90s’ Cinema: Slick, Frothy, Wholesome

Indian cinema has risen to great heights and has achieved what is the envy of other arts, a cinematic life form—complete, masterly and profound, says Abhilaksh Likhi

POPULAR Indian cinema is at its versatile best. This is evident from the success of a few recent films that have captured the imagination of millions. Karan Johar’s Kuch Kuch Hota Hai and Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam, are romantic love triangles that have become a nationwide craze. Satya and Sarfarosh directed by Ram Gopal Verma and John Mathew Mattan, respectively, mirror contemporary socio-political reality and interestingly have evoked a fantastic audience response. David Dhawan’s Chote Miyan Bade Miyan, Biwi No. 1 and Haseena Maan Jayegi prove yet again, the saleability and box office potential of the comic fantasy film.

Needless to say that in our socio-cultural context, whatever be the genre of a film, it is essentially a musical melodrama. The latter provides a vast majority of film-makers the ideal framework to weave a narrative that engages the audience both emotionally and intellectually. The above mentioned films indeed stick to this quintessential narrative logic-songs, dance,action, a dash of comedy, and loads of melodrama, a style that is entertaining yet convincing and largely reminiscent of the cinematic oeuvre fashioned by Raj Kapoor, Guru Dutt, Bimal Roy, Yash Chopra and Man-mohan Desai.

However, within the parameters of this narrative logic, the instant and tremendous success of these films is more a result of a distinct yet intuitive visual treatment that has combined imaginatively with technical finesse on the screen. Be it Karan Johar, Sanjay Leela Bhansali, Ram Gopal Verma, John Mathew Mattan or David Dhawan, the urge is to be creatively different with a storyline. And with all cinematic resources at hand, the aim is to create the necessary impact. Inherent in this ‘cinematic language’ is also a process by which the audience deeply identifies itself with the film’s world, its characters and setting. This in turn either recasts social mores, traditions, attitudes and values or reinforces them.

Karan Johar, for instance, in KKHH brings alive on screen the Yash Chopra tradition that dates back to films like Kabhie Kabhie, Silsila, Chandni, and Lamhe. Upper middle class ambience that is extremely ornate, scenic and luxuriant, has always been an important part of the films form. Besides, any resolution of a conflict — emotional or social — always entailed a return to the order. The latter was also crucial to the film’s content. Laced with sensual cinematography, and melodious music, the tradition almost became a genre in itself. Retaining all the above ingredients, KKHH largely emulates recent Yash Chopra films like Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge and Dil to Pagal Hai that focus more on the energetic, westernised Indian youth. Coupled with breezy upbeat music, hi-tech gloss and imaginatively handled MTV style packaging, the film looks fresh, youthful and appeals to both the young and old. Emulating a similar leitmotif, Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam lures the audience with a fusion of heart wrenching emotions and ethnic designer glitz.

Ram Gopal Verma, on the other hand, has evolved a thought-provoking treatment in Satya where his social perceptions are expressed through the medium of cinema — a style that is touching and strikes a deep human note in the mould of Bimal Roy’s neo-realistic cinema. There is no indulgence in platform moralising and Verma’s viewpoint is that of an sympathetic outsider. His social sensitivity about Bombay’s underworld has liberal outlook and is reminiscent of Bimal Roy’s Kapoor’s works like Do Bigha Zamin, Bandini, Sujata and Parineeta, or Raj Kapoor’s works like Shree 420 and Jis Desh Mein Ganga Behti Hai . Truthful, yet dramatic situations coupled with crisp dialogues and an uncanny sense of framing provides authenticity to the narration which is otherwise interspersed with soothing yet melodious situational songs. Needless to say that Verma reveals a streak of innovatingly treating his screen stories, be they musicals like Rangeela and his forthcoming Mast, or spine chilling thrillers like Kaun, — In the same style John Mathew Mattan injects the required raw believability into his proxy war tale as the narrative unfolds in ‘Sarfarosh’.

In contrast, David Dhawan’s colourful kaleidoscope in Chote Miyan Bade Miyan, Biwi No. 1 or Haseena Maan Jayegi is peopled by events rather than characters. No super heroes, no gigantic do-gooders, just small time ordinary men and women who happen to fall in line of fire and incidentaly end up doing great deeds. David’s treatment is reminiscent of the grand magician of popular cinema: Manmohan Desai. The tomfoolery, the slapstick, the preponderance of catchy songs, dance, bonhomie and the one line story, all these defining characteristics of Desai’s oeuvre seen in Amar Akbar Anthony, Naseeb, Coolie seem to effortlessly slip into David’s cinema. What follows in the scheme of narration is humour that largely spills from coarse dialogues, incidental goof-ups and mistaken identities.

Thus, even with marked difference in their cinematic approach and thematic concerns, Johar, Verma, Dhawan, Bhansali and John Mathew are bound by one common strand. They intensely carry forward the mode of popular story-telling — The sustaining motif of mainstream cinema. And audiences excitedly throng the theatres — identifying themselves with their characters, star images, situations, events and happenings. But how and why is the pertinent question.

