-led and female-oriented films, when made with the right budget and properly marketed, can be commercially successful ventures, and at the same time, appease middle-class demand for “good” cinema. NH10 and her subsequent productions must be read critically against changes in production and distribution happening across the industry. Since economic liberalization, and more prominently in the last two decades, multiplexes have steadily replaced the traditional stand-alone movie theatre in urban spaces (Athique and Hill 2009). Multiplexes cater to urban middle-class and social elites alike, and, as Ganti (2012) notes, are “increasingly transforming cinema-going into an elite pastime”. As multiplexes can run several films simultaneously and charge ticket prices that are considerably higher than stand-alone theatres, they have vastly altered the commerce of Hindi cinema and have helped cultivate films that have interchangeably, and sometimes inaccurately, been described as “indie films”, “hatk¯e (offbeat) films” or simply “multiplex films”. However they are named, they are distinguished via their emphasis upon content over star billing, their showcasing of lesser-known actors in prominent roles and an overall smaller budget. With the rise of the “multiplex phenomenon” (Athique and Hill; Dwyer 2011; Ganti 2012, 5), and due to its radically different and aggressive revenue-generating structure, for the first time, these films are commercially viable. It is in this novel economic landscape of postmillennial Bollywood that

236

K. Dhawan et al.

Sharma’s production house has found success and helped build Sharma’s star text in the process. In the next section, we advance this argument through an analysis of Clean Slate’s first film, NH10.

Multiplex Horror: Anushka Sharma’s NH10 As Ganti notes in her book Producing Bollywood (2012), a defining characteristic of post-liberalization Bollywood has been its search for respectability in the eyes of the middle-class and the elites. She calls this process of fitting into middle-class sensibilities and demands of “good taste” in films the “gentrification” (Ganti 2012, 4) of Bollywood (see also Dwyer 2011). The media rhetoric around NH10, and Sharma’s self-fashioning as a fledging producer underscored NH10 as a fitting film for young, liberal middle-class Indians, and thus worthy of filmgoers’ attention and respect. During the screening of the film in the 2015 Beijing Film Festival, Sharma noted, “When I read the script it was unlike any other film I did. It excited me so much that I wanted to make sure that it happened” (indiatoday.in 2015). NH10 tells the story of an upper-middle-class couple, Meera and Arjun, whose road trip on the eponymous NH10 (National Highway 10) descends into a nightmare once they leave their accustomed, affluent environs for territories outside. Taking a holiday to celebrate Meera’s birthday, as well as to get over recent traumas that foreshadow the extended violence and assaults to come, Meera and Arjun’s trials truly begin after encountering a village woman at a roadside dhaba (cafe) who begs for their help in hiding her and her lover from her vengeful family. Arjun, fatefully and incorrectly confident in his class and urban privilege, intervenes but fails to prevent Pinky and her lover from being killed by her outraged male relatives. The couple is pursued, and an injured Arjun is eventually murdered by the family. Meera, meanwhile, turns the tables on them, persevering through setbacks and betrayals, including one by the family matriarch and mother of the deceased woman, until she succeeds in killing the assailants. Running from the country’s capital New Delhi to the union territory of Punjab, crossing the agrarian state of Haryana, the real NH10 links together two parallel worlds: the urban, “shining India” of economic liberalization and globalization and the rural other where caste bigotry, gender discrimination, and violence predominate. The spaces of the action in NH10 are classically “heterotopian” (Paunksnis 2017), drawing strength from an imaginative disjuncture between city and country, and between the normativity of Meera and Arjun’s “habitus” (Bourdieu 1984; Swartz 2002) and the hostile-to-modernity practices associated with rural institutions. Funnelling Meera and Arjun into places where, as one character puts it, the rules of “[Y]our democracy and constitution” no longer apply; NH10 highlights the heterogeneous nature of the Indian democracy and the ominous diversity of the nation. Well-shot, atmospheric (Masand 2013), featuring mostly minimal background music (Sen 2014) and studious attention to “realistic” production values (Chatterjee 2019; Wilkinson 2018), NH10 conforms to post-liberalization Bollywood’s search

15 Unstarry Stardom: The Making of Anushka Sharma

237

for respectability in the eyes of the upper-middle and middle-class élites. Meera and Arjun are the epitome of the cosmopolitan modern couple. Their relationship is sexually and romantically divergent from the filmi standard (Mann 1994), a hallmark of the multiplex versus big-budget film (Chatterjee 2019). The anxiety about the loss of “Indian cultural values” (Fernandes 2001; Mankekar 2015; Uberoi 1998) that mainstream films explore to the detriment of female characters here plays out to the detriment of barbaric, lower-class men (and the village matriarch who chooses to uphold patriarchal values). Simultaneously, the veneration of the countryside that Hindi films have historically indulged even as they were invariably immersed in city environments (Mazumdar 2007) is thrown over in favour of a horrifying rural “other” (Paunksnis 2017) whose repellent aberrance is nevertheless reassuringly surmountable (exemplified in Meera’s avenging arc). Understanding the significance of NH10 in Sharma’s career requires situating it in film history and viewership conventions. It is most obviously a homage to the 2008 British horror drama Eden Lake (Watkins 2008), an example of “hoodie horror” (Keetley 2015) that revolves around the middle-class’ fear of the hoodie-wearing underclass or “feral youth” (Featherstone); the transposition that NH10 effects is to replace “chav culture” with “khap culture”. NH10 also hearkens back to a long line of “hillbilly” horror films from the USA, from Deliverance (Boorman 1972) to the outright slashers The Hills have Eyes (Aja 2006) and Texas Chainsaw Massacre (Hooper 1974) and most recently, Green Room (Saulnier 2016). Meera’s survival against the odds also nods at “final girl” conventions (Clover 1992). NH10 thus borrows from a transnational repository of sources to package itself as a representative of the new in Hindi cinema, but at the same time, it draws on Indian reference points from the news (honour killings, violence against women) and from India’s own film history to “indigenize” it. Meera’s implacable vengeance recalls but does not replicate “avenging woman” films of the 1970s and 1980s, and while NH10 wasn’t labelled as a “horror” film, it is “structurally very much tied to the genre” (Singh 2017), not least in centring the “places where the train stops” that Tulsi Ramsay identified as both the setting and the audience for the horror films he made with his brothers (Dasgupta 2017). Critical response to Sharma as both star and producer of the film was strikingly positive. Gupta (2015) of Filmfare lauded Sharma’s evocation of the emotional arc of the character. Calling Sharma’s decision to play Meera a bold one, Sen (2014) praised the “immense authenticity” conveyed by her committed performance at which “Anushka was her absolute best”. Elsewhere, reviews extolled Sharma for holding viewers’ attention wherein “her transformation from confident city girl to (the) shattered victim and eventually avenging angel is entirely convincing” (Chopra 2015; Pal 2015). Her involvement as the producer was invoked simultaneously with her starring role: “In an industry that likes its heroines to be dolls, on- and off-screen, Sharma has put her name, reputation and bank account behind a film that few would have the gumption to touch” (Pal 2015). Concerning the real-life events that may have influenced the film, as well as its debt to other, non-Indian films, Sharma responded skillfully and diplomatically. Sharma confirmed, in these exchanges, her acumen

238

K. Dhawan et al.

in skirting controversies and affirming the universal concerns the film addressed— gender bias and inequality—in ways that would resonate with the film’s multiplex audience. Sharma helped make NH10 what it was, and in turn, NH10 shaped some of the now critical parts of Sharma’s star persona. Publicly showcasing her control over the choice of subject and its treatment established an identification between herself as an actor and entrepreneur with the film’s empowering “avenging woman narrative” (Mohan 2015). In the same interview, she “promised” to back films that are considered “risky”, a thinly veiled industry-standard euphemism for a potential flop. Elsewhere, she stated, “We have tried to make this film as real as possible. We have stayed as true to the story as possible because we had such a great story in hand and we all loved it so much” (Why Anushka Sharma turned producer for NH 10 2015). These statements hit all the familiar beats of the complaints against the commercial film template: NH10 is “risky”, it is hatk¯e (different), it is “realistic”. Co-opting genre tropes from many sources, and participating in the genre “elevation” common to several global film industries, NH10 re-enacts “respectable” opposition to mainstream film that is central to the appeal of hatk¯e multiplex cinema. At the same time, it dips into the discourse of popular feminism and women empowerment that has added critical facets to Sharma’s commercial heroine star text.

Crafting the Modern Heroine Sharma’s roles in her later Clean Slate Films, Pari and Phillauri, also extended her filmography after NH10: Phillauri was a light-hearted comedy-fantasy, and Pari was a cross between horror and supernatural films. While all three genres are underworked in Bollywood, thus giving Sharma an edge with which to market her films, each production—especially NH10 and Pari—managed to penetrate a broader media discourse. Both films were praised for their take on gender and patriarchy, with Pari exploring a woman’s sexual awakening and the threat it poses to the patriarchal system if unchecked. Sharma’s character vacillates between being an innocent victim of systemic persecution carried out by a cult of men who believe in the supernatural to being an unbridled vessel of pure rage and destruction. The Times of India article described it as a, “gender-redefining film” (timesofindia.com 2018). Sharma today has staked out a position in Hindi film stardom that combines three elements: some specific off-screen diversification, appearance in normative roles in major commercial films and, as we’ve argued, some experimental parts in multiplex films that have been of particular importance in constructing Sharma’s confident, assertive star persona. After Pari, for example, Sharma returned to familiar terrain with characters like Farah in Dil Dhadakne Do (Akhtar 2015), Alizeh in Ae Dil Hai Mushkil (Johar 2016), and Sejal in Jab Harry Met Sejal (Ali 2017)—the highspirited complements to their heroes (First Post). Most striking was her portrayal of Aarfa (Sharma) in Sultan (Zafar 2016), where she plays a professional wrestler who becomes the conflicted wife of an embattled man (Salman Khan). Sultan’s Aarfa

15 Unstarry Stardom: The Making of Anushka Sharma

239

is primarily a vivacious, Haryanvi-spouting, no-nonsense girl who calls Khan a “sit guy” (“shit” guy) when he pursues her, only to fall in love with him later and abandon her Olympics dream as she motivates him towards building his own wrestling career. Against the background of her growing portfolio of multiplex films that subverted gender conviction, Sultan was surprising. At the same time, it was a significant hit film, unlike Bombay Velvet (Kashyap 2015), where Sharma’s performance as a cabaret singer was a riskier and arguably not fully successful choice; still, it marked another departure for her from her customary roles (Hollywood (Tsui 2015)). 2018 brought more mixed success: a limited and “unchallenging” (Vetticad 2018a) part in a huge hit (Sanju, Hirani 2018), and a role as a wheelchair-bound cosmologist in the critically and commercially drubbed Zero (Rai 2018). Sui Dhaaga (Katariya 2018), however, gave Sharma still a new outlet, playing the self-assured wife of Mauji (Varun Dhawan) residing in small town Madhya Pradesh and trying to set up a handicrafts business. Sharma played an unglamorous woman, soft-spoken but deceptively steely as a provincial housewife who becomes a driving force for her diffident partner (Chatterjee 2018). Sharma was said to be “essentially the hero of the film” (Jhurani 2018), a “calm, almost sedate woman, a far cry from the bubbly and/or overtly fiery characters that have dominated her career so far” (Vetticad 2018b).

Conclusion: New Woman, New Star Sharma, having started as a traditional commercial heroine, has radically redefined her star text through her choices made both on- and off-screen, bridging the widening gap between the commercial Bollywood blockbuster and the small-budget multiplex film. Sharma’s career so far is a useful example that encapsulates the changes that the female Hindi film star has undergone in the last two decades and points at the new parameters through which to explore female stardom in postmillennial Bollywood. Anushka Sharma’s star persona is marked by a duality—an amalgamation of the chirpy next-door girl who can be strong and even violent when need be and a “real-life” persona her “multimedia audience” can look up to, a young-progressive woman. Sharma is an important member of the group of female stars in postmillennial Bollywood that deviates from other dominant industry norms. Yet she is the first among her contemporaries to successfully telescope the images of an artist/actor and a producer into one coherent star text. Unlike her predecessors like Nargis, Sridevi, Madhuri Dixit and so forth, her transition from a non-married female star to a married one was seamless. Where female stars used to almost invariably give up on their careers, or at least take considerably long breaks, thus needing to make a comeback into mainstream films (which has been usually met with mixed success), Sharma not only resumed working immediately after her marriage with the cricketer Virat Kohli, but also managed to incorporate her marriage into brand deals like Manyavar (hindustantimes.com 2018) and Shyam Steel (Indianexpress.com 2019).

240

K. Dhawan et al.

Sharma’s star text projects her as a postmillennial independent woman who “is very much a woman’s star, a woman championed, admired and desired most predominantly” (Jermyn 2006, 78). While Aishwarya Rai Bachchan was extensively known for her cosmopolitan look (Shingler 2014, 101), becoming the aspiration of the middle-class Indian woman, Sharma has banked on her ventures as an entrepreneur and a producer to establish a different star image for urban middle-class youth. In doing so, Sharma has been able to extend the discourse of female stardom beyond discussions of beauty and desirability. Sharma’s stardom has also played an important role in challenging the hegemonic power imbalance between the male and female stars in Bollywood. In the movies she has backed as producer, she has also cast herself as the lead actor. Not only has this enabled her to explore hatk¯e roles, cementing her reputation as an actor of calibre, but what is also notable is that all these films are made without an A-lister male lead, thus redressing the conformity she has shown in her mainstream ventures. The economic prudence that Sharma has shown in avoiding relying on a male star, on one the hand, highlights her confidence in herself as a star who can carry the weight of a whole film (as is generally expected of a male star) and on the other enables her to double down on stories that emphasize the gendered underpinning of the stories she chooses. Indeed, Sharma’s frank political stance and commentary on issues like the gender pay gap in the industry, along with other social issues like animal cruelty and environmental issues—especially her vocal endorsement of the Swachh Bharat initiative taken by the government (Times of India 2017)—seems at first sight to conform to the statement made by Dyer (1979, 27) that “stars are ideologically significant in the most general sense of cutting audiences off from politics, rendering them passive”. Kracauer (1997) wrote that realism in cinema demanded a new sort of actor, a “non-actor” who could seem like an ordinary unfilmed person. If a man looked ordinary, he seemed more “realistic”: this was “playing oneself” (see Rowsey 2013). It is this realism that laid down grounds for a new kind of star, affiliated with high visibility movements like the Me-Too movement and support for animal rights. On closer scrutiny however, Sharma’s brand of “popular feminism” lends itself well to a liberal, educated, “gentrified” audience, while her “privatized” and “psychologized” political stand is devoid of any true valence or power as it is only nominally attached to the agency that her stardom has lent her. Arguably, such a trajectory of committing to populist social causes has created a world where “staying woke” is the latest pre-requisite to the grandeur to the star image. Sharma has managed to use these metatextual elements well to augment and diversify her stardom and align herself with the preferences of the urban middle-class Indian. When it comes to Sharma’s “on-screen image”, she is neither like Nandita Das nor like Mallika Sherawat; in her off-screen images, she has managed to avoid being as outspoken as Kangana Ranaut, but has managed to remain a popular feminist. These dualities bind her star persona together, while the diversifications of her star text may be seen as enabled by her class position and family background, where she

15 Unstarry Stardom: The Making of Anushka Sharma

241

could afford to be unlike the more controversial and castigated Kangana. Sharma has indeed “produced” herself as a star, but she is a production also of the structural advantages of India’s upper-middle class.

References 10 facts about Anushka Sharma you didn’t know. India: The Express Tribune, March 2015. https:// tribune.com.pk/story/851478/10-facts-about-anushka-sharma-you-didnt-know/. 2017 celebrity 100—Forbes India magazine. Forbes. http://www.forbesindia.com/lists/2017celebrity-100/1665/all. Accessed May 15, 2019. 2018 celebrity 100—Forbes India magazine. Forbes. http://www.forbesindia.com/lists/2018celebrity-100/1735/all. Accessed May 15, 2019. “Anushka Sharma”. India.com. https://www.india.com/topic/sharma/. Accessed May 16, 2019. Anushka Sharma and Virat Kohli preach about ‘Pure Love’ in latest ad. Indian Express. https://indianexpress.com/article/entertainment/bollywood/anushka-sharma-and-viratkohli-preach-about-pure-love-in-latest-ad-watch-video-5637543/. Accessed March 22, 2019. Anushka Sharma biography, age, height, family, net worth, wiki & more. September, 2018. https:// mystarsbio.com/anushka-sharma/. Anushka Sharma biography, wiki, age, height, weight, affairs & more. Bollywood Biography. https:// www.bollywoodbiography.in/anushka-sharma-biography.html. Accessed May 15, 2019. Anushka Sharma honoured to be a part of Swachh Bharat Abhiyan—Times of India. (2017). Times of India. https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/entertainment/hindi/bollywood/news/anushkasharma-honoured-to-be-a-part-of-swachh-bharat-abhiyan/articleshow/60728955.cms. Accessed May 21, 2019. Anushka Sharma, Kartik Aaryan win India’s hottest vegetarian title in PETA poll. NDTV.com, December 2018. https://www.ndtv.com/food/anushka-sharma-kartik-aaryan-win-indias-hottestvegetarian-title-in-peta-poll-1961177. Anushka Sharma to finally open an animal shelter and veterinary hospital? Times of India, February 2019. https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/videos/entertainment/hindi/anushka-sharma-tofinally-open-an-animal-shelter-and-veterinary-hospital/videoshow/68195228.cms. Anushka Sharma tweets for ban on horse-drawn carriages. NDTVMovies.com, April 24, 2014. http://movies.ndtv.com/bollywood/anushka-sharma-tweets-for-ban-on-horse-drawncarriages-638901. Anushka Sharma wants to take risks as producer. The Indian Express, April 20, 2015. https:// indianexpress.com/article/entertainment/bollywood/anushka-sharma-wants-to-take-risks-asproducer/. Anushka’s portfolio pics. Anushka Sharma Strikes a Monalisa Smile, February 15, 2017. https:// photogallery.navbharattimes.indiatimes.com/celebs/bollywood/anushka-sharma/anushkasharmas-portfolio-pics/Anushkas-Portfolio-Pics/articleshow/36656578.cms. Athique, A., & Hill, D. (2009). The multiplex in India: A cultural economy of urban leisure. London: Routledge. Bourdieu, P. (1984). Distinction: A social critique of the judgement of taste. London: Routledge, Kegan & Paul. Chablani, N. (2017, October). Anushka Sharma’s new clothing line is for every girl-on-the-go. Vogue India. https://www.vogue.in/content/anushka-sharma-launches-clothing-line-nush-in-mumbai/. Chatterjee, S. (2014). PK movie review. NDTV Movies. http://movies.ndtv.com/movie-reviews/pkmovie-review-1068. Chatterjee, S. (2018). Sui dhaaga movie review: A leap forward in the evolution of Anushka Sharma and Varun Dhawan. NDTV. https://www.ndtv.com/entertainment/sui-dhaaga-movie-reviewanushka-sharma-varun-dhawan-stitch-together-agreeable-underdog-tale-2-5-star-1923649.

242

K. Dhawan et al.

Chatterjee, T. (2019). Rape culture, misogyny, and urban anxiety in NH10 and Pink. Feminist Media Studies, 19(1), 130–146. https://doi.org/10.1080/14680777.2019.1369446. Chopra, A. (2015). NH 10 review by Anupama Chopra: This is highway to hell. Hindustan Times. https://www.hindustantimes.com/movie-reviews/nh-10-review-by-anupama-chopra-thisis-highway-to-hell/story-WQ4KsaAUxu0pJc1vWXlcZN.html. Chotrani, B. (2016, October 26). Anushka starts campaigning for #PAWsitive. Times Now. https://www.timesnownews.com/entertainment/news/bollywood-news/article/anushka-startscampaigning-for-pawsitive/147846. Clover, C. J. (1992). Men, women, and chain saws: Gender in the modern horror film. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press. Das, S. M. (2014). PK movie review. Times of India. https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/ entertainment/hindi/movie-reviews/pk/movie-review/45559270.cms. Dasgupta, S. (2017). Don’t disturb the dead: The story of the Ramsay brothers. India: Harper Collins. Dwyer, R. (2011). Zara Hatke! The new middle classes and the segmentation of Hindi cinema. In H. Donner (Ed.), Being middle-class in contemporary India: A way of life (pp. 184–208). London: Routledge. Dyer, Richard. (1979). Stars. UK: British Film Institute. Education qualifications of Anushka Sharma. (2017, May 3). Indiatoday. https://www.indiatoday. in/education-today/featurephilia/story/anushka-sharma-974544-2017-05-01. Fernandes, L. (2001). Rethinking globalisation: Gender and the nation in India. In M. DeKoven (Ed.), Feminist locations: Global and local, theory and practice (pp. 147–168). New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press. Ganti, T. (2012). Producing Bollywood: Inside the contemporary Hindi film industry. Durham: Duke University Press. Gupta, P. (2012, December). There is no system in the film industry: Anushka. The Times of India. https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/entertainment/hindi/bollywood/news/There-is-nosystem-in-the-film-industry-Anushka/articleshow/17649937.cms. Gupta, R. (2015). Movie review: NH10. Filmfare. https://www.filmfare.com/reviews/movie-reviewnh-10_-8611.html. Indian Express. (2016). Priyanka Chopra’s production house to back regional cinema, January 15, 2016. https://indianexpress.com/article/entertainment/bollywood/priyanka-chopras-productionhouse-to-back-regional-cinema/. IndiaToday.in. Anushka Sharma: Transformation from actor to producer is wonderful. India Today, 20 April 2015, https://www.indiatoday.in/movies/bollywood/story/anushka-sharma-nh10-beijing-film-festival-screening-producer-navdeep-singh-249405-2015-04-20. Jermyn, D. (2006). Bringing out the * in you: SJP, Carrie Bradshaw and the evolution of television stardom. New York: Routledge. Jhurani, A. (2018). Film review: Sui Dhaaga is a beautifully sewn together film that could benefit from a few alterations. The National. https://www.thenational.ae/arts-culture/film-reviewsui-dhaaga-is-a-beautifully-sewn-together-film-that-could-benefit-from-a-few-alterations-1. 774869. Kamath, S. (2014). PK: An Aamir Khan show in which logic takes a backseat. The Hindu. https://www.thehindu.com/features/cinema/cinema-reviews/pk-movie-review-sudish-kamath/ article6708801.ece. Keetley, D. (2015). Eden Lake (2008): Folk horror for a disenchanted world. Horror Homeroom. http://www.horrorhomeroom.com/eden-lake-2008-folk-horror-for-a-disenchanted-world/. Kracauer, S. (1997). Theory of film: The redemption of physical reality. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Mankekar, P. (2015). Unsettling India: Affect, temporality, transnationality. Durham: Duke University Press. Mann, P. S. (1994). Micro-politics: Agency in a postfeminist era. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.

15 Unstarry Stardom: The Making of Anushka Sharma

243

Marshall, P. D. (2014). Celebrity and power: Fame in contemporary culture; with a new introduction. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Masand, R. (2013). Dil dola re, dola re…. Rajeev Masand: Movies That Matter. https://www. rajeevmasand.com/reviews/our-films/dil-dola-re-dola-re/. Mazumdar, R. (2007). Bombay cinema: An archive of the city. Minneapolis: University Of Minnesota Press. McRobbie, A. (1999). In the culture society: Art, fashion and popular music. London: Routledge. Mohan, B. (2015). A critical rhetorical analysis of women empowerment in NH10. Literaria Linguistica: A Journal of Research in Literature, Linguistics, and English Language Teaching, 27–32. Mukherjee, J. (2018, November 20). Anushka Sharma: A woman of many parts. Fortune India. https://www.fortuneindia.com/people/anushka-sharma-a-woman-of-many-parts/102694. NUSH Brand. (2007). The story of Nush—By Anushka Sharma. Uploaded on October 3, 2017. YouTube video. 2:53 min. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=65BQZllkaZw. Pal, D. (2015). NH10 review: Anushka Sharma holds together this flawed movie with her performance. First Post. https://www.firstpost.com/entertainment/nh10-review-anushka-sharma-holdstogether-this-flawed-movie-with-her-performance-2151225.html. Paunksnis, Š. (2017). Towards neurotic realism: Otherness, subjectivity and new Hindi cinema. South Asian Popular Culture, 15(1), 73–85. Posts tagged elite modeling agency. Ramptoreelwordpress.com. https://ramptoreel.wordpress.com/ tag/elite-modeling-agency/. Accessed May 15, 2019. Rowsey, D. S. (2013). Star actors in the Hollywood renaissance: Representing Rough Rebels. UK: Palgrave Macmillan. Sabharwal, P. (2017). How Anushka Sharma is making her mark on-screen and behind the scenes. Entrepreneur. https://www.entrepreneur.com/article/291078. Sen, R. (2014). Review: PK is a triumph and Aamir soars high. Rediff. https://www.rediff.com/ movies/report/review-pk-is-a-triumph-and-aamir-soars-high/20141219.htm. Shingler, M. (2014). Aishwarya Rai Bachchan: From miss world to world star. Transnational Cinemas, 5(2), 98–110. Singh, P. (2015). NH10 and more: Sleeper hits, a new trend in Bollywood. Hindustan Times. https://www.hindustantimes.com/bollywood/nh10-and-more-sleeper-hits-a-newtrend-in-bollywood/story-W2pPjAo5y1Zs8ZJ0Zo6cBO.html. Swartz, D. (2002). In Memoriam: Pierre Bourdieu 1930–2002. Theory and Society, 31(4), 547–553. Times of India. (2019). Deepika’s next ‘Chhapaak’ is a story of undying human spirit. Times of India, March 25. https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/entertainment/hindi/bollywood/news/deepikasnext-chhapaak-is-a-story-of-undying-human-spirit/articleshow/68549587.cms. Accessed May 21, 2019. Tsering, L. (2014). PK: Film review. The Hollywood Reporter. https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/ review/pk-film-review-759731. Tsui, C. (2015). Bombay Velvet: Bucheon review. The Hollywood Reporter. https://www. hollywoodreporter.com/review/bombay-velvet-bucheon-review-811164. Uberoi, P. (1998). The diaspora comes home: Disciplining desire in DDLJ. Contributions to Indian Sociology, 32(2), 305–336. Vetticad, A. M. M. (2018a). Sanju movie review: Ranbir Kapoor is superb, but what a startlingly dishonest Sanjay Dutt biopic this is. Firstpost. https://www.firstpost.com/entertainment/sanjumovie-review-ranbir-kapoor-is-superb-but-what-a-startlingly-dishonest-sanjay-dutt-biopic-thisis-4629331.html. Vetticad, A. M. M. (2018b). Sui Dhaaga movie review: Anushka Sharma, Varun Dhawan are sweet in this rallying cry for self-sufficiency and self-respect. Firstpost. https://www.firstpost. com/entertainment/sui-dhaaga-movie-review-anushka-sharma-varun-dhawan-are-sweet-in-thisrallying-cry-for-self-sufficiency-and-self-respect-5282661.html. Virat Kohli, Anushka Sharma’s new Manyavar ad reveals what happens after one year of marriage. Hindustan Times. https://www.hindustantimes.com/bollywood/virat-kohli-anushka-

244

K. Dhawan et al.

sharma-s-new-manyavar-ad-reveals-what-happens-after-one-year-of-marriage-watch-video/ story-EHiZD79XyX987KTPXAzmBM.html. Accessed November 20, 2018. Virat Kohli ties knot with Anushka Sharma in Italy. (2017, December). The Times of India. https:// timesofindia.indiatimes.com/sports/off-the-field/virat-kohli-ties-knot-with-anushka-sharma-initaly/articleshow/62024117.cms. Why Anushka Sharma Turned Producer for NH10 - NDTV Movies. (2015, February 6). Retrieved from https://movies.ndtv.com/bollywood/why-anushka-sharma-turned-producer-fornh10-737443. Wilkinson, C. M. (2018). Wrinkles in time: Ageing costume in Hindi Film. BioScope: South Asian Screen Studies, 9(1), 46–72.

Filmography Advani, N. (2011). Patiala House. India: People Tree Films, Credence Motion Pictures and Hari Om Entertainment. Aja, A. (2006). The Hills have Eyes. USA: Dune Entertainment and Major Studios Partners. Akhtar, Z. (2015). Dil Dhadakne Do. India: Excel Entertainment and Junglee Pictures. Ali, I. (2017). Jab Harry Met Sejal. India: Red Chillies Entertainment. Bhardwaj, V. (2013). Matru Ki Bijlee ka Mandola. India: Fox Stars Studios. Boorman, J. (1972). Deliverance. USA: Elmer Productions. Chopra, A. (2008). Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi. India: Yash Raj Films. Chopra, Y. (2012). Jab Tak Hain Jaan. India: Yash Raj Films. Hirani, R. (2014). PK. India: Rajkumar Hirani Films and Vinod Chopra Films. Hirani, R. (2018). Sanju. India: Fox Star Studios and 20th Century Fox. Hooper, T. (1974). Texas Chainsaw Massacre. USA: Vortex. Johar, K. (2016). Ae Dil Hai Mushkil. India: Dharma Production. Kashyap, A. (2015). Bombay Velvet. India: Phantom Films. Katariya, S. (2018). Sui Dhaaga. India: Yash Raj Films. Lal, A. (2017). Phillauri. India: Clean Slate Films and Fox Stars Studios. Rai, A. L. (2018). Zero. India: Red Chillies Entertainment. Roy, P. (2018). Pari. India: Clean Slate Films. Saulnier, J. (2016). Green Room. USA: Broad Green Pictures and Film Science. Sethi, P. (2010). Badmaash Company. India: Yash Raj Films. Sharma, M. (2010). Band Baaja Baaraat. India: Yash Raj Films. Singh, N. (2015). NH10. India: Clean Slate Films and Phantom Films. Watkins, J. (2008). Eden Lake. UK: Rollercoaster Films Aramid Entertainment Fund. Zafar, A. A. (2016). Sultan. India: Yash Raj Films.

