What makes Indian cinema so easy to ignore?

For over a decade, or at least as long as I can remember, the Helsinki International Film Festival has had at least one Indian film in their programme, every single year. Last year, we were treated to four different films, ranging from the indie gem Monsoon Shootout to the big budget extravaganza of Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani. A few years back, we even got the megalomaniac Enthiran, sending every Tamizhan Finland-dweller to the theater to whistle at Rajnikanth's entrance. Overall, HIFF has consistently served up something delightful for us few Bollywood fans habiting this northern land, and a rare treat for those people who love the occasional Indian film, but don't necessarily seek them out all year round.

Then this year, nothing. Zilch. Kuch nahin.

When asked for a reason, HIFF responded on Facebook that another film festival would have a few Bollywood aces up their sleeve later in the spring. No offence to Season Film Festival, which I like but tend to miss due to it springing up (no pun intended) on me and my schedules every spring, but I found this response even more infuriating than not having a single Indian film on the schedule. So there's not enough room for two festivals to both have a few films from a country that produces hundreds of films every year?

Without getting deeper into the flawed booking models of domestic film festivals, I've always wondered why it is that Indian cinema is so universally easy to ignore, by film festivals and well-known international critics alike. The same people who appreciate varied genres, various types of films from all kinds of corners of the world, commercial, non-commercial, small budget, big budget, success or flop, all have no-India blinders on, apart from the occasional dip into the Irrfan Khan fare or a Satyajit Ray retrospective. In this post, I'm going to explore a few potential reasons and ways to argue against them, or think outside of them.

1. Indian cinema is seen as one genre. 

Not every Indian film is a romantic comedy musical with young people running through fields and dancing around ceaselessly, yet this is such a dominant stereotype that the whole concept of "different" cinema has become a weird cliché. The confusion arises from the two vastly different forms of genre distinction. In Hollywood, certain genres that we know now today as comedy, horror, romance, action etc, formed to serve a certain purpose. In commercial Indian cinema, a particular format of incorporating song sequences into narrative sequences without fully adopting the genre trappings of what Hollywood calls 'musicals' became largely the norm, influenced by not just foreign cinema, but local theater traditions as well. Slowly, the concept of masala, having varied proportions of different genres fluidly co-existing in one film, became the ideal in commercial cinema. Potboilers would entertain all kinds of audiences at once.

In modern Hindi cinema, and in other Indian film industries as well, the masala tends to be both a format and a genre. You can have masala format for a genre film - the song and dance sequences in a gangster film, the melodrama in a sports film - as well as have a full-on masala film, with a romantic track, a comedy track, and action, drama (to paraphrase the drunken paramour Veeru from Sholay, "emotion, drrrrrama, trrrragedy"), villains and mothers and heroines and songs, all thrown into the pot and stirred to perfection. There is a tendency to regard all of this as one and the same, even though they're two very different, and both valid, ways of making a movie work for the local audiences.

The logic of this dismissal works in two ways: one, lump different types of films with little in common to a "masala" genre that people outside India rarely understand to begin with, and then two, to highlight everything that isn't masala (either formatted as masala, or in the 'genre' of masala) as being different and alternative and completely out of the ordinary, even when 'out of the ordinary' in this case could easily be the vast majority of movies produced in India. Indian film fans find themselves recommending films by telling non-fans, "This is different," because the prejudice towards what is "the norm" in Indian cinema is so prevalent among international moviegoers. Indian films, for all their variety, are at best lumped into a fun colourful ball of frothy masala, and at worst regarded as a universally understood joke.

2. Indian cinema does a poor job marketing itself (and so does everybody else). 

The saddest thing about this "all the same" misconception is that at times Indian industry people perpetuate it themselves. If you take a drink every time an actor or a director promotes a movie by calling it different, you'll drink yourself to death before you finish a copy of Filmfare (I exaggerate but still). The failure to promote a different idea of Indian films doesn't stop there, though. In most countries of the world, Indian films are scarcely available, subtitled or dubbed to local languages, or even to a lingua franca, such as English. In the places where they are available, they're barely marketed to local audiences outside the Indian diaspora. When they are marketed, they are usually marketed as "different" (to what the stereotype of Bollywood films is), even though the local non-Indian audiences might have no clue whatsoever what the actual Indian films that fit the norm look like (and when they see such films, they may actually very much enjoy them).

I'm not pointing the finger at Bollywood or Tollywood or anybody else, because I'm as guilty of this as anybody else. When somebody asks me for recomendations, my mind jumps to the Band Baaja Baarats  and Amar Akbar Anthonys of the masala world, then back-pedals to something "different" from those, as if masala is a shameful thing, as opposed to a wonderful, unique, amazing form of making films. It's a hard cycle to get out of, so I've tried to take a step back and instead ask the person, what types of films they like. Indian films have all kinds. Take your pick.

But it is tragic, because there is so much cinema that even I, a voracious and mostly fearless explorer of Indian cinema, am missing out on, due to lack of availability or subtitles. Whether it's Malayalam films, or older Tamil films, it can be a struggle to find information, recommendations, subtitled DVDs, you name it, there's a lack of it. This is very unfortunate, and sadly there isn't really an easy fix for it.

3. Quantity doesn't signify quality.

The above is very much true, but I don't think quantity of films produced is the only reason why Indian films should demand more from film authorities and the world-wide film industry. It's like this: I'm not saying you have to like Indian films, or even respect Indian films, because I recognise there's tons of cinema out there I don't know about, understand or care for (with that said, I do keep an open mind). What I am saying is that there should be more recognition, in whatever form, of the true merits of Indian cinema. Looking aside the silly misconceptions, the big production numbers, the musical numbers, and the Thriller parodies, here is what Indian cinema really is:

It's an absolutely one-of-a-kind film country, with a distinctly unique history when it comes to genre and presentations of it, with multiple, interesting and thriving local, regional film industries (both commercial and more arthouse-minded) that serve important functions to local cultures and languages. For better and for worse, it's influenced Indian politics and society, and continues to do so today. It connects a huge diaspora back to their place of origin. It's at once localized and regional, and national, and international and global.

It's just too damn interesting to stay ignorant about, and too vast to dismiss entirely.

A decade in a life, and in film.

There is something poetic about the fact that while Indian cinema celebrates 100 years of existence, this year I can celebrate the tenth year anniversary of watching my first Bollywood film. If you don't know the story of the how that happened, you can read all about here. I didn't follow Indian films actively right away, obviously - I stumbled around, finding films I thought I might like, and ones I thought I ought to watch. It was only two years later, in 2005, that I actually began watching films on a less sporadic, accidental basis. I began to really get to know the stars, and look beyond the clichés. I began hanging out on Bollywood forums and websites (well, mainly the BollyWHAT? ones) and I made a friend in my city, who let me borrow a bunch of films and introduced me to so many new things, be it older Hindi cinema or the wonderful worlds of Southie cinema.