Convincing characterisation is perhaps the key. Karan Johar thoroughly communicates the timbre of his youthful characters — Rahul, Tina and Anjali — in KKHH, who easily straddle across the two worlds of modernity and tradition. On the other hand Bhansali’s protagonists in Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam portray the extreme agony and ecstasy of the romantic aura. Intensity of emotional depth more than youthfulness is the key to his characterisation.

In fact audiences during the 60s and 70s have, too, been fed with such character motivation in films like Andaz (1949), Pyasa (1957), Guide (1965) and Bobby (1973). They have loved watching heightened emotions, dramatic conflicts and gone through a catharsis while watching a film. What has changed essentially is the treatment. The film-makers’ flashy use of the camera to assimilate design glitz and glamour in the backdrop of breathtaking sceneries that bedazzle the eye, give the audience little time to sit back and think. In crux it is the complete cinematic experience within the film time that matters more than anything else.

Ram Gopal Verma, on the other hand, explores the violent backdrop of the Bombay underworld through his three well-etched characters — Satya, Bhikhu Mahtre and Satya’s girlfriend. He arms them with a considerable degree of earnestness and down-to-earth ease as they interact in a socially insecure environment. Chakraborty’s restrained histrionics, Manoj Bajpai’s intuitive robustness and Urmila’s introvert ravings contribute enormously to a normal, subtle and realistic treatment of the film. Simila-rly, the timbre of Munna’s (Aamir Khan) rich personality in ‘Rangeela’ is communicated more by his delicate and humorous mannerisms that constitute his outlook rather than the typical streetside traits of a hoodlum. John Mathew Mattan on the other hand brings his message across in Sarfarosh through the impeccably timed character nuances of ACP Rathod as he chases to nab antisocial elements. Perhaps the audience have been attracted to these films thirsting for a change from the hackneyed pop patriotism churned by filmmakers like Manoj Kumar in ‘Roti Kapda Aur Makaan and Kranti and the celluloid gangesterism depicted in umpteen Bachchan films like Deewar in the 70s.

On the other hand, when two tricksters from a village pre-empt two look-alike cops protecting a key witness in a cop’s murder in Chote Miyan Bade Miyan, or an Indian woman plays a warrior wife in Biwi No. 1; or two spoilt sons woo their lady loves in Haseena Maan Jayegi;, David Dhawan’s conscious effort is to keep out the tears and treat the melodrama in a light and breezy vein. So that, every thing — the romantic plot, the family feud, situations of mistaken identities etc — have a touch of comedy to them. Whether it is romancing with the other woman by Salman Khan or wooing a film actress by ‘Chote’ and ‘Bade’ Miyan, the films engrossingly proceeds through a progression of events built around the singular motives of the protagonists. Thus, David’s contours of characterisation are basically restricted to a sense of personal gratification.

There is no effort at any stage of the plot to indulge in a grand narration or be metaphorical. The characters speak and act as if only to enhance the appeal of the comic motif. David’s intrinsic credo thus is a whole gag bag of practical jokes in a narrative otherwise punched with well mounted dance sequences and foot-tapping songs like Makhna Makhna, Ishq Sona Hai and Jane De, Jane De. No wonder the audience lap up to be humored and entertained by the lifelike belly-tickling sequences.

The much criticised formula of these popular films is basically a device by which audience can experience all the rasas — love, anger, pain, comedy, hatred, fear etc. Each emotion has to be given its place in the film. The technology of such cinema may have come from the West but the themes, concerns, characters and emotions are distinctly our own. Popular Indian cinema has evolved completely indigenously. Even in technicalities this cinema has created its own grammar — the scenes are brightly lit, the colours are flamboyant and the editing slick. The 90s may have witnessed the demise of socially realistic cinema but what has come to sustain is a cinematic imagery that feeds on glitz, music and light humour within the garb of an ambience that is partly western and partly Indian. Otherwise, how can one explain the tremendous viewer attraction towards films like Taal and the box office snubbing of patriotic films like ‘Hindustan Ki Kasam’.

Cinema cannot exist apart from its apparatus. Within this context, the success of the above analysed films amply demonstrates the film-makers’ aim to organise the world, in the Indian socio-cultural milieu, to the point where it becomes more meaningful. Needless to say that their control over the action, on detail organisation and emphasis within the image has enabled them to produce a personal treatment of the script situation. But what has emerged as ‘directorial touch’ in the narrative logic is not detached from the dramatic situations, characterisations or the plot construction envisaged in the musical melodrama. And this alone has enabled a steadfast communication with the viewers.

These films are indeed forerunners of a versatile brand of popular entertainment that has infused Indian cinema with life and vigour. They are also sophisticated and intelligent films depicting cinematic excellence. For the audience these are family entertainers devoid of unnecessary violence, not posing too many moral dilemmas and providing a social structure that reinforces the existing one. At the same time these films also usher in a new form of universalisation which not only cuts across geographical boundaries and ethnic identities but also age groups. This is indeed the hallmark of an ‘Indian’ cinema that has risen to great heights and has achieved what is the envy of other arts, a cinematic life form —complete, masterly and profound.