Chapter 16

How Do You Solve a Problem Like Vidya?: Female Stardom in the Times of Size Zero Gopika Gurudas

Abstract Vidya Balan has been credited as initiating a “new” phase in the Bombay film industry, opening the industry to women-oriented scripts. From her debut as a gawky, bespectacled teenager in Ekta Kapoor’s television series Hum Paanch (Kapoor et al. 1995–2006) to her position today as a leading lady in Bollywood, Balan’s image has metamorphosed considerably. But a recent shift in her popularity and choice of movies demands attention, cueing us to think beyond the existing theoretical frameworks. The chapter taps into this phenomenon and argues that one needs to re-evaluate Balan’s star text by assessing how it is inscribed with the conflicts and continuities that arise due to the relationship between the global and the local. She is the contemporary example of the “New Indian Woman”, caught between a dichotomous relationship between her public and private selves. Sure, her image has taken a subtle shift over the years. But it is also evident—with her upcoming releases Mission Mangal (Shakti, forthcoming), Nerkonda Paarvai (Vinoth, forthcoming) and her Web series on Indira Gandhi (Screwvala, forthcoming)—that the actress is re-inventing herself. If Vidya’s catapult to fame was catalysed by a unique discursive framework (framed within the process of globalization), her re-invention is aided by a global cinematic structure that features multiple digital frameworks. The actress is slowly metamorphosing from a Hindi film star into an Indian star. Keywords Globalization · Stardom · Body · New Indian woman · Identity

Introduction This chapter attempts to analyse Vidya Balan as a star text through a post-colonial feminist lens that allows one to locate the star beyond the framework of the nation and within global structures of power. For a short period, the actor was referred to as the male superstar of Bollywood. However, in recent years this image has seen a tremendous makeover and despite her recent shift to South Indian movies, G. Gurudas (B) 35, Kalpaka Nagar, Chackai, Trivandrum, India e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 A. I. Viswamohan and C. M. Wilkinson (eds.), Stardom in Contemporary Hindi Cinema, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-15-0191-3_16

245

246

G. Gurudas

it is interesting to see how Vidya still remains one of the best recognized actors of Bollywood. At one level, she is the cinematic daughter of Waheeda Rehman, Smita-Shabana, Rekha and more recently Tabu, all of whom have managed to carve a unique space for themselves in the industry, regardless of the whimsies of the box office. Balan’s star text is a slippery signifier, constantly undergoing change, and she operates within a discursive framework codified by a set of meanings that arise from a fraught relationship between the global and the national. She is the contemporary example of the “New Indian Woman”, caught between a dichotomous relationship between her public and private selves. The chapter taps into this phenomenon and argues that one needs to re-evaluate Balan’s star text by assessing how it is inscribed with the conflicts and continuities that arise due to the relationship between the global and the national. Following Richard Dyer (1998), my approach consists of looking at filmic and extra-filmic discourses as a crucial site where meanings related to the star are produced, which in this case is drawn from her interviews, her public appearances, her fashion choices and the like. In the process, the chapter argues for the need to look at her beyond existing frameworks, placing her as the quintessential face of India, best exemplified by her traditional yet modern subjectivity.

In the Beginning: Star System in Indian Cinema Narratives of representation are integral to shaping a culture because they represent the themes, motifs, relations and power structures that constitute and thereby define these cultures. Hence, these representations, both visual and literal, are central to shaping the discourse of popular culture. Indian cinema has seen a commanding proliferation on the global stage over the years (with presence in Europe and other parts of South Asia), and it is increasingly becoming a factor of significance at international arenas, like film festivals. In their pivotal study on public modernity in India, Arjun Appadurai and Carol Breckendridge (1995, 5) place cinema within the domain of the “political imaginary of modernity” and note how it constitutes a key part of the public culture of the country. Christopher Pinney (2001, 12) delineates this apparatus as one straddling a space between elite and subaltern culture: This culture can be thought of as a citational praxis (…) and this citational impersonation, creates what Homi Bhabha terms a vernacular cosmopolitanism (emphasis added). This cosmopolitanism mobilises an accessible and fluid repertoire of signs that include dress and gesture which reverberate with other representational practices.

This public sphere is often contrasted with the private sphere, and this demarcation is directly linked to the nation’s desire to modernize itself in the wake of colonialism. Partha Chatterjee (1993) understands this process as being hinged on a radical reorganization of Indian society into two distinct spheres—the public and the private—organized around a certain set of codified meanings related to nationalism

16 How Do You Solve a Problem Like Vidya?: Female Stardom …

247

and gender identity. As he puts it, the public sphere came to be identified as a modern and masculine space, whereas the private realm came to be seen as an expression of a spiritual space, a hearth to be occupied, protected and nurtured by women: The spiritual, which lies within, is our true self; it is that which is genuinely essential. It followed that as long as India took care to retain the spiritual distinctiveness of its culture, it would make all the compromises and adjustments necessary to adapt itself to the requirements of a modern material world without losing its true identity. (120)

This division had crucial implications to defining the ideal Indian woman, framed within the larger rubric of the nation and yet, signifying a certain kind of domesticity. Cinema, as being a crucial reflector of the public sphere (and its changes), was undoubtedly influenced by such notions, as seen through how meanings related to the star system in India was intricately related to the idea of nationhood, which was again posited on the idea of a distinct public and private sphere. For example, the cinematic discourse was controlled by nationalist notions of purity/impurity, due to which the cinematic heroine was the inhabitant of an ambiguous space, simultaneously pressured to adhere to notions of ideal femininity while being privy to the invading male gaze (Chatterjee 2014, 3). At the cost of repeating what has been articulated several times in this volume, I go back to one of the most popular definitions of a star. Richard Dyer’s Stars (1998, 3) looks at the star as a “structured polysemy”, defined through the numerous yet finite interpretations that characterize a star text. Dyer focuses on the transcendental appeal of stars, placing them historically, culturally and socially, understanding the different ways in which stars generate meaning1 (related to various aspects, like gender roles, sexual morality, body, society and the like) and thereby act as models for emulation (18–38). The development of the star system in India can be traced to post 1920s, with the setting up of several film productions and exhibition networks of varying capacities. Much like the Hollywood film industry, the Indian film industry was also organized around a studio system, which eventually disintegrated after 1940s. Majumdar (2010, 8) observes how the beginnings of this star system traces back to the 1930s and unlike Hollywood, it was not laid out through a “discourse on private life”. Hence, the discourse on stardom in India is ruptured between its desire to “respond to Indian cultural needs” (18), while attempting simultaneously to emulate Hollywood standards. However, the actual beginnings of a consolidated star system happened with the release of multistarrer movies (studded with several actors) in the 1970s, leading to the development of what Behroze Gandhy and Rosie Thomas terms “a pernicious star system” (1991, 112). 1 Dyer

argues that stars are “inherent in the cinema as a specific social institution” (16), and there are four ways in which audience/star bonds are produced—firstly, through “emotional affinity” (the audience forms an emotional attachment to the protagonist), secondly, through “self-identification” (the audience places himself in the same shoes as that of the star), thirdly, through “imitation” (the audience imitates the star’s character) and finally, through projection (thereby going beyond a simple imitation).

248

G. Gurudas

The discourse surrounding star studies and film studies in India have taken time to evolve as a site for active intellectual discussion and academic rigour. However in the past decade, the literature on Indian star personae has seen a promising proliferation. In this regard, Majumdar’s works (2003, 2010) borrow from Chatterjee’s conception of post-colonial Indian society to understand the curious case of the Indian film industry, positing a type of paradoxical world where the public nature of female stars was toned down and replaced by a narrative that highlighted their cultured, mostly Hindu and upper class/caste status. Gandhy’s and Thomas’s work on three Indian female film stars—Nadia (a popular actress of the 1930s, famous for her action roles), Nargis (a very famous Hindi actress of the 1950s who is known for her role in Mother India)2 and Smita Patil (famous in the 1970s and the 1980s for her offbeat feminist roles)—is very informative. They interpret the star system in India as being unfavourable to women, so much so that the first female film stars were Anglo-Indians, chosen because of the fact that they were neither Hindu nor Muslim and hence could publicly exhibit their bodies to “the gaze of thousands” (1991, 113) of people across the country. Other important works include Jyotika Virdi’s (2003) study on Dimple Kapadia and Meena Kumari, Anustup Basu’s (2013) scholarship on Helen, an Anglo-Indian actress and Sumita S Chakravarty’s (2013) work on Shah Rukh Khan. A star text is layered, and a thorough understanding of this requires careful examination of extra-filmic discourses, like interviews, magazine photoshoots, public appearances and the like. Drawing from Dyer, Rachel Dwyer (2001) studies the primacy of film magazines in the discourse surrounding film studies in India. By tracing the importance of film magazines in facilitating public discussion, Dwyer focuses specifically on the magazine Stardust and its multiple components (interviews, photos, language and advertisements) to outline the emergence of an “imagined community” of readers, centred around an upwardly mobile nation (276–278).

Vidya Balan: A Place in the Sun In an industry dominated by size-zero figures and chiselled texts, Vidya Balan presents an interesting problem. Keeping aside the fact that her repertoire of films is formidable, Balan’s beginnings as a complete outsider and her ability to carve out a niche for herself has been noted by many critics and academicians alike. Several factors, including her unconventional movie choices, body image issues, multiple endorsements, marriage to a highly successful Bollywood producer and clothing choices, have put her on the map as a leading lady capable enough to carry a movie on her shoulders, without the help of male co-stars.

2 Released

in 1957 and directed by Mehboob Khan, “Mother India” is a very popular Indian film that reaped several awards during its release. It was noted for its acute portrayal of post-colonial Indian society and its glorification of the mother figure as the guardian of Indian moral values.

16 How Do You Solve a Problem Like Vidya?: Female Stardom …

249

From her debut as a gawky, bespectacled teenager in Ekta Kapoor’s television series Hum Paanch (Kapoor et al. 1995–2006) to her position today as a leading lady in Bollywood, Balan’s image has metamorphosed considerably. In a cinematic apparatus that favours a specific type of heroine, it truly is interesting to see how Balan has created a place for herself. Despite being at the receiving end of flak about her weight and her body type, Balan has embraced it all and is often credited as being the harbinger of women-oriented cinemas for India. Balan’s place in a ruthlessly patriarchal industry—a system that favours good looks and family lineage above everything else—becomes clear when one closely examines her achievements, spread over a career spanning sixteen years. She is the recipient of several awards, including the National Award for her performance in The Dirty Picture (Milan Luthria 2011). In addition, she was awarded the Padma Shri (the fourth highest civilian award) by the Government of India in 2014. She is also an internationally renowned face, having been on the Jury at Cannes international film festival in 2013 (along with other actors like Nicole Kidman and Steven Spielberg), and was an ambassador for the Indian Film Festival of Melbourne. Unlike most of her contemporaries, Balan hails from a non-filmic background and had no godfathers to vouch for her in the industry.3 She falls into the lineage of South Indian actors who made a successful entry into Bollywood, like Sridevi, Rekha and Hema Malini. But in contrast to them, she did not have bearings in South Indian cinema before making her debut in Parineeta (Pradeep Sarkar 2005).4 Based on the 1914 novella by Sarat Chandra Chattopadhyay, the film serves as the right entry point into this analysis due to two reasons. Firstly, its strong star cast saw Balan being cast opposite two of the leading male stars of Bollywood—Sanjay Dutt and Saif Ali Khan. Incidentally, it was Aishwarya Rai Bachchan (following the success of Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s 2002 film Devdas)—and not Balan—who was the first choice for the role. Secondly, the movie was well received in national and international cinephilic circles, going on to win a National Award and was showcased at several international film festivals, including the 2006 Berlin International Film Festival. Her powerful performance as the demure and coy Lalita received applause from several quarters. A star was born. Clad in a saree and moving effortlessly through the landscapes of Kolkata— which the actor would revisit again in her career breakthrough film Kahaani (Sujoy 3 It

is common practice for actors to have a Godfather in the industry. This is mostly true for those who hail from a family of actors. For example, Kareena Kapoor hailed from a family of actors, and her sister was already ruling the roost when she made her debut. Deepika Padukone’s father Prakash Padukone was a renowned Badminton Player, and she was already a well-established model before she made her foray into movies. Aishwarya Rai and Priyanka Chopra were already in the limelight after their successful pageant victories. 4 Before making her debut in Bollywood, Vidya Balan was cast in a Malayalam movie opposite Mohanlal, a project which did not unfortunately materialize. Balan had already signed 12 other movies by this time, and the fate of her first project led makers to believe that she was unlucky. Unceremoniously, she was cast out of all these movies, and Balan would return to Malayalam cinema much later through a cameo performance in the 2011 movie Urumi, directed by Santosh Sivan.

250

G. Gurudas

Ghosh 2012)—she implicates the figure of the Bharatiya Nari (Ideal Indian Woman) impressively. Balan’s powerful performance as the demure and coy Lalita received applause from many. Lalita (Balan’s character in the movie) is the perfect Indian woman—she is sufficiently submissive, contently confined within the private sphere of the home. Indeed, the primary conflict between Lalita and her lover Shekhar (played by Khan) arises because of his misconception that she visited Moulin Rouge (a night club) despite his disapproval. Tearfully admitting to her innocence, her role is remarkably different from her later ones (especially the ones after 2010s). This is primarily because it is from this point of time (after 2010) that most of Balan’s films become “heroine-centric”; from “Krishna Verma” in Ishqiya (Chaubey 2010), “Silk” in The Dirty Picture5 to “Vidya Bagchi” in Kahaani. Understanding Vidya Balan’s popularity across the country requires an intersectional understanding of post-colonial feminism and contemporary star studies. Nandana Bose (2014, 2) in an early article examining Vidya Balan as a star text puts forth the reasons behind Balan’s stardom, attributing it to several reasons. Firstly, she concentrates on the star’s performative attributes, including her natural acting style and unique marketing strategies, branding her as the “fourth khan”6 in Bollywood (397–399). Secondly, she argues that Balan’s popularity was cemented by the burgeoning of multiplexes across the state, resulting thereby in the creation of a new sort of audience, who are participants in an alternative cinephilic culture. This culture, while being rooted to a globalized urban middle class, encouraged heterogeneity and experimentation within cinema, leading to the development of new scripts and formats, among other changes (400–401). The development of this cinephilic class can be situated parallel to a history of art cinema in India and its recent manifestation as independent cinema post 2010s, a cinema that fuses the commercial and the parallel: Such subversions of filial morphology exhibited in several Indies include the jettisoning of ubiquitous Bollywood song and dance sequences and the propagation of topical content with the paradoxical adoption of exoteric and aggressive Bollywood-style marketing strategies. This amalgamation of polemical and popular – socio-political themes in films that are often marketed and distributed through mainstream channels – is a distinctive feature of the new Indies. (Devasundaram 2016, 22)

But a recent shift in Balan’s immense popularity and choice of movies demands attention, cueing us to think beyond the “fourth khan” framework. A look at Balan’s cinematic career between the years 2013 and 2017 provides us much insight to this phenomenon. In movies like Hamari Adhuri Kahani (Mohit Suri 2015), Kahaani 2 (Sujoy Ghosh 2016) and Begum Jaan (Srijit Mukherji 2017), Balan tried to replicate the successes that she had enjoyed with her earlier movies, doing all the heavy-lifting. But it was only with the release of Tumhari Sulu (Suresh Triveni 2017), Balan was able to re-experience some amount of critical and commercial success.

5 In

fact, the ‘Dirty Picture’ and ‘Kahaani’ were one of the first female centric movies to enter the 100-crore club. 6 Bollywood is dominated by the Khans—Shah Rukh Khan, Salman Khan, Aamir Khan—credited as being the ruling superstars of the industry.

16 How Do You Solve a Problem Like Vidya?: Female Stardom …

251

One of the primary reasons for this shift in her career graph lies in the globalized nature of cinematic apparatuses today. With the diversification of the film market, the gradual blurring between commercial cinema and parallel cinema and the entry of other digital formats (like Netflix and Amazon Prime), one can confidently state that there is a remarkable variety in film plots and roles offered to actors. The democratization of Bollywood cinema led to the creation of new cinematic formats and equal opportunities for all, a fact that the actress herself agrees: We’re all taking the narrative forward. And we’re faces of this change. But the work has been going on for decades by women who struggled to work, struggled to go back to work after having a child, struggled to do better work, to get better paid. (…) We’re all changing the narrative. It’s not just about one person anymore. The wave just grows stronger and people join in. (Balan 2019)

The Curious Case of Vidya: Narrativizing the Star In her attempt to theorize the dialectical relationship between globalization and nationalism, Leela Fernandes (2001, 48) iterates that the global is produced “within the space of the nation-state and through nationalist narratives”, observing three aspects to this complex phenomenon. The first is concerned about the way in which the global is imagined, appropriated and reproduced through cultural forms and migratory processes, forming a central “feature of modern subjectivity” (49). Secondly, she notes how hybridity is crucial to this “national imagination” and it is closely linked to “processes of capital formation” (154). Thirdly, and most importantly, she looks at how the politics of gender serves as a crucial site for the playing out of this particular relationship: The potential disruption is managed through a remapping of the nation’s boundaries through a politics of gender which centers around conflicts over the preservation of the purity of women’s sexuality, a process which once again conflates the preservation of nationness with the protection of women. This form of gendered politics signifies a form of reterritorialisation of the nation; the borders of the national body politic are, then policed through the regulation of women’s bodies. (157)

A neat translocation of this idea to the analysis of star bodies in the Indian context allows one to come up with a novel idea to frame Balan’s star text. But such a juxtaposition is not possible without taking into account the unique flows that have characterized the nation’s relationship with the global in the decades following the liberalization of the economy in 1991 and the differences it has brought about in the analysis of women’s bodies. To analyse Balan’s waning popularity in Bollywood, one needs to look at all the extra-filmic discourses surrounding her and it is useful to look at her shifting image in cinema through a post-colonial feminist framework that also accounts for the globalized new Indian woman. In her seminal text Under Western Eyes: Feminist Scholarship and Colonial Discourses (1998, 61), Chandra Mohanty Talpade critiques the “production of the third world woman as a singular monolithic

252

G. Gurudas

subject” and stresses the need to acknowledge the heterogeneity of subjects. Such a lens would allow one to translocate western theories of stardom into the Indian context, while at the same time, accommodating the specific histories of the star, providing a possibility to locate the star beyond the nation and within global structures of power. This would, in turn, let us look at how Vidya Balan is re-inventing herself as the new Indian woman in a post-colonial globalized era. Several scholars have noted and opined that female stars are often portrayed in cinema through a set of stereotypes that range from the “Madonna/whore”, “lover/other” and “wife/mother” types (Majumdar 2003; Virdi 2003). These characters are not just mere caricatures, but they are often presented subordinate to the hero’s character, crucial to maintaining his centrality in the movie (Virdi 2003, 121). Even if they are offered relatively complex characters, it is usually as a tragic sufferer and are therefore susceptible to melodramatic conventions. However, Balan evades such labelling, choosing alternatively to subvert these stereotypes. This is especially evident in the scripts that she chose to act in after the reception that she received in Bhool Bhulaiyaa (Priyadarshan 2007), Salaam-e-ishq: A Tribute to Love (Nikkhil Advani 2007) and Kismat Konnection (Aziz Mirza 2008). Bhool Bhulaiyya (The Maze)—adapted from the 1993 Malayalam film Manichitrathazhu (The Ornate Lock, Fazil, 1993)—traces the story of a couple who visit their ancestral home in Rajasthan for a vacation. As Avni (played by Balan) is drawn further into a maze of old fables and superstitions, she finds herself transforming into the character of Manjulika, a dancer who was murdered cruelly in the mansion decades earlier. This horror comedy saw the actress pulling off a Bharatanatyam performance with considerable ease, and the movie was declared a commercial success. However, unlike the Malayalam original—which fetched Shobhana (who essayed the lead role of Nagavalli) a National Award—Bhool Bhulaiyya was noticed for Akshay Kumar’s comic timing rather than Vidya Balan’s acting. Balan plays the role of Priya in Kismat Konnection (Fortune Connection), and she is Shahid Kapoor’s love interest. The story, set in Toronto, traces the fortunes (therefore the title “Kismat”) of Raj Malhotra (Shahid Kapoor), a young architect chasing success. After a series of filmic coincidences, he realizes that Priya is his lucky mascot and uses her to meet his ends. Dressed in western clothes and gyrating to typical Bollywood music, Balan looks out of sync. Her ensemble role in Nikhil Advani’s 2007 film Salaam-e-ishq: A Tribute to Love (a loose adaptation of Love Actually, Richard Curtis, 2003) as Tehzeeb, a Muslim married to a Hindu, went unnoticed. Much was made of Vidya’s odd pairing with a boyish Shahid and the muscular John Abraham. Both actors, in the public consciousness, pair well with the glamorous and supermodel variety of actresses such as Kareena Kapoor/Priyanka Chopra/Bipasha Basu/Lara Dutta, women with the kind of looks and body type that Vidya could not attain. It is easy to see that she is not remembered today either as Priya or as Tehzeeb but as “Silk” (her character in The Dirty Picture), an alcoholic actress struggling to come to terms with the industry. Films based on the lives of heroines generally present stories of instant success, endless glamour, ambition, romantic escapades and heartbreaks. Perhaps the most memorable film based on a real-life female actor

16 How Do You Solve a Problem Like Vidya?: Female Stardom …

253

is Bhumika (Shyam Benegal 1977), which narrates the rise and fall of the Marathi actress Hansa Wadkar. Other films such as Do Anjaane (Dulal Guha 1976) and Akele Hum Akele Tum (Mansoor Khan 1995) subscribed to the hackneyed notions of ambitious women abandoning home and family to pursue stardom, but finally returning to the forgiving arms of their husbands. The Dirty Picture, however, engages as a narrative of the rise and fall of a poor rustic girl, who forges her career by sheer determination, enjoys her time as a sizzling actress and then chooses to end her life when things get too dirty. The film traces the journey of a plucky and ambitious village girl (played by Vidya Balan) from a non-entity to the reigning siren of silver screen. Though the film starts with the usual disclaimer (“All characters in this film are fictitious and imaginary”), the actual inspiration behind the movie was Silk Smitha, a South Indian star, a prominent sex symbol known mostly for her roles in soft pornographic movies. Indeed, while most narratives chronicling the life of such doomed stars have a sympathetic note to it, The Dirty Picture is very explicit and crude in its outlay, making its overall tone celebratory rather than apologetic (about Silk’s controversy ridden life). For example, the theatrical release poster had a provocatively dressed woman as a centre of attraction for three men. While one looks away in disgust, second man holds a rose in his hand, and the third one has a leery smile. One of the many highlights of this tragi-comic film is the scene where film director Abraham (Emraan Hashmi who is also the narrator of the film) takes off his shoe and flings it at the screen, where a nameless starlet moves provocatively with a leather whip. Interestingly, it was the sex-symbol Bipasha Basu and not Balan who was the original choice of the movie. But in this career defining performance, the actress shines in her portrayal of Silk, oozing raw sensuality and feminine power. In one of the scenes, when Silk proudly claims, “I have got what boys desire. So who’s better? Me, or the boys”, we know that here is a dame fully aware of her power over men.7 The movie shows Balan decked in the most outrageous bright costumes, baring her cleavage considerably and gyrating her body wildly to “Oo lala oo lala, tu hai meri fantasy” (Oh! You are my fantasy!). In Kahaani, she plays the role of Vidya Bagchi, a pregnant woman who comes to Kolkata in search of her missing husband. The story of this mystery is set mostly in the underbelly of the city, and it unfolds in the premises of a police station and a dilapidated guest house. Sporting simple dresses, appearing sans makeup and wearing 7 The

movie has parallels with Vidya’s own life because like Silk, Vidya too has been ridiculed and trolled for her body weight. For this particular role, Balan was required to put on nearly 12 kg that too at a time when Kareena Kapoor’s size-zero figure was also trending. In Balan’s own words: Yes, I gained 12 kilograms for this film because this girl belongs to the South film industry and the actresses were mostly wholesome out there, especially the dancing stars. So, I had to put on weight. Initially, I was a little apprehensive and I did not want to put on so many kilos, but then I realised that if I don’t do it, I wouldn’t be doing justice to the role. So, then I went ahead and put on 12 kilograms. (‘Role of Silk in “Dirty Picture” My Boldest Act Ever: Vidya Balan’ 2011)

254

G. Gurudas

a prosthetic belly, Balan is constantly on the move, on the lookout for her husband. She pays attention to the minutest things in this role. As if like a reflection of Bagchi’s tumultuous mind, the movie is full of drab yet real undertones that capture the pulse of Kolkata beautifully. It is a city where the tram (a colonial era charm) and the metro (reflective of the modernization of the city) exist together, and Balan’s scenes in these landscapes capture the moving life of the place effectively. It is also a city thriving with the weight of a rich cultural heritage and the memory of a painful partition (in 1905). In many places, the characters make it evident that Bengal is different from the rest of the Indian cities, conveyed subtly through instances like the one where Satyoki (the police officer played by Parambrata Chatterjee) explains that Bengalis have two names—an official one and an unofficial one (a custom unique to their state). Kahaani was a landmark in Vidya Balan’s career due to many reasons. Unlike her previous blockbuster The Dirty Picture, the movie has no adornations—no masala, no frilly songs and absolutely no glamour. Also, the lack of any romantic angle also means that Balan carries the movie on her shoulders. There is only a very strong supporting male cast, and all of them are Bengali actors (and not Bollywood actors)—meaning that apart from the actress, there was no known Bollywood face in the movie. Without any such appendages, the movie would have faced huge losses at the box office, but it did not, which meant that what worked for the movie (among several other factors) was Vidya’s ability to pull audiences to the movie theatres. One cannot help draw parallels between Vidya Bagchi and Krishna Verma, the role played by the actress in Ishqiya. Balan plays the widowed wife of a local gang-lord who plots with two other criminals Khalujaan and Babban (played by Naseeruddin Shah and Arshad Warsi, respectively) to kidnap a businessman. Just like Vidya Bagchi, Verma is scheming and sly. Much like how Kahaani has Vidya donning a prosthetic belly, Ishqiya has Balan using her body for her own pleasures. She is unapologetically cunning and outsmarts everybody else in the movie, including the male characters, for a purely selfish reason. Her character in these two movies exemplify what Lalitha Gopalan calls the “avenging woman” (1997, 44). Gopalan contextualizes her arguments in the backdrop of rape-revenge sagas that dominated Bollywood through the 1980s and 1990s to argue that the deviance that women showed in these movies—to break away from the typical Bollywood heroine image—had to be validated through an exertion of masculine power. However, in Kahaani, Balan is no ordinary avenging woman. She is different because she executes her entire plan without the help of any of the male characters in the movie. If at all she involves them, it is only to use them to achieve her own ends. In fact, her plan was so effective that the police officer who helped her tirelessly concludes that she never existed—she was just an illusion. Balan stands on her own repudiating the need for a strong male counterpart to underscore her dominance. Consider the line up of leading men in her films in the last decade, and the absence of a “superstar” presence becomes obvious: Emraan Hashmi, Ali Fazal, Arjun Rampal and Manav Kaul. If Vidya Balan’s initial popularity in Parineeta was due to her wholesome appeal, her later popularity can be attributed to her ability to embody the femme fatale image unapologetically. The figure of the “vamp” in mainstream Bollywood cinema can

16 How Do You Solve a Problem Like Vidya?: Female Stardom …

255

be traced back to the 1950s, and it signalled a transgressive and sexually amoral figure. Often contrasted with the image of the ideal Indian woman, this figure was overtly sexual and ambitious; clearly an inhabitant of the public sphere. Basu (2013, 142) notes that the cinematic ideal woman was “within a decorative mise en scène of tradition”, while that of the vamp was discursively produced within a framework of “desires and fantasies, fears and prejudices” (147). They were not cast as leading ladies; rather, they were cast in order to highlight the purity of the traditional woman. But Vidya Balan’s breakthrough characters fall largely into the vamp category. Take Silk, for example, who crudely displays her raw sexuality and her ambition, amidst colourful dance sequences and barely covered torsos. In Ishqiya also, Krishna Verma is unapologetic about her sexual desires, For instance, after a session of hefty lovemaking, the camera zooms in on Verma dancing with Babban, the former delirious with desire. Unlike other movies where the women are shown to be content and demure in the arms of her man, Balan is unrestrained in her bodily movements. While Balan is often credited with the ability to drive a film singularly, No One Killed Jessica (Rajkumar Gupta 2011) saw Balan paired opposite to Rani Mukherjee, in what became a neck-to-neck performance by both the actors.8 Though such ensembles are common today, it is rare to have two female lead actors, without any significant male counterparts. The movie—a biopic based on the real-life murder of Jessica Lal, a model and celebrity waitress—narrated the incidents and legal struggle following the murder of Lal. Given the fact that the storyline had no surprises to offer, what really caught everyone’s attention was the unique pairing of Vidya Balan and Rani Mukherjee as the titular roles in the movie. The former, as Sabrina—the grieving sister of Jessica Lal—revisits her bespectacled self from her Hum Paanch days while the latter, as Meera Gaiti—an outspoken journalist whose endeavours eventually get the murderers convicted of their crime—shine in a well-balanced act. Balan deviates significantly from her previous image (in Kahaani and The Dirty Picture) and her plain, subdued act in the movie is proof that she does not shy away from experimenting with her look, even if it means showing her to be far from socially revered standards of beauty. After 2012 (post the release of Kahaani), Balan’s career graph took a downward spin. Her subsequent releases Ghanchakkar (Gupta 2013), Shaadi ke Side Effects (Saket Chaudhary 2014), Bobby Jasoos (Samar Shaikh 2014) and the like saw her struggling to repeat the commercial successes that she had enjoyed with her previous films. In continuum with the image that she had established in her successful movies, Balan played the role of a femme fatale in Begum Jaan (a remake of the 2015 Bengali 8 Rani

Mukherjee’s rise to stardom is quite a different story from Vidya Balan’s. Mukherjee hailed from a film family (her father was a film director and also a relative of the founder of Filmalaya Studios) but yet did not have industry support to cement her image as a leading lady in Bollywood. Making her debut almost a decade earlier than Vidya Balan in the movie Raja Ki Aayegi Baraat (Gaikwad 1997) and then shooting to popularity through her roles in Ghulam (Bhatt 1998) and Kuch Kuch Hota Hai (Johar 1998), Mukherjee’s rise to stardom was at a time when the Khans still ruled over the industry. But much like Balan, she was singularly noted for her difference—dusky skin, husky (and not traditionally feminine) voice and her curvy body (for which she has been criticized heavily).