In 2007 I was already somewhat of a veteran, in that I knew what I liked, what I didn't like and what I wanted to see more of, and started this blog to showcase my fascination to the world. Ever since then, it's been my own personal opinion repository, one I sometimes maintain with extreme regularity and passion and that I sometimes let fall to the wayside in a rather regrettable manner. My love for Indian cinema remains ever-present but fluctuates - one month I'm watching three films in an evening, the next I haven't watched a single film, or even rewatched an old favourite.

The love has never gone away, though, and Indian films is the one fandom I think I'll always come back to. Therefore it's probably odd to most people that in my time watching these films, in all my time taking in their sounds and sights and cultural ideas, I've never actually been to India.

And unlike for most people, I can't even claim that it's been an issue of time or money. I've had enough time and money to travel to other far away corners of the world - I've been to the US, twice, South Korea, twice and I've even swung by the United Kingdom enough times to make up the money for a plane ticket to India. But travel is an odd beast, and my problem with India has been that I haven't wanted to go alone, nor has traveling alone to India been recommended to me.

Weirdly enough, even as I've expanded my horizons and gained more in-depth knowledge about Indian society, politics, history and culture as a whole, what eventually made me finally go to India was film-related. I was exchanging emails with a long-time friend who I'd initially met online but eventually got to know face-to-face as well, when visiting her country. She was also a fan of Indian films, so I wrote to her about how much I was looking forward to what is surely the most curious casting in the most bombastic film saga of recent memory, Aamir Khan in Dhoom 3. Jokingly I asked her, "You wouldn't want to swing by India at the end of this year?" and to my great surprise, she replied she'd love to visit India (a second visit for her). So we began talking, and then we began planning, and now we're booking.

Are your eye-brows raised? "Did she just write she's going to India to see Dhoom 3, out of all the movies in all the years, Dhoom goddamn 3?" No, that's not it. It's more one of those wonderful things where circumstances just come together and collide to create a new thing. My former music teacher probably shows Bollywood to her students on a yearly basis. It just happened so that I was the only one in that class receptive to Hindi cinema's charms, and wanted to see more. Similarly, I've wanted to go to India for over 10 years now, but have never had a friend to go with, and then suddenly I realise there is a friend who is not only willing to go, but is happy to go see Dhoom 3 and embraces the idea (and whose tastes in film tend to line up with mine), and the release of Dhoom 3 happens to coincide with a decent time to go travel in India (not too hot, not too damp) and when it's convenient for us two Westerners to go, as it's Christmas holidays.

So you see, Dhoom 3 just happens to be at the intersection of all these good things. I don't expect worlds out of it, as a movie - it's just a movie, starring some people I like, and it's a movie I'd probably see regardless of the circumstances. The fact that circumstances just happened to fall together, after my joking question, was kind of perfect. I'll be the first one to tell you that Indian culture, or cultures, are rich beyond belief and to only watch the films would be missing out on the various aspects, both positive and negative, of an interesting nation and its people. At the same, I'd be lying if I didn't admit that the films form the backbone of my personal attachment and interest in India. Thus it feels fitting that I'll be heading to India with somebody that I don't have to drag into cinemas against their will, and instead can go see films with, and visit all the historical, cultural and just plain interesting sights as well.

I'm so happy to be going to India, because it feels like a long overdue visit, and I'm even happier that it feels like I'm going to appreciate it a lot more, now that I've done my share of reading and studying India, and the fact that I'm going with somebody I like, and who I know is interested in similar things as I am. It also feels very fitting, that I'm going near the anniversary of when I first got into Indian films - almost as if it was always meant to be.

This old chestnut: SRK on Hollywood.

I was reading SRK's reflections (see that picture? Get it? I'm too clever, honestly) on the state of Hindi cinema and the discussions it brought out in people on GetFilmy's excellent post about it, and decided to make my own post, as I have a lot of thoughts on the topic. Here's a link to the Forbes article, but I wanted to give credit to GetFilmy for bringing it to my attention.

In a way, I honestly believe that these comments have more to do with where Shahrukh Khan is at, than where Indian film is at right now. His films as of late have been successes, but they haven't been the kind of successes he probably hoped they'd be, and they certainly haven't punched through as films people would love to re-visit time and time again. His name brings people to the theater, but hardly anybody is going back for a second viewing, much less a third.

But, as more people flock to cinemas, Hollywood’s finesse will eventually win them over. India may make the most movies in the world, but “With all due respect, the production values are s***. Why will my kids watch that kind of crap when Hollywood offers something slicker?”

As far as arguments go, this is not precisely the strongest. Anecdotal evidence based on your kids? Look, dude, I get it. You're a self-made guy who made their career and fortunes through Hindi films, and now you see that your kids are growing up in a different world than you, so they'll prefer different things - and this is a new discovery for you, perhaps. But you just cannot extrapolate all that to include every child in India, every adult in India or every Indian abroad.

Here's what I've learned about Indian audiences and their love for Hollywood films - people like spectacle. People everywhere like spectacle. Finnish people will go see Avatar in huge numbers, as will Americans, as will Brits, Germans, Koreans and people all over the world. Spectacle is one of those things that no other format than film can provide quite like film, so of course flashy, big budget entertainers will draw in people, just for the novelty of it all.

Like GetFilmy pointed out, Bollywood is not suffering. Content is becoming better, genres are getting more diverse, we get tons of films breaking the 100 crore mark, which used to be a fanciful dream for producers, we have new stars and old stars having the kind of success they've never enjoyed before.

Even more importantly, films aren't just entertainment - entertainment forms a part of people's lived experience, and through that, shapes identities and in some ways, a national and cultural identity. This is why DDLJ spoke to NRI's, and people still listen to HAHK songs, or quote Sholay, or whatever have you. And because Indian films are intrinsically Indian, they will never cease to have that sort of significance in some people's lives. This is not to say that if you are an Indian person who prefers American or French or Iranian films to those of your own country, you're somehow less Indian - that's not what I mean at all (after all, I'm not less Finnish for not liking Finnish films much). It's just that to some people, this part of the culture is very important.

A bad Hindi film might not entertain anybody better just because they have a cultural connection to it, but I don't think people who are as passionate about their own films as Indian audiences can be will ever just abandon it because the visual special effects aren't as flashy as something Peter Jackson or Christopher Nolan can conjure up. That's pretty simplistic thinking on Shahrukh's part. Production value is not the only thing people go see in films - it's certainly what some people look for, perhaps even to the detriment of their own enjoyment of less flashy films (be it indie, arthouse, low budget).

They spend more on pop corn, samosas and fizzy drinks than on the tickets.

Newsflash - this has been the case in the West forever. Even before the advent of illegal digital downloads and all the things driving up ticket prices in North America and Europe. This also seems to mostly look at multiplexes. People see films in other sorts of film theatres as well, don't they?

I'm not a businesswoman, so I'm not one to criticize Shahrukh's moves in the business world - it's his company, he can run it as he likes. But I also think it's shortsighted of him to just think about visual effects, flashy spectacles and all this other stuff that Hollywood will probably make better than Hindi films do, most of the time, simply because of the fact that Hollywood has been doing this stuff for aeons. Indian films should push themselves technically, for sure, and I'm all for that - Eega was a good example. But no film would be anything without actually being good - good acting, good music, good stories. To say Hollywood is going to take over is based on almost no evidence at all - in fact, Hollywood is itself in crisis because its age-old business formula is losing in the world of online streaming and targeted marketing. Bollywood is going through changes as well, but it's not failing.

