When Bollywood destroyed the Xenophobia it had helped create
And an ode to two movies that broke barriers
One of my favourite movies, as a kid and even now, is Mr. India. It is a movie full of laughter, emotion and hope. It gave us a believable hero, an iconic villain, the quintessential independent woman in Sridevi, and even Aftab Shivdasani.
Yet, even a nuanced director like Shekhar Kapur played along with the trope of the immoral white man (played by the legend Bob Cristo). The white man in Bollywood is either smuggling gold and drugs, ridiculing Indian traditions, pouncing on helpless woman, or doing all of the above. Even Indians settled abroad are frequently shown losing their values, resulting in an external or internal conflict which transforms them back to an adarsh bhartiya.
Hollywood’s treatment of Indians and other ‘foreigners’ has been no better. So this is not a Bollywood bash fest, but a celebration of those who broke the trend — a segment I will now move to.
Cut to English Vinglish (2012) — an undeniably remarkable movie that, much like Mr. India, was a delightful cocktail of tears, laughter, drama and hope.
In the movie, Sridevi plays a housewife Shashi who pines for love and respect from her husband and children. A fateful trip to the US turns into her journey of self-discovery.
In the beginning, one feels worried for her tiny self landing in the Big Apple, but soon changes to cheer for her enthusiasm and daring in transforming her life.
You again feel shortchanged when the English class she enrolls herself in has a bunch of non-descript, odd characters meant to elicit laughs.
Save for Laurent.
Laurent is a Frenchman whose appeal emanates from his looks, and kind and silent demeanour. He is worthy of a romantic escapade, and Sridevi’s Shashi and Laurent have their own ‘Before Sunset’ moments — their thoughts and language similar and polar in equal measure. And the audience’s trained mind is all like “Oh man! One of them or both of them are going to do something brash. He’s also French, so yeah basically, hitting on married women must be totally natural to him.”
But the movie handles the outcome of their relationship with extreme poise without demeaning the amorous undertone it had. When Laurent sees Shashi with her family, one can see the tinge of pain in his eyes. Yet, when they speak for the final time, he says “Quoi qu’il arrive ta rencontre restera spéciale, mon amie, toujours.” / “Whatever happens, the meeting with you will always remain special, my dear friend!”.
A slap in the face of Mohnish Behl’s “Ek ladka aur ladki kabhi dost nahi ho sakte” from 25 years ago.
Laurent’s entire persona and his choice to not act out his feelings draw a sharp contrast to the typical image of the white horny brute espoused by Bollywood for many decades. For it is not our thoughts but our ability to act in spite of them that separates us from the savages.
Merely a year later, Bollywood handed us another gem in Queen (2014). Here Kangana’s Rani is spurned by her fiance who feels her ways won’t fit his lifestyle abroad — and the audience goes, “Of course, must not send kids abroad. Sure he has a girlfriend. Also, good for her.” Then Kangana shuttles off to her honeymoon in Europe. Alone.
And thus begins our journey of breaking western stereotypes.
In Paris, Rani meets Vijayalakshmi who is the embodiment of everything Indian culture abhors — she drinks, smokes, parties, sleeps with multiple men, and is basically a woman with a voice. As the story progresses, she remains who she is and helps Rani discover her fun crazy side, and becomes an emotional pillar for her at a time she needed it most.
At this point, I think the filmmakers were just out to prove a point. So they lead Rani to Amsterdam — a city-shaped rave party as far as most Indians are concerned. Here she is berthed with three men in the same room. They soon win our affection — Taka from Japan has lost his folks. Hence, the other two are cheering him up and just being damn nice friends. ❤
One of them is Olekzander from Russia — another exotic alien whose eyes betray his affection towards Rani. But he remains just an endearing friend through and through. Then there’s the Italian chef Marcello who seems like a philanderer but is actually just touchy about the food he cooks. While we remain concerned about Rani’s safety with him around, it is actually the very conventional Rani who nearly ambushes him with a kiss.
So, Rani goes to the love city Paris and the drug capital Amsterdam, and returns with a bunch of friends and happy memories. Surprise!
The social media explosion in the past decade has done a lot to flatten the cultural topography globally. Many of us realise that it is prudent to look at people for who they are and not judge them on their origin. And that ideas are not really western or eastern, they are just ideas originating from among the eight billion rather similar heads roving this planet.
As more of our movies and writing start reflecting this sentiment, I see hope for a better world some day.