256

G. Gurudas

movie Rajkahini, directed by Srijit Mukherji), a movie that focuses on the lives of a group of prostitutes that inhabit a kotha (brothel) that sits right in the middle of the Radcliffe line (drawn to demarcate India and Pakistan). The brothel is run by Begum Jaan (played by Vidya Balan), a character who is “ferocious and crass but also affectionate and wonderful”.9 Films with the same subject like have been made before, an example of which would be Shyam Benegal’s Mandi (1983), a social commentary on critical issues like prostitution and politics, presented in a satirical tone. But what sets Begum Jaan apart from this is the difficult cultural terrain it sets forth to explore. Firstly, it chooses the partition as its background, an event that has been scrutinized in mainstream Hindi cinema before. The partition and its ramifications set the tone for much of early Hindi cinema, setting forth an arena for a thorough exploration of the “imagined community” (Anderson 2006) of the nation. Secondly, it attempts to be a complex analysis of several issues—prostitution, class and caste divides and religious separation, to name a few. Balan’s character lives up to the hype; much like her earlier movies, she owns the character and carries the movie on her shoulders alone, without a significant male character opposite her (despite a cameo appearance by Naseeruddin Shah). She also experiments significantly with her look in the movie, sporting a unibrow and light grey eyes. However, the movie’s poor performance at the box office offers much fodder for thought, given its success in West Bengal. Is Vidya Balan no longer the “fourth khan” in Bollywood? How has her image metamorphosed in the five years since she earned this title? With her recent string of performances in Tumhari Sulu and her foray into South Indian cinema with N.T.R: Kathanayakudu (Krish 2019), there is a need to re-evaluate Balan’s position in Bollywood and comprehend the shift that Balan is trying to make.

The Star as a Commodity: Tumhari “Vidya Balan” Till 2018, Balan was reported to have had 14 brand endorsements, including “Stayhappi”, “Prestige”, “Vwash”, “Boroline”, “Hempushpa” and “Blue Soch” (of Muthoot Pappachan Group) in which Balan appears clad in her quintessential cotton saree, becoming as one photographer put it, “the face of India” (The Economic Times 2018). She has also appeared in social awareness advertisements (like campaigns urging citizens to pay microfinance payments on a regular basis and government programmes on “Samajwadi Pension Yoga”). These advertisements create a narrative of reliability around her, casting her as the ideal homemaker and the contemporary Indian woman. Balan appears with her hair loosely plated, with her saree folds hanging gracefully, talking to the common masses to pay their loans on time, to look after their children and to take care of their overall wellbeing. 9 “Begum Jaan | Movie Review | Anupama Chopra”. Youtube video, 1:59, posted by “Film Companion Reviews”, April 14, 2017, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dIhHq9wTVaE.

16 How Do You Solve a Problem Like Vidya?: Female Stardom …

257

The significance of this comes into focus only in juxtaposition to the brands that her contemporaries endorse. Kareena Kapoor Khan—one of the highest paid female brand endorsers—is the face of many big brands like “Sony”, “Colgate”, “Airtel” and “Airbnb”. In some of these brands, she appears together with her husband and star of equal popularity, Saif Ali Khan. Deepika Padukone endorses multinational products like “Tanishq”, “Goibibo” and “Lloyd India”, among many others. Anushka Sharma is the face of “Google Pixel” and “Elle 18”. In contrast to these, Balan’s commercials are meant to reach a wide range of people, from the young to the elderly, which explains the “everyday” nature of her products. She is not here to sell, she is here to assure the audience of the product’s reliability. In a recent interview, Balan admitted to this image of hers: I take great pride in being an Indian and I get incensed very easily when someone even makes a joke about anything Indian. I am Indian to the core — my face, my body, the way I dress, the fact that I prioritise my family over everything else. (‘Vidya Balan: “I Am the Centre of My Universe!”’ 2016)

Vidya Balan’s wholesome charm is best exemplified by her role in the movie Tumhari Sulu where she played the role of a housewife (Sulochana), whose everyday routine revolves around the needs of her husband and son. Closely following the heels of English Vinglish10 (Gauri Shinde 2012), Tumhari Sulu has the actress delightfully playing Sulu, a middle class mother and wife with very ordinary concerns, “drowning in the drudgery of domesticity”.11 The movie is significant for the clever way it silently subverts the stereotypes associated with the Indian housewife. Sulu is spirited and charming, she leads a small but satisfied life. But Sulu is always chided by her father for her spiritedness; she is constantly told to learn from her twin sisters but she never lets this get into the way. After an interesting turn of events, she wins a pressure cooker from a contest conducted by a leading radio company and eventually takes up her first job as a radio jockey. And this is where the film starts to critically question the idea of the ideal homemaker. This is not only Sulu’s first job; it is the ticket to her dreams. Travelling alone at night and speaking sultrily to her late night listeners, she negotiates several stereotypes. Sulu is, in Chopra words, “a saree clad siren with a husky voice who talks at night to lonely men”.12 The movie attends to several issues related to domesticity and ideal notions of femininity. Through Sulu, Balan proves invariably that women can tend to their homes and manage a career at the same time, even if it means stepping into a cab alone late at night for commuting to her office. That too in a country which registers “high incidences of sexual violence (and) lack of access to justice in rape cases” (Gowen 2018). The question here then becomes this—what does it mean for a woman to be the earning member of her home and subsequently, if in the process she is getting sexualized, what ramifications does that have on the family? Balan’s previous concerns women empowerment in Indian 10 English

Vinglish is widely regarded as Sridevi Kapoor’s comeback role. Chopra’s Movie Review of Tumhari Sulu”. Youtube video, 0:20, posted by “Film Companion Reviews”, November 17, 2017, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JZgJnC7U8Yc. 12 Ibid., 1:06. 11 “Anupama

258

G. Gurudas

cinema continues through Sulu, but this is explored through everyday circumstances. Here the star’s concerns are more domestic. This is also where Balan’s shift in image starts, towards an “everyday” figure—a figure you would not be surprised to see roaming around in the market, arguing with the sellers about the price of vegetables. This is the “New Indian Woman”.

Vanity, Thy Name Is Not Vidya Balan One of the things Balan asserts through Tumhari Sulu is her ability to remain herself, embracing her body as it is, choosing to portray herself in an attire—the sari that she has popularized through her association with Sabyasachi Mukherjee over the past decade. The actor’s body is a curious thing. In her essay examining Shah Rukh Khan’s star body, Chakravarty suggests an alternative approach of mediology studies to look at the star body, rather than opting for a framework that is ideologically and socially informed. She posits that stars need to be viewed in the “larger history of images” and are therefore, susceptible to change, as per the changes in the “means of production and transmission” (2013, 184). She does this by identifying certain ages through Bombay cinema and identifying the body prototype that was valourized during that particular junction in time. Or put in other words, she sees the star as the embodiment of the characteristics that “correspond to the technological changes” in the production of film. I use a combination of methods—drawn considerably from historical and cultural discourse to understand the discourse around Balan’s body. The feminine body is inscribed with meanings that are both historical and ideological. More often than not, it becomes a crucial signifier of nationalistic messages. Meanings related to the film industry in India are intricately related to the idea of nationhood and while the female star herself is seen as the inhabitant of a clearly marginal space, the type of ideal that was propagated in the first ages of cinema was that of the docile, all-suffering woman, best exemplified by the figure of “Mother India” (Basu 2013, 139). Vijay Mishra traces this to the genre of the melodrama in early Bombay cinema and notes that the body is always in the state of being formed through a “narrative of impossible or unrealisable desire” (2002, 38). With increased globalization, the idea of this nationality has undergone change with “transnational flows of people, capital and culture” taking place: On the one hand, public cultural representations increasingly depict India’s shifting relationship with the world economy through images of a productive hybrid relation between the national and the global. On the other hand, unsettling configurations of power which may suggest that globalising forces are overwhelming the Indian nation are displaced onto the territory of women’s sexuality. (Fernandes 2001, 147)

How has this affected body image? Madhusmita Das and Sangeeta Sharma (2016) look at the differing notions of ideal body type over the years in Indian society

16 How Do You Solve a Problem Like Vidya?: Female Stardom …

259

and note that there has been a clear shift from traditional notions of beauty13 to a more Westernized ideal, presented as “perfectly shaped, toned and exercised” (118). Bollywood’s fixation with the ideal body time comes across as an attempt to adhere to Western standards of beauty, clearly seen in the way that fashion trends have caught on in the industry, leading to size-zero fads14 and a pervasive gym culture. Balan has always been in the limelight for her constant struggle with her weight and has been criticized for her voluptuous figure. In a recent interview with Filmfare, the actor addresses the complex relationship that she has with her own body: I’ve had hormonal problems all my life. It’s probably because of the judgement I’ve carried around my body. When I was a teenager, people would tell me, ‘You’ve got such a pretty face, why don’t you lose some weight?’ It’s not a nice thing to say to anyone. Be it a child or a grown-up. So, I’d starve myself, I’d go through crazy exercise regimens and lose weight. Then the hormonal issue would settle for a bit before it reared its head again. I guess it was my body’s way of revolting because in wanting it to be what it was not, I was constantly rejecting it. There’s no machine as smart as your body. (Balan 2019)

Bollywood actresses are constantly subject to public scrutiny. The pressure that comes with such close surveillance drive actors to be maintain their general image in accordance with certain socially accepted behavioural standards. But in Balan’s case, there is an interesting lack of vanity. From the crass to the most sophisticated, she does it all, as and when it is required of her. Vidya experiments wonderfully with her looks—she does not shy away from gaining weight for a role (think of “Silk”!) and neither does she mind appearing de-glamourized for her roles (which is what she did for My Name is Jessica).

The Road Less Travelled: Traditional, yet Modern Balan has constantly confronted body image issues by shunning Western dresses and choosing to present herself in the sari—a garment that she admits to loving since her childhood.15 By choosing the sari over other Western clothes, Balan presents herself as the Bharatiya Naari, a typical Indian face. For instance, in 2013, when she was 13 The authors note that “the image of the ideal Indian (traditional) woman has a fair to medium complexion, a narrow waist but wider hips and breasts, large eyes, full red lips, and long black hair” (117). 14 Kareena Kapoor shed oodles of weight for her role in the 2010 movie Tashan, (Acharya), displaying a highly fit and thin body to the public gaze, leading to the size-zero phenomenon. This caused a “widespread frenzy” among the youth, leading to a lot of discussion on Kapoor’s lifestyle habits and exercise routines (Chatterjee 2014, 12). This happened just about the same time that Balan gained weight for her movie The Dirty Picture and hence attains significance in this analysis. 15 In the actor’s own words: “We feel confident and sexy in them. In fact, wearing saris comes naturally to me. I’ve fancied the drape since I was five. I have a picture of myself in one of my mother’s saris. Growing up, my idea of beauty was strongly tied to the six yards of various kinds because I saw my mother – and the women around me – wear only them. For regular days it would be cottons, and for occasions, silks – Kanjivarams or Mysore silks” (Jahagirdar-Saxena 2017b).

260

G. Gurudas

selected to appear as a Jury member at the Cannes International Film Festival, the actor chose the present herself in three carefully Sabyasachi styled looks—all traditionally Indian and replete exquisite Indian jewellery (and even sporting a Bindi). While her looks received flak from a certain section of critics (for refusing to experiment more with her clothing at such a global platform), Balan achieved just what she wanted to—put the traditional garment on the global map and stay true to her roots. Balan’s unique relationship with the sari is a key to understanding her as a postcolonial Indian star image. One of the primary concerns of post-colonial theory is that of representation—how does one represent a colonized and subjugated group of people appropriately, without resorting to Euro-centric theoretical frameworks? This process is one of “historical self-invention”, and it is a discursive act that goes beyond the mere “repression of colonial memories” (Gandhi 1998, 4). It is equally an act of remembering and an assertion of self identity. In this sense, Balan’s decision to wear a traditionally Indian garment at such a huge international platform goes beyond the oft quoted simple narrative of sticking true to one’s roots. Her act is one of cultural self-assertion; it is a powerful act proclaiming one’s identity in a postcolonial globalized era such that the one who is being represented appears unique. Another interesting insight that facilitates this understanding is the complex relationship that characterizes her real and reel life. A cursory glance at the type of headings that are attributed to Balan’s interviews gives us an insight into her public persona—“Fierce and Fearless” (Jahagirdar-Saxena 2017a), “Power Icon” (Sharma 2014), “The Power of Self” (‘The Power Of Self’ 2013), “Why Vidya Balan Rules” (Sanghvi 2011). Due to her portrayal of strong-willed, independent women, she has always been credited as one of the catalysts of changing the landscape of the Bombay film industry. All her characters—from Krishna Verma and Silk who uses their body to her own advantage, Vidya Bagchi who single-handedly tracks down her husband’s murderers and Begum Jaan who runs her own brothel—are women who can exist without the support of male counterparts. However, while the actress is vocal about issues like female sexuality and representation, her public opinions on political issues have been limited, firmly rooted in her idea that one’s “political beliefs and agenda should not be bigger than the story” (Pathak 2017) being told. Balan mostly leads a controversy-less life and is not susceptible to the paparazzi. Even her marriage to producer and businessman Siddharth Roy Kapur was a low-key and intimate event and as a couple, they are rarely photographed in the way that other couples—Deepika Padukone and Ranveer Singh, Anushka Sharma and Virat Kohli, Kareena Kapoor and Saif Ali Khan—are followed and photographed. She admits to having no best friends in the industry, having only deep affection and fondness for a few people that have come into her life. This is also because of her conscious decision to “comfortably disconnect or separate the character”16 from whom she is in real life. 16 “Vidya

Balan Interview with Anupama Chopra | Begum Jaan | FC Unfiltered”. Youtube video, 4:15, posted by “Film Companion”, April 10, 2017, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v= DV7Vl3dZ9S8.

16 How Do You Solve a Problem Like Vidya?: Female Stardom …

261

Re-inventing in a Globalized Era In my 20s, it was about wanting to live my dream. The 30s was about knowing myself and the 40s is about loving my life. (Balan 2019)

The above quote taps rightly into the change that Balan has experienced in her stardom in the last five years. In a recent interview with Rajeev Masand, Balan talks about her radio show “Dhun Badal Ke Toh Dekho” (2019), whose essence, she explains is about “looking at (…) (a) situation from another perspective”,17 which is just about the same one must do if one were to re-evaluate her stardom. In the past two years, Balan was offered several biopics—Kamala Das’s, M. S. Subbulakshmi’s and Jayalalitha’s—all in the South Indian film industry. Masand’s observation that she seems to be the go-to person for biopics is interesting because these women are not ordinary women. They are revolutionaries and literary figures who have changed the fate of representation of women in their respective fields.18 It appears then that despite her waning popularity, her image remains the same. Indeed, Balan’s decision to play Indira Gandhi in an upcoming Web series (whose name has not been decided yet) is also interesting here: When you think of a powerful woman, Indira Gandhi’s name is the first one that pops into my head. That’s always been the case for me. You know, beyond every other woman, after her who’s managed to (…) sort of create a sort of dent in this patriarchal world. I think she’s the first name, she still stands tall.19

Balan’s decision to act in a Web series is telling of the ways she is willing to re-invent herself by experimenting with different digital formats. Her recent movies N.T.R: Kathanayakudu and N.T.R: Mahanayakadu (Krish 2019) may not have done as expected but Balan’s time in the Indian film industry has not eclipsed yet. Sure, her image has taken a subtle shift over the years. But it is also evident—with her upcoming releases Mission Mangal (Jagan Shakti 2019), Nerkonda Paarvai (H. Vinoth 2019) and her Web series on Indira Gandhi (Ronnie Screwvala, forthcoming)—that the actress is re-inventing herself. Balan’s star text is aided by a specific narrative of re-invention and the premise of this is centred around the conflicts and continuities that arise due to the relationship between the global and the national. Hers is not a narrative of glamour; it’s a narrative of the “everyday”, it’s a narrative of a star who is reliable. Her endorsements are “everyday” items and through them, Balan urges citizens to be responsible. Her 17 “Vidya Balan interview with Rajeev Masand”. Youtube video, 10:09, posted by “Rajeev Masand”, April 11, 2019, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vk92THV7fGc. 18 Kamala Das a literary figure who wrote extensively about women’s sexuality. Jayalalithaa [fondly called Amma (mother)] was the Chief Minister of Tamil Nadu for fourteen years, and she was widely compared to Indira Gandhi for her vigour and ability to work for the masses. M. S. Subbulakshmi is regarded as the one who put Carnatic South Indian music on the global map and was the first musician to receive a Bharat Ratna. 19 “Vidya Balan interview with Rajeev Masand”. Youtube video, 16:26, posted by “Rajeev Masand”, April 11, 2019, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vk92THV7fGc.

262

G. Gurudas

appeal transcends age; she has something to offer for everyone. And she does this by remaining herself—choosing to appear in a loosely draped sari and plated hair, even on global platforms like the Cannes International Film Festival. Vidya Balan is the contemporary example of the “New Indian Woman”. If Vidya’s catapult to fame was catalysed by a unique discursive framework (framed within the process of globalization), her re-invention is aided by a global cinematic structure that features multiple digital frameworks. The actress is slowly metamorphosing from a Hindi film star into an Indian star. She is going beyond the box—from film to radio and television. Balan’s star text is slippery signifier, constantly undergoing change and re-inventing oneself at a time when the whole of the Indian film industry is undergoing a radical change. This gradual, yet firm change carries immense potential for further research. Whether indeed Balan will become the actual face of India, with a commanding presence across all regional film industries is a question that only time will tell.

References Appadurai, A., & Breckendridge, C. A. (1995). Public modernity in India. In C. A. Breckendridge (Ed.), Consuming modernity: Public culture in a South Asian world (pp. 23–48). London: University of Minnesota Press. Anderson, B. (2006). Imagined communities: Reflections on the origin and spread of nationalism. New York: Verso. Balan, V. (2019). Exclusive: Vidya Balan on success, relationships, turning 40 & body shaming. https://www.filmfare.com/interviews/exclusive-vidya-balan-on-success-relationshipsturning-40-body-shaming-32352-1.html. Basu, A. (2013). The face that launched a thousand ships. In M. Sen & A. Basu (Eds.), Figurations in Indian film (pp. 139–157). Bose, N. (2014). Bollywood’s fourth Khan: Deconstructing the “Hatke” stardom of Vidya Balan in popular Hindi cinema. Celebrity Studies, 5(4), 394–409. Chakravarty, S. S. (2013). Configurations: The body as world in Bollywood stardom. In M. Sen & A. Basu (Eds.), Figurations in Indian film (pp. 179–204). Chatterjee, P. (1993). The nation and its fragments. New Jersey: Princeton University Press. Chatterjee, T. (2014). Size zero begums and dirty pictures: The contemporary female star in Bollywood. Synoptique, 3(1), 1–29. Das, M., & Sharma, S. (2016). Fetishizing women: Advertising in Indian television and its effects on target audiences. Journal of International Women’s Studies, 18(1), 114–132. Devasundaram, A. I. (2016). India’s new independent cinema: Rise of the hybrid. New York: Routledge. Dwyer, R., & Pinney, C. (Eds.). (2001). Pleasure and the nation: The history, politics and consumption of public culture in India. New Delhi: Oxford University Press. Dwyer, R. (2001). Shooting stars: The Indian film magazine, stardust. In R. Dwyer & C. Pinney (Eds.), Pleasure and the nation: The history, politics and consumption of public culture in India (pp. 247–286). Dyer, R. (1998). Stars. London: British Film Institute. Fernandes, L. (2001). Rethinking globalisation: Gender and the nation in India. Feminist locations: Global and local, theory and practice. In M. DeKoven (Ed.), Feminist locations: Global and local, theory and practice (pp. 147–187). London: Rutgers University Press.

16 How Do You Solve a Problem Like Vidya?: Female Stardom …

263

Film Companion. “Vidya Balan Interview with Anupama Chopra | Begum Jaan | FC Unfiltered”. Youtube video. Posted [April 2017], https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DV7Vl3dZ9S8. Film Companion Reviews. “Begum Jaan | Movie Review | Anupama Chopra”. Youtube video. Posted [April 2017]. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dIhHq9wTVaE. Film Companion Reviews. “Anupama Chopra’s Movie Review of Tumhari Sulu”. Youtube video. Posted [November 2017], https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JZgJnC7U8Yc. Gandhi, L. (1998). Postcolonial theory. Sydney: Allen & Unwin. Gandhy, B., & Thomas, R. (1991). Three Indian film stars. In C. Gledhill (Ed.), Stardom: Industry of desire (pp. 111–136). London: Routledge. Gowen, A. (2018). India ranked world’s most dangerous place for women, reigniting debate about women’s safety. The Washington Post, 27 June 2018. https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/ worldviews/wp/2018/06/27/india-ranked-worlds-most-dangerous-place-for-women-reignitingdebate-about-womens-safety/. Jahagirdar-Saxena, S. (2017a). Fierce and fearless. Verve Magazine, 13 April 2017. http://www. vervemagazine.in/arts-and-culture/vidya-balan-actress-on-begum-jaan. Jahagirdar-Saxena, S. (2017b). Up close with Vidya Balan and her alter ego from Tumhari Sulu. Verve Magazine, 13 November 2017. http://www.vervemagazine.in/people/up-close-with-vidyabalan-and-her-alter-ego-from-tumhari-sulu. Majumdar, N. (2003). Doubling, stardom and melodrama in Indian cinema: The “Impossible”. PostScript, 22(3), 89–103. Majumdar, N. (2010). Wanted cultured ladies only!: Female stardom and cinema in India, 1930s1950s. Chicago, IL: University of Illinois Press. Masand, R. “Vidya Balan interview with Rajeev Masand”. Youtube video, Posted [April 2019]. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vk92THV7fGc. Mishra, V. (2002). Bollywood cinema: Temples of desire. New York: Routledge. Mohanty, C. T. (1998). Under western eyes: Feminist scholarship and colonial discourses. Feminist Review, 30, 61–88. Pathak, A. (2017). The Vidya Balan interview: Even today, women are made to feel apologetic for being successful. HuffPost India, 4 December 2017. https://www.huffingtonpost.in/2017/04/12/ the-vidya-balan-interview-even-today-women-are-made-to-feel-ap_a_22036598/. Pinney, C. (2001). Public, popular and other cultures. In R. Dwyer & C. Pinney (Eds.), Pleasure and the nation: The history, politics and consumption of public culture in India (pp. 1–34). Role of silk in “Dirty Picture” my boldest act ever: Vidya Balan. (2011). Sify Movies, 30 November 2011. http://www.sify.com/movies/role-of-silk-in-dirty-picture-my-boldest-act-ever-vidyabalan-news-hollywood-ll4mElihhegsi.html. Sanghvi, V. (2011). Why Vidya Balan rules. Hindustan Times, 17 December 2011. https://www. hindustantimes.com/bollywood/why-vidya-balan-rules/story-kBrnl5alAyNYS51Hzl2JNL.html. Sen, M., & Basu, A. (Eds.). (2013). Figurations in Indian film. London: Palgrave MacMillan. Sharma, V. (2014). Power icon: Vidya Balan. Verve Magazine, 24 June 2014. http://www. vervemagazine.in/people/power-icon-vidya-balan. The power of self. (2013). Verve Magazine, 20 June 2013. http://www.vervemagazine.in/people/ vidya-balan. Vidya Balan: Face of advertising: Vidya Balan has signed nine new brands in the past 10 months— The Economic Times. (2018). The Economic Times, 2 July 2018. https://economictimes. indiatimes.com/magazines/panache/face-of-advertising-vidya-balan-has-signed-nine-newbrands-in-the-past-10-months/articleshow/64821513.cms?from=mdr. Vidya Balan: “I am the centre of my universe!”. (2016). Verve Magazine, 21 September 2016. http:// www.vervemagazine.in/people/vidya-balan-actress-living-on-her-own-terms. Virdi, J. (2003). The cinematic imagination: Indian popular films as social history. London: Rutgers University Press.

264

G. Gurudas

Filmography Advani, N. (2007). Salaam-e-Ishq: A Tribute to Love. DVD. Orion Pictures. Benegal, S. (1977). Bhumika. DVD. Shemaroo Movies. Benegal, S. (1983). Mandi. DVD. Blaze Entertainment. Bhatt, V. (1998). Ghulam. DVD Visesh Films. Chaubey, A. (2010). Ishqiya. DVD. Shemaroo Entertainment. Chaudhary, S. (2014). Shaadi Ke Side Effects. DVD. Balaji Motion Pictures. ‘Dhun Badal Ke Toh Dekho’. (2019). Big FM. Gaikwad, A. (1997). Raja Ki Aayegi Baraat. DVD. Aftab Pictures. Ghosh, S. (2012). Kahaani. DVD. Viacom 18 Motion Pictures. Ghosh, S. (2016). Kahaani 2: Durga Rani Singh. DVD. Pen Limited. Gopalan, L. (1997) Avenging women in Indian cinema. Screen, 38(1), 42–59. Guha, D. (1976). Do Anjaane. DVD. Ultra Distributors Pvt. Ltd. Gupta, R. (2011). No One Killed Jessica. DVD. UTV Motion Pictures. Gupta, R. (2013). Ghanchakkar. DVD. UTV Motion Pictures. Johar, K. (1998). Kuch Kuch Hota Hai. DVD. Yash Raj Films. Kapoor, K., Rajat Rawail, Sameer Kulkarni, Raju Parsekar, & Rajan Waghdhare. (1995–2006). Hum Paanch. Mumbai: Zee TV. Khan, M. (1995). Akele Hum Akele Tum. DVD. United Seven Combines. Krish. (2019). N.T.R: Kathanayakudu. DVD. NBK Films. Krish. N.T.R: Mahanayakadu. DVD. NBK Films. Luthria, M. (2011). The Dirty Picture. DVD. ALT Entertainment. Mirza, A. (2008). Kismat Konnection. DVD. UTV Motion Pictures. Mukherji, S. (2017). Begum Jaan. DVD. Shree Venkatesh Films. Priyadarshan (2007). Bhool Bhulaiyaa. DVD. T-Series. Sarkar, P. (2005). Parineeta. DVD. Vinod Chopra Productions. Screwvala, R. (Forthcoming). Webseries. Shaikh, S. (2014). Bobby Jasoos. DVD. Born Free Entertainment. Shakti, J. (2019). Mission Mangal. Fox Star Studios. Shinde, G. (2012). English Vinglish. DVD. Eros International. Suri, M. (2015). Hamari Adhuri Kahani. DVD. Fox Star Studios. Triveni, S. (2017). Tumhari Sulu. DVD. T-Series. Vinoth, H. (2019). Nerkonda Paarvai. Zee Studios.