I don't mean to harp on the man's personal career graph too much, but I do strongly feel that had his latest film been his Dabangg or Three Idiots, he wouldn't be saying stuff like this. Come back to us, Shahrukh - make a damn good movie that rides on both the content (a good story, solid direction, great songs) and your star power. Jab Tak Hai Jaan probably should've been just that, but wasn't. Nevermind.

Come back to us.

Hire me, Bollywood: Kiss of the Spider Woman re-imagining

Argentinian author Manuel Puig's novel "Kiss of the Spider Woman" (illustrated here by the novel's stylish Finnish translation cover art) draws a lot out of a simple premise: the dialogue between two prisoners, one a staunch communist activist and the other an effeminate gay man, forms almost the entirety of the novel. Valentin, the former, listens to Molina, the latter, tell him stories from old movies - through these re-tellings they discuss each other, life, politics and love.

The novel was perhaps the first to be told almost entirely through dialogue (with some official documents and footnotes relishing the story on the side), and it was later adapted into a stage version, that was then made into an Academy Award-winning film.

And after I finished reading and mulling this story over, I just thought to myself, "This would make a fantastic Indian film."

Why do I think it's so ripe for an Indian film remake? If you've read the novel, you know it packs a punch precisely because there is so much there to get into. The stories of the films tell us something about the character who narrates them; Molina is an escapist at heart, stuck in a world that doesn't accept him, but as the novel also shows, stuck inside these gendered misconceptions of both himself and the world around him. This kind of escapism is what forms a large part of the tradition of Indian films - the other reality where the corrupt politicians get beaten up by brave populist heroes, where the beautiful girl and the handsome boy fight adversity and find love despite their families' disapproval, the classic melodramatic heroines singing poetic tunes about their woes.. 

These kinds of aspects would find an easy translation into the films of Hindi film yore. Then there are things about the character that would obviously be different. Molina's identification with femininity means he might be categorised as a hijra in the Indian context. Or the character might be more closeted in terms of who he really is, and who he wants to be. 

Valentin, on the other hand, is the revolutionary, whose movement relies on secrecy, but who suddenly finds it impossible not to share some of himself with Molina. The two men form a bond - and without spoiling, it's safe to say this bond is not easily defined, especially given their unusual circumstances. Valentin seems haunted by doubts about his cause, and his constant reading of political literature seems to be partly due wanting to educate himself, but also to make sure he remains committed to his cause. 

India's history has no shortness of revolutionary movements, and at least in some states, the Maoist Naxalite movement has been seen as gaining prominence (as well as being classified a terrorist organisation by official authorities). So again, this would not necessarily be a difficult thing to transplant into the Indian context. 

In the novel, they get through many films - six according to some counts, seven according to others. In the film and stage version, they only delve deeply into one. On the page, scenes can whizz by when narrated, but in film, telling a story takes longer. But the narration of the films are integral to the story, not just because they form such a big part of it, but also because they cut into the differences between these two characters - Molina's melodramatic tastes in film reflect popular cinema, whereas communist Valentin's dismissal of certain films, certain scenes in them, seems to suggest an elitism. A really good director could form a story, a film within a film, with this narration, that would dig deep into this particular contrast between the two characters. The political v the non-political, the progressive v the socially conservative, the popular v the high-brow.

As for casting, well, if you want to aim big,  then why not aim the biggest? Aamir Khan as the brooding, uncertain Valentin, plagued by his past regrets but committed to his cause. Shahrukh Khan as the equally uncertain but only as fragile as he allows himself to be Molina, the narrator of the films that stir such emotions inside them both, the eternal escapist, unhappy in this world but with little desire to change it. For both stars, these would be bold roles, and fascinating characters to play; and of course, I am fantasy-casting like it's going out of style, here.

If you've not read this novel yet, do so, as I highly recommend it. I cannot speak about the strength of the English translation, as I read the novel in Finnish, but I assume it'd be worth it.

Nationalism, culture & representation - thoughts on Finnish cinema.

You might be thinking, what with that lofty post header, what the hell do Finnish films have to do with Indian films, the main subject of this blog? Not a whole lot, but allow me to explain.

A lot of foreign fans sometimes feel discouraged when Indians rag on their own cinema. "It's just not as good as American films", "they just steal plots from better foreign films", "the acting is so over-the-top and melodramatic!" are just some of the criticisms you might hear voiced. Some of that attitude might be rooted in internalised racist or colonialist thinking - the idea that if it's Indian, it's naturally subpar to anything that comes from outside of India; a certain lack of self-confidence in one's own cultural products. I say some, because it's not always the explanation, and I think it would be harmful to label other people's tastes as being rooted in something that they don't themselves recognise at all.

Another explanation of this high level of criticism towards cultural products of one's own culture/country is simply the question of representation - when we identify with a culture we were born and raised in, we might feel defensive or close to whatever members of the same culture produce as representations. We look at them through a different lense - it's not, "is this a good film?", it's "is this a good representation of Finnish culture/Indian (Tamil/Telugu/Kannada/Muslim/Sikh/etc) culture?". We don't choose to do this, instead it plays in the back of our heads like an unwelcome guest commenting on what you're reading over your shoulder, and it raises the standards just that little extra. It means you pay closer attention to everything, and are more quick to think about questions of accuracy. Dialogue, costumes, milieu - these all become more highlighted somehow. We also watch the film as a film, but with those raised standards, the film has also become something much, much more. It's sometimes not even so much a question of cultural representation as just the fact you want something from your culture to be good enough so you can present it to others with pride; this nationalist notion that even though you had nothing to do with the making of the cultural product, it's connected to you in some sort of way, because of this shared culture.

You can never see something from somebody else's eyes, and I think that's partly why people who have these "unwelcome guests" are often surprised to hear somebody else is watching, too, and doesn't mind the melodramatic acting or the song numbers (in the case of Indian films) or doesn't recognise the perpetual angsty male loser that so often ends up being the hero, or the clichéd sex scene where all you see is a naked butt but serves no purpose whatsoever (in the case of Finnish films). (Can you sense my over-critical tone from this yet?) To an outsider, sometimes a good film is just a good film. An outsider is not necessarily looking for any kind of representation, positive or negative - they just want to be stimulated by the film-watching experience.

So this is where I understand and sympathise with Indian people who just cannot fathom why anybody would want to watch some of the cinema that their culture(s) produce, because they just don't see the films as that good. Of course, there are a lot of differences between my pooh-poohing of Finnish cinema and those desi critics of Indian cinema - for one, scale and outreach. Finnish cinema has some audience outside the country's boarders, but not a whole lot; even expats would rather eat rye bread and go to sauna than watch a Finnish film to reach back into their native culture. We're a small country in terms of population. We're isolated. And most of us do end up walking out of the theatre and telling our friend, "That was okay ..for a Finnish film."

