How Indian comedy stands up, stands down, and sings (Part II)
This is a continuation of my first article on Indian comedy. Part I is available here.
In Part I, we discussed political comedy of the kind performed by Varun Grover and Kunal Kamra. In this part, we shift our attention to another set of comics who belong to a niche of singer-comedians. Two performers who deserve attention are Jamie Lever and Sugandha Mishra. They are impression-artists extraordinaire, and they top that off with their most valuable talent: singing. This is not just any singing but singing in the voices of the Asha Bhosale and Lata Mangeshkar, the Williams sisters of Indian film music.
Indian popular cinema has been star-centric since the breakdown of the studio-system in the 1940s, as a result of which, Bollywood revolves around a handful of star dynasties that dominate every discourse, whether serious or comedic. Talking to and about stars, with occasional reference to their actual talent or work is the stuff multiple media niches are made of. The dynastic star-system has been such a perennial part of the movie industry that it is considered almost natural; drawing attention to ‘nepotism’ by any wayward killjoy is quickly and deftly handled by the dynastic collective. Comedy, which must find a target, therefore, must avoid any reference to that, in addition to any reference to politics, at all costs. This is the only way Bollywood-based comedy can survive in the safe comedic space. And if you are familiar with the world of Bollywood or pre-Bollywood Hindi cinema, it is easy to see that steering clear of controversy is as easy as a song-and-dance routine.
Take, for instance, Jamie Lever, who appears in The Kapil Sharma Show, and pokes fun at of Bollywood acting and singing stars, sometimes while they are present at the show. She sings often in the voice of Asha Bhosale, the last living playback singer from what is called the golden age of Hindi film songs, 1950s-1970s. Lever is the daughter of a well-known Bollywood comedian, Johnny Lever, and she is frequently asked to mimic her father’s signature acts from popular films. What is worth noting is that Jamie Lever can imitate a star right to their face on live television and can move on with her life, without receiving threats. We can chalk it up to the self-referentiality or narcissism of Bollywood; there is no such thing as bad publicity. Stars are fine with being mimicked and made fun of, if it is done in good spirit, unless someone draws even a faint logical line between their success and their family connections.
It is hard to overestimate the role of musical talent in the art of such comedians such as Jamie Lever. Because film music is playback music and the actor and the singer belong to two different worlds, the coming together of acting and singing in the same body is simply a miracle of entertainment for the audience.
There are literally no limits to the possibilities for singing and mimicry combined. In one stunningly impressive but a typical performance for Sugandha Mishra at the Mirchi Music Award Show (2015), we see the singer-comedian deconstruct Hindi music of several decades and imitates the styles of artists in front of them, and Bollywood cheers her on, like a good sport. Sugandha Mishra sings in the voice of Lata Mangeshkar, the most prolific female voice for Hindi cinema who monopolized playback for female stars over several decades. Mishra draws attention to Lata’s dominance, her monopoly over film music, and coopts every un-Lata-like singing style into a Lata-like singing mode. And Mishra does other voices as brilliantly as she does Lata’s. She bends every genre of music as effortlessly as she does mimicry of such widely diverse film divas as Kangana Ranaut and Sharmila Tagore.
Deploying Bollywood star-centricity and Bollywood music to fuel comedic entertainment may not be a new idea, but the driving force has been subtle innovation. A particularly interesting example is a series called Waiting Lounge, featuring Sugandha Mishra as mostly in the persona of Lata Mangeshkar, who is waiting for her flight, and is singing to pass the time. She strikes up a conversation with other guests, Bollywood personalities all, and sings her way through. The stars and singers who stop by on their way to their flights are often played by Sanket Bhosale, who is Sugandha’s spouse in real life, and is a mimic and a singer as well.
In the recent past, comics making fun of Bollywood and comics making fun of politicians have faced very different audience reactions. This cannot just be chalked up to the bifurcation of audience demographics. There are examples to the contrary. For example, one can see some of the same members of the Bollywood community awkwardly silent when Shyam Rangeela mimicked Modi on stage.
What does this say about India’s public sphere? About free speech? About popular culture? Bollywood stars who have dared to speak out against politicians in power have faced public wrath, and they are perhaps justified to stay on the safe side of history. But let us imagine, what if Jamie Lever and Sugandha Mishra’s talents could or did have the freedom and the will to ignite a critical thought? There is always room for subversion in comedy.
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