Chapter 17

Alia Bhatt: The New Female Subject and Stardom Divya Kalavala

Abstract Alia Bhatt enters the film industry as the daughter of Mahesh Bhatt, however, within couple of years, she makes a mark with her highly acclaimed performance and she wins the prestigious, Filmfare Critics Award for the film Highway (Ali 2014). Turns out this were only the beginning of her critical acclaim. It is not so much a lesser-known fact that she was a child artist in her father’s film, Sangharsh (Chandra 1999) and she debuts with her first film at the age of seventeen. On the other hand, over the course of her films, she became popular for her intelligence or the lack of it. She has now myriads of pages on the Internet dedicated to her jokes/trolls and memes which is not normally the case with Hindi cinema actresses, at least not in the case of her contemporaries. All of these interesting points in her career open up intriguing questions waiting to be answered. Through the filmography of Bhatt and her journey in becoming a star, this paper hopes to examine the various ways in which stardom comes to mean, especially as a woman in the present day Hindi film industry. Keywords Gender · Commercial films and middle-of-the-road films · Brand endorsements · New media

Gender and Genre in the Emergence of a New Female Subject in Hindi Cinema Theprominent feature about Alia Bhatt’s career and her choice of films is that she seems to be traversing two roads at the same time. In other words, the two different genres she seems to be cast in are: commercial films and middle-of-the-road films. There has been much discourse about this aspect of working in two different kinds of films where she talks about it in her interviews and is appreciated and engaged with by the fans about the same. It is but obvious that this discourse around occupying both the spaces at the same time signifies something crucial and needs to be studied. Foremost, it is essential to bring forth an understanding of the cursory distinction between D. Kalavala (B) GITAM (Deemed to be University), Hyderabad, India e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 A. I. Viswamohan and C. M. Wilkinson (eds.), Stardom in Contemporary Hindi Cinema, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-15-0191-3_17

265

266

D. Kalavala

the ever so fluid terms, “commercial” and “middle-of-the-road”. Commercial films denote the mainstream films that are in accordance with the popularity of the popular culture and that which historically are tied down to the studio system. Middle-ofthe-road cinema in Hindi cinema is something that stood opposite to everything that is drama, “masala” which were an integral part of mainstream Hindi cinema. The association of an actor with a particular genre is quite usual all across the film world. For instance, Shah Rukh Khan1 is known for romance and doing romantic roles. He has been the heart-throb of Indian women for the longest time. In the case of Salman Khan, he is known for embodying and retaining the old school masculine figure where he chooses films with roles that fit into the older model like Dabangg (Kashyap 2010) a threequel of this film is set to be released later this year. It is a story about a police officer, Chulbul Pandey and his troubled relationship with his stepfather and half brother, not to mention that the actress in the film takes up the function of supporting the male protagonist which in fact is in line with the older model of gender division within the framework of Hindi cinema for a long time. Women-centric films as a genre is not uncommon to the audience of Hindi cinema, however, mainstreaming of this genre is definitely unusual. In order to understand the peculiarity of this situation, some of the films in the past decade that were made with women as the central protagonist are listed here. No One Killed Jessica (Gupta 2011) is a biographical thriller based on the Jessica Lal murder case in Delhi. Starring Rani Mukherjee as a journalist who helps Jessica’s sister with the case played by Vidya Balan. Kahaani (Ghosh 2012) a mystery thriller starring Vidya Balan2 as Vidya Bagchi is a story of a pregnant woman searching for her missing husband in Kolkata. English Vinglish (Shinde 2012) is a comedy-drama starring Sridevi as Shashi, the protagonist who tries to learn English after being mocked for her English skills by her family. Angry Indian Goddesses (Nalin 2015) is about a set of female friends and various issues they face in their lives. It is aptly described as “India’s first buddy female pic”. NH10 (Singh 2015) is a thriller film starring Anushka Sharma. This film is inspired by real-life cases of honour killing. Nil Battey Sannata (Tiwari 2016) comedy-drama starring Swara Bhasker. The film is about a high school dropout who is also a single mother. This is followed by Anaarkali of Aarah (Das 2017) starring the same actress where Bhaskar plays the role of an erotic folk dancer. Parched (Yadav 2015) is set in a village in Rajasthan and is the story of four women who deal with social evils plagued by patriarchy. Radhika Apte3 is one among the cast. Neerja (Madhvani 2016) is a biographical thriller starring Sonam Kapoor as the title character. Lipstick Under My Burkha (Shrivastava 2016) is a black comedy film about four women at different stages in their life who are trying to break out of their 1 Even

though Shah Rukh Khan epitomises romance for the dominant period of his career, he is also known for breaking the conventions and he actually begins his career with negative roles, the anti-hero. Nevertheless, he is the romantic hero for the dominant part of his career. 2 Balan has a steady series of films that have her as the protagonist of the film. It begins from The Dirty Picture (2011), followed by Bobby Jasoos (2014), Kahaani 2: Durga Rani Singh (2016), Begum Jaan (2017) and Tumhari Sulu (2017). 3 Apte’s career takes an interesting turn towards the films that are made by Netflix. Apte, Balan and Ranaut require a separate study.

17 Alia Bhatt: The New Female Subject and Stardom

267

constricting lives to live out their desires. It is starred by Konkona Sen Sharma, Plabita Borthakur, Aahana Kumra and Ratna Pathak Shah. The tradition of women-oriented films in Hindi cinema perhaps starts with Mother India (Khan 1957). In the contemporary scenario, discourse around feminism has made women question several conventions that were considered the norm for ages, be it the wage disparity or speaking up about sexual harassment in the workspace. One of the female stars whose career exemplifies this is Kangana Ranaut and a discussion about her career is pertinent here in relation to that of Bhatt’s. Not only has Ranaut been vocal about women’s empowerment in her interviews but her career as an actress in Hindi cinema reflects it. The advent and positive reception of middle cinema style of films have opened up space for the women to traverse these two cinematic paths. One is the commercially oriented conventional style of films, whereas the other is the middleof-the-road style of films that more or less tends to debunk the former conventional model. This confluence or merging of women-centric films and middle cinema; echo the parallel cinema from the past that has been popular during the 70s. Ankur (Benegal 1974) and Bhumika (Benegal 1977) are such examples. It’s common knowledge that male-centric films are a result of patriarchal society and the female subject had always been at the periphery of the filmic narrative. More often than not, if the female subject is not on the fringes, her role is not as prominent for the storyline of the film. However, the important difference between women-centric films and middle cinema is not just about women taking up the central position or playing important roles in the films rather the contemporary films provide an agency for the women within the framework of the popular. Bringing in Ranaut’s journey in Hindi cinema is noteworthy here so as to act as a contrast to that of Bhatt’s journey. Ranaut’s off-screen narrative is that of an outsider who makes it to the top through her diligence and persistence in the male-dominated film industry and society. She started her career with films like Gangster (Basu 2006) and Woh Lamhe (Suri 2006) but within less than a decade she started featuring in films where a move towards the female subject has happened where the woman becomes the protagonist of the film. In films like Queen (Bahl 2014) and Revolver Rani (Shrivastav 2014) followed Tanu Weds Manu Returns (Rai 2016) and Simran (Mehta 2017) including the more recent Manikarnika: The Queen of Jhansi (Krish and Ranaut 2019), have her as the centre of the storyline. Many critics and audience alike have remarked about her being the hero of her films, in other words, she took the centre stage of a film which is generally reserved for the male actor of any film in Bollywood. This detailed discussion of Ranaut’s career and about the gender disparity in the Hindi cinema is important to understand the larger framework of subtle changes that have been happening in the Hindi film industry with regard to gender and genre. This information forms the background for understanding Bhatt’s career and her choice of films. Owing to the time we are in where digressing from the conventional style of film-making is welcomed and this merges with the middle school style of film-making culminates and results in Bhatt travelling the said two genres through her film trajectory. It is pertinent to bring in Shohini Ghosh’s work where she talks about the dominant male-centric style of film-making in Hindi cinema.

268

D. Kalavala

Barring genres that privilege the female protagonist, such as the courtesan genre, women never enjoyed the same central significance that male protagonist did. The 1990s finally heralded the shifts and ruptures whereby narrative spaces conventionally held by men began to be occupied by women. (Ghosh 2002)

Taking note of the women-centric films from the 90s onwards, she continues to talk about the significance of song and dance sequence in the structure of Hindi cinema that makes space and allows women in the margins of the narrative to travel to the centre. Song and dance sequence are integral to the formal aesthetics of much of popular cinema. As powerful vehicles of emotions and aspirations, song and dances often play out Mikhail Bakhtin’s notion of the carnivalesque. For Bhaktin, the carnival is an expression of people’s “second life” that shatters, symbolically at least, “all oppressive hierarchies.” The transporting into the art of “the spirit of popular festivities” allows people “a brief entry into a symbolic sphere of utopian freedom.” It is “a joyful affirmation of change, a dress rehearsal for utopia” …. Masquerade or the device of performance-within-performance allows female protagonists to escape narrative constraints and indulge in excess, badness, abandon, and revelry. (Ghosh 2002)

Bhatt has acted in ten films4 so far beginning from Student of the Year in 2012 and ending with her recent film, Raazi (Gulzar 2018). More or less, she has been featured in an equal number of films in both the genres that are discussed above. Starting from Student of the Year (Johar 2012), followed by 2 States (Varman 2014), Humpty Sharma Ki Dulhania (Khaitan 2014), Shaandaar (Bahl 2015), Kapoor & Sons (Batra 2016) and Badrinath Ki Dulhania (Khaitan 2017) follow the older format of typical commercial Hindi films. It is identified and described as films made for commercial purposes where it follows the older “boy meets girl” pattern but overall the film has one protagonist which is usually the male counterpart. This is not very different from the situation outside the films where gender-based wage disparity is not uncommon to all of us, including the Hindi film industry. On the other hand, the rest of her films are characterized by middle cinema type of genre films where she is central to the film. Films like Highway (Ali 2014), Udta Punjab (Chaubey 2016), Dear Zindagi (Shinde 2016) and Raazi (Gulzar 2018). Her performative choices form a crux of the argument here and they might seem like a diverse choice from her end however it points to a very specific interest that is coming her way as a female actor in Hindi cinema. To understand the characteristic difference between these films, it is pertinent to give a cursory outline of the films for a clear understanding of the fundamental difference between the genres particularly discussed here through the storylines. In the middle style of film-making, which began with Highway (Ali 2014) tells the story of a girl, Veera Tripathi who discovers freedom after being kidnapped. The film begins with Veera going on a drive the day before her marriage and being abducted. Following which, it traces her journey with her abductor and how she changes as a character and forms the major part of the film. The film, of course, goes into a 4 With

2019).

two other films set to be released this year; Gully Boy (Akhtar 2019), and Kalank (Varman

17 Alia Bhatt: The New Female Subject and Stardom

269

climatic end of her returning home safe but not without important understanding and new-found freedom. Her next film, Udta Punjab (Chaubey 2016) is loosely based on the problem of drug abuse in the state of Punjab in India. Tommy Singh played by Shahid Kapoor is a popular and successful Punjabi musician. Kumari Pinky played by Bhatt, a Bihari migrant worker who dreams of playing national-level hockey for the country. Both these characters’ path crosses as a result of their respective drug addiction. At one point in the film, she gets involved in the displacement of drugs and as a result, becomes abducted and is subjected to sex slavery. Her attempt is to escape results in a heart-rending performance by her. Her next film, Dear Zindagi (Shinde 2016) directed by Gauri Shinde, a coming-of-age drama that revolves around the protagonist, Kaira played by Bhatt and her journey of coming to terms with her difficult life experiences during her troubled childhood that come to haunt her and manifest as insomnia because of which she seeks help from a psychologist. This film is highly unconventional by putting a girl’s psychological healing from her past and childhood experiences at the forefront and the male character played by Shah Rukh Khan, the psychologist as periphery, if not so much to the plot but does not quite take the central stage as is expected of a male star of his stature in Bollywood. Finally, Raazi (Gulzar 2018) is about Sehmat Khan, an undercover RAW agent who gets married to a Pakistani as part of a mission. The film is to see if she succeeds in this journey of infiltration. Needless to say that she is the prominent figure in the film and as much as the film is about two countries and glorification of Indian nationalism in the end but it is equally about Sehmat Khan, with a secret identity and Alia Bhatt, the actor. All of these films are both highly acclaimed and well received by the general audience. This indicates the change or shift in the trajectory of what is considered popular. This, of course, is an outcome owing to the several developments in the sensibilities of the Indian viewership that welcome this shift. All of these films came into limelight and specifically in the context of Bhatt’s career and were praised either for her acting skills or choosing to do “difficult/bold” roles. This is not so much a sudden shift in placing the woman at the centre, by just in terms of plot but also thematically. This crucial shift of the position of the woman from the periphery to the centre is an echo of and is propelled by several other occurrences that have been both a move in the sensibilities of the audiences and points to the inconsistencies that brought out through discourse that strive for equality between the sexes. This, however, is not a singular and linear development within the exigencies of this discourse of male-centric film industry. During the late 90s and early 2000s, a new male figure emerges exemplified by actors like Shah Rukh Khan. The former romantic hero becomes the new metrosexual man in town. Later, we see him in a camp character in films like Kal Ho Na Ho (Advani 2003). However, within these milestones, noteworthy is the arrival of the queer subject. All of which have worked towards destabilizing the centre as is witnessed through the entry of the metrosexual man. Taking a cue from Julien Cayla’s idea of Shah Rukh Khan in the field of advertising, Alessandro Consolaro talks about the star, who represents the twenty-first

270

D. Kalavala

century Indian nation’s desires and aspirations. By making a distinction between Shah Rukh Khan and other actors of the time as they produce varied meanings for the audience with their interaction with the roles they choose to play, she brings up the slippery slope of gender fluidity that he comes to stand for in this case. Rejecting a macho, aggressive version of masculinity such as the one endorsed by the Hindutva – represented in the advertising field by actors like Salman Khan or Akshay Kumar –, SRK proposes a more nuanced, slippery male model, that was perceived at the same time as confusing and charming. In accordance with the recovery of a national model that, while confirming a solidly patriarchal agenda, showed the world also the soft side of the nation and exalted its soft power, the new Indian man as portrayed by SRK is the metrosexual male, having a soft touch and more at ease displaying his feminine side. (Consolaro 2014)

The metrosexual man in Shah Rukh Khan is brought out through the infamous Lux advertisement (2002) where he comes to be known as the metrosexual man making a shift from this male romantic persona presumably heteronormatively oriented towards the female spectator. He is a tender guy, in touch with his emotional side. His fluidity and hybridity is once again one of his most successful traits: he can reconcile masculinity and femininity, emotion and ambition, ‘tradition’ and ‘modernity’, exorcizing the fears connected to identity loss while reciting the new mantra: consumo ergo sum. (Consolaro 2014)

It is important to note here that the effect of these various developments has its effects on the women in the filmic representation and has led to the arrival of the woman somewhat at the centre where the cursor navigates the nuances of being a woman is not just the narrative of the plot line but also with regard to the woman as an actor. Therefore, the emergence of this new female subject in Hindi cinema is a replacement of the metrosexual man. It is in some sense then makes space for newer identities that is something to be observed. This kind of framework has been destabilized by several developments in the film industry in particular and society in general. This destabilization has led to the emergence of a new female subject that is not just fashioned differently but it also facilitates a new way of film-making in Hindi cinema that is in the quest for placing the woman at the centre where the stories are undeniably and unapologetically about them while the position of the actress also is in flux towards the centre, which translates addressing the myriad questions with regard to a woman’s position in society. All of this builds towards forming a stardom that is much more agential than the former women-centric films where the film is about the woman, whereas in the present scenario, the woman not takes the central position in the film narrative but also within the narrative of women’s empowerment in society as can exemplified through the mise en scène of the poster for instance or the changing dynamics of gender-based star treatment (for instance, the pay disparity) in the Hindi film industry. In terms of reception, appreciation and critical acclaim goes to the woman (as seen in Highway, Tanu Weds Manu Returns, and Raazi) as opposed to the male counterpart. Finally, the arrival of this new female subject is not just a reflection of equality of sexes but a newer milestone in the ever-changing ecological dynamics of Hindi cinema.

17 Alia Bhatt: The New Female Subject and Stardom

271

Making of a Star in the Age of New Media This section focuses on the journey outside Bhatt’s films as a star with respect to the type of interaction with the fans. The present digital-savvy audience displays a different kind of association and interaction with the star. What we see in the case of Bhatt is the emergence of a new kind of celebrity culture that is aided by the new media and consumer-centric viewership. Bhatt’s journey with regard to her relationship with the audience points to the narrative outside her films. Post her debut release in 2012 with Student of the Year, she appeared in the popular television talk show hosted by Karan Johar called “Koffee with Karan” as it is customary in the case of newcomers in the film industry, especially when a new actor is introduced in Hindi cinema by Johar. As is the case for most star kids and well-connected newcomers in the industry, Johar introduces Bhatt under the Dharma Productions banner. Right after her debut she along with her co-stars, Sidharth Malhotra and Varun Dhawan were featured in Johar’s popular talk show. However, Bhatt stole the show for her response to a question in the “rapid fire” round. The talk show is known for its lighthearted banter, deviated from its usual questions. For instance, one of the questions that were asked was to name the president of India, to which her immediate response was “Prithviraj Chauhan”. The comedic element in this sequence was embedded not just in the quirkiness of the response but was also highlighted in the teasers for the show. Henceforth, Bhatt became the butt of jokes by the general public and media alike. The purpose of a trailer is to attract the audience to the theatre to watch a film, in other words, to sell a product, which in this case is a film. Hence, this form of advertising often tends to put forth a picture that is exciting and intriguing enough for the viewer to be wanting to go watch the film. There is not much of a difference between the trailer of a film and a talk show, which pretty much acts like one. Talk shows and interviews fulfil the functions of a trailer which is that of introducing a film along with the actors in creating and arousing one’s interest and curiosity towards the film. Here, the show “Koffee with Karan” functions as a trailer for the actor themselves, setting up a character that is intriguing and interesting enough for the spectator to pursue. For the longest time, a television in India acted as a medium to serve the trailer for the films. It still is, though a switch to other mediums is witnessed in the age of new media with a digitally literate audience on the other end. The arrival of Internet connection and smartphones along with multiple networking sites changed the landscape of the way the consumer interacted with the producer. If earlier, the receivers interacted with the star in the form of admiration by creating fan clubs, now the same takes place through social media. Post Bhatt’s misadventure at Koffee with Karan, she gets defined as being dumb. This resulted in reporters often approaching her in jest with silly questions trying to test her knowledge in an otherwise serious interview. This ensued myriads of memes, trolls and jokes that were widely circulated on the Internet.

272

D. Kalavala

In 2014, the popular YouTube channel, AIB collaborated with Bhatt to come up with a video called “Genius of the Year” which is a spoof of the event of her mockery over lack of general knowledge. This again is another form of interaction with the star in the making, which is an off-shoot of new media. During this period she learns to laugh at herself and her being earnest is something that is observed. Around the same time, Bhatt got both critical acclaim and commercial success along with appreciation by the audience for her performance in Highway (Ali 2014) followed by Udta Punjab (Chaubey 2016) and later Raazi (Gulzar 2018). Her praiseworthy acting skills and further by choosing to play great characters, she becomes personified as hard-working. This diligence deservingly fetches her several awards for her performance like Zee Cine Award, Screen Award and IIFA Award for Best Actress. Bhatt’s journey outside of her films towards stardom is one of its kinds, as the interaction with her fans transformed from mockery and ridicule to sheer admiration for her acting skills. This successful journey comes to a full circle when she is interviewed by Karan Johar yet again, this time at India Economic Summit (New Delhi, 2017) by the World Economic Forum, that consisted of a panel of three young and successful people, Alia Bhatt, Kavin Mittal, and K. T. Rama Rao, from Bollywood, business and politics, respectively. Kavin Mittal is the founder and CEO of Hike Messenger, the world’s sixth-largest mobile messaging application and he is known as an Internet-entrepreneur. He is the son of the billionaire, Sunil Mittal. K. T. Rama Rao, on the other hand, is the president of Telangana Rashtra Samithi party. He is a successful politician and the son of K. Chandrashekar Rao, the Chief Minister of Telangana. Even though all the three-panel members are from different fields, all of them are successful and come from families that have paved way to their present success. As the noted director, Mahesh Bhatt’s daughter and the celebrity child in the Hindi film industry, Alia Bhatt gets a chance to work in films at the age of seventeen. With this kind of immense success at an early age, the three of them truly stand as global representatives of the country. This global recognition for Bhatt is much like one of the multiple realities that the media constructs and upholds within the extra-cinematic space. The way in which her image is being produced and circulated is interesting and worth paying attention to. Rajinder Dudrah in his book SRK and Global Bollywood (2015) talks about the idea of an authentic individual. The authentic persona of a star that gets revealed as a result of the blurring of boundaries between the public and the private. Bhatt’s intelligence is outside the purview of her acting but still, she gets trolled for it. Perhaps this would not have been a concern before but the availability and accessibility of new media, not only does it open up a space for contention, but also a space for assertion. It is, in fact, an interplay of what is consumed by the audience and what is produced by the star and vice versa. The idea that actors need to be public intellectuals is something new. The journey from being a joke to a place where she gets identified as a young successful actor in Bollywood is the polemical nature of star image. The search for an authentic self by the fan is a quest to the truth of a star’s identity that most necessarily makes them human, as articulated by Dyer (2003), in the contemporary society that desires to stay relevant within the exigencies of the virtual world.

17 Alia Bhatt: The New Female Subject and Stardom

273

The brands that Bhatt is associated with are apart from being a reflection of her roles in the films but also extend into being a complex enmeshing of different personas she presents to the world. It is pertinent to bring forth Bhatt’s engagement with certain brands that weave into her story outside her filmography, but also in a complex way interrelated. Some of the popular (or the popularity could be defined by the popularity of the ads) brands she endorses are: Uber Eats, Nokia, Star Plus, Sunfeast Dark Fantasy, Mango Frooti, Frankfinn, Lux, Caprese, Gionee India, Sunsilk, Flipkart fashion, Garnier, Hero Pleasure, Philips, Standard Electricals, BlueStone, Fruity Fizz, Cadbury Perk, Coca-Cola, Nestle Fruita Vitals, Idee, Maybelline and Make My Trip. For the convenience of this paper, if we look at the advertisements and brands that she endorsed in the year 2018, it is a tale of new media and points towards and caters to the digitally savvy new India. Uber Eats presents the actress who according to her lifestyle and diet tends to count the calories but when it is a cheat day, she uses Uber Eats to order her rich and delicious food online through the app, Uber Eats. It is not unusual for the younger crowd to emulate and make their choices according to that of their idols who are usually the actors they admire on-screen. Nokia comes up with a series of advertisements where its ambassador plays a central role to highlight each of its features of the smartphone. In one of the ads, Bhatt along with a group of friends asks a guy about something written in Japanese on his t-shirt, to which the guys replies saying it is to do with Samurai philosophy. She immediately takes out her phone to check for the real meaning through the Google lens that the Nokia smartphone provides. With the characters being young and the content dealing with something closer to their heart or concerning them, it aims to attract the smart adults of the country. Nokia’s advertisement becomes a tool to place her as a young girl in the midst of a family festival where she captures every fun and dull moment to finally bring the family together. Nokia also pitches it to another ad with Bhatt asking its patrons to “now relive moments in great detail” with 4K recording. In this ad, Bhatt becomes one of the friend of young professional who is placed possibly abroad and one of the smart way to fill the void of his absence by recording their usual events although he was present there and finally sending it to him. When Bhatt started endorsing for Star Plus, they came up with an ad where Bhatt is seen as the normal yet young audience watching the shows for the television channel and reacting to all the emotions that the shows aim to bring out. The youthfulness of Bhatt is the selling point here where the team the video of her watching the show with a song that invites newness into the homes of their audience, possibly an invitation for the younger audience into their viewership, as their tagline goes, “rishta wahi, baat nayi” (same bond with newness). Frankfinn Institute of Airhostess Training has Bhatt as her ambassador and uses Alia in an interesting way where the ad begins with Alia’s fancy around the world lifestyle where she lunches in Italy followed by dinner at Shanghai . At one step she is an inspiration to a young girl who probably will aspire to be her, and what’s more, she would not even bother about the price tag while living her lavish lifestyle. With

274

D. Kalavala

these series of visuals that showcase Bhatt’s fancy lifestyle is teamed with a voiceover that seems to ask and is it necessary to be Alia to live her lifestyle. This visual essay showing Alia and her luxurious way of living is replaced by the face of an air hostess looking face with the clothes of a stewardess. This ad is not just a promise towards a great career for young women in the field of airlines but also a glimpse into the rich lifestyle that one gets to afford through this career. The voiceover that asks, “Do you need to be Alia to live her lifestyle” summons and sums up the dreams of the current young woman’s dreams of becoming “rich and famous” like an actress like Alia Bhatt and when this seems unreachable or unachievable, but becomes that much accessible through these alternative career choices that one can make through Frankfinn training institute. Frankfinn endorsement is also something that is said to have given to Bhatt based on her character in Bhadrinath Ki Dulhania (Khaitan 2017) where Bhatt the protagonist, plays the character of Vydehi, well-educated smart young women aspire to become an air hostess, who after promising to marry not so smart, Bhadri, decides to leave him at the altar on the wedding day. She runs away for the air hostess training in Singapore. This ends with them reuniting but not at the cost of sacrificing Vydehi’s dreams, they get married and maintain a long-distance relationship as she works. The film in alignment with the ad is as much about women’s aspiration and their changing career choices as it is about the advertisement for the Frankfinn training institute. Dark Fantasy makes the ad around a young woman played by Bhatt who possibly post-dinner announces that she is going to get dessert as she walks into the kitchen. The audience tends to imagine she is either going to whip up something for the said dessert and is going to dutifully get it to the living room possibly for the man or both of them to eat. Instead what we see is an amusing picture of Bhatt who drops in Dark Fantasy biscuits into the microwave after which she gets them out to devour all by herself sitting on the kitchen table while she keeps the man waiting as she indulges herself by placing her own wishes over that of the man of the house. This ends with the man walking in on her perplexed but eventually giving into laughter. Make My Trip is an app that facilitates its users to book flight tickets and hotel bookings. It showcases a series of short advertisements about the smartness of choosing to book on Make My Trip with huge discounts that can not be found elsewhere. This is played by the duo, Alia Bhatt and Ranveer Singh and it leads up to the time of the release of their latest film together, Gully Boy (Akhtar 2019). Along with the brand endorsements with their respective ads along with films feed into each other. Sometimes, the image is followed by the film as seen in the case of Make My Trip where the ads came out while the film itself was in the making and it fulfilled the function of both promoting the film along with the brand. The duo as a visual facilitate in creation of an anticipation for the story along with other elements like music that the film offers. In conclusion, this study hopes to contribute to developments in film studies of Hindi cinema within the media landscape. Bhatt’s stardom in the making is in conversation with the modern, digital developments in the field of new media. Through the journey of her course of star–fan interaction, we witness the idea of star text coming alive. The star is being hypervisible or a constant spectacle for the audience to not just remain relevant but also to reproduce the same image and more often in a

17 Alia Bhatt: The New Female Subject and Stardom

275

clockwork fashion. This multiplication of star image works differently with different stars, for some constantly being visible either through media or digital engagement or through their products. “Within contemporary media and convergence culture, stars are always present. The Internet and its social networking sites constitute a globally shared space for communication and interaction that is used by cultural industries, stars, press and audience alike” (Dudrah et al. 2015). Furthermore, all these various developments that have been recounted and discussed here points to not just the success story of Alia Bhatt rather, it very importantly brings to light all of these various interconnections between different arenas such as stardom and new media, fans and newer voices and methods of articulating one’s association or engagement with the actors on-screen.

References Consolaro, A. 2014. Who is Afraid of Shah Rukh Khan? Neoliberal India’s fears seen through a cinematic prism. Governare la paura. Dudrah, et al. (2015). SRK and Global Bollywood. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Dyer, R. (2003) [1979]. Stars. London: British Film Institute. Ghosh, S. (2002). Queer pleasures for queer people. New York: Routledge.

Filmography Advani, N. (2003). Kal Ho Na Ho. Yash Raj Films. Akhtar. (2019). Gully Boy. Excel Entertainment. Ali, I. (2014). Highway. UTV Motion Pictures. Bahl, V. (2014). Queen. Viacom 18 Motion Pictures. Bahl, V. (2015). Shaandaar. Fox Star Studios. Basu, A. (2006). Gangster. Vishesh Films. Batra, S. (2016). Kapoor & Sons. Fox Star Studios. Benegal, S. (1974). Ankur. Blaze Film Enterprises. Benegal, S. (1977). Bhumika. Blaze Film Enterprises. Chandra, T. (1999). Sangharsh. Vishesh Films. Chaubey, A. (2016). Udta Punjab. Balaji Motion Pictures, White Hill Studios. Das, A. (2017). Anaarkali of Aarah. PVR Cinemas. Ghosh, S. (2012). Kahaani. Viacom 18 Motion Pictures, Pen India Limited. Gulzar, M. (2018). Raazi. AA Films. Gupta, R. K. (2011). No One Killed Jessica. UTV Motion Pictures. Johar, K. (2012). Student of the Year. AA Films, Eros Entertainment. Kashyap, A. (2010). Dabangg. Shree Ashtavinayak Cine Vision Ltd. Khaitan, S. (2014). Humpty Sharma Ki Dulhania. Reliance Entertainment, AA Films. Khaitan, S. (2017). Badrinath Ki Dulhania. Fox Star Studios. Khan, M. (1957). Mother India. Mehboob Productions. Krish & Ranaut. (2019). Manikarnika: The Queen of Jhansi. Zee Studios. Madhvani, R. (2016). Neerja. Fox Star Studios. Mehta, H. (2017). Simran. T-Series.