What's my point, then? Well, first of all, to say to all those who feel this way about their own cultural products - I get it, and I also get that you can't always help it. Even if you try to shut off that more critical side of your brain, it might not be possible. You are going to be paying close attention, you will be more critical than necessary perhaps, and your lived experience will define how you see the flow of dialogue, or the familiar milieu portrayed, or certain types of people characterised. That's just what film-watching entails, and in large part that's what makes discussion of film so interesting - to see how your own views of the world influence your understanding or like of a particular story, trope or character.

So you can't always shut off your inner cultural critic, but you can try to give films more of a fair chance by trying to make sure doesn't talk throughout the film. After all, what are films but stories? And stories aren't always location/time specific - at times, they're just stories. So rate them as such.

(This semi-pensive post is the 300th post in this blog. Hurrah!)

Head-first into the world of Upendra: Super (hand symbol).

What does any film watcher want in this world but to see something they've never seen before? To be surprised or provoked by a film experience is one of the greatest joys of it all, and on top of that, the delicious aftermath of telling a friend, "I saw a film unlike any film you've seen before."

From the moment I found out about Upendra, the "Real Star" of the Kannada language film industry of the south, often titled Sandalwood, I understood this was a man who was doing something Different, with a capital D. Now, whether it was something Different that I would like, I hadn't any idea, but I was curious all the same. 

So when I was putting together a DVD order of 6 films from six different film industries of India, and came upon "Super" (the title, being a handsymbol as seen in the screencap above, could be understood in multiple ways, as explained by Wikipedia but "Super" stuck in the media and fan conscious), I knew I had to see it, even if the DVD had no subtitles whatsoever. 

I mean, it's a film whose title is a hand symbol. 

A hand symbol.

Wrap your head around that first, folks, before you get on this ride - because "Super" is not just a quirky Southie director with a big ego playing around with concepts in a way that lends itself to amusing screencaps (though it is plenty of that, too!), it's also a political satire and a political philosophy dissertation in the format of a film. It's a film-long metaphor for the betterment of Indian society. It's simply put - something very unique, indeed.

Even the beginning credits provide something of interest. "Dialogues" become "die locks", story becomes "sorry". Producer becomes "fraud user". 

Behind these twists on words, we get scenes from life in India - all the negative aspects, be it violence, crime, or poverty. And then we reach this ultimatum: 

The letters "pendra" follow the U, eventually, but for a moment, the audience is literally being pointed at. This is your India. Look at it.

After that, we are taken 20 years into the future, to 2030 (this film was put out in 2010), where a foreigner comes to Mysore and sees a rich India, with cultured Indians strolling around in exquisitive Indian clothing (all the saris are made of the finest silk), with technology decorating tall buildings and not a trash in sight. Curiously, the problem of poverty has not been erased - but instead of fellow Indians slumming it, you have white people as beggars and service workers.

Naturally the foreigner - white British man, I should add - wants to know what lead to this enormous rise of India's wealth and infrastructure, and an Indian scholarly man tells him the story of how this all came to be, in a movie-long flashback.

Our "heroin" as per the beginning credits, Nayantara, enters the scene with flowers in her hair, romancing a rowdy who seems scared to death of her. Without subtitles this sequence is almost impossible to decode, but somehow she ends up threatening some rowdies until our hero bursts into the scene:

...carrying roses, accompanied by motorcycled badasses and white girls in mini-skirts. Okay!

The man is of course played by Upendra, the director himself, and the character is called Subhas Chandra Gandhi (remind you of anyone? it should). For a man raised in England, we see the enormous passion he's got for his home country, India. We even get a scene where the healing powers of the Indian soil are demonstrated in a scene that reminds me of Shahruh Khan's pigeon-curing in DDLJ.

Hand on heart, he has faith that his country, India, is the greatest in the world..

Eventually we see him meet Nayantara's character Indira (which leads me to ask what the meeting with the roses was about? God, I would kill for subtitles..), who is a traditional Indian girl, coming to London to perform traditional music and dance. We see the two fall in love.

It's all rather adorable, and they even get married, where we get the film's first twist; Indira is not really the traditional girl she acted like, but a mini-skirt wearing, cigarette-smoking, wine-glass holding schemer, who only married Subhas because years ago, her sister Mandir (Tulip Joshi) attempted suicide after he turned down her love, and now Indira wants to revenge this injustice.

She breaks down his idealistic view of India; Indians are rotten, corrupt and dirty, and could never amount to much. He's devastated, but takes up on her challenge to see Indian society for what it is.

This leads him to fight for a former teacher, who's got some trouble with his pension, but the problems of society hit him in the face every step of the way. He's distraught, but wants to make a difference all the same, and stays in India to do so.

Based on this, it might not seem like there is a lot going on, but the crux of the political satire and the message of the film only comes into full bloom on the second half. I've read that the film addresses specific Karnataka political scandals, and as I understand it, the political ideas of the film boil down to the thesis of corruption only existing so long as it is allowed by the people; Upendra's satire cuts not only the corrupt politicians but the people who dismiss politics as corrupt and don't try to change the ways things work on a microlevel.

In true film tradition, this political tale and message is still inter-cut with songs. The romance itself is a little questionable to say the least; not only the way in which it comes about (the scheming Westernised woman?) but also the way this plot-point ends - as a metaphor for something bigger. I'll get into some big spoilers later on regarding this, but for now, that's all I'll say. (I should also warn anybody who is squeamish over portrayal of rape, even just attempted such, there are such scenes in the film.)

At the end of the day, what is there to be said for a film so rich with thinking, even if a lot of it is fairly jingoistic? Well, I have to say, for all my criticisms of some of Upendra's points, and some questions that I have about the film as I saw it without subtitles, I really appreciate what he's doing, and how interestingly he is doing it. Even if I disagree with some of his choices, they are bold ones, they do make one think and they are packaged in a glorious mass entertainer that is truly in a league of its own. I think a subtitled DVD would be in high demand; this is a story not just for Indians, but also NRIs and even us Westeners to mull over.

It is weird and exaggerated (just look at the hairstyle in the screencap above), but it is also wonderful, and it has those complexities that you wouldn't necessarily expect from a blockbuster film. I don't think I understand Upendra in all his glory just yet, but I am more than happy to find out and see more. I didn't always agree with this film, but I ended up loving it for what is was - and what is was attempting to do.

SPOILERS 

Since the film is written like a thesis, I'll respond to it like one - with questions, thoughts and challenges. My first thought upon seeing Upendra's vision of the future wasn't to be offended that he portrayed white people as beggars, but rather the idea that an utopian future would include poverty in such a visible manner. To me, the problem in any society isn't the skin colour of the poor, but the fact that people are so poor they become beggars in the first place. I think the key to happiness in wealthy nations is not that I'm rich and somebody else is a beggar, because seeing them causes me grief/guilt and a number of other negative emotions - but that I'm reasonably well-off and my fellow (wo)man is not on the streets, either. The gap between the rich and the poor is what creates envy, greed and mistrust between people. I think somebody needs to send Upendra a copy of this book called The Spirit Level - which states that inequality harms us all, the rich the poor and the middle-earners. 

