Return of the Showman

Subhash Ghai’s latest film Yuvvraaj reinforces his reputation as the maker of some of Bollywood’s most opulent, larger-than-life, feel-good extravaganzas, writes Derek Bose

WHEN a filmmaker hits 64, has a track record of over a dozen jubilee hits to his name and calls himself a "showman", you automatically look up at him in awe and with loads of expectation. True, of late, Subhash Ghai has been going through a lean patch at the box-office. But still, you cannot write him off in a hurry.

Ghai’s latest film, Yuvvraaj, reinforced his reputation as the maker of some of Bollywood’s most opulent, larger-than-life, feel-good extravaganzas. It was a grandiose film in every respect. Its trans-national sweep, the breathtaking visuals of Prague and Austria, the euphoric scores by A. R. Rahman and a star line-up that includes Salman Khan, Anil Kapoor and Katrina Kaif were all true to style. But story-wise, well ...

Yuvvraaj is essentially a tale of three brothers who drift apart, only to discover the importance of family bonding and come together. Anil plays the eldest, the good guy who is mentally challenged. Zayed Khan is the youngest, a roguish sort who understands only style and money. In between, there is the brattish Salman (in the title role) who ends up as a choir boy in Prague wooing a cellist in Katrina Kaif. The three brothers get together following their father’s death and put up a joint front to protect the family’s fortunes from greedy relatives and sundry claimants. So what’s new?

A lot actually and yet, not much. Oddly enough, this is a common problem with all those looking for newness in Ghai’s films. Mothballed narratives, dramatic clich`E9s, predictable plot lines and done-to-death climaxes can prove to be terribly disappointing. At the same time, there is no denying that all his films, without exception, have left viewers with an incomparable cinematic experience, at once overwhelming and memorable. The passion he packs into his shot taking, orchestration of colours, effects and the music (particularly background score) he employs, his unique editing style — not to mention the scale and canvas he works on — make him an impresario par excellence.

It would, therefore, appear that what Ghai lacks as a storyteller, he tries to camouflage with his technical wizardry. So, should you be looking for intellectual fodder by way of say, visual similes, the merging of art with reality or magical realism, this is no place to find it. For, everything about his films is loud and extreme. There is high drama even while underscoring basic dramatic contradictions like good and evil (Karz, Khalnayak), right and wrong (Pardes, Taal, Saudagar) crime and punishment (Meri Jung, Karma). With him, you cannot expect subtlety, understatement or grey shades. Whether this approach can work at a time when every other Bollywood filmmaker is experimenting with newer styles and formats of storytelling is what needs to be examined.

Significantly, Ghai belongs to the old school of filmmaking that never questioned the validity of the ‘formula’. Like Prakash Mehra and Manmohan Desai of the 1970s and 1980s, he believes in the limited role of a filmmaker as no more than an entertainer. From that generation, the only other active filmmakers are Yash Chopra and Rakesh Roshan. While they have been trying to adapt to the changing demands of the marketplace (and achieving varying degrees of success), Ghai remains caught in a time warp. After 1999, he has failed to keep pace with the new trends in filmmaking as Yaadein, Kisna: The Warrior Poet and Black & White have firmly established. Somehow, somewhere he seems to have lost the plot.

This is rather strange, considering that Ghai has always been regarded as a mastermind in marketing, even before Ram Gopal Varma and Karan Johar got into their act. (Not many know that Ghai’s first job was that of a marketing agent for Neelam Dental Goods.) Another striking irony is that a man, whose sensibilities in cinema were shaped by world masters like Sergei Eisenstein, Vittorio De Sica and Ritwik Ghatak at the Pune Film Institute, should choose a widely divergent course as a purveyor of lavishly-mounted escapist fare in mainstream filmmaking.

However, this is not to undermine Ghai’s integrity as an artiste in an industry and medium driven by commercial interests and mass tastes. He was trained as an actor at the Pune Film Institute, got disillusioned and after playing some insignificant roles in films like Umang, Aradhana and Gumrah took to filmmaking, clearly, because he believed he was made for bigger stuff. And sure enough, he brought a special quality and character to his work, right from making his directorial debut with Kalicharan in 1976. Two years later, he came up with another successful crime thriller, Vishwanath by repeating the lead pair, Shatrughan Sinha and Reena Roy. Subsequently, he faltered with a couple of multi-starrers, Gautam Govinda and Krodhi, but was right back in style with that well-known reincarnation classic, Karz in 1980.

The 1980s belonged entirely to Ghai — Vidhaata, Hero, Meri Jung, Karma and Ram Lakhan. Every second year, he was producing a blockbuster, discovering new talent and turning nobodies into megastars. As the man with the Midas touch, he had Bollywood’s biggest names at his beck and call. And yet, he did not make a film with Amitabh Bachchan. He got the venerable Dilip Kumar and an eccentric Raaj Kumar out of retirement and cast them together in Saudagar. Such was his clout that he could easily manipulate anybody he wanted and get away with almost everything — even risqu`E9 numbers like ‘Saat saheliyan khadi khadi’ (Vidhaata) and ‘Choli ke peeche kya hai’ (Khalnayak).

When Trimurti bombed in 1995, he began to show signs of self-doubt. Although this Shah Rukh Khan-Jackie Shroff-Anil Kapoor starrer was directed by Mukul Anand (Ghai was only the producer), its debacle signalled his decline and even though subsequent films, Pardes and Taal drew in the crowds (primary because of an A-list star cast), things were no longer the same. The maestro was beginning to lose his grip on the script, one of his biggest strengths earlier. He shifted gear, tried a mish-mash of unconventional story-lines with Yaadein and Kisna, but nothing seemed to work. Black & White followed and now we have Yuvvraaj.

To a student and admirer of his films, there is no doubt that Ghai has been finding it hard to get a sense of the audience pulse. Is this because he is way ahead of his time, as the themes of some recent films would suggest? Or can we conveniently fault him for being stuck in the past? Maybe, he has lost his narrative voice for the moment. Maybe, he should not be trying too hard.

That many directors still imitate him is indicative of the influence Ghai continues to exert on contemporary filmmaking. He has left his stamp in Bollywood and nobody will dispute that the complexity of his work during the past three decades can find few parallels. It is just that he needs to get out of this lean phase. For all we know, his best is yet to come.

HOME