276

D. Kalavala

Nalin, P. (2015). Angry Indian Goddesses. Jungle Book Entertainment et al. Rai, A. L. (2016). Tanu Weds Manu Returns. Eros International. Shinde, G. (2012). English Vinglish. Eros International Media Ltd. Shinde, G. (2016). Dear Zindagi. NH Studioz (India). Reliance Entertainment Private Limited. Singh, N. (2015). NH10. Eros India. Shrivastava, A. (2016). Lipstick Under My Burkha. ALT Balaji, Balaji Motion Pictures, Star Synergy Entertainment. Shrivatsav, S. K. (2014). Revolver Rani. Wave Cinema Distribution. Suri, M. (2006). Woh Lamhe. NH Studios. Tiwari, A. I. (2016). Nil Battey Sannata. Eros International. Varman, A. (2014). 2 States. UTV Motion Pictures. Yadav, L. (2015). Parched. Airan Consultants et al. AIB, director. ‘Genius of the year’ YouTube, August 24, 2014. www.youtube.com/watch?v= pfHxl46KyZM. Hotstar. (2014). Koffee with Karan. www.hotstar.com/tv/koffee-with-karan/s-74/sidharth-alia-andvarun/1000004257. World Economic Forum, director. YouTube, October 5, 2017. www.youtube.com/watch?v=L_ OsdAb0Cqk&t=941s. Youtube. (2002). Lux Advertisement. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZFFHjQxHLTA. Youtube. (2018a). Star Plus: Rishta Wahi, Baat Nayi. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v= Dd7AG5N259A. Youtube. (2018b). Make My Trip. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hi3zJufbtYM. Youtube. (2018c). Sunfeast Dark Fantasy: Alia found a new way to indulge. https://www.youtube. com/watch?v=0fQNwXkOaqA. Youtube. (2018d). Uber Eats: Alia’s Calorie Count. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v= vBcI4VXdkO0. Youtube. (2018e). Frankfinn Brand TVC—Featuring Alia Bhatt. https://www.youtube.com/watch? v=5pj-A9NTJns. Youtube. (2018f). Alia Bhatt Ad Nokia—TVC. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uzjRKQLl8kY.

Part V

Transnational Stardom

Chapter 18

Transnational Rites of Passage, National Stardom: Irrfan Khan’s Presence in Hollywood Cinema Shreyosi Mukherjee

Abstract This essay explores how Irrfan Khan’s presence in blockbuster Hollywood franchise films like The Amazing Spiderman (Webb in The amazing spiderman. Sony Pictures, 2012) and Jurassic World (Trevorrow in Jurassic World. Universal Pictures, 2015) has established him as a bonafide movie star in India, while simultaneously giving him global recognition as an actor. Using Meeuf Russell and Raphael Raphael’s conception of a fluid transnational stardom as an intellectual springboard, this essay distinguishes between Khan’s Bollywood stardom and Hollywood recognition and acceptance. Khan’s presence in Hollywood cinema resulted in two concomitant but distinct (at times converging) trajectories: one is working with reputed international auteurs like Danny Boyle and Ang Lee and the other is that of experimenting in art house/independent and crossover Bollywood cinema. In both trajectories, Khan leverages the global popularity and circulation of Hollywood cinema. Elizabeth Ezra and Terry Rowden’s idea that Hollywood is transnational since its originary state is crucial in understanding Khan’s mobility as an actor navigating the divergent global cinematic cultures. Through a critical reading of Khan’s performances in The Amazing Spiderman, Jurassic World and Inferno (dir. Howard in Inferno. Sony Pictures, 2016), this essay argues how Khan continues to operate as an “international other” in Hollywood, who is recognized by his international audiences. But this recognition translates into transnational stardom in India where he becomes a symbolic crosscultural contact zone with international cinema for his Indian audiences. Khan’s transition from recognition to stardom creates an extremely compelling liminality where he at once becomes a nominal and powerful cultural figure in two distinct geo-political locations but located within the same chronotope. Natasa Durovicova defines transnational cinema as characterized by “a relative openness to modalities of geopolitical forms” (Durovicova in In World cinemas, transnational perspectives. Routledge, New York, London, p. x, 2010). This essay tries to establish Hollywood as the geo-political (and economic) centre of the transnational flow of commodities and cultures in global cinema that continues to function as the legitimizing device for local (national) stardom and fan cultures. S. Mukherjee (B) 2905 Rio Verde Drive, Leander, TX, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 A. I. Viswamohan and C. M. Wilkinson (eds.), Stardom in Contemporary Hindi Cinema, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-15-0191-3_18

279

280

S. Mukherjee

Keywords Bollywood · Hollywood · Stardom · Identity · Transnational · International · Mobility In an interview with Indian stand-up comic, Zakir Khan, while promoting his latest release, Qarib Qarib Singlle (Chandra 2017), Irrfan Khan critiques the unrealistic standards of heterosexual romance that Bollywood cinema sets for its audiences. Though the critique, much like the interview itself, is light-hearted and non-serious, Khan’s ability to talk about flawed Bollywood traditions or idiosyncrasies underscores both his privileged and ambiguous position vis-à-vis Bollywood cinema. Irrfan Khan, the actor and celebrity, inhabits an interesting interstitial space that simultaneously lies within and outside Bollywood. While Khan is now a bonafide movie star in India, his stardom is unlike any of his Bollywood peers. It is not unusual for Bollywood actors to achieve transnational stardom, owing to the burgeoning size of the Indian diaspora and the global circulation of Hindi language cinema. In the diaspora, Bollywood translates as nostalgia and an imagined space of contact with the homeland. In the twenty-first century, the globalization of the Indian economy, the growing phenomenon of “NRI movies”1 and the worldwide releases of Hindi language cinema ensured Bollywood actors like Shah Rukh Khan enjoy transnational recognition and adulation. Historically, it is also fairly common for Indian actors to appear in transnational or crossover cinema. Om Puri, Naseeruddin Shah and Shabana Azmi have all been part of independent, art house transnational films.2 In the case of the above-mentioned actors, their appearances in crossover cinema were aligned to their dominant presence in the erstwhile Indian art house films. The films they appeared in were niche, often thematically esoteric and primarily catering to international film festival audiences. In recent times, Priyanka Chopra’s successful migration from commercial Bollywood 1 In

the late 90s and early twenty-first century there was a growing trend especially among young Indian filmmakers to shift the thematic focus from a general formula of romance and action and address issues more closely related to the urban youth. Soon, the young diaspora audiences connected with this new thematic focus and film-makers showed an increasing awareness of engaging with diaspora audiences by shifting locales and themes to the Indian diaspora (in the UK and USA). As Jacob Srampickal notes, “A new area of development- call it a genre- in the Indian film industry is the Non-Resident Indians’ (NRI) movie […] The first obvious NRI films were Hum Aapke Hain Kaun (HAHK) and Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge (DDLJ) […] All of them star the latest ‘overseas’ craze and sell both the exotic and backward India to the nostalgic NRI” (Srampickal 2002). 2 Om Puri’s most notable appearances in transnational projects include important cameos in Richard Attenborough’s Gandhi (1982), Roland Joffe’s City of Joy (1992) and Mike Nicholls’ Charlie Wilson’s War (2007). Puri played a lead role in the British film, My Son the Fanatic (Udayan Prasad 1997) that won him widespread critical accolades. Naseeruddin Shah also appeared in a number of crossover films, including the commercially successful Monsoon Wedding (2001) directed by Mira Nair. Shah also performed alongside Hollywood star Sean Connery, in the 2003 film, The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (Norrington 2003). In the eighties, Shabana Azmi was one of the rare Indian female actors working in both Indian parallel cinema and international art house films. Azmi’s earliest appearance was in a transnational project, Madame Sousatzka (Schlezinger 1988). Azmi has continued to work in transnational collaborations, including Gurinder Chadha-directed It’s a Wonderful Afterlife (2010) and The Reluctant Fundamentalist (Nair 2012).

18 Transnational Rites of Passage, National Stardom …

281

cinema to mainstream Hollywood sets up a new paradigm.3 Chopra’s migration is pivoted on her Bollywood stardom, wide recognition in the Indian diaspora, her winning of the Miss World pageant in 2000 and her identity as a transnational pop icon and celebrity. Chopra uses the circulatory nature of commercial Bollywood cinema in the global marketplace to launch herself as a transnational star in Hollywood cinema and primetime American television. Chopra epitomizes what Meeuf Russell and Raphael Raphael have described as a “sophisticated international otherness” (Meeuf and Raphael 2013, p. 1). So, while Chopra’s ethnicity is consumed by Hollywood as exotic, her Bollywood fame and recognition is channelized and stylized as aspirational markers of global feminine sophistication. Unlike any of the actors and movie stars discussed above, Irrfan Khan’s career trajectory, rather interestingly and intriguingly revises, reverses and fragments the Bollywood to Hollywood circuitry of transnational fame. This essay is invested in exploring Khan’s early initiation into transnational cinema that translated into appearances in mainstream Hollywood franchise films like The Amazing Spiderman (Webb 2012) and Jurassic World (Trevorrow 2015). The appearances, albeit cameos, are crucial in establishing Khan as a recognizable actor for his international audiences and instantaneously translates as stardom for his Indian audiences. This constant shift between transnational recognition and national stardom allows Khan to be irreverent to established Bollywood traditions, critique and dismantle them in his own Bollywood films. At the same time, Khan’s acceptance in Hollywood has resulted in further creative collaborations with renowned international auteurs and diverse transnational cinema. This essay is divided into three sections, the first section details Khan’s foray into transnational cinema to sustain as an actor and find recognition, the second section is a critical reading of Khan’s performances in blockbuster Hollywood franchise films and the final section is an appraisal of Khan’s current artistic engagements in Bollywood and transnational cinema.

Beyond Bollywood: Transnational Journeys If contemporary power geometries of the global and the transnational are complex and varied, so are their concomitant patterns of celebrity. (Littler 2011, p. 4)

An alumnus of the National School of Drama (that still produces the bulk of actors in Indian parallel and independent cinema), Irrfan Khan’s debut as an actor was in Indian television dramas. Though Khan found almost instant recognition acting in television, they did not easily translate into opportunities in Bollywood. In 1988, 3 One

might argue that Aishwarya Rai Bachchan was one of the first major mainstream Bollywood exports to international cinema. But Rai’s successful performances were mainly limited to crossover projects like Gurinder Chadha’s Bride and Prejudice (Chadha 2004) and The Mistress of Spices (Berges 2005). Though Rai enjoys transnational stardom, owing to her Miss World pageant win in 1994, she did not manage to effectively break into mainstream Hollywood as a female lead in a way that Priyanka Chopra has.

282

S. Mukherjee

Khan acted in a minor role in Mira Nair’s Salaam Bombay, but the role did not make it to the final edited, film. Khan continued to successfully work in Indian television4 along side film roles that did not receive much media or critical attention. In 2001, Khan was cast in British director Asif Kapadia’s directorial debut The Warrior. This film marks a turning point in the course and trajectory of Khan’s career as an actor. Kapadia’s The Warrior is almost textbook definition of a transnational cinematic collaboration. Natasa Durovicova’s (almost) celebratory description and definition of transnational (cinema), “implies relations of unevenness and mobility […] relative openness to modalities of geo-political forms, social relations” (Durovicova 2010, p. x). Durovicova emphasizes artistic and economic collaboration as the cornerstone of transnational cinema. Transnational cinema, thereby, for Durovicova, becomes symbolic of both plurality and unevenness of world cinema and resources of film-making. The Warrior defied any neat national categorization and used multiple geo-economic resources: it was financed by companies based in Britain, Germany and France, shot extensively in Rajasthan and Himachal Pradesh in India and used Hindi as the language of the film. So when in 2003 the British Academy of Film and Television Arts (BAFTA) awarded The Warrior the most Outstanding Debut and Outstanding Non-English British Film of the year, there was an extensive questioning about identifying the film as Non-British by the BAFTA. In the same year, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences rejected The Warrior as Britain’s official entry to the Oscars, citing that the film was not British. These controversies surrounding the national identity of the film, resulted in The Warrior generating an international interest and the lead actor Irrfan Khan became a reasonably well-known actor. The success and recognition of The Warrior was followed by Khan’s return to Hindi language cinema, playing Macbeth, in Vishal Bharadwaj directed Maqbool (2003). Bharadwaj’s Maqbool, a dark, gangster reinterpretation of Shakespeare’s Macbeth was the first film of his Shakespeare trilogy.5 In 2003, when Maqbool released, Bharadwaj was still regarded as more of an independent art house filmmaker and Maqbool was the first film to bring him national and international critical acclaim. Maqbool was not a commercial success in the domestic markets, but it garnered interest about Bharadwaj as a director and Khan as an actor. Khan’s stellar performance as the ambitious and morally conflicted Miyan Maqbool won him rave reviews when the film premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival in 2003. In the international press, Khan was still identified as the lead actor of The Warrior.6 Khan’s performances in the The Warrior and Maqbool established him as a versatile actor and his understated yet intense style of acting as conducive for transnational/international cinematic collaborations. Khan’s acting aesthetic was described variously as sophisticated, non-Bollywood, non-mainstream and international. 4 Khan’s

successful television performances include Chandrakanta (1994, where he played Badrinath and Somnath), Banegi Apni Baat (1993–1997) and episodes of Star Bestsellers (1999, best known for his lead role in the episode, Ek Shaam Ek Mulaqaat). 5 Bharadwaj’s Omkara (2006, a reinterpretation of Othello) and Haider (2014, an adaptation of Hamlet) complete his Shakespeare trilogy. 6 The Variety review of Bharadwaj’s Maqbool refers to Khan as the “bulbuous-eyed simmering thesp (sic) Irrfan Khan (“The Warrior”)” (Elley 2003).

18 Transnational Rites of Passage, National Stardom …

283

Mette Hjort identifies nine iterations of cinematic transnationalism in the essay, “On the Plurality of Cinematic Transnationalism”. Hjort explains “cosmopolitan transnationalism” as identified by a, “multiple belonging linked to ethnicity and various trajectories of migration [becoming] the basis for a form of transnationalism that is oriented toward the ideal of film as a medium capable of strengthening certain social imaginaries” (Hjort 2010, p. 20). Khan’s transnational cinematic engagements that would follow The Warrior and Maqbool can be understood as variants of Hjort’s cosmopolitan transnationalism where film-makers have foregrounded Khan’s Indian ethnicity to simultaneously lend cultural authenticity to the cinematic content and to engage the Indian markets (local and diasporic) of transnational cinema. Reviewing Khan’s performance as Ashoke, a middle class engineer immigrating to the USA in Mira Nair’s The Namesake (2006) the international press was tepid in its response, and the focus was instead on Kal Penn, who plays Gogol, Khan’s son in the film. Both the New York Times and The Guardian reviews made passing references to Khan’s presence and the latter identified Khan as the actor “last seen in The Warrior”. The national media on the other hand devoted much attention and praise to Khan and Tabu’s performances in the film, stressing how believable they are in their portrayal of a middle-class immigrant Bengali couple. In the same way, Khan lends credibility to his role as a Pakistani investigator in the Angelina Jolie starrer 2007 film, A Mighty Heart (Winterbottom). In his next transnational release, Danny Boyle’s Slumdog Millionaire (2008), Khan plays an Indian police officer, as part of a large ensemble cast that also includes Indian star Anil Kapoor. Slumdog Millionaire further strengthens Khan’s reputation as an adept actor and he becomes a recognizable face for international cinephiles. Manohla Dargis’s New York Times review describes Khan as a “reliably great” performer. Slumdog Millionaire’s international commercial success and its subsequent sweep at the 2009 Academy Awards where it won eight awards including Best Picture and Best Director positioned Khan firmly as a bankable actor in transnational/international cinematic projects. Khan’s foray into transnational cinema gave him an unprecedented exposure, unlike any of his contemporaries in Bollywood. His consistent presence in transnational cinema not only gave him access to culturally diverse audiences but established his prowess as a competent actor. It is interesting to note that in all the abovementioned films Khan’s cultural and ethnic identities have been maintained by filmmakers. In this phase of his career, Khan also played positive, hero-like characters that were instrumental in shaping how he was perceived by his Indian audiences. While Khan’s reputation as an actor strengthened internationally, his status as an “international celebrity” grew in the imagination of his Indian and South Asian diaspora audiences. Therefore, Khan’s transnational stint functioned as a rite of passage that resulted into two parallel but concomitant trajectories: international recognition and emergence of national celebrityhood.

284

S. Mukherjee

Blockbuster Hollywood, National Hall of Fame Celebrity mobilities also mediate and shape our very sense of national and transnational cultures and possibilities as well as being themselves “subject to” or shaped by it: they are part of a larger process by which we can make sense of what the national, the international and the transnational means, or might mean. (Littler 2011, p. 2)

Even as Khan continued to work with internationally celebrated auteurs like Ang Lee in his 2012 film Life of Pi, he was inducted into the genre of blockbuster Hollywood franchise films. In 2012, Khan played Peter Parker’s arch nemesis, Dr. Ranjit Ratha, in The Amazing Spiderman. Starring Andrew Garfield and Emma Stone, Khan’s character received little international press attention in the reviews of the film. The Indian media on the other hand was building up Khan’s performance in this multimillion dollar franchise film as a moment of global reckoning of his talent. There were extensive interviews published with striking headlines, with the film’s director and actors where Khan’s performance was superlatively praised.7 These interviews and the continued press coverage served as a legitimizing device, establishing Khan as an integral part of the film and also Hollywood cinema. But upon its release, a section of the India media was not too enthusiastic about Khan’s short and largely sidelined role in the film. There were news articles sarcastically comparing Khan’s role to that of Anil Kapoor’s blink and you will miss it role in Mission Impossible-Ghost Protocol (Bird 2011). In 2015, Khan played Simon Masrani, the multi-billionaire owner of Isla Nublar in Jurassic World. Devised as a summer blockbuster, Jurassic World was also Khan’s opportunity to redeem himself (and his Indian audiences) from the disappointments of The Amazing Spiderman. Simon Masrani was a much well-rounded character when compared to Dr. Ranjit Ratha. Masrani is wealthy, morally ambiguous and deeply passionate about the scientifically sophisticated amusement/theme park that he owns. Unlike Ratha, who is abandoned without a proper denouement, Masrani’s character has a clear trajectory. Khan’s performance was appreciated for its sophistication. It is significant to note at this juncture that in both the blockbuster franchise films, Khan plays the antagonist and characters that retain his ethnicity. In both films the characters are pivotal in the plot development, but in the mass hysteria that franchise films create around its star cast or by its sheer return to screen, Khan’s characters do not really standout. One might argue that Khan’s roles in these two franchise films were in fact reinstating stereotypes of the nominal presence of a person of colour in blockbuster ensemble casts. The roles Khan played in The Warrior or The Namesake are central characters, which receive a bulk of the thematic focus, in comparison his roles in The Amazing Spiderman and Jurassic Park are best described as “sidekicks”. Elizabeth Ezra and Terry Rowden discuss in the Introduction to the Transnational 7 On

7 April 2014, two years after the release of The Amazing Spiderman, the Hindustan Times published an interview with Andrew Garfield titled, “I think Irrfan Khan is a fantastic actor: Spider Man star Andrew Garfield”. The interview details Garfield’s personal and artistic approaches while playing Spiderman. It only has a passing reference to Khan, where Garfield mentions Khan as a “fine Indian actor”.

18 Transnational Rites of Passage, National Stardom …

285

Cinema, The Film Reader, that the “homogenizing dynamic [of Hollywood cinema] can be seen to function even at the level of individual performers […] national identity [of transnational actors/stars] has been jettisoned as a marker of cultural specificity to an extent that goes beyond what might be necessary for the demands of a particular role” (Ezra and Rowden 2006, p. 2). Similarly, in the case of Khan’s roles in mainstream blockbusters movies, his identity is tokenized as cultural and ethnic diversity in Hollywood. In many ways, Khan’s roles reinstate stereotypes of the wealthy and intelligent South Asian immigrant. As the epigraph at the beginning of this section suggests, transnational stars are endowed with the privilege of mobility and allow audiences multiple vantage points to assess and appraise their performances. Littler further suggests that celebrities are both products and people that “can be glocalized–consumed differently in different places, their meanings shifting alongside their geographical context” (Littler 2011). Khan’s somewhat sidelined roles in Hollywood transforms him into a legitimate superstar in India. Marta Bolognani analyses celebrity culture and the perception of celebrities among audiences as a “cultural fabrication” (Bolognani 2011, p. 31), intimately connected to the culture of reception and the social landscape. In Hollywood (and among its audiences), which is intrinsically transnational since inception, the presence of a South Asian actor in a film is a fairly regularized and normalized phenomenon. But in India, where actors and audiences still seek Hollywood approval and recognition as a marker of success, Khan’s presence in Hollywood cinema makes him in an instant superstar. His performances are treated as enormous successes in the Indian media alongside a new interest in his personal life and lifestyle. This new interest in the Indian media about Khan as an actor effectively shapes the next phase of his career as an actor and how he is perceived in Bollywood.

A Return to Bollywood—Dismantling Stereotypes Stars, […] always function as agents of the global media systems that create them while also acting as sources of pleasure and identification for their audiences. It is through this balance that transnational stars become such dynamic and effective sources of ideological negotiation. (Meeuf and Raphael 2013, p. 6)

Since 2015, Khan has attempted to strike a balance between Bollywood, Hollywood and transnational films. In fact, the bulk of his cinematic projects in the last two years have been in Bollywood. His last major Hollywood release was in 2016 in the Ron Howard directed Inferno, where Khan appeared alongside Hollywood superstars Tom Hanks and Felicity Jones. In Bollywood, Khan effectively used his stardom to collaborate with directors and film-makers who were keen on redefining the formulaic vocabulary of Hindi language cinema and push the boundaries of Bollywood cinematic content. Khan’s worldwide recognition, his reputation as a versatile actor aligned with the growing demand and market for modern, realistic and

286

S. Mukherjee

small-budget multiplex films.8 Khan’s presence in these projects ensured a global cosmopolitan viewership and allowed Khan to reinvent and redefine the Bollywood hero. In the 2013 film The Lunchbox (Batra), made through a transnational economic collaboration between various governmental and non-governmental production companies in India, USA and Europe,9 Khan’s performance was widely appreciated in the Indian and international media. In the film, Khan plays an ageing widower, who develops a deep emotional attachment with an unhappy housewife (played by Nimrat Kaur) through an accidental exchange of letters. Apart from being a commercial success in India, the film was also lauded at the Cannes Film Festival and Toronto Film Festival where it was screened. Though largely identified as a Bollywood/Hindi language film in the international cinematic landscape, Khan is not the proverbial hero in it. The film places its central focus on unravelling the emotional crevices of the two central characters and how the letters they write to each other become expressions of their loneliness and helplessness. The Lunchbox is urban in its thematic and film-making sensibilities, it is without any song and dance sequences and its duration is a crisp 105 min. In 2014, Khan appeared in a crucial cameo in Bharadwaj’s Haider, playing Roohdar, Bharadwaj’s iteration of Horatio’s Ghost. By 2014, Bharadwaj had significantly narrowed down the art house and mainstream Bollywood gap, by consistently working with commercial superstars in the business. Khan’s performance was largely overshadowed by the media frenzy surrounding Shahid Kapoor playing Hamlet in the film. It is in Shoojit Sircar’s Piku (2015), where Khan is paired against the Bollywood superstar female lead, Deepika Padukone that he completely deconstructs the clichéd notions of the romantic hero. Piku is in many ways like Khan, it can be identified as a Bollywood film with mainstream actors, yet its treatment is unique. Khan makes his character Rana Choudhary (who owns a rental car service business) mundane and everyday. The romance between Padukone and Khan’s characters remain largely implied and subtle. In subsequent Bollywood films, Hindi Medium (Chaudhary 2017) or the Qarib Qarib Singlle (Chandra 2017), Khan infuses his characters with strong doses of simplicity in mannerism, physicality, costumes and in the overall approach to portraying the characters on screen. Khan doggedly refuses to turn his off-screen stardom into an on-screen charisma. It is undeniable that Khan’s global presence through his appearances in crossover and Hollywood projects has given him a ready viewership. But Khan has used this success as a way of introducing a newness and an ideological shift in approaching his 8 “While the multiplex menu

has been closely aligned to Bollywood releases and reflective of deals with Hollywood distributors, it is the array of alternative films that occupies a very small proportion of metropolitan programming that has been most frequently associated with the multiplex […] They represent something of a novelty to film fans since these are niche films which previously would not have been exhibited at any distribution tiers. The multiplex industry as a whole also frequently emphasizes the importance of these films […] (Athique and Hill 2010). 9 The Lunchbox was jointly produced by DAR Motion Pictures, UTV Motion Pictures, Dharma Production, Sikhya Entertainment, NFDC, India, ROH Films (Germany), ASAP Films (France) and Cine Mosaic (USA).

18 Transnational Rites of Passage, National Stardom …

287

Bollywood roles. Khan is a collaborative actor, who has shown consistent openness in working with other Bollywood stars as part of an ensemble cast. Khan’s extensive experience and exposure in transnational projects have allowed him to undercut the centrality and larger than life projections of the leading male characters in Bollywood. In Khan’s portrayals, the leading men are flawed and normalized. Khan can be identified as a “liquid celebrity” (Redmond 2010) who uses fame and recognition to traverse disparate cultural topographies of global capitalism and epitomize the “fluid pulse of celebrity culture” (Redmond 2010, p. 83) where values and emotions attached to each celebrity transform globally. Ezra and Rowden highlight how Hollywood is a critical cultural tool that “has both influenced and been influenced by the flows of cultural exchange that are transforming the ways people the world over are making and watching films” (Ezra and Rowden 2006, p. 2). By drawing upon that logic, Khan’s transnational ventures made Hollywood franchises take notice of him as a capable performer. And Khan’s Hollywood appearances shaped the way he transformed from an actor to a star for his Bollywood audiences and granted him and his new approaches to Bollywood roles a certain degree of acceptability. In a recent interview, where Khan announces his international release Puzzle (Turtletaub 2018), he identifies the key distinction between the approaches of the two leading film-making industries. Khan explains: “I think the most interesting part of exploring both the worlds of cinema—Bollywood and Hollywood—is how the audience perceives an actor. In our (Indian) cinema, actors are like a magician who come on screen and do something to engage and mesmerise. On the other hand, in the West, actors are performers, and the audience looks for a certain amount of nuance, subtleness” (Khuranaa 2017). It is Khan’s keen insight and flexibility as an actor to continuously adapt in both worlds that has resulted in a successful translation of transnational recognition into national stardom. In recognizing and critically engaging with the unique configuration(s) of Khan’s stardom in the national and international cine fan cultures, the centrality of Hollywood as an enabling global node/hub is unmistakable and obvious. But the crux lies in identifying how Khan’s fluid transnational stardom simultaneously underscores and undercuts Hollywood’s role as a legitimizing device that drives and shapes that stardom. While Khan leverages the global reach and accessibility of Hollywood cinema by playing somewhat minor characters in big budget franchise blockbusters, he develops an individual brand where he constantly combines these films with pivotal roles in projects directed by renowned national and international auteurs. In his discussion of post-colonial theory and James Cameron’s Avatar (2009), Gautam Basu Thakur writes, “Globalization promotes a subjectivity that is autonomous, flexible, and capable of expanding into the farthest reaches of the globe […] Subject- production in globalization remains singularly dependent on strategies of othering the Other, though such acts are cloaked in the rhetoric of multicultural tolerant pluralism” (Thakur 2016, pp. 4–5). Khan, as an actor navigating between the socio-economic worlds of Hollywood and Bollywood cinema, exhibits a deep awareness of his own subject-production and how he is perceived in international and indigenous fan cultures. He, almost strategically co-opts the othering of his ethnic identities in Hollywood cinema to stand out as an actor, and in Bollywood cinema

288

S. Mukherjee

he uses his global exposure and reputation to stand apart from the proverbial tag of the Bollywood hero. In activating a continuous and self-conscious process of “othering” himself in national and international cinema Khan’s stardom problematizes the role and position of Hollywood as the epicentre of global recognition and celebrityhood. Instead, Khan’s transnational stardom points to alternate routes and passages of stardom that are ambivalent towards Hollywood’s role as a facilitating agent of achieving global acceptance. Similarly, Khan’s celebrity status in the Hindi cinema does not require him to subscribe to the prerequisites of a macho, romantic or nationalistic Bollywood hero. Khan’s career trajectory and his numerous transnational cinematic journeys allow him to be irreverent to prototypes, Bollywood or Hollywood.

References Athique, A., & Hill, D. (2010). The multiplex in India: A cultural economy of urban leisure. New York: Routledge. Basu Thakur, G. (2016). Postcolonial theory and avatar. London, New York: Bloomsbury. Bolognani, M. (2011). Star fission: Shoaib Akhtar and fragmentation as transnational celebrity strategy. Celebrity Studies, 2(1), 31–43. Durovicova, N. (2010). Preface. World cinemas, transnational perspectives (pp. ix–xv). New York, London: Routledge. Elley, D. (2003). The variety. [Online] Available at: http://variety.com/2003/film/reviews/maqbool1200538293/. Accessed 1 Nov 2017. Ezra, E., & Rowden, T. (2006). What is transnational cinema? Transnational cinema, the film reader (pp. 1–12). London, New York: Routledge. Hjort, M. (2010). On the plurality of cinematic transnationalism. World cinemas, transnational perspectives (pp. 12–33). New York, London: Routledge. Khuranaa, A. (2017). Timenownews. [Online] Available at: http://www.timesnownews.com/ entertainment/article/actors-perceived-as-magicians-in-india-performers-in-west-says-irrfankhan/136198. Accessed 30 Nov 2017. Littler, J. (2011). Introduction: Celebrity and the transnational. Celebrity Studies, 2(1), 1–5. Meeuf, R., & Raphael, R. (2013). Transnational stardom: International celebrity in film and popular culture. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Redmond, S. (2010). Avatar Obama in the age of liquid celebrity. Celebrity Studies, 1(1), 81–95. Srampickal, J. (2002). Messages or massages? Media matters in India today. New Delhi: Media House.