As far as his central idea goes, I am more persuaded. What is the responsibility of the people who consider politicians corrupt but continue electing them? What is there to be said for political apathy, and how much better would societies be if people felt more of a collective responsibility over the society that is essentially theirs? The thesis that you scale back democracy so much that the Chief Minister is the Common Man - or the common man is the chief minister of his own society - is very thought-provoking. The idea is that the choices we make on an individual level can be both to the detriment of the collective level - the society - or to the betterment of it. You can be great if you choose to live great - this sort of thinking.

I'll have to admit, I'm still unsure how I feel about the rape attempt of Indira to wake up Mandira from her coma. Even though steeped in metaphor - Indira as India, Mandira as Indian people, comatose from their apathy as to how bad things truly are - it still makes me uncomfortable. Of course, lack of subtitles made sure I had no idea whether Indira was actually in on this plan or not - whether she knew the true backstory of how her sister got to the state she ended up in. If she didn't, what is essentially happening - putting the metaphor aside for a moment - is that her husband is attempting to rape her. The horribleness of this imagery does lend the metaphor the sort of impact it was probably meant to have, but there's also other things to unpack here. (Did it have to be Subhas himself doing the raping?)

Why do women get to only to be metaphorical stand-ins for a nation and its people? There is a problematic, unquestioned misogynist premise here that is not uncommon in Indian films, but ought to be pointed out all the same; women are there to be "invaded" (raped) or protected. 

Patriarchy is not Upendra's fault, but I wish a director who obviously is thinking a lot about the film he is making, and has a tendency to present his messages in interesting ways, would question such decisions. Women who have agency are essential to any kind of social change that India needs as a country. (See several Satyamev Jayate episodes for succinct explanations of why this is.)

Another thing where I wish I had subtitles was so I could dig into the portrayal of Gandhism in the film. It seems like Upendra is saying, Gandhi's thesis of "turning the other cheek", being passive but strong against an enemy has made the Indian people docile in the face of adversity and problems. They are "turning the other cheek" towards corrupt politicians, when they should be making a difference actively, every day, in their lives. 

In the end, the biggest questions the movie brought up in me are questions of humanity - why do we do bad things, selfish things? Is it just our nature, or our carelessness about the welfare of others? And then the really tough questions - how can we change for the better, and whether we can change to leave a lasting impact?

But I do love the ending, and the punch it packs with such simplicity - who changed this all? You did. In the end, it's not a story of a hero, because no one person can change as much as needs to be. 

As for Upendra, I am extremely interested in watching his past works, both as a director and an actor. He's obviously doing something interesting, something unique and something different, and I think I can overlook the misogynist elements in his films (as I've heard there are some, and which was my biggest problem here) for the benefit of whatever else he is trying to say. He's also quite good-looking which is always a bonus. 

I also have to thank Amogh on Twitter for answering my questions about the film, helping me grasp some of the complexities of the message Upendra was putting forth.

Your Indian cinema is not my Indian cinema - constructing knowledge.

Even as a fan, I find fans fascinating. And more than just generally fascinating, I think the process of becoming a fan is really intriguing, specifically the process of how one builds a knowledge about their object of fandom.

I remember one of the first times I met up with Stimpy, back when I had seen barely any films, and she threw around all these oldie star names I had no context for. I think she said something like, "It just seems like every Shammi film I watch nowadays ends with him and Pran chasing each other in a comic fashion." and I was just like, "Who's Shammi? Who's Pran?" but even as she answered, I couldn't really contextualize the two properly, having only seen maybe three pre-1980's films.

I think what happens when you're a non-Indian fan of Indian cinema, is that you suddenly come upon something that you've either sort of known about (it's been in your periphery) or haven't had any clue about, and little by little you build a knowledge of it. But your knowledge is based on what you watch, when you watch it and how you watch it - whether you focus on oldies, newer films, fluffy films, tearjerkers, plain masala, socially conscious, more arthouse films, Hindi, Bengali, Telugu, Tamil, Kannada.. And when I was a newbie, I became accutely aware of all my blind spots, all the blanks I had to somehow fill out to get a picture in my head of what other people were talking about.

Eventually the blank gets filled out. You learn who you like, who you choose to focus on.. You learn that not knowing who's Dino Morea is actually no great crime on your part. Not knowing who Salman Khan is, however, would be a different story. And the way the utter blankness gets filled out, but never completed (because nobody can know everything about Indian cinema -- there aren't enough years to live on this planet to do so), that's really interesting. And one of the things I kind of struggle with is how to write "newbie-friendly", so that I don't take for granted that everybody knows who so-and-so is, and so my posts can be more easily contextualized even if you haven't seen over 150 or so films.

Of course, Indian (or NRI) fans of Indian cinema are possibly even more fascinating. For them, it's not necessarily a blank slate they fill out slowly - it's different variables of ground knowledge, knowledge of language and culture (but not some other languages, some other parts of the culture), it's watching films when you're a kid you now can barely remember (or remember extremely well), it's having a mother who loves Rajesh Khanna films because that's what she grew up on, it's quoting Sholay because other kids are quoting Sholay, not because you've seen the film yourself.. It's taking your family to the movies. There's so much there, so many individual "how I became a fan" stories, and if I had my way, everybody would be recounting these stories because they are so cool. A lot of them may seem self-evident to the people recounting them (like watching films off TV) but those of us who haven't lived through them will find them interesting.

This isn't to say we are all operating on completely different playing fields, as obviously we are watching the same movies, even enjoying the same movies, and agreeing on things left and right, whether we're newbies, seasoned fans, Finnish, Indian, British NRI or Nigerian. But I think we all have our own ways of contextualizing things, giving them a place in our knowledge sphere if you will. (Does that sound pretentious enough?)

There's always going to be a million and one Indian films you could watch. But your choices are yours, as are your views. What we can give to each other is knowledge of what we've yet to look into, recommendations, and stories. And I think we should tell more stories of how we watch films, instead of just talking about the films, to give context to our own film experiences. But coincidentally, I may actually be the only one..

The Finnish movie that should be an Indian film instead.

Recently I saw most of a Finnish oldie (Suomi-filmi) called Minä ja mieheni morsian (Me and my husband's bride) from 1955. While the movie's a remake of a 1936 film Mieheke (Pretend-husband, a thematic sequel to Vaimoke, Pretend-wife from the same year), in my understanding Mieheke never had songs, which Minä ja mieheni morsian really does. The plot is ripe for comedy of misunderstandings but I wasn't too fond of the movie. I'm guessing the original is a much, much better movie.

But as I was watching I couldn't help but think how awesome the film would be as a Bollywood film (because of the songs and the general comedic plot). If I had a time machine to make it in black-and-white or a 70's light comedic fare would be great (Rishi and Neetu would be just what the doctor ordered) but as I don't, I'm forced to recast with modern actors.

All Bollywood producers reading; technically you ought to credit Hilja Valtonen for the plot outline, but if you must, you can credit me for the free desified version. I accept PayPal and marriage proposals from Abhay Deol; no cash or credit cards, please. I've taken some creative liberties with the original film(s) and left a lot of plot details out.

Okay, so. A company called Malhotra and Son is hiring a new secretary. Knowing the frivolous nature of her husband and her son, the family matriarch Mrs Malhotra (Farida Jalal because this is a "tough mum" role to counterbalance all her "nice mum" roles) has decided that one of the secretary's qualities should be frumpiness. She's decided on a candidate, more or less, when in walks Sita (Sonam Kapoor) for her job interview. Mrs Malhotra is determined not to hire her because she's so beautiful (and thus would be perved on by Senior Malhotra-saab & hit on by Junior Malhotra-saab), until she hears that Sita, with excellent qualifications, is married - therefore unavailable to her to-be-boss' advances.

The problem is, Sita is not married - outside the company building she ran into the younger Malhotra, Prem (Neil Nitin Mukesh) who falls for her instantly. He tells her she won't get the job unless she says she's married, which Sita takes to heart, leading her to the lie.

Mrs Malhotra, however, insists to see Sita's husband, who Sita hastily lies is currently unemployed. Outside the company, Sita first tries to convince Prem to pose as her husband, but naturally Prem's mother wouldn't buy the lie at all. Sita lies her husband is inside a near-by restaurant, where she then asks the waiter for "Mr Sharma". The waiter tells her there are several Mr Sharma's currently seated in the restaurant, so she calls out the name and three men stand up. She eyes them in desperation and chooses to walk to the youngest, most handsome one, Santosh Sharma (Shahid Kapoor but lots of others could work in this role, basically anybody older than Sonam but younger than the close-to-or-over 40 batch of actors), an architect who also happens to be Prem's best friend.

Santosh is confused by the situation but goes along with it, seeing his friend's tough maa. Later in private, Sita thanks Santosh for going along with the act, but says she can spin a story about getting divorced so they don't have to pretend anymore. This is before they hear how much Mrs Malhotra disapproves of divorce, and so they're forced to continue with the charade, and eventually grow closer and more and more fond of each other. Sita works at the company while Prem, desperately in love with her, tries to convince Sita to date him instead of Santosh, but is too chicken to tell his mother about the fake marriage.

The plot thickens when news arrive that Santosh's fiancee Madhuri (Lara Dutta but my second choice Neha Dhupia would work splendidly as well), a successful singer, is returning to India after a long tour and is finally ready to settle down with him. Her arrival is highly publicized and a picture of her and Santosh is printed in the papers. Mrs Malhotra sees it and put on the spot, Sita lies that Madhuri is in fact Santosh's long-lost sister. A ton of comedic hijinks ensue while Sita and Santosh realize they love each other, try to keep their pretend-marriage together while working out of it to admit their true feelings to each other and the people around them!

If we must, there is a comedic plot strand involving Mr Malhotra Senior's brother who comes from another state and has a very down-to-earth, funky accent (in the Finnish original he was from Eastern Finland, in this ..Gurajat? Punjab?) and how he clashes with his sister-in-law (aka Mrs Malhotra). And if you so wish, there can be a secondary coupling where Madhuri is uncharacteristically taken in by the hapless Prem and they fall in love.

So.. Main aur Mera Pati ki Dulhan (direct translation of the Finnish original title), in theaters whenever somebody decides to make it & release it. Ball's in your court, Bollywood!

For more Finnish film blather check out: Finnish films that remind me of Indian films.

What I know, what I've learned, and what I've yet to find out.

I learned English as a second language, and it took a while for me to figure out that ignorant and the verb "ignore" didn't share meaning. You're ignorant if you don't know something, but that doesn't mean you ignore information out there. Or does it?

As a non-desi fan of Indian films I often have to admit ignorance on topics that the movies deal with. I've never been to India (yet!), I'm obviously not Indian and even though I know people of Indian descent, some who've lived there all their lives, I'm not a part of that culture. I'm an outsider to it. My information comes from books, news, discussions with people, and yes, even movies, but not any actual experiences.

Lately I've been thinking about this sort of cultural/historical/religious ignorance that I have as a non-Indian viewer, and how much I should make the effort to mend the gaps. I mean, I'm obviously beyond asking questions like, "Why do they touch their parents' feet?" or "Why does that bearded man wear a turban?", and I know a thing or two about history and religions and customs and the variety that is Indian culture. But when it comes to a country so complex, you can never know enough. Should I make more of an effort to find out, though?

I am avoiding using the pronoun "we" even though I feel like a lot of non-Indian fans of these films probably have moments when they feel the same. It's always weird to learn through movies. Not in the sense that you think whatever a movie portrays is reality, but to be inspired to find out what actually happened and what the movie did differently, or what circumstances made the movie as it is. I learnt about Tamil Nadu politics because Mani Ratnam made Iruvar. I learnt about the 90's riots through Black Friday. This kind of thing.

On the other hand, I know information rarely sinks in unless it has a framework to work into. It's very hard to take in new information unless you have existing information. I remember reading a big book on Indian culture and I honestly don't remember a thing about it, because when I read it, I had very little knowledge of India in general, and the framework to connect all of that new information wasn't there. I think when the active interest is there, whether it's built by interest in culture or interest in films or whatever, then you can build the framework, and little by little adding to it, whether it's information about cultural traditions, religion, different regions, language..

It goes without saying education in most "Western" countries does not spare many thoughts on the history of India, or Asia in general. I've never been a history buff, either, even though I got good grades in it. My interest was always in how people lived, not leaders and wars and dates. It took an interest in movies to figure out blindingly basic facts about the country; it's really quite embarrassing.

But still, you might point out, we don't learn the entire of French history to watch Amelie. We don't need to understand how the US Senate works to enjoy Star Wars. Sure, true enough. But I think it adds something, if only a lessened possibility of misunderstanding, or a sense of better understanding, or a more critical viewpoint, or whatever you like. I don't think we should stay wholly ignorant, even if the films are "just" entertainment. Because once you have that fledgling interest, it's easier to build on that than somebody who doesn't necessarily give a damn, but learns something just to learn it. They might remember those facts they've picked up, might even connect it to some other information they have, but it's different from somebody who not only wants to learn, but has a goal attached: better understanding, even if ultimate understanding always escapes us (because one can never really learn everything there is to know about a culture, any culture).

What do you guys think (whether you're desi or not)? Am I once again over-analyzing this? :)

Why another (Finnish) white girl watches Bollywood...

Katrina Kaif - whitest girl in Bollywood?

This post is basically a response and thoughts inspired by this brilliant post by Filmi Girl titled "Why a white girl watched Bollywood movies". Instead of simply answering the question by listing things she likes about Hindi cinema, FG takes it deeper and further and I love that - basically picking apart our status as foreign viewers to a cinema that draws from a cultural background we don't belong to, while also acknowledging Bollywood's current status of worldwide popularity.