Filmography Attenborough, R. (1982). Gandhi. Columbia Pictures. Barjatya, S. (1994). Hum Aapke Hain Koun..! Rajshree Prods. Batra, R. (2013). The lunchbox. UTV Motion Pictures. Berges, P. M. (2005). The mistress of spices. Rainbow Films. Bharadwaj, V. (2003). Maqbool. Kaleidoscope Ent. Pvt. Ltd. Bharadwaj, V. (2006). Omkara. Eros Entertainment.

18 Transnational Rites of Passage, National Stardom … Bharadwaj, V. (2014). Haider. UTV Motion Pictures. Bird, B. (2011). Mission impossible—Ghost protocol. Paramount Pictures. Boyle, D. (2008). Slumdog millionaire. Pathé Distribution. Cameron, J. (2009). Avatar. 20th C. Fox. Chadha, G. (2004). Bride and prejudice. Miramax Films. Chadha, G. (2010). It’s a wonderful afterlife. Icon Film Distribution. Chandra, T. (2017). Qarib Qarib Singlle. Zee Studios. Chaudhary, S. (2017). Hindi medium. AA Films. Chopra, A. (1995). Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge. YRF. Howard, R. (2016). Inferno. Sony Pictures. Joffé, R. (1992). City of joy. Warner Bros. Kapadia, A. (2001). The warrior. Film4. Nair, M. (1988). Salaam Bombay. Cinecom Pictures. Nair, M. (2001). Monsoon wedding. USA Films. Nair, M. (2006). The Namesake. Fox Searchlight Pictures. Nair, M. (2012). Reluctant fundamentalist. IFC Films. Nichols, M. (2007). Charlie Wilson’s war. Universal Pictures. Norrington, S. (2003). The league of extraordinary gentlemen. 20th C. Fox. Schlezinger, J. (1988). Madame Sousatzka. Universal Pictures. Sircar, S. (2015). Piku. YRF. Trevorrow, C. (2015). Jurassic world. Universal Pictures. Turtletaub, M. (2018). Puzzle. Sony Pictures. Prasad, U. (1997). My son the fanatic. Chris Curling. Webb, M. (2012). The amazing spiderman. Sony Pictures. Winterbottom, M. (2007). A mighty heart. Paramount Pictures.

289

Chapter 19

Tabu: Less Is More Patricia Gruben

Abstract Tabassum Fatima Hashmi was recruited for her first film at the age of ten, yet it has only been in the past decade that she has come into her own as an actress. Early on, she appeared in a number of conventional Bollywood films, but never seemed comfortable as an ingénue or song and dance actress in roles inadequate to her natural dignity. As niece of Shabana Azmi and protégé of writer–director– lyricist Gulzar, Tabu eventually won access to more serious and complex roles. More compelling than ever in her late forties, she has been seen to her best advantage in literary adaptations such as Maqbool (Bhardwaj 2003), The Namesake (Nair 2007), The Life of Pi (Lee 2005c), Haider (Bhardwaj 2014) and Fitoor (Kapoor 2016), where she plays conflicted and not always sympathetic characters of middle age. As she has developed into one of the most accomplished Indian actresses of her generation, Tabu has gained recognition in international productions by acclaimed directors Ang Lee and Mira Nair. However, her status as a Bollywood star has not excited the fan hysteria of Aishwarya Rai, Kareena Kapoor or Deepika Padukone. Her public profile is one of circumspection—careful in her public pronouncements, with little gossip about her private life and no feuds or scandals in other than her association with the 1998 Salman Khan blackbuck-poaching incident. This chapter will focus on the correspondence between Tabu’s acclaim as a serious actress and her appearance in prestigious adaptations of Western literary works—Shakespeare, Dickens, Jane Austen and Yann Martell—with a particular focus on the critical reception of her work. Keywords Parallel cinema · International stardom · Method acting · Naturalistic acting Her full name is Tabassum Fatima Hashmi; her stage name, Tabu, evokes the compelling mix of sensuality and restraint that the actress embodies, both on-screen and in her guarded public identity. Tabu’s “star” persona, as constructed by film reviews, newspaper interviews and blogs, is as enigmatic as the characters she has played in serious dramas like Maqbool (Bhardwaj 2003) and Haider (Bhardwaj 2014). While P. Gruben (B) Simon Fraser University, 149 West Hastings, Vancouver V6B 1H4, BC, Canada e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 A. I. Viswamohan and C. M. Wilkinson (eds.), Stardom in Contemporary Hindi Cinema, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-15-0191-3_19

291

292

P. Gruben

her early career includes an array of perky ingenues, submissive village girls, and at least one tough cop along with the complex older women that she has played so remarkably in recent films, she brings gravitas even to the starlet roles that are the usual entry points to Bollywood fame. She is singular in her ability to pivot from romantic comedies and crime movies to the parallel cinema of Gulzar and international art films of the past decade. Now, in her late forties, she has capitalized on a combination of early family connections, natural charisma, and acting talent to create a unique place for herself in Indian cinema, capable of playing challenging roles beyond the stereotypical Bollywood mothers or the total erasure that is the fate of older female stars. The naturalistic style of her work enables her to play opposite other fine actors like Irrfan Khan, Ajay Devgn and Naseeruddin Shah, and to fit into prestigious international productions like Mira Nair’s The Namesake (2006) and Ang Lee’s Life of Pi (2012), as well as two of Vishal Bhardwaj’s contemporary Shakespeare adaptations, Maqbool and Haider. She has also appeared with Aamir Khan, Shah Rukh Khan, Salman Khan, Amitabh Bachchan and Sanjay Dutt, and has won a number of acting awards: the National Film Award for Best Actress for Maachis (Gulzar) in 1996 and Chandni Bar (Mandharkar) in 2001, and Filmfare’s Critics Award for Best Female Performer (four times). In 2011, she was awarded the Indian government’s Padma Shri award for her contributions towards the arts. Her star persona and her work as an actress are both complex and cosmopolitan; her career spans the domestic/diasporic market of the mid-nineties to the international festival/art cinema of the present.

Star Mystique Historically, most scholarship on stardom has focused on Hollywood actors as the norm, either ignoring the celebrities of other international cinemas or shoehorning them into the American model. India’s star culture goes back to the 1930s, and recent writing on superstars like Shah Rukh Khan and Amitabh Bachchan (Gopinath 2018) has done a great deal to provide cultural context for their impact. Somewhat less attention is paid to female stars; their careers tend to be shorter and they are less revered to begin with. Of the ten highest-grossing actors in India in 2017, eight are men, and several are in their fifties or older. The two women on the list, Priyanka Chopra and Deepika Padukone, are both in their thirties; both receive more income from product endorsements than from their acting fees, which remain significantly lower than those of the male stars1 (Robehmed 2017). Sabrina Qiong Yu describes stardom as a masquerade, “easily put on, changed and manipulated by the industry, but also by stars and audiences”. For Yu, the notion of stardom, like masquerade, involves simultaneously conforming to social codes 1 In

a 2010 study of Indian stars in advertising, Tabu was #26 after Aishwarya Rai, Rani Mukherjee, Kajol, Preity Zinta, Kareena Kapoor, Priyana Chopra and Bipasha Basu, with seven product endorsements.

19 Tabu: Less Is More

293

and, to some degree, resisting them (Yu 2017, 3), performing, as Richard Dyer noted some years earlier, familiarity and exceptionalism at the same time. Tabu was launched into the stereotype of the beautiful young romantic lead, her dubbed singing voice incongruous with the low register of her speaking voice, and her limited dancing skills eclipsed by the chorus line behind her (and sometimes by her male co-stars).2 Yet she was noticed in films like Jeet (Kanwar 1996) and Vijaypath (Siddique 1994), and her career moved forward steadily. In her thirties, she took on serious roles in films like Chandni Bar (Bhandarkar 2001) and Astitva (Manjrekar 2000) which revealed her range as an actress. As she has reached her forties, she has sometimes chosen, like Hollywood stars Charlize Theron, Jessica Chastain or Frances McDormand, to obscure her beauty in service of the realist characters she plays, appearing as an older woman without makeup in Haider (Bhardwaj 2014), Life of Pi (Lee 2005c) and The Namesake (Nair 2006). She is spoken of with the respect accorded to parallel cinema actresses such as Seema Biswas, Nandita Das and Shabana Azmi. Her stardom has now been confirmed by multiple acting awards, critical praise and international recognition. According to her writeup on the Internet movie database: “With few exceptions, she is best known for acting in artistic, lowbudget films that go on to garner more critical appreciation than substantial box-office figures….Regarded as one of the most talented Indian actresses of her generation, Tabu is known to be selective about her film roles” (IMDBPro). Yet she is still considered a glamorous and alluring star, balancing her serious roles with occasional turns in Bollywood fluff like Golmaal Again (Shetty 2017). She remains an object of desire for her fans—particularly, it seems, for Muslim men.3 Recent comments on her fan club Facebook page: “Lovely face and nose. May Allah subhanahutala (may God bring glory) bless you with more beautiful heart and soul filled with faith and love of ALLAH”; “Tabu good looking nice Lady so beautiful Lady so nice Lady so sweet Lady good night?” “Luking awesome… Growing more beautiful every year…” Film critic Bhawana Somaaya describes Tabu’s complex appeal: It’s not just her body language, but the facility with which she delivers the most ridiculous dialogues as if she has thought of that line for the first time, that makes Tabu so special…Watch her in any film, be it Maqbool or The Namesake, and you realize that Tabu is the only actress of her generation to combine sensuality with substance. She does it again in Cheeni Kum. (Somaaya 2008, 111)

Sumita Chakravarty writes, “the resources of the star body [can] become identified, in popular consciousness, with intuitive longings for change”. (Chakravarty 2013, 186). Tabu’s complex negotiation of her stardom combines sensuality with

2 She

was nominated as “Bollywood’s Worst Dancer” on Rediff.com for her performance of “Ruk Ruk Ruk” in Farogh Siddique directed Vijaypath (Path of Victory, 1994), though another critical website noted “Ironically, it was this song that made her a household name!” (Sudhakaran 2015). 3 Tabu and her sister Farah are two of only five Muslim actresses among the top 187 Indian film stars, though male Muslim actors are over-represented (27% against 12% of India’s population) Preckel 2011, 36).

294

P. Gruben

depth and intelligence, opening new doors for Indian actresses in international cinema. Her personal life is unusually private for an Indian female star, stirring speculation about her romantic attachments and even the possibility that she is secretly married, after two long-lasting but thwarted relationships with other actors. Perhaps this mystery feeds both the male and female fan base in a way that mitigates her disarmingly powerful and even self-destructive roles in Maqbool, Fitoor (Kapoor 2016)—she is Miss Havisham in this loose adaptation of Charles Dickens’ Great Expectations—and Haider, as well as the tenacious police inspector she plays in Drishyam (Kamat 2015). Tabu’s biography, as compiled from interviews and fan Websites, connects her restrained acting style and public reticence to the story of the origin of her “reluctant” stardom. She did not start as a model or beauty queen like Aishwarya Rai (Miss World 1994), Priyanka Chopra (Miss World 2000) or Lara Dutta (Miss Universe 2000). As she has described it, she was a serious student, growing up in Hyderabad in a scholarly family; her mother was a teacher and her maternal grandparents were professors. Yet her extended family has been deeply involved in the Telugu and Hindi film scene. Her mother’s sister is Shabana Azmi, one of the most highly regarded actresses of parallel cinema, who is married to Javed Aktar. (Shabana’s mother Shaukat Kaifi is an important figure in the Indian People’s Theatre Association). Two of her uncles are cinematographers; several cousins are also active in Telugu and Hindi cinema. Family friends in her youth included Ajay Devgn (with whom she has starred in seven films) and the director Shekhar Kapur. As Tabu tells it, her older sister Farah Naaz was much more ambitious as an actress than she, making her debut in Yash Chopra’s Faasle in 1985. Canadian impresario Kamal Sharma remembers Tabu as a teenager, tagging along on Farah’s publicity tour in Vancouver, shy and almost invisible. Yet she was persuaded at age eleven to play a small, uncredited role in Bazaar (Sarhadi 1980). After a few more small parts in films with Dev Anand, Anupam Kher and Ajay Devgn, she was sixteen and in college at St. Xavier’s when Shekhar Kapur persuaded her to sign onto Prem (1995); according to a recent interview, Kapur promised her, “Just this one film and I will send you to America for studies” (Sen 2014). After that she was fully committed to an acting career over her initial plans to complete university and become an air hostess. As she describes it to Raja Sen, Movies happened to me completely by accident…It’s been 25 years. I don’t know if I consciously thought that I have to do this for the rest of my life, but I think it came as a given. When you’re that young and for a long period of time, so focused on something, you don’t have the mental energy for anything else. You’re so consumed. Wanting to do well, wanting to do better than yourself. (Sen 2014)

The Deceptive Simplicity of Film Acting Naremore (1988) defines acting in its simplest form as “nothing more than the transposition of everyday life into the theatrical realm”. Since we are always playing

19 Tabu: Less Is More

295

our selves to some degree in daily life, the boundary between performing in the social world and on stage or screen is permeable. (Naremore 1988, 21). This was less true a century ago, when Western theater actors were taught to express a set of prescribed emotions with codified gestures and facial expressions, reminiscent of the rasa technique prescribed in the Natya Shastra. Naturalistic acting arrived with Ibsen and Chekhov, and was developed through Stanislavski’s Method of Physical Action, emphasizing subtext and psychological realism. Later, Lee Strasberg’s Studio trained film actors like Paul Newman, Marlon Brando and Joanne Woodward to perform from the inside out, transposing their own experiences and emotions into the roles they played. An alternative training method focused more on physical discipline is associated with British theater schools. Most contemporary Western actor training is now based on a combination of physical technique, study of text, and sensory awareness. Even the most naturalistic actors have been trained or have disciplined themselves “to master both the performing space and every aspect of their physical presence”. (Naremore 1988, 49) Naturalistic delivery, hesitation and informality in speaking patterns deliver a sense of authenticity that is now the norm in Western film performance (though not in comedy, which still relies on mimicry). Actors are most appreciated when we feel we can see their inner thoughts on-screen—portrayed through gesture, eye focus, use of props and relationship to the other actors. In India, acting in popular film arrived by a somewhat different route. Starting with the early mythologicals, the films themselves have been more presentational than representational, and performance style has developed more from the rhetorical and ritual traditions of theatre, particularly from the stress on song and dance. Mazumdar (2015) and others cite nautanki gharana, the folk theater of rural India, as the major influence on film acting, at least until the emergence of Dilip Kumar in the 1950’s as one of the first Indian “Method” actors (Mazumdar 2015). The importance of archetypes, particularly for female characters, and the inclusion of comic characters (or comic turns by the principals), even in serious dramas, privileged the presentational performance mode. In the past twenty years or so, the realism found in the “parallel cinema” of Satyajit Ray, Shyam Benegal and Mrinal Sen has migrated into popular Indian films, and with it a more naturalistic acting style. However, until recently, there was little in the way of formal training for film actors other than at the Film and Television Institute of India, the alma mater of Om Puri, Shabana Azmi, Naseeruddin Shah and Jaya Bhaduri Bachchan. In 2008, Anupam Kher, on opening an acting school in London aimed at South Asians, told the Bangkok Post, “The standard of acting in Indian films was mediocre generally but in the last few years audiences have become much more educated towards cinema because of the onslaught of satellite channels…I am trying to kill off a certain style of clichéd Bollywood acting. It’s already dying, so it is the right time to do this international school”.4 4 Kher

now runs several campuses of his acting school, An Actor Prepares (presumably named after Stanislavski’s first book) in which “students are introduced to traditional and classical modes of Acting, modern Acting, i.e. method Acting/realistic form of Acting and the post-modern, i.e. contemporary methodologies, to comprehend the art of performance more efficiently.” They also

296

P. Gruben

Tabu did not have academic training in film acting; yet her performances style was inherently naturalistic—sometimes at odds, particularly in the early years, with the more melodramatic style of actors like Anil Kapoor, who played her husband in Virasat (Priyadarshan 1997), or Sachin Khedekar, her husband in Astitva. As she grew more experienced, as the films themselves became more subtle, and as she was able to pick and choose her roles, she found her métier. Interviewing her in 2014, Raja Sen quotes her: Actually on the job seekhne ke jaisa hai yeh. And that self-awareness also I think it builds slowly, slowly, slowly. Like I said, working with talented people, studying your own work, learning what you prioritise as an actor and a character. That makes you realise how you should apply yourself. (Sen)

Early Films: The Introspective Ingénue Tabu first attracted serious notice with Vijaypath (Siddique 1994) during a period of social conservatism in popular Hindi cinema, with family romances like Hum Aapke Hain Koun (Barjatya 1994) dominant in Bollywood and of particular appeal to nostalgic NRI audiences. As Abina Habib writes, “While women secured very important roles in these movies, their agency was absent…Their roles were defined in relation to their family, especially the male characters…Women have been relegated to the passive position in film after film, as ‘bearer, not the maker of meaning’.” (Habib 2017, 71) For instance, in Virasat (Priyadarshan 1997) the hero’s conflict of choice between two women validates the nostalgia typical of NRI-focused films of the period like Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge (Chopra 1995), Pardes (Ghai 1997), Aa Ab Laut Chalen (Kapoor 1999) and Swades (Gowariker 2004), all of which promote traditional Indian values over cosmopolitan culture. Still, at an age when other young actresses were slotted into sexy romance films, most doomed to short careers, Tabu’s introspective sensitivity suited her for more sober roles, however archetypal they might be. In Virasat she plays Gehna, a village girl who is rescued by young Shakti Thakur (Anil Kapoor) after he has inadvertently jinxed her wedding to another man. After marrying Gehna to save her honour, Shakti treats her like a servant, still pining for Anita, his worldly, independent and glamorous fiancée in London. When Anita arrives to claim him, he realizes his heart belongs to homely Gehna and her desi village values. Tabu does her best with Gehna’s allegorical humility. Her anguish as she serves tea to Shakti and Anita is understated; Tabu’s performance is natural and contained while Anil Kapoor, Amrish Puri and Pooja Batra fit squarely into the camp of melodrama. Three years later, in Astitva (Manjrekar 2000) Tabu plays Aditi, another dutiful wife, married to domineering Pune businessman Shri (Sachin Khedekar); here she has a wider range of action. Aditi wears a modest sari, with wire-rimmed glasses and study yoga, dance and martial arts along with voice training, scene study and instruction in camera techniques.

19 Tabu: Less Is More

297

pulled-back hair, coping patiently with her husband’s drunkenness and neglect. In extensive flashbacks, we learn the reason for her compliance. Twenty-five years ago, frustrated by Shri’s frequent absences, she had a one-night stand with her handsome music teacher and conceived her son Aniket. In penance for this secret sin, she has given up her music and her vitality, choosing to serve her boorish husband without complaint. When she inherits a small fortune from the music teacher, Shri finally becomes suspicious. Aditi’s confession of her long-ago infidelity reveals Tabu’s subtlety as an actress, in contrast to the more bombastic performance style of her scene partner, Sachin Khedekar. When he begins his harangue she faces him impassively but for a nearly invisible tear on her chin, finally reacting with a barely perceptible smile. She takes a breath and quietly confesses, her head down. His face twists into an outraged mask, he slaps her and leaves. Alone, she turns to look out the window; we sense her relief after not only the confession but over the slap as well. Shri forces Aditi to describe the details of her infidelity to their son and two friends in a scene enhanced with dramatic synth music and striking close-ups. From this point, the film moves into rhetorical mode, with lengthy debates over the rights of women compared to men. In a decision, which may have been made in the editing room, several of these conversations are shortened into montages with unheard dialogue. At last, as she prepares to leave the house forever, Aditi finds her voice, claiming the same freedom as her husband, who has also strayed. “You have raped me many times, Shri….The open skies are calling me.” She leaves with Aniket’s fiancée, who has broken her engagement in solidarity. Indian popular cinema tends to be more overtly didactic and rhetorical than corresponding Western media (with the notable exception of American sit-coms). This raises the dilemma of how to perform listening to speeches made by other characters—more of a challenge in film than in theater. Tabu has the ability to focus her attention on her scene partners in a way that makes her own performance compelling. In Astitva, she convincingly negotiates three distinct roles: the subservient wife and mother; the young and vibrant music student, and the independent woman who calls out her husband and son and then leaves them to strike out on her own. For this, she won the Filmfare Critics award for Best Actress and was nominated for several others. Thus Tabu’s career had already begun to move in a new direction when Gulzaar cast her in Maachis (1996), his political drama about the Sikh insurgency in Punjab. From this point, she was able to temper popular films with more serious parts, paving the way for a long and varied career. A few people thought these films were risky, but there was always a balance. Because there were so many other films happening. And I would do everything, like I would do Telugu films. I would come to the shooting of Maachis from the shooting of a Telugu film on a beach in Seychelles in a swimsuit and sarong, then shoot Maachis and then go do Virasat. You want to do everything at that age and stage. There are ten thousand other things you want the time for, and you make the time. (Sen)

In Maachis, Tabu again plays a village girl, Veeran, but one who evolves into a much more complex character, a determined militant in the Sikh insurgency. After

298

P. Gruben

her brother is tortured by the police and her fiancé Kripal (Chandrachur Singh) goes underground, Veeran joins the partisans on her own and is surprised to meet Kripal again in Kashmir. Although she cooks for the men, she has also learned to shoot. When Kripal is captured by the military and the group leader Sanatan (Om Puri) suspects her of collusion, she manages to free herself and kill two of her captors. This is not a simple action movie; Gulzar allows Veeran to experience a range of emotions after these killings and in her final moments visiting Kripal in prison, where she delivers a cyanide capsule to him, climbs into the back of a truck and swallows her own pill. Maachis is perhaps the first film where Tabu’s reserves of dramatic skills are fully visible. The musical score is by Vishal Bhardwaj, who was to direct her in Maqbool a few years later.

The International Scene By her mid-thirties, Tabu had proven her ability to balance popular fare with more “risky” roles in parallel cinema, and she was becoming known outside of India. Her international profile got a boost from the romantic comedy Cheeni Kum (Balki 2007), set in the upscale world of a London restaurant and appealing to the NRI market targeted by films such as Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge (Chopra 1994) and Swades (Gowariker 2004). Despite its clear status as a genre film, Cheeni Kum (Balki 2007) provided Tabu with another opportunity to transcend cliché as the carefree tourist Neena, who offends curmudgeonly restaurateur Buddhadev (Amitabh Bachchan) by sending his signature dish back to the kitchen. Their early scenes are awkward; Tabu’s character, with no apparent purpose in life other than to enjoy Buddhadev’s food and tease him, is indistinct; and romantic comedy, with its broader gestures, seems more of a challenge for her. But midway through the film, a scene with the marvellous Zohra Segal as Buddhadev’s mother opens things up. Segal played the same comical character for decades but was always brilliantly animated, with perfect timing (the legendary actor began her career as a dancer). Cheeni Kum takes off from this point, with Tabu seeming much more comfortable as her relationship with Bachchan develops. Of course films are almost never shot in sequence, so we can not attribute this to simply growing more comfortable in the part; in retrospect, it seems perhaps her early awkwardness was intentional. Comic elements in Hindi films have typically provided roles for assertive female characters; however, they are often seen only in cameos, or are tamed by romance or unrequited love. Cheeni Kum’s Neena is confident but still understated, true to Tabu’s intelligent and subtle acting choices. Nidhi Shendurnikar Tere praises the film for breaking female stereotypes and “dar[ing] to explore subjects from the woman’s perspective,” (Tere 2012, 4). On its North American release, David Chute wrote in LA Weekly: “What we see dawning on these proud people as they gaze at each other is a befuddling sense of a possibility they’ve never imagined for themselves.” (Chute 2007). Again Tabu won the Filmfare Critics Award.

19 Tabu: Less Is More

299

But the film that genuinely introduced Tabu as an actress of international stature had come four years earlier with the compelling role of Nimmi, the Lady Macbeth character in Vishal Bhardwaj’s Maqbool (2003). As a scheming villainess who is ultimately destroyed by love, her performance was a credit to a complex and tragic character trapped by the conflict of ambition and erotic passion. In a 2016 article on gender representation in Hindi cinema, Fouzia Shaikh and A. A. S. Azam note the recent increase in female “grey characters”, more complex and challenging than the old stereotypes of spunky heroine, martyred mother and lovelorn nautch girl. As examples they point to Tabu’s roles in Maqbool and Haider, along with Priyanka Chopra in Saat Khoon Maaf (Vishal Bhardwaj 2011) and Kangana Ranaut in Tanu Weds Manu (Rai 2011). However, they argue that morally ambivalent characters are still much more readily accepted when played by men: Irrespective of how justifiable the circumstances are, audience gives thumbs down for female characters on a murder spree even though the actresses receive appreciation and accolades for their convincing performance. Shahrukh Khan’s portrayal as serial killer in Darr and Baazigar received thunderous applause in theatres. However similar audience reaction to date for a grey traited woman character cannot be expected. Hence, the prescriptive role in terms of values and ethics remains the same for the Hindi film heroine, as the social norms in a collectivistic patriarchal culture like India demand a woman to be morally upright. (Shaikh and Azam 2016, 61.)

Yet this complex character and her pitiful end were exactly what appealed to international critics and festival-goers. Aimed at a global audience and drawing on the prestige of Shakespeare, Bhardwaj’s loose adaptation makes enormous changes from the original Lady Macbeth into Tabu’s role as Nimmi, the seductive gangster’s moll. In early productions of Shakespeare’s play, Lady Macbeth was a diabolical monster consumed with ambition. In the mid-nineteenth century, Ellen Terry (1847– 1928) and others cast her in a more sympathetic light as a devoted wife supporting her husband’s ambitions. In Maqbool, she appears as a classic femme fatale, actively seducing her patron Abba’s most loyal retainer—less from political ambition than from passion and the urge to escape a dead relationship. By the end it seems that she has done it all for love; in her final scene, alone with Maqbool and facing death, she weeps, “Miyan…was everything a sin? Everything…Our love was chaste, wasn’t it?…Tell me, Miyan…tell me…”. Naremore (1988) describes the doubly articulated performance of “disclosive compensation”, wherein actors let the audience know they are lying. Tabu/Nimmi does this early in the film, telling Abbaji on the phone that the caterers and florists have not arrived for his daughter’s engagement party and she will have to stay overnight to get things ready. We have just seen that the preparations are actually going well; Nimmi’s real motive is to have a night alone with Maqbool. Tabu can perform this conversation with total apparent sincerity, since the audience has seen the truth. Later, when she tells Maqbool that he is the father of her impending child, we already know she’s capable of lying. Again, she need do nothing to make us suspect her, though we will not know for sure until much later, when she blurts that the fetus is screaming because they have killed its real father, Abbaji.

300

P. Gruben

When she is paired with an equally naturalistic and gifted actor like Irrfan Khan, Tabu can fully realize the inner world of her characters. Throughout most of Maqbool she is “in the room”, playing whatever is her current truth. In a remarkable scene on a jetty, isolated against the sky and crashing waves, Nimmi and Maqbool reveal their obsession with one another and their awareness of its consequences in a duet that careens from desire to hysteria to dread. Nimmi pursues what she wants without regard for the future. She is always thinking of Maqbool; since he is usually in the scene with her, her focus remains in the present. But Maqbool is thinking beyond the moment of the fatal consequences of his actions and of his own moral failings in betraying Abaji, his leader and friend. The immediacy of Tabu’s focus limits her subtext to some degree, but this is the way the character is written; as she descends into madness, her nightmares actually enter the room and she confronts them as they appear before her. In Haider (Bhardwaj 2014), Tabu’s screen time is shorter and her character, Ghazala Meer, (based on Hamlet’s Gertrude) has less range, though some have argued that Ghazala is at the center of the story. She has taken up with her husband’s brother Khurram (Kay Kay Menon) and remains with him even after he is implicated in the abduction and murder of her husband. But her true love is Haider, her son. Wanting to protect him from joining the insurgency, she insists he leave Srinagar to attend university. When he refuses, she walks into his cricket match and holds a gun to her head. Haider calls her a drama queen, but her dramatic gestures are paralyzed, robotic—predicting the film’s end, where she appears at the snowbound battle scene in the graveyard and detonates her suicide bomber’s vest. Ghazala is an inverted Bharat Mata, reflecting the anguished identity of contemporary Kashmir and its unresolved conflicts. The film interrogates the dark side of the selfless Indian mother cliché; she is driven only by passion for her son. “I used to wail like a hollow bamboo in your memory. I would wait months for you to return home in the holidays. It is my fate to long…to wait…” She remembers him as a child crawling into bed between her and her husband, claiming, “When I grow up I’m going to marry my mommy”. But now, for Haider, her beauty is “venomous”. It is difficult to see what lies beyond Ghazala’s paralysis. Layers of subtext are missing from her performance. Unlike Nimmi, levels of disclosive compensation— performing a lie—are not visible. When Ghazala tells Haider she didn’t realize that Khurram was an informant who would betray his brother, it’s impossible to know if she is telling the truth. She makes her own truth, it seems—more from denying what is before her than from love or desire for power. Even her love for Haider feels like a performance. But unlike in Maqbool, we cannot plumb the truth behind it.