Exoticism

Like Filmi Girl, I have to admit to early exoticism. When I first 'discovered' Hindi films (like Columbus 'discovered' the Americas - generally I am not this careful with implications of language but in this post, the topic requires it), they were many things to me but mostly they were "something different". They were colours and romance and melodrama, and told stories of a culture I'd never really looked into that deeply. But I like to think I got over that.

There are problems with exoticism, especially in the way it ties to Orientalism. I'm not too familiar with Orientalism but what I do know if it is that it's a Western-constructed view of the "Orient" as a place of mystique and spirituality as opposed to the "Western" rationality and secularity, of course setting aside the rational, scientific and non-spiritual pasts and realities of cultures that the West regards as the Orient (I believe Amartya Sen wrote about this in The Argumentative Indian). You see this kind of thing among some Western Bollywood fans, and I always want to believe it's a passing phase; this idea that Indian people are so much more spiritual and their exotic amazing religion(s) are so much better than our own drab sects of Christianity. I won't deny the importance of religion to an Indian Hindu, Muslim, Sikh, Christian or Jain - but it's not like people from the so-called "West" don't carry crosses, say "oh god!" or say prayers at church. So how come doing a puja, wearing a turban or saying "inshallah" make people more spiritual?

I also really dislike elevating Indian culture to a weird, high status and alongside such beliefs, making a personal hierarchy of cultures in your head, usually placing your own at the bottom, disregarded as "boring". There's nothing wrong with respecting and being fascinated by another culture - many people make careers out of engaging in different cultures, translating cultural symbols or living and working in a culture that's not their own - but to see it as better than anything? It doesn't feel right. Your culture is what in part made you who you are. Your surroundings, your first language, your religion (or lack thereof), all of these things matter. I just feel sad for people who want to be Japanese because they enjoy Japanese culture, or desire to be South Asian because they love Bollywood. Nobody needs to feel proud of their own country in nationalistic fervor or think their culture is perfect, but at least recognize what made you who you are, instead of abandoning it in order to become a 'wannabe' of another culture.

Othering and Objectifying

Tough topic. I used to worry a lot, back when I was really Bollywood-crazed, whether I was fetishizing Indian people. Nowadays, the worry seems a little silly to me. I think a part of fetishizing a portion of people, like a certain race or ethnicity, is to not see the individuals in that group as individuals. To a guy who fetishizes (East-)Asian girls, every Asian girl is just that .. Asian. His ideas about what she might be like are not fueled by desire to get to know her personality or thoughts, but simple, often racist stereotypes about Asian women. I don't recognize this line of thinking in myself. In my experience, I am attracted to some people, and not to others. The only difference from pre-Bollywood me and current-me and our tastes in men is exposure - I couldn't name 3 hottest Indian guys in 2003 because I quite frankly hadn't been exposed to many ..or any for that matter.

I could write an essay on the increasing level of objectification of both males and females in pop culture all over the globe but I don't have the brainpower or the time right now. Let's just say I'm not fully embracing it, but sometimes I just sit back and go, "Yes, X looked great in this movie. And I loved it for that."

Cultural appropriation

I think my approach to this is a little different from Filmi Girl's, simply because she's from a culture whose symbols and language has become a global phenomenon. I on the other hand, am from a small country with a culture that's not too well-known internationally. You know, you go to any semi-industrialized country and ask them if they know where Coca-Cola is from, they'll probably know. You do the same for even the most global Finnish brand names and they might blink and then say "Japan?". So I understand culture as a sort of personal commodity, something one feels protective over. You don't want people to misunderstand or misrepresent your culture, steal something you feel is a part of it and claim it as as their own. You don't want people to watch a movie you've loved since childhood and go "This is weird!" or mock it.

(By the way, I'm not saying Americans can't feel this over their own culture, but in some ways, the way their popular culture is marketed worldwide and their movies watched, it's a very different business.)

I think the key word is respect. I don't include a disclaimer to each of my posts about how I claim ignorance on knowing Indian culture and how it is completely possible that being a member of the culture would radically change both my view and my understanding of a movie - but that's a part of why I usually emphasize how personal my views are on any topic. Even if I use terms like "worst movie ever", the subtext is "worst movie that I've seen so far, in my personal opinion" - I'm not stating a fact there. I never want to claim expertise over somebody else's culture because I'd never want anybody who isn't Finnish (or hasn't lived in Finland for a really long time, and gotten to know the land and its language and people) to claim expertise over my culture.

Filmi Girl has a good point that Bollywood has hardly been a purely regional cinema, which is a fair point. On the other hand, it has to be noted how large a part these films play in Indian people's own identity sometimes, whether they live in India or are NRI, even whether they watch the films or are just living in the culture that watches those films. I recall reading a story of somebody who grew up in 1970's Bombay, and remembers quoting Sholay with his friends .. without having actually ever seen the movie. You can take Bollywood out of India, but you can't take India out of Bollywood.

I'm lucky enough not to have gotten hatemail from people who feel like I'm enroaching on their cultural turf in some way. More often people of South Asian descent are just curious; how did you get into Indian movies, do you know so-and-so actor/film? Or then they're weirded out ("But those films are crap!") or happy, or nonchalant.

So why does a white girl watch Bollywood? Hopefully not because it's exotic and Other, not because she wants to become Hindu or Indian, or learned "Namaste" from a yoga class but because it's interesting, and it's what she likes. And as she consumes this now increasingly global form of entertainment, she remains respectful of the culture it stemmed from, willing to admit ignorant mistakes she might make, and most importantly, interested to learn more.

And hopefully she will stop writing posts where she refers to herself in the third person, because voi hyvä Jumala ("oh good God!" in Finnish), that's just a show of bad writing acumen.

PS. University swallowed up my life. Post on Kanthasamy ...later!

Geetas, Basantis and Hasinis: thoughts on women and feminism in Indian films.

Or: Am I a bad feminist for liking Indian films so much?

For those of us who aren't Indian and haven't grown up watching Indian films, especially those of us who're women and claim to be feminist, some people may wonder, why do we enjoy movies where a woman is more often a housewife than a lawyer? Films where the hero might slap the heroine and everybody, including the heroine, thinks it's okay? How can this be? Or is this really a question at all? I mean, not every feminist in the world picks apart representations of women in movies and books and song lyrics. At the same time, I think everybody has those lines that can and will be crossed. Some feminist theories emphasize the need not to make women feel guilty about enjoying this or that, but rather focus on why they enjoy what they do, and how they interpret it themselves.

One example I remember reading a semi-academic article on, was the "morning after" scene in DDLJ and how British South-Asian youths interpreted the scene. I can't link to the article now, but nevertheless, the interpretations of the scene brought up thoughts in me about how I personally saw the scene. As a huge fan of the movie, but not a very conservative person, I saw the part where Raj tells Simran he knows what honour means to an Indian woman, rather a statement about a fact (that honour/virginity is the most important a woman can have, as I certainly don't believe that's true), but rather as a show that despite his earlier, assy behavior, he respects Simran's values. Of course, you could argue it's a fair bit of assumption on his part to assume she subscribes to the "Indian" set of values despite being NRI, but perhaps through their time spent together, he knows her enough to know this much.