Western Films Tabu is one of a handful of Indian actresses who have appeared in recent films from the west. The others, Priyanka Chopra in the TV series Quantico (2015–2018), Aishwarya Rai in Mistress of Spices (Berges 2005) and Pink Panther 2 (Zwart 2009), and

19 Tabu: Less Is More

301

Freida Pinto in Slumdog Millionaire (Boyle 2009), Rise of the Planet of the Apes (Wyatt 2011), and Blunt Force Trauma (Sanzel 2015) have played comparatively lightweight roles. The Indo-Canadian director Deepa Mehta has worked with Shabana Azmi, Preity Zinta, Seema Biswas and Nandita Das in films that were shot in India but intended for an international audience. Tabu joins that company in her work with Mira Nair on The Namesake and Ang Lee on Life of Pi. The Namesake (Nair 2006), adapted from Jhumpa Lahiri’s 2003 novel about the identity conflicts of a Bengali family in suburban New York, spans some thirty years in the life of Ashima Ganguli, her husband Ashoke, and their children Gogol and Sonia. Ashima emerges as a young bride in Calcutta, slipping into her prospective husband’s “Made in USA” wingtip shoes before going down to meet him for the first time, proving her suitability for life in America by reciting Wordsworth’s “I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud” for the assembled families. By the end of the film she is a widowed librarian, choosing to return to Kolkata and resume her music studies now that her (mostly) assimilated children are grown. Here Tabu has rich material to work with, a script that focuses on character psychology and, once again, Irrfan Khan as her husband. A wonderful scene involving shrunken laundry, in which Khan moves from anger to seduction, asserts that despite the universality of the immigrant experience in this film, these two actors will find a unique path to explore the depths of their relationship. In an interview with Sirish Rao, Tabu explained that she had read the novel before being cast in the film, and had imagined herself playing Ashima, with whom she identified strongly. When the call came from director Mira Nair, she had only fifteen days to travel to New York and prepare before shooting began, mirroring Ashima’s own sudden departure from her comfortable life in Calcutta (Rao 2011). Life of Pi is Tabu’s first role in a film by a non-Indian director. Lee is remarkable in his ability to reflect diverse social worlds convincingly, most notably the aristocratic English country life of Sense and Sensibility (1995) and the homophobic rural Wyoming of Brokeback Mountain (2005). Here, he creates a magic–realist nostalgia in Pi’s memory of his childhood in Pondicherry, anchored by Tabu and Adil Hussain as his parents. Tabu plays a familiar role as a decorous, loving wife and mother, with lines like “Science can teach us about what is out there, but not what is in here”, countering her husband’s life lessons on rationalism and survival; yet she is briefly described as a “botanist” at the zoo they run together. She receives third billing in the film but is not on-screen for long. It is significant that Tabu’s most critically admired and globally recognized work has come in literary adaptations. Shakespeare, Rohinton Mistry, Jhumpa Lahiri and Yann Martel have provided her with not only complex psychological models to draw on for her performances; they have also linked her to the cultural currency of international literary celebrity. She does not perform stardom like superstars (Amitabh Bachchan, Shah Rukh Khan) who are most often written about as sociological phenomena, but she has found her niche performing literature for an international audience. Her portrayal of Indian mothers in these films continues the tradition of maternal attachment, but with psychological depth.

302

P. Gruben

From these later works it is apparent that Tabu, perhaps more than any other contemporary Indian actress, represents Indian cinema (and culture) for Western audiences, while continuing to participate in the Bollywood star system at home. A convergence of family connections, interesting cinematic choices, and acting talent have taken Tabu down a unique path. While many of her contemporaries such as Raveena Tandon, Karishma Kapoor, Urmila Mantondkar and Shilpa Shetty have been relegated to Bollywood hall of fame of the 90s, Tabu continues to be relevant. In January 2019, the 47-year-old actress walked the ramp at Lakme Fashion Week, and dazzled the audience in an icy blue gown created by the designer Gaurav Gupta. As evident in her most recent turn as femme fatale Simi in the black comedy cumnoir Andhadhun (Sriram Raghavan 2018), Tabu continues to combine sensuality with intelligence. Amidst Barbie dolls, item girls, beauty queens and star kids, Tabu has followed a unique trajectory. And she has survived.

References Bangkok Post. (2008, 19 March). Bollywood School to Open in London. http://www.pressreader. com/thailand/bangkok-post/20080319/282660388129723. Chakravarty, S. (2013). Configurations: The body as world in Bollywood stardom. In M. Sen & A. Basu (Eds.), Figurations in Indian film. NY: Palgrave Macmillan. Chute, D. (2007, 30 May). Cheeni Kum. LA Weekly. http://www.laweekly.com/film/movie-reviewsday-watch-mr-brooks-paprika-2149138. Gopinath, P. (2018, December). ‘A feeling you cannot resist’: Shah Rukh Khan, affect, and the re-scripting of male stardom in Hindi cinema. Celebrity Studies, 9(3), 307–325. Habib, R. (2017, September). Patriarchy and prejudice: Indian women and their cinematic representation. International Journal of Languages, Literature and Linguistics, 3(3), 69–72. Mazumdar, R. (2015). Before Brando, there was Dilip Kumar. The Quint. 11 December. www. thequint.com/entertainment/before-brando-there-was-dilip-kumar. Naremore, J. (1988). Acting in the Cinema. Berkely: University of California Press. Preckel, C. (2011). Muslim actors in Bollywood. ISIM Newsletter 5/00. openaccess.leidenuniv. nl/bitstream/handle/1887/17386/ISIM_5_Muslim_Actors_in_Bollywood.pdf;jsessionid= F63AF5D4C7482318A8A69BBD98FF357D?sequence=1. Rao, S. (2011). Yann Martel in conversation with Tabu. Indian Summer Festival. 8 July. http://www.sfu.ca/tlcvan/clients/sfu_pamr/2011_Indian_Summer/2011-07-08_PAMR_ WCU_Indian_Summer_Martel_Tabu_6761.html. Robehmed, N. (2017). Bollywood’s highest-paid 2017: These Indian actors are making more than U.S. stars. Forbes 30 August. www.forbes.com/sites/natalierobehmed/2017/08/30/bollywoodshighest-paid-2017-these-indian-actors-are-making-more-than-u-sstars/#86a9bb41851ca. Sen, R. (2014, 29 December). The stunning actress who dared to age, seduce her son—and confound Bollywood. Quartz. qz.com/316646/the-stunning-actress-who-dared-to-age-seduce-herson-and-confound-bollywood/. Shaikh, F. A., & Azam, A. A. S. (2016). A Psycho-social perspective of gender role of then and now leading ladies of Hindi cinema. Amity Journal of Media and Communication Studies, 6(1), 60–62. Somaaya, B. (2008). Fragmented frames: Reflections of a critic. Delhi: Pustak Mahal. Sudhakaran, S. (2015, 13 July). 8 Embarrassing scenes which Ajay Devgn and Tabu would never perform! Bollywood Life. http://www.bollywoodlife.com/news-gossip/8-embarrassing-scenes-

19 Tabu: Less Is More

303

which-ajay-devgn-and-tabu-would-never-perform-an-encore/“Tabu,”IMDBPro.prolabs.imdb. com/name/nm0007102/bio?ref=nm_subnv_persdet_bio. Tere, N. S. (2012). Gender reflections in mainstream Hindi cinema. Global Media Journal, Indian Edition, 3(1), 1–9. Yu, S. Q. (2017). Introduction: Performing stardom: Star studies in transformation and expansion. In Yu & G. Austin (Eds.), Revisiting star studies: Cultures, themes and methods. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press.

Filmography Chinai, Alisha, “Ruk Ruk Ruk Are Baba Ruk” (song) Vijaypath 1994. Balki, R. (2007). Cheeni Kum [DVD]. Eros International. Barjatya, S. (1994). Hum Aapke Hain Koun [DVD]. Rajshri Productions. Berges, P. M. (2005). Mistress of Spices. Rainbow Films. Bhandarkar, M. (2001). Chandni Bar. Bhardwaj, V. (2003). Maqbool [DVD]. New Delhi: Eagle Home Entertainments. Bhardwaj, V. (2011). 7 Khoon Maaf [DVD]. VB Pictures. Bhardwaj, V. (2014). Haider [DVD]. Reliance Entertainment. Boyle, D. (2009). Slumdog Millionaire [DVD]. Warner Bros Pictures. Chopra, A. (1995). Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge [DVD]. Yash Raj Productions. Ghai, S. (1997). Pardes [DVD]. Mukta Arts. Gowariker, A. (2004). Swades [DVD]. Ashutosh Gowariker Productions. Gulzar, (1998). Maachis [DVD]. Digital Entertainment. Kamat, N. (2015). Drishyam [DVD]. New Delhi: Icem Infotech Services. Kanwar, R. (1996). Jeet [DVD]. Nadiadwala Grandsons. Kapoor, A. (2016). Fitoor [DVD]. Mumbai: Reliance Entertainment. Kapoor, R. (1999). Aa Ab Laut Chalen [DVD]. R.K Films. Kaushik, S. (1995). Prem [DVD]. Narsimha Enterprises. Lee, A. (2005a). Brokeback Mountain [DVD]. Focus Features. Lee, A. (2005b). Sense and Sensibility [DVD]. Columbia Pictures. Lee, A. (2005c). Life of Pi. Accessed on iTunes, 24 December. Manjrekar, M. (2007). Astitva [DVD]. Shemaroo Entertainment. Nair, M. (2007). The Namesake [DVD]. Mumbai: UTV. Priyadarshan. (1997). Virasat [DVD]. Mumbai: Shemaroo Entertainment. Rai, A. L. (2011). Tanu Weds Manu [DVD]. Viacom18 Motion Pictures. Sanzel, K. (2015). Blunt Force Trauma [DVD]. ETA Films. Shetty, R. (2017). Golmaal Again [DVD]. Reliance Entertainment. Siddique, F. (1994). Vijaypath [DVD]. Time Magnetic Private Limited. www.youtube.com/watch? v=riyH6C43VQg. Wyatt, R. (2011). Rise of the Planet of the Apes [DVD]. 20th Century Fox. Zwart, H. (2009). Pink Panther 2 [DVD]. Sony Pictures Releasing.

Chapter 20

Priyanka Chopra’s Journey from Bollywood Stardom to Transnational Iconicity Ruma Sen

Abstract ‘I’m just a girl who comes from a completely different culture… who is trying to entertain people’ (Chopra, as quoted in Manzoor, 2016). Through her numerous interviews on mainstream television, her posts on social media and her celebrity appearances, Priyanka Chopra has carved out a unique space for herself in the world of global cinema, traversing Bollywood and Hollywood today with apparent equal ease. Chopra’s Bollywood fame has only added momentum to her growing popularity in the USA by emphasizing her ‘exotic’ yet marketable appeal. While for other Bollywood actors, even the internationally renowned superstars, Hollywood remains mostly elusive; sometimes even a far-fetched dream, Priyanka Chopra is today the only Bollywood superstar to have emerged as a bonafide American celebrity, having journeyed to Hollywood via the popular music industry as a singing star, followed by becoming a household name through primetime network television. Keywords Global iconicity · Transculturalism · Celebrity · Hollywood

Who Is Priyanka Chopra? For the past three years, Priyanka Chopra has been in the news frequently for a variety of reasons, while her iconicity has grown exponentially. From being introduced initially as primarily a Bollywood star and Miss World 2000 to now an intercontinental icon, Chopra’s journey in the global media landscape has significantly influenced the cross-cultural nature of this mediascape. Her introductions in news magazines include her credentials as a Bollywood superstar, global pop music star, American television actress, international humanitarian, and most importantly, a global style icon with a following of millions on Twitter, Instagram and Facebook. A few years ago, when I was screening her film ‘Dostana’ (Mansukhani 2008) as part of my course on Global Indian Media, students were fascinated by her and claimed that she would ‘make it big’ if she were to come to Hollywood. In recent years, particularly since the launch of Quantico (2015–2018) on the ABC network, R. Sen (B) Ramapo College of New Jersey, Mahwah, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 A. I. Viswamohan and C. M. Wilkinson (eds.), Stardom in Contemporary Hindi Cinema, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-15-0191-3_20

305

306

R. Sen

these alumni have written to me with satisfaction, even pride, that the course content on Bollywood provided them with a window into a world that they could now introduce to those who were only recently beginning to learn about this emerging global icon. In this essay, I trace the emergence of this global Indian icon through her own rhetorical constructions of her life as an Indian middle-class girl, her journey through stardom in Bollywood onto the world stage, and eventually into Hollywood. She is introduced often as the best-known Indian in the world even her somewhat happenstance meeting with the Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi set the Twitter world on fire, and her recent wedding to American singer and celebrity Nick Jonas occupied the imagination of millions across the globe and was one of the most followed media events of the year. Over the years, there have been many detailed as well as abridged versions of Chopra’s biography published in celebrity as well as news magazines, followed more recently by at least two books on her life and achievements. Yet, she is perhaps best captured in her own words; through the numerous interviews, she has given to media personalities both in India, the USA and across the globe. This also marks Chopra’s remarkable dexterity with words, her ability to speak convincingly about herself both in the first and third persons as she unfolds her own ‘Coming to America’ story and finally her sophistication in constructing a narrative that not only speaks to her strengths and successes, but becomes a way to render a meticulously crafted narrative that positions her as an international powerhouse and power broker, carving her space in the global mediascape and ethnoscape on her own terms.

Evolution of Brand Priyanka, in Her Own Words I’ve been famous for more than half my life… This is my normal. (Chopra, as cited in Complex magazine, 2016)

Over the years, there have been several detailed accounts of her early life and career, her breaking into the world of beauty and fashion, followed by initial struggles and then a fast track to superstardom in Bollywood. However, it has been her personal narrative valorizing this journey that provides as an insightful account into the mind of the actor and serves as a study of the rhetorical construction of the American Dream. It is a finely constructed narrative, delivered to her fans and new audiences in a manner that itself qualifies as an award-worthy performance! It is the classic Cinderella story of discovery, innocence, fame and above all, a whole lot of luck. It is no wonder then that she has often been quoted as saying, ‘I am the other destiny’s child besides Beyoncé. Destiny likes me’ (Tharpe 2016a, b). In her narrative about coming to America, which she describes as her journey ‘from Bareilly to Boston’, Chopra claims taught her many lessons about popular culture and life in America. She often talks at length about this experience, focusing on the lessons she learned about how to overcome bullying, deal with an erosion of

20 Priyanka Chopra’s Journey from Bollywood Stardom …

307

confidence caused by the negative experiences in high school, and more importantly, how these years shaped her future, providing her with the tools to eventually become the global icon that she is today. It began as a holiday when she was 13. More recently, she has described the years she ‘lived and went to high school’ in the USA (8th– 11th grade), as ‘moving to America’, first to Iowa, then living in NYC and finally in Boston. In her ‘coming to America as a high school teenager’ story, she feeds into common perceptions of American high school, as produced and reinforced in the media and popular culture—a time where her skin colour and her intelligence caused her to suffer at the hands of bullies, since it was not popular to be a nerd or a teacher’s favourite (Tharpe 2016a, b). Some of her frequent comments about her American high school experience include ‘[I] didn’t know that you had to go to the cafeteria for lunch, so (I) would buy from (the) vending machine and eat in the bathroom. Didn’t know where to sit—kids knew each other—in cliques of popular kids, sporty kids, geeks.’. She claims that one girl took her under her wing and helped her survive the toxicity of American high school and relishes re-telling the story of ‘Jenny, the bully’ who called her ‘brownie, and all these strange names’. She concludes the story with a mention of becoming an honour roll student and engaging in ‘all kinds of extracurricular activities’ once again driving home the common theme of her storytelling—of her hard work and determination and her will to learn and succeed in as many things as she can aim for! For example, in her interviews, she stresses on how America taught her so many things but yet, at the same time, made her feel insecure about her innate Indianness (Tharpe 2016a, b).

Tracing a Multifaceted Career: A Bollywood Star and a Bonafide Actor The primary pegs of her Indian to American story and eventual global iconicity are the following: traversing the landscape of glamour and celebrity from Miss World to Bollywood’s ‘desi girl’ to global music launch to American primetime television and Hollywood. Chopra’s career graph includes four major high points or crescendos. The first of these points was winning the Miss India/Miss World title in the year 2000. This win had multiple outcomes: global exposure, brand endorsements including becoming the UNICEF Goodwill Ambassador and a ticket into the Bollywood film industry. Next came her success in Bollywood—scaling superstardom along with winning critical acting accolades. As is often listed in her introduction at the global setting, she has acted in 50+ films, mostly blockbusters earning billions in revenue and winning multiple awards, including the Padma Shri Award, the fourth highest civilian honour for an Indian. Before her rise to global recognition, Priyanka Chopra starred in several films with a strong female lead or a feminist focus. Very rarely in the conversations do we find any mention of Chopra’s first few film roles, which according to film reviews

308

R. Sen

‘started after interval and ended before climax’ (Iyer 2017) indicating a feeble entry into the film world, marked both by weak acting and little to no ‘foothold’ in the industry. That she now rules the same industry makes this win even more significant. She ventured into portraying negative characters (since in the industry that is highly nepotistic, she could not bag the lead roles most often) and was told that she would get typecast and advised against taking on such a role. That was one of the early risks of her career, which not only paid off, but served her well in the long run, earning both the respect of the industry and the ability to command her position in it, usually far from the reach of female artists, even the successful ones. Following several years of box-office downturn including delivering several ‘flops’ and some nondescript performances, Chopra was able to finally make a mark and establish herself as a Bollywood superstar with Madhur Bhandarkar’s Fashion (2008). In this film, she played a strong female character for which she won her first major award. She essayed the role of a small-town girl with big dreams who comes to Mumbai to become a supermodel. Chopra made a mark in this author-backed role and garnered much critical appreciation along with box-office acclaim. Other films in her Bollywood repertoire that deserve a mention are Aitraaz (Abbas-Mustan 2004, her breakout role, bringing her first recognition), Don (Akhtar 2006) and Don 2 (Akhtar 2011),1 Krrish (Roshan 2006, Bollywood’s first superhero franchise that garnered huge box-office success), Dostana (Mansukhani 2008), Kaminey (Bhardwaj 2009), Saat Khoon Maaf (Bhardwaj 2011), What’s Your Raashee (Gowariker 2009) and Dil Dhadakne Do (Akhtar 2015). The commercial success of these films brought her into a league of stardom occupied by very few female actors in Bollywood. Despite some lacklustre or imminently forgettable performances, these films propelled her star power multifold. Chopra is refreshingly unapologetic about her ambitions: Box office is king. We’re in the business of entertainment. If your business makes money, it’s successful, then you’re successful. It’s the simple truth of business. (Tharpe 2016a, b)

Dostana marked the turn in Chopra’s career, and she was credited to carrying commercial films on her own, despite the film featuring two of the leading male Bollywood stars opposite her. She reigned over the box office for several years since then, with critical acclaim coming to her only with Barfi! (Basu 2012), where she essayed the role of an autistic girl, and was praised for her ‘exceptionally restrained, organic performance’ by Hollywood Reporter (2012), for which she was touted to win best actress award at the Filmfare Awards. Ever since she established herself as a superstar in Bollywood, Priyanka Chopra’s choice of films shifted towards those that would build her status as one of the only female superstars who could carry films on her own back, i.e. not playing second fiddle of male superstars. This is particularly unusual in Bollywood since in the last 100 years of Indian cinema; in an industry dominated by male stars, there have been only a handful of female actors who have established themselves as superstars to be reckoned with equal star power as their male counterparts. During this period, 1A

popular franchise opposite Shah Rukh Khan.

20 Priyanka Chopra’s Journey from Bollywood Stardom …

309

only four female actors namely Madhuri Dixit, Sridevi, Aishwarya Rai and Kareena Kapoor managed to claim superstardom at this level. In this milieu, Priyanka Chopra not only succeeded in establishing herself as a superstar, she broke additional barriers to command more author-backed, women-centric films than any of her contemporary female actors. The next phase of her career marks several carefully selected films designed to showcase her acting along with her glamour and star power. Along the way, she won several industry and national awards. Notable films from during this period include Barfi! (Basu 2012) and Mary Kom (Kumar 2014). Mary Kom presents the true life story of a female boxer from the north-east region of India and her rise to international fame. Whether it is in Fashion, Barfi!, Bajirao Mastani (Bhansali 2015), or any of the other films that brought her commercial and critical success, certain elements of representation of womanhood and sexuality remain consistent and pervasive. Through Mary Kom, Chopra addresses questions of gender hierarchy, social and cultural conservatism, with deep-rooted biases towards women and the cultures of Northeast India. The athlete Mary Kom encounters misogyny at every stage of her personal and professional lives. In pursuing a career in the traditionally masculine domain of boxing, Mary has to defeat a man who is twice her size to convince the authorities that she can actually fight. Where men are typically viewed as sole providers for their families, Mary uses her strength and determination to ensure that her family can put dinner on the table, despite having her father continue to disapprove of her boxing. This scene isn’t just a breakthrough moment in Mary’s life, but marks a moment in Indian cinema that encapsulates a breakthrough in hegemonic patriarchal construction of the spaces that women can and should occupy (Searfoss and Sen 2017). Given that Chopra herself considers this film to be one of her more powerful performances and credits it for her ability to establish both her talent as an actor and her voice as a feminist, it is worthwhile to discuss some visual and narrative elements of the film. Across the film, there are several shots of Mary with her stomach exposed so the audience can see her toned abs and muscles she gained from training all day and fighting in the boxing ring. This image of a woman with muscles goes against the traditional views of femininity not just in Indian culture, but in most cultures around the world. Mary is seldom seen wearing makeup or in a dress and is regularly shown bleeding, bruised, sweating and physically exerted. The image of femininity that Mary displays in Mary Kom would be more closely tied to what traditional society labels as ‘butch’ or what many would stereotypically associate with a woman who identified as lesbian. By traditional societal standards, women are supposed to be beautiful, elegant and not engage in ‘masculine’ activities such as fighting and getting dirty. Even though the film does represent a tougher image of a woman, it must be noted that Chopra appears effortlessly beautiful throughout the story even when she is seen bleeding, bruised and fighting. It is quite likely that the real Mary Kom presents an even grittier and more ‘masculine’ image when she is fighting as she does not have the extensive makeup, lighting and camerawork that the filmmakers used to capture the character of Mary on screen. Discussing the characterization of women in sports

310

R. Sen

films, Ransom (2014) claims that the image of the female athlete (as seen within the specific context of sport) is seen as masculinised or ‘dyke’ (p. 44). The next scene shows Mary in her domestic prison, performing her wifely duties of folding laundry while Onler, her husband, sits on the couch reading and watching a boxing match on TV. Mary’s inner tension erupts as she criticizes the women boxing, stating that she would have done much better in the match than they had. He recognizes that his wife is upset and asks her if she misses boxing, which sets her off the edge. Mary begins to blow up at Onler stating, ‘Of course I miss it…I miss boxing a lot’. He tries to sympathize with his wife, saying that he can understand how she is feeling, to which Mary replies, ‘What can you understand? Your life isn’t over. Your career isn’t over. You can still play football. Can I box? No’. This exchange between Mary and her husband highlights the very real issue that women face all over the world that once they have children their lives will never be the same. Society pressures women today with the idea that the role of good mother and career women is mutually exclusive and they must choose between one and the other. Onler supports this notion when he asks Mary if she even wanted to have this child, completely disregarding the fact that Mary has had to give up a career by which she had to claw her way to the top and overcome great adversity. Her response to his patriarchal manner echoes the real-world sentiment of so many women, ‘Like every woman I too want to be a mother, but the timing is all wrong…I was at the top of my career’. Mary’s attitude in this scene shows that she too is guilty of subscribing to the implicit patriarchy that exists in India today, as she truly believes that once she has a child, she will not be able to manage both motherhood and a career. Ransom (2014) describes the way gender is routinely represented in Indian films by stating that ‘judged by western standards’, and there is a ‘double standard of acceptable behaviours’ and this appears deeply rooted in these cultures. There is an ‘emphasis on male honor, often symbolized by female purity’ (p. 43). It is almost as if having this child is part of Mary’s wifely duties to her husband, that in order to show him how much she loves and honours him, she needs to bring another life into this world that is part of him, with no regard to how having a child will impact her life or her future. Throughout the film, despite Mary being a strong and independent woman who challenges gender norms and redefines womanhood for herself, it is clear that the overall patriarchal society impacts her life beyond her control. There are some other powerful performances by Chopra that merit detailed discussion—her lead performances in Fashion and Barfi!—along with her second lead performance in Bajirao Mastani. Bajirao Mastani was her last successful venture in Bollywood before the international acclaim and star power that came with ABC’s Quantico. Critics hailed Chopra’s performance in the film as surpassing in talent and depth as compared to the two leading characters. The review in The Guardian (McCahill 2015) notes that Chopra is acute in her portrayal of Kashi; her eyes reflect myriad emotions with equal tenacity and there is no hint of the character being an afterthought. Chopra’s performance in this film firmly established her acting talent as she conveys the sorrow of a wife, a lover, a friend, who is forgotten by her husband,

20 Priyanka Chopra’s Journey from Bollywood Stardom …

311

but never by her audiences. At the same time, she manages to shine more than the two lead stars in the film.

The Path to Global Iconicity: Entrepreneur, Philanthropist and so Much More Actor, producer, entrepreneur, philanthropist, fashion icon—together, these are enviable tags for a single female Bollywood star. Priyanka Chopra has proven beyond a doubt at this time that she is more than a composite of all of these facets. She is enviable in her ability to maximize every opportunity that came knocking and in leaving no stone unturned along the way. Chopra is known both in Bollywood and now in the USA for her ability to work tirelessly and her reputation as someone who is always ‘stretching to do better’ (Bhardwaj, as cited in Chhabra 2018). Over the past few years, not only has to managed to successfully launch her film production company—Purple Pebble Productions—most of its early productions have garnered recognition across film festivals, both nationally and internationally. For someone who emphatically defined the box office as king when it came to her own performances as a Bollywood star, when it came to the quality of production from her own film company she has taken on the position of ‘content is king’. Having positioned this initiative as her way to ‘give back to the industry’, she has been actively engaged in recruiting new filmmaking talent for her production house and focused exclusively on providing the platform for the production of regional language cinema. During the launch of her music video in the USA, the media listed/described her achievements as follows, ‘[a]t age 33 Chopra has more Bollywood movies under her belt than she does years on earth’. Born in India and ‘raised in Boston and New York’, Chopra took centre stage as the sole opening music act for NFL Network’s 2013 Thursday Night Football season. She is credited as capable of tackling the NFL, owing to her ability to juggle several things efficiently at the same time, proved by her supremacy in Bollywood and in the beauty pageant circuit. Only a few years ago, she launched herself into the western world through her single ‘In My City’, produced in Los Angeles. Even then, her launch was most noteworthy for its marketing gimmicks designed to make her accessible to mainstream audiences. The person who truly deserves the credit for her ‘crossover’ starting with the launch of her music career is Anjula Acharia, now popularly known as Chopra’s ‘wing woman’. Often referred to as the ‘cross continent connector’ for her multiple investments both in the USA and UK, it took Acharia over five years to bring Chopra to truly crossover and become a globally recognizable icon. Through a carefully crafted PR strategy focusing largely on her social media reach, along with a gradual build-up of the ‘Priyanka Chopra brand’ she was afforded massive brand recognition across many media platforms. Her team of agents led by Acharia focused on her global recognizability, honing in on all of her unique talents,

312

R. Sen

and specifically her ‘exotic’ appeal as a multitalented Bollywood superstar, who embodied the ‘triple threat’ of being able to act, dance and sing! Her continuing work as UN Ambassador (which began in her capacity as Miss World) was also nurtured and highlighted as part of this strategy. Finally, her voice—as expressed through interviews in a variety of leading magazines, television talk shows and other media outlets—cemented her iconicity as the global ambassador for India and the Indian woman’s story within a global context.

Brown Body that Speaks to Power: The Desirable Other In recent years, Chopra has expressed regret at having endorsed a skin-lightening cream in her early career. She has claimed that she felt pressured to do it, was always uncomfortable and now speaks out against it whenever the opportunity presents itself—‘No matter what I do, I will not lose my respect doing it, I will not lose my dignity as a woman doing it’. Chopra has, in numerous interviews, asserted that she is an actor and so much more than her ethnicity. Her own rhetorical construction of her struggles along the path to commercial success, her battles with patriarchy and implicit or explicit forms of exploitation, her gradual empowerment and emergence as a strong feminist voice in Bollywood and beyond and finally the establishment of her global iconicity make the story of Chopra a compelling study in articulations of self and identity. The emergence of Priyanka Chopra in the global mainstream of media was cemented last year through the NBC TV show, Quantico, following which Chopra has captured the imagination of the mainstream world as a fashion icon and a global celebrity. The backstory of the character was tweaked to fit Chopra’s look and comfortability. Since one has to be American-born in order to be recruited by the FBI, Chopra’s character is cast as belonging to mixed heritage with an American father and Indian mother. In its first season itself, Quantico was watched around the world in 68 countries, ensuring the emergence of a global cultural icon in the form of Priyanka Chopra.