But I guess at the end of the day, it comes down to just that: interpretation and varying viewpoints. What offends one may be okay to another. I myself try not to get too deep into feminist issues, representations of women etc when watching Indian films, or any films for that matter. I find if I start to make things that are fiction hold up a certain standard of how this or that character should be, should do, should behave, I just end up disappointment. So I tend to go with my initial reactions: if a heroine is kickass and interesting, I'll go with it. If they're bland, annoying or boring, I'll shrug and try not to dwell on it. If they're interesting but make peculiar choices thanks to the conservative ideology the film is trying to send me (see also: Laal Patthar review), I might dwell on it but I rarely get very upset by these things.

There's a lot of bad things happening to women in Hindi/Tamil/Telugu films. I'll say that now, but I'd rather not dwell on it. At the end of the day, not even Hollywood films meet certain feminists' standards, so you know, it's all rather relative. What a fantastically original conclusion, is it not? I know, I know. This is a post I feel like I need to write, even though writing it is a struggle, as I cannot avoid generalizations.

Some facts speak for themselves: heroines are still secondary to heroes. They draw less audiences, get paid less and rarely get first billing. Especially after the cotton candy family melodrama became popular in the 90s, heroines, it seemed, had less and less to do on-screen. Women-centered films rarely achieve box office success. I'm not trying to argue this is always the case, there will be exceptions, I suppose, but in general, the rule seems to apply.

But in an attempt to focus on the positives, let's look at this way; things are constantly in motion and there's no way to predict what the future will bring. There was once a day when heroines did get first billing, and were the main draw of a film (I believe this was in the 1950's). In the 1970's plenty of heroines had jobs and distinct careers of their own. Perhaps we will see roles for women with more substance one day. Perhaps we don't need to have every movie pass the Bechdel Test (by the way, having taught about the films that would pass it, I can only really think of Chak De India and ..holy crap, is that it?). Though not that I think of it, perhaps it'd be better if more did..

I titled this post with mentions of famous "spunky" characters played in famous films (Geeta from Seeta aur Geeta & Geet of Jab We Met, Hasini from Bommarillu, Basanti from Sholay). But at the end of the day, I don't really want to inspect the characters through this lense; it's unfair to desire all representations of women to be like this. Just like the heroes, the heroines can be roughly divided into archetypes. In some ways, the treatment is equal regardless of gender; if you want to accuse characterizations of heroines in Indian films of being shallow, take a look at the heroes - they are not much less shallow, when it comes down to it.

This is a crappy thinky post because it's one where I hardly run into any conclusions. The matter is difficult and I don't really want to settle on one perspective to filter through all my various thoughts on the matter. As often, there's a fear of overanalysis somewhere in the back of my head: if I think about this too much, will I stop liking it?

So as usual, my approach is more instinctive; if it works for me when I watch it, it works. If it rubs me the wrong way, annoys me, or makes me want to critisize it, then I accept that. What I feel like I need to work on is to learn how to make judgments and stick by them; I mean, it's only a movie. While I will no doubt try to wrap my head around the cultural background of said film (as to understand its context), I can't just excuse whatever message the film might be sending that feels unacceptable to me simply because I'm not from the culture the film is from. It's not to say I disapprove or judge the culture, because as I said, I always try to put it into context and see why somebody from that culture might be more okay with it. But if a movie upsets me, on some feminist standpoint, or any point for that matter, I'll try not to put those feelings aside.

This isn't some kind of manifesto to say you'll be seeing critical feminist readings of Indian films from now on in this blog. No way, I still watch Indian films because I love them to death and wish to see more of them, not because I want to pick them apart from a particular prism. But as it's International Women's Day, and I've been trying to finish this damn post for months, I figured this is a good enough note to end it on.

Bollywood, Slumdog & "the West".

I haven't seen Slumdog Millionaire because I intended to see it in theaters and the Finnish release date has been postponed time after time. Right now we're looking at a March release date, and I'm not sure if I can wait until then.

But even without seeing the film itself, it's impossible not to witness the impact its making in English-speaking countries, and other countries where English films typically reign supreme. I've had American friends tell me, "I just saw a Bollywood movie!" (which leads me to react, "Good for you! But technically Slumdog isn't Bollywood..."). There's quite a lot of buzz, and a lot of media coverage and even if Slumdog isn't technically Bollywood (if we define Bollywood as Hindi-language, Bombay-produced, mainstream films), it's certainly getting the genuine Bollywood some attention in the eyes of the so-called West.

Having spent nearly five years in the Bollywood fandom, there seems to be this constant question of when Bollywood will finally break out and become cool and popular among the Western mainstream, in the way that Chinese martial arts once did (leading Jet Li and Jackie Chan to become recognized household names), or in the way that Japanese films and comic books became when you began to find manga books and anime DVD's in nearly every store. People predicted it would happen with Lagaan and now with Slumdog, and rather than to ask, should it happen (in other words, does Hindi cinema need the approval of the Western mainstream somehow, why should it ever break out into the consciousness when just the NRI's and the few non-Indian fans seem to bring in quite a nice amount of abroad box office money?), I'd rather ask, will it ever?

I somehow doubt it.

I can't speak about the histories of Japanese popculture or Chinese/Hong Kong films with expertise, so I suppose it could be exaggeration to say they're somehow more open for the eyes of people outside those cultures, whereas Bollywood films can be such a different ballgame from European or Hollywood movies, and the culture they portray so alien to the Western viewer that they take a little while to become more accessible. When I saw my first Hindi film, Kabhie Khushi Kabhi Gham, I loved it, don't get me wrong, but I didn't get it. I was confused by the less structured story-telling (it was not a 90-minute Hollywood script in three acts!) and couldn't read all the cultural customs and references that they loaded the screen with.

Of course, that's not to say I'm now fully versed in Indian culture and know everything and get everything; that just wouldn't be possible. But I've become more understanding of this form of cinema, its traditions, history, values, tropes and style. Getting into Indian films has in some ways become an exercise in open-mindedness; it's different from everything you're used to seeing, but now you accept that, and appreciate it on (what I hope are) its own terms.

This doesn't mean I love every film or don't find objectionable things in films or the industry itself. But along with my love for Bollywood, comes a definite attitude re-adjustment. Films are films. If you watch Hindi/Tamil/Telugu/whatever Indian language films and continue to carry the notion that films from the US/France or wherever in the so-called "West" are somehow magically superior, you might as well stop watching.

But if only it were that simple that all films are created equal and a bad film's bad, although in different ways, despite the country or culture it comes from. But the ideas of Western film-making's superiority is sadly prevalent even in the minds of some Indians themselves. But I suppose that's a different issue altogether.

The point I'm trying to come to is that I'm not sure the audiences at large in the "West" would be so accepting of the Indian manner of making films and telling stories. Some people occasionally might get into, thanks to an Indian friend, a visit to the country itself or pushing efforts by us non-Indian filmi fans, and that's wonderful, but for it to become something more popular in the mainstream, for people to know stars beyond the few who've been in the limelight outside India, I just don't see it happening.

And to risk sounding elitist, I don't mind it.