Becoming Alex Parrish I was nervous that how would America and the global entertainment world react to an Indian girl playing the American hero. But it doesn’t matter, as long as you are convincing as a part. (Chopra, as quoted in Manzoor, 2016)

Priyanka Chopra distinguishes her performative process of being/becoming American in primarily three ways. First, she discusses her efforts to learn to speak like an ‘American’ extensively in multiple interviews. By emphasizing the labour that she has expended over her accent acquisition, Chopra communicates her earnest interest

20 Priyanka Chopra’s Journey from Bollywood Stardom …

313

in translating and being believable to the American audience. She reinforces a common belief that the burden of adaptation must be borne by the immigrant/outsider. Her success in learning to speak ‘American’ is proof positive of securing her ‘transferability’ and ‘translatability’ to the mainstream. The audience does not need to work at understanding her and why she is was chosen to the role of Alex Parrish. She appears as a culturally assimilable actor who has made the effort to make herself ‘translatable’. Davé (2013) notes that the American accent is a socially constructed reality just like race and is used as a marker to recognize the self and the other. The foreign-born and immigrant culture of America is marked by their different accent as a way of ‘othering’. By accommodating and reshaping her accent to fit in, Chopra allows the figure of Alex Parrish to bridge to the mainstream and secure her belongingness. She claims that for the purpose of her character, Alex Parrish, she had to become believably American. Here, ‘believably American’ is code for the normative unmarked white middle-class self. Her linguistic competence and the work that she puts into acquiring it signify her willingness to accommodate and adapt to the mainstream audience. Chopra further declares in multiple interviews that she had to learn to ‘roll her r’s’. In multiple interviews, she relishes delivering the phrase ‘counter-terrorism task force’ as she believes only an ‘authentic’ American would say it. She even goes so far as to say that her greatest challenge in becoming Alex Parrish was acquiring a believable American accent. The irony in this claim is that the role of an FBI agent involved intensely challenging physical activities; however, she dismisses the rigour of the physicality by referring to how her experience being a 50-film veteran Bollywood prepared her for every possible challenge other than the accent. To her interviewers and her audience, Chopra is telegraphing that the ‘sonic component’ of her character marks her willingness to become an ‘insider’ as opposed to rendering her as ethnically strange. Here, the sonic component of her language/accent becomes more critical than the visual markers of her brown Indian body to communicate this insider status (Hinojos 2016). The second way that Chopra asserts herself as an insider is by drawing attention to her biography about coming to America when she was 13. In interviews, she recalls how she was treated as an outsider and had to endure racism at the hands of a high school bully ‘Jeanine’. Chopra carefully grafts selective life events into a larger story of race in America. By owning the discourse of the brown girl in an American high school, she inserts herself as an insider in the current American mainstream discourse of racism and bullying. While this story may not mark her as white, it still locates her inside American society rather than the outside. This entry point then allows her to bridge more effectively to the mainstream as she is more of ‘us’ than ‘them’. It is not surprising that over the years, PC has constructed through her various media appearances and interviews, a carefully crafted family profile, the ‘ideal’ kind—with middle-class army doctor parents who instilled in her both dignity and grace along with a pursuit of ambition that brought her to her many successes. Woven intrinsically into this narrative is the discourse of family values and Indianness, which

314

R. Sen

are not presented as distinct or removed from her more modern, or Westernized profile, but are presented as ways in which she embodies being a successful individual, in keeping with the American narrative of the hard-working individual achieving the American dream. As an individual therefore, Chopra owns the space of being both American and Indian. A third way that Chopra translates herself to being recognizable is by using her Indianness as accessory. She does this by selectively bringing Indianness through strategic placement of accessories that are readily recognizable by American audiences as Indian and also inherently consumable. Markers such as the Om symbol or the Ganesha idol/icon have been part of the American visual culture for some time now. Indian culture has been increasingly produced as fascinating, desirable and exotic for the past several decades, first through the hippie culture of the seventies, followed by the more cosmopolitan, hence highly consumable, yoga culture. Chopra invokes this semiotic universe to present herself through these already existing commodified signs that are easily translatable to a mainstream audience. Through these recognizable signifiers, Chopra re-codes her difference as less strange, and more familiar, her Indianness reduced to consumable accessories. Strategic essentializing implies that the culture that is produced does not have to be rooted in authenticity, merely recognizable and codifiable. Throughout all her scenes on Quantico, Parrish/Chopra wears a leather bracelet with an Om symbol, which remains unobtrusively visible at all times. In a scene in Season 2, where Alex Parrish finds herself freed by a Hindi-speaking stranger from a hostage situation, the stranger uses her Om bracelet to mark the dead body (of the enemy) as belonging to Parrish. The bracelet (and its Indian marker) becomes codified not just as Hindu/Indian here; it is also made part of Parrish’s identity. Producing the body as both global and Indian through non-threatening commodified markers renders definition to Chopra’s consumable Indianness as well as that of her character Alex Parrish. This is achieved through strategic placement of physical markers that associate both her character and herself as non-threatening cosmopolitan, albeit generic Indian. As Valdivia (2011) observes, ‘Ethnic bridges are not a new thing in mainstream U.S. popular culture’ (p. 95). In that sense, Priyanka’s is the newest brown body to act as a bridge both metaphorically and rhetorically that links mainstream culture with her brownness, Indianness and her global/Bollywood celebrity status. Her lighter-skinned brown body serves as a visible marker for smooth transitions from being a ‘desi girl’ to the global superstar today. Yet another marker used more recently in the series is referred to differently by Chopra depending upon the interviewer; when speaking to an Indian journalist, she refers to it as ‘mandir’ (temple), which has a ready reference for anyone Indian. It is understood that Indians carry a miniature of their temples when they travel/migrate. In interviews to American media, she refers to it as the ‘Ganesha idol’ (a statue of an Indian deity) which is often found in close proximity to the commodification of yoga culture in the West. This translation is interesting for the multiple layers of meaning that it generates. Through it all, Chopra ensures that both Alex Parrish and she are found to be appealing and relatable by American media and audiences alike.

20 Priyanka Chopra’s Journey from Bollywood Stardom …

315

Embodying Otherness On multiple occasions, Chopra positions herself as the ‘authentic Indian’ and marks her otherness by calling to question other ways of being Indian on American television. When she quips ‘I am not Mindy Kaling, I am Indian Indian’, there is an emphasis on her distance from the American mainstream. This is achieved primarily to cash in on the exotic otherness that is also reinforced by most American television hosts who appear enthralled with her Bollywood veteran status or comment that she can ‘fight in heels’ (Morning Show). Given the way in which her body has been constructed by media, and by virtue of her status as a former Miss World, Priyanka is more global/local to America than Mindy (and by default therefore less ‘Indian’). She thus occupies a space that is simultaneously at the borderlands, but a border that seeps into the centre. Her supermodel body is brown, yet exotic and desirable, in a way that Mindy Kaling’s dark-complexioned and more generously proportioned body is not allowed to be. In this positioning however, the value and dominance of the white body remain unchallenged. What could be more universally American than to imagine a Baywatch body, with just the perfect touch of exotic other, to mark the coming of age of brownness on American television? Repeatedly however, Chopra returns to the rhetoric of achievement and success, invoking the model minority myth, even as she transplants herself from India to the USA. Invoking the trope of the American Dream, Chopra (as quoted in Manzoor 2016) claims, I create opportunities for myself and I make sure I’m as successful as I can be. I push myself and I don’t depend on other people. I want young people to know that you can be a oneperson army. If you believe in yourself and your abilities, then you can be anything. The world is your oyster.

Chopra takes a philosophical approach to the pursuit of success and claims that her successes will help create ‘path-breaking opportunities’ for other Indian talents to follow in her footsteps. Such invocations of individuality in her narratives work to affirm her position as belonging to the centre, becoming and being American, and assimilating to the extent of forsaking her Indianness.

Blind Casting and the Myth of Meritocracy A way in which the space for the performativity of difference has opened to allow for difference is what Warner (2015) refers to as ‘blind casting’. In response to the criticism that mainstream television lacks racial and ethnic diversity, networks adopted blind casting which involved including a racially diverse cast ‘without having to acknowledge difference’ (p. 636). As Warner (2015) explains: This innovation, called blindcasting, insisted that as opposed to the traditional method of network executives, casting directors, and talent managers generating casting breakdowns

316

R. Sen

that explicitly listed the race and ethnicity of each character for auditioning purposes, the producer not specify the race of any of the roles. (p. 636)

Sometimes referred to as non-traditional or colour-blind casting, this practice is ostensibly meant to remove bias in casting choices. Actors are cast regardless of race and ethnicity such the character of Hermione played by a black actor in the theatrical production of Harry Potter and the Cursed Child. Shonda Rhimes has been repeatedly praised for her efforts in blind casting which allowed her according to Warner, ‘to audition a variety of actor types for each of the characters and ultimately hit pay dirt for both the showrunner and the network helping the show become a runaway success because it exemplified the notion of a multicultural, yet, paradoxically, post-racial society’ (p. 636). The tactic of blind casting acts as an accommodation or a bridge because the mere inclusion of a diverse cast serves to give the impression that racial equality has been achieved. What it does not do is address the kinds of stories that get told or address any other more sustainable ways to address racial inequality. Her character in Quantico was written not for an Indian actor, claims Chopra. It was written for an American, which is remarkable when considered in comparison to the opening scene of the series where Priyanka’s character is being questioned following a terrorist attack in NYC. Despite her mainstream name ‘Alex Parrish’, she is immediately introduced as someone who is brown (South Asian) and can be assumed to have terrorist/Islamist connections. As noted by writers and bloggers alike, American television has until recently included Indian ‘desi’ characters as sparingly as ‘truffles on pasta’ and that too with a heavy dose of every possible cliche circulating in the media. To such observers of ‘stereotypalooza’, Alex Parrish comes as a refreshing acknowledgement of the shift in mainstream representations (The Curious Gawker 2016). Chopra is emphatic in her desire to not be typecast as the ‘stereotypical Indian’ on American television. She mentions during her interviews that Alex Parrish was not meant to be Indian, which is what attracted her to the character and the series. Her interviews clear register her apprehension about whether America would be ready for a heroine that looked different from the stereotypical Indian image of a henna-sporting heroine with a thick accent like ‘Apu from The Simpsons’. It is interesting therefore as Chopra elaborates about the shifts in the narrative that have been engineered by her presence (and by her own admission, her creative suggestions) that in recent episodes, the writers are weaving her character Parrish’s Indian background into the storyline: [The writers] are bringing in a little bit of her Indianness because it making it very multifaceted (emphasis added), the writers are enjoying finding out about her… she goes backpacking in India, Iran and Pakistan. So it is really interesting to see all of that developing and it is happening because of the casting.

While blind casting resulted in Chopra being cast in this series playing a character embodying ambiguous ethnicity (Valdivia 2011), it is noteworthy that writers then complicate her ambiguity by introducing elements that indicate, albeit in an unobtrusive way, her mark her Indianness. At the same time, Chopra insists through her interviews that while the road to Hollywood and American television happened out

20 Priyanka Chopra’s Journey from Bollywood Stardom …

317

of chance, her phenomenal success in Bollywood made it possible for her to gain entry here. The credit therefore goes to American television, in this case specifically the ABC Network to have created the space for excellence from India to find a spot on American television. Such practices and rhetorical strategies become an investment in the liberal individualist discourse of a post-racial America, where the myth of meritocracy is cemented and affirmed. In turn, these strategies also fall short of becoming a platform to address structural biases within the media and the public sphere.

From Crossover to One True Global Icon: More Than Bollywood-Flavoured Popcorn In an interview of hers, Chopra expresses that she is uncomfortable with calling the Indian film industry ‘Bollywood’, a ‘me too’ of Hollywood because she feels that it trivializes the industry, reducing it into one large Zumba class where everyone breaks into song and dance without any specific reason (Chopra, as quoted in Iyer 2017). She proceeds to reference the Hollywood film La La Land (Chazelle 2016), in an attempt to draw parallels and make references that are easily understood by mainstream audiences, an exercise often invoked by those from the global South to those in the global North to make themselves ‘understood’. As Chopra continues to play a vital role in the way in which she is constructed and framed by the media and the public, her rhetorical constructions of herself and her role in this world become increasingly powerful; ‘(t)he mission is to seek new adventures, new heights and leave a mark that has a social change overtone… playing a part in changing global perceptions of India’. Having recently married the Hollywood singing sensation and longtime teenage heartthrob Nick Jonas, Chopra’s presence in popular culture has increased exponentially. In the same course on Indian Media where only a few years ago students were being introduced to Priyanka Chopra, today’s students are familiar with the Chopra name even more so than they are with the idea of Bollywood. They have witnessed her rise to mainstream popularity, and this has in turn garnered increased curiosity about Bollywood and India. Perhaps Chopra’s intention, as quoted earlier, is evident in the responses of students in this classroom. In her felicitation of Chopra at the unveiling of her wax figure at Madame Tussaud’s in her adopted-home city New York, Christine Haughney, regional head of marketing at Merlin Entertainments, PLC. said, ‘Priyanka Chopra is a global superstar who is loved and admired by fans all over the world for her talent, intellect, beauty and compassion… we are excited to celebrate such an empowering role-model globally’ (Corinthios 2019).

318

R. Sen

It is impossible to discuss the impact of Priyanka Chopra both in India and abroad without addressing the concept of critical transculturalism (Kraidy 2009), particularly within the framework of globalism and its intersections with the entertainment and media industries, and their impact on local cultures. Postcolonial scholar Arjun Appadurai (1996) frames globalization in terms of disjunctive flows of people, capital, technology, images and ideologies, which in turn forms the basis of the scholarship on hybridity and cultural transculturalism. Chopra simultaneously inhabits these spaces of the in-between and performs and articulates her identity within the discourses of hybridity and power and across disrupted and disjunctured borders. In this regard, she traverses the ethnoscape and mediascape created by global media and culture flows. At the same time, every so often forces of nationalism/fascism keep her border crossings in check by expressing outrage at her digressions from an ‘authentic’ Indian self. When Chopra met with PM Modi in a skirt, Indian Twitterati went aflame over her posture while meeting him and the length of her skirt instead of the content of their conversation. Whether it is her royalty-infused wedding in December 2018 or her most recent fashion appearances, Chopra remains at the centre of global media attention and is more than likely to continue to ride this wave for several decades. I am who I am and I am okay with it. Perfection is accepting who you are and being okay with it. Being flawed and being graceful about it. It’s great to be you. There are no rules in the world anymore and I like breaking rules. I think rules are boring and it is fun when you can be a little rebellious when it comes to creativity and entertainment. (Chopra, as quoted in Manzoor 2016)

References Aguirre, A. (2018, December 6). When Priyanka met nick: A love story. Retrieved from https:// www.vogue.com/article/priyanka-chopra-nick-jonas-interview. Anzaldúa, G. E. (2001). Preface: (Un)natural bridges, (Un)safe spaces. In G. E. Anzaldúa & A. Keating (Eds.), This bridge we call home (pp. 1–5). New York, NY: Routledge. Appadurai, A. (1996). Modernity at large: Cultural dimensions of globalization. Minneapolis: University of Minneapolis Press. Chhabra, A. (2018). Priyanka Chopra: The incredible story of a global bollywood star. New Delhi: Rupa Publications. Chou, R. S., & Feagin J. R. (2008). The myth of model minority: Asian Americans facing. Corinthios, A. (2019, February 7). The museum unveiled its first-ever Priyanka Chopra Jonas wax figure in New York City. Retrieved from https://people.com/tv/priyanka-chopra-madametussauds-wax-figure/. Davé, S. (2013). Indian accents: Brown voice and racial performance in American television and film. Urbana: University of Illinois Press. Gill, R. (2007). Post-feminist media culture: Elements of sensibility. European Journal of Cultural Studies, 10(2), 147–166.

20 Priyanka Chopra’s Journey from Bollywood Stardom …

319

Hall, S. (1982). The rediscovery of ‘ideologies’: Return of the repressed in media studies. In M. Gurevitch, T. Bennett, J. Curran, & J. Woollacott (Eds.), Culture, society, and the media (pp. 56– 90). New York: Methuen & Co. Halualani, R. T., & Nakayama, T. (2013). Critical intercultural communication studies: At the crossroads. In R. T. Halualani & T. Nakayama (Eds.), The handbook of critical intercultural communication (pp. 1–16). West Sussex: Wiley Blackwell Publishing. Hinojos, S. V. (2016). Indian accents: Brown Voice and racial performance in American television and film by Shilpa S. Dave (review). Journal of Asian American Studies, 19(1), 135–137. Iyer, M. (2017, January). Priyanka Chopra: India’s first truly global superstar. The Times of India. Retrieved from https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/entertainment/hindi/bollywood/news/ Priyanka-Chopra-Indias-first-truly-global-superstar/articleshow/53060330.cms. Kraidy, M. (2009). Critical transculturalism. Paper Presented at the Annual Meeting of the International Communication Association, New York, NY. http://www.allacademic.com/meta/p14237_ index.html. Mahapatra, D. A. (2016, December). From a latent to a strong soft power? The evolution of India’s cultural diplomacy. https://doi.org/10.1057/palcomms.2016.91. Mahdawi, N. (2017, May 9). From Apu to master of none: How US pop culture tuned into the South Asian experience. The Guardian. Retrieved from https://www.theguardian.com/tvand-radio/2017/may/09/from-apu-to-master-of-none-how-us-pop-culture-tuned-into-the-southasian-experience. Manzoor, S. (2016, February 28). Priyanka Chopra: “I’m not arrogant. I’m self-assured. Interview. https://www.theguardian.com/film/2016/feb/28/priyanka-chopra-interview-bollywood-us-tv. McCahill, M. (2015). Bajirao Mastani review—Lusty yet progressive historical love triangle. Retrieved from https://www.theguardian.com/film/2015/dec/23/bajirao-mastani-reviewhistorical-love-triangle-deepika-padukone-ranveer-singh-priyanka-chopra. Moon, D. (2013). Critical reflections on culture and critical intercultural communication. In R. T. Halualani & T. Nakayama (Eds.), The handbook of critical cultural communication (pp. 34–52). West Sussex: Wiley Blackwell Publishing. Moraga, C., & Anzaldúa, G. (1981). This bridge called my back: Writings by radical women of color. Latham: Kitchen Table Press. Ng, J. C., Lee, S., & Pak, Y. K. (2007). Contesting the model minority and perpetual foreigner stereotypes: A critical review of literature on Asian Americans in education. Review of Research in Education, 31, 95–130. Orbe, M. P. (1998). Co-constructing co-cultural theory: An explication of culture, power, and communication. Thousand Oaks: Sage Publications. Prashad, V. (2000). The Karma of brown folk. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Racism. Boulder, CO: Paradigm Publishers. Ransom, A. (2014). Bollywood goes to the stadium: Gender, national identity, and sport film in hindi. Journal of Film and Video, 66(4), 34–49. Ruskin, D. K. (1981). The bridge poem. In C. Moraga & G. Anzaldúa (Eds.). This bridge called my back: Writings by radical women of color (pp. xxi–xxii). Latham: Kitchen Table Press. Searfoss, M., & Sen, R. (2017). Challenging patriarchy: Creating dialogue about women’s freedom in india through subversive film narratives. Presented at the Annual Conference of the Eastern Communication Association, Boston, MA. Tharpe, F. (2016a, June/July). Priyanka Chopra talks racism and her rise to fame. Complex Cover Story. https://www.complex.com/pop-culture/priyanka-chopra-interview-2016-cover-story. Tharpe, F. (2016b, June/July). The hunger for more. Cover Story. Complex magazine. Retrieved from http://www.complex.com/pop-culture/2016/05/priyanka-chopra-complex-cover-june-july2016. The Curious Gawker. (2016, April 18). From Apu to Alex Parrish. Arré. Retrieved from http:// www.arre.co.in/humour/priyanka-chopra-quantico-peoples-choice-awards-2017-from-apu-toalex-parrish/.

320

R. Sen

Tsering, L. (2012, December 14). Barfi!: Film review. The Hollywood Reporter. Retrieved from https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/review/barfi-film-review-370551. Valdivia, A. (2011). This tween bridge over my Latina girl back: The U.S. Mainstream negotiates ethnicity. In M.C. Kearney (Ed.), Mediated girlhoods: New explorations of girls’ media culture (pp. 93–1112). New York: Peter Lang Publishers. Warner, K. J. (2015). The racial logic of Grey’s Anatomy: Shonda Rhimes and her “post-civil rights, post-feminist” Series. Television & New Media, 16(7), 631–647.

Filmography Abbas-Mustan. (2004). Aitraaz. Mukta Arts. Akhtar, F. (2006). Don. Excel Entertainment. Akhtar. (2011). Don 2. Excel Entertainment. Akhtar, Z. (2015). Dil Dhadakne Do. Excel Entertainment. Basu, A. (2012). Barfi!. UTV Motion Pictures. Bhandarkar, M. (2008). Fashion. Bhandarkar Entertainment, UTV Motion Pictures. Bhansali, S. L. (2015). Bajirao Mastani. Bhansali Productions. Bhardwaj, V. (2009). Kaminey. UTV Motion Pictures. Bhardwaj. (2011). 7 Saat Khoon Maaf. UTV Spotboy. Chazelle, D. (2016). La La Land. Summit Entertainment. Gowariker, A. 2009. What’s your Raashee? Ashutosh Gowariker Productions. Kumar, O. (2014). Mary Kom. Bhansali Productions, Viacom18 Motion Pictures. Mansukhani. T. (2008). Dostana. Big Dog Productions, Dharma Productions. Roshan, R. 2006. Kkrish. Film Kraft. Safran, J. (2015–2018). Quantico. The Mark Gordon Company.

Glossary

Abbaji Father (urdu, in this context a revered Don) Asura Demon Bahu Daughter-in-law Bandukbaaz Gunslinger Bhakt Devotee, follower Bhagwa Saffron Bhangra A kind of dance from the Punjab Bhavna Emotions, feelings Bhaiyya Brother (also, affectionate for a male of any age group) Chal beta (Informal) come on buddy Chikni Smooth (flawless) Chameli Jasmine Chaapo Imprint Chichora Flippant Chittiya kalaiya Fair complexioned wrists Choli A short sleeved bodice as worn by Indian women Chor Thief Dada (Here) boss, big brother Darsan An opportunity to see a holy person/deity; also refers to an opportunity to catch a glimpse of somebody important Desi Local, indigenous, Indian Dhol-tasha Drum beat Gilmi Relating to film, exaggerated, flashy Gaana Song Gali Alleys Ganapati Another name of Lord Ganesha, the Hindu deity Ghunghroo Dancing bells Goli Bullet Hatk¯e Different, offbeat Ishq (Urdu) love © Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 A. I. Viswamohan and C. M. Wilkinson (eds.), Stardom in Contemporary Hindi Cinema, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-15-0191-3

321

322

Glossary

Jagrata Hindu ritual, comprising an all-night vigil and devotional songs in honour of a deity Jhanda flag Jihad Holy war waged on behalf of Islam Kamar Waist Kamina Scoundrelk Kajrare Kohl-rimmed (usually used for kohl rimmed eyes) Khandaan Family Khiladi Player Lakshya Goal, target Loot Rob Masala Spicy Mohalla Residential area Mukhda Face Naach Dance Naga sadhu A subgroup of ascetics, particularly among Hindus and Jainas Pan masala A variety of chewing tobacco. Often tobacco companies advertise gutka as pan masala in order to skirt the ban on advertising tobacco products Patli Slim Burqa Veil and concealing garments Natyashastra A Sanskrit text, credited to Bharat Muni, delineating aspects of dramatic/aesthetic art Rasa An emotional or aesthetic impression of a work of art Raees Rich, affluent Ruk Ruk, Halt, halt (or wait, wait) Salwar-kameez Pant-tunic set Subhanultala (Arabic) praise be to the Lord Tapori Slang for street urchins Thehraav Gravitas, seriousness Vidushak Jester, comic actor Zamindar Landowner

Index

A Action hero, 2, 24, 128, 195, 197 Advertising, 2, 7, 16, 25, 26, 28, 32, 35, 36, 45, 52, 54, 57, 75, 114, 125, 168, 204, 234, 269–271, 292 Akshay Kumar, 6, 9, 17, 18, 22, 25, 97, 98, 137, 167, 195–198, 200, 204, 206– 208, 210, 233, 252, 270 Antihero, 62–64

B Beauty, 23, 40, 41, 71, 73, 75, 80, 85, 87, 92, 102, 138, 142, 187, 189, 190, 240, 255, 259, 293, 294, 300, 302, 306, 311, 317 Body kinetic body, 8, 128 Bollywood stardom, 10, 231, 279, 281 Brand endorsements, 7, 32, 177, 256, 274, 307

C Celebrity narrative, 169 Commercial films and middle-of-the-road films, 265–267

D Dance, 8, 33, 61, 73, 78, 81, 93, 98, 100, 105, 113–118, 125, 126, 128, 135– 137, 142, 144–146, 149, 150, 152– 154, 173, 174, 187, 188, 197, 203, 205, 217, 224, 225, 227, 233, 250,

255, 268, 286, 291, 295, 296, 312, 317

E Ethnicity, 9, 148, 183, 184, 186–188, 190, 191, 240, 281, 283, 284, 312, 316

F Female stardom, 8, 102, 136, 141, 142, 145, 155, 234, 239, 240 Femininity, 9, 24, 32, 82, 84, 183, 185, 188, 218, 225, 247, 257, 270, 309 Film, 1–10, 15–28, 32–42, 45–53, 55–57, 59–65, 71, 73–81, 83–86, 89–102, 105–119, 123–132, 135–137, 139– 155, 161–178, 183–191, 195–210, 216–227, 231–240, 245–258, 260– 262, 265–274, 279–287, 291–302, 305, 307–311, 313, 317

G Gender, 7, 19, 24, 28, 31, 32, 49, 54, 72, 73, 100, 101, 119, 147, 155, 189, 234, 236, 238–240, 247, 251, 265–268, 270, 299, 309, 310 Glamor, 92, 102, 108, 113–115, 117 Global iconicity, 307, 311, 312 stardom, 140, 143 Globalization, 15, 19, 32, 61, 65, 108, 135, 144, 203, 204, 236, 245, 251, 258, 262, 280, 287, 318

© Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2020 A. I. Viswamohan and C. M. Wilkinson (eds.), Stardom in Contemporary Hindi Cinema, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-15-0191-3

323

324

Index H Hatk¯e, 7, 9, 90, 91, 101, 102, 162, 167, 183– 191, 235, 238, 240 Hollywood, 10, 17, 71, 74, 79, 81, 89, 91, 95, 96, 98, 136, 142, 143, 147, 153, 186, 197, 202, 206, 220, 222, 233, 239, 247, 279–281, 284–288, 292, 293, 305–308, 316, 317

I Identity, 2, 7, 8, 10, 15, 18, 21, 33, 35, 40– 42, 47, 50, 54, 84, 99, 110, 112, 126, 139, 141, 146, 151–153, 168, 169, 173, 175–178, 187, 191, 205, 219, 221, 225, 231, 235, 247, 260, 269, 270, 272, 281–283, 285, 287, 291, 300, 301, 312, 314, 318 International stardom, 288 Item boy, 147–149, 153–155 Item girls, 135, 140, 142, 146, 155, 216, 302

M Masculinity metrosexual, 28, 39, 40 Media new, 2, 7, 10, 25, 28, 96, 108, 135–137, 139, 271–275 Method acting, 94, 296 Metrosexuality, 21 Mobility, 5, 8, 16, 19, 26, 35–37, 39, 46, 110, 123–125, 127, 130–132, 279, 282, 284, 285 Modern heroine, 238 Multiplex cinema, 2, 9, 231, 238 Myth myth-buster, 215, 217

N Naturalistic acting, 295 New Indian woman, 87, 245, 246, 251, 252, 258, 262

P Parallel cinema, 49, 79, 187, 190, 227, 251, 267, 280, 292–295, 298 Performance, 3, 8, 20, 22, 24, 27, 28, 34, 36, 45–51, 57, 60–62, 76, 79, 89, 90, 94, 96–99, 101, 105, 109, 111, 114– 117, 119, 126, 131, 135, 139, 143– 146, 155, 163, 165–168, 171, 175– 177, 184, 188, 200, 201, 217, 220– 222, 233, 237, 239, 249, 250, 252, 253, 255, 256, 265, 268, 269, 272, 279, 281–286, 293, 295–297, 299, 300, 302, 306, 308–311

R Race, 23, 24, 27, 31, 129, 130, 184, 185, 188, 203, 221, 313, 316

S Serial kisser, 59, 62, 63, 65, 218 Sexuality, 62, 99, 148, 153, 154, 177, 185, 186, 218, 219, 223, 251, 255, 258, 260, 261, 309 Stardom subversive, 7, 59, 65 Star entrepreneur, 231 Subversion, 224, 250

T Transculturalism, 318 Transnational, 10, 35, 37, 39, 45–47, 53–57, 108, 123, 125, 128, 189, 237, 258, 279–288 Twitter, 6, 31, 34, 51, 55, 56, 85, 89, 99, 105, 107, 108, 117, 119, 140, 178, 305, 306

V Versatility, 45, 46, 125