Apu’s World

So I finally got around to seeing Rock On, over the weekend, though I’ve been wanting to see it for some time, if only for the fact that its theme of ‘four music band members split up and meet again after 10 years’ is something unique in Hindi cinema. (Does Rock On even qualify as Hindi cinema, considering that so much of the dialogue is in English, even if the songs are in Hindi? Weird, but that’s another question)

The movie revolves around male bonding - the focus is on the camaraderie among band members, both in their idealistic younger days, when they are confident of taking over the world, and in their older avatars, when they reunite after an acrimonious break-up. Overall I found the movie enjoyable although I thought the rapprochement between quarreling band members, Joe and Aditya, happened too easily and seamlessly. Where did all those feelings of being let down and resentment go? Whoosh! Still, I thought Rock On managed to convey the essentially uncertain lives of those who choose to pursue an artistic vocation, without hammering it in - there is no one starving here, but you get the sense of dreams having passed by, bills having to be paid, responsibilities other than to oneself.

Which brings me to the character I liked best - and no, it wasn’t among the four men in the band, the lead characters. The character who really stood out, for me, was Debbie, wife of one of the band members, Joe. Finally, finally, here is a female character in a Hindi movie, who is strong, knows her mind, has some dreams of her own, speaks to her man as an equal - and yet, is not portrayed as a shrew or a nag or as infantile or as a conniving bitch. It’s also evident that she loves Joe deeply, even if she cannot understand him. (The other somewhat strong character I could think of is Rhea from KANK, but of course the lavishness and general mindlessness of K-Jo movies makes it hard to take any character seriously!)

Debbie, who dreams of being a fashion designer/stylist eventually ends up handling the family’s fish business while Joe - well, Joe seems to run a small-time music shop and gives lessons to neighborhood kids, but essentially, he doesn’t even have the excuse of really pursuing his dreams. With a husband who refuses to face up to life, it falls on Debbie to keep the household going and we get the sense that without her, things would fall apart. Naturally, she loses her temper often and is not the most pleasant of individuals, but this is understandable in a woman carrying more than her fair share.

When the band decides to reunite, she worries that Joe is off on a wild goose chase, letting go of a decent opportunity to play on board a cruise, which of course, she has garnered for him. She goes to meet Aditya, to ask him not to spoil what she sees as Joe’s opportunity to finally make some money. Does she seem slightly insensitive to how much her husband values this band and its music? Well yes, but on the other hand, she is also the one who knows how much it costs to send their child to school and so on, so fair enough.

When she looks around Aditya’s posh apartment and tells him that he has managed to do well, as always, Aditya tells her that he can’t understand if she is praising him or not. And she replies, “I’m just stating the facts.” That one dialogue established the character totally.

It helped that Shahana Goswami, who played Debbie, did a very good job. Overall, I’m glad that there are atleast a few Hindi movies coming up with realistic and nuanced female characters rather than the single-dimension beauty queens, hero’s shadow or dad’s-little-girls we normally get to see.

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Also known as, How to show every other group in a demeaning way, so that a bunch of young, heterosexual men can get some kicks.

Props:

• 1 woman, a nurse, dressed in an impossibly short skirt (Don’t forget a nice slit at the back)
• 2 silly young men, just being men
• 2 hospital beds
• A mobile phone tucked away somewhere, unseen
• 1 man, a nurse

Stage Directions:

(Phones ringing). Cool Dude 1 asks Nurse to fiddle around in his pockets for the phone. He can’t reach it himself, arms being bandaged and all. Nurse’s main role of course should be to provide patients with a few wet dreams. As Nurse leaves room, unable to find phone in either pocket, make sure camera lingers on the back of her thighs, where her short skirt ends. (No nurses wear these, but shhsh, don’t let a little thing like that get in your way).

Cool Dude 1 fishes out the phone from somewhere and gleefully calls friend, Cool Dude 2 in adjacent room. Mutual congratulations ensue, for having got some jollies out of Nurse. Cool Dude 2 now gets his turn. Except oh, It’s a Male Nurse! Horror, horror, horror! Male Nurse enters with simpering smile and a graceful toss of head, to indicate you know, that he’s gay. Get it, he’s gay!! Of course, would he be in Nursing otherwise?

Outcome: Successfully offensive to

• Women
• Nurses
• Gay People

Seen the new Virginmobile advertising?

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I suppose none of you (in India) have escaped the recent series of Airtel ads - Vidya Balan and Madhavan as a couple in various situations? I quite like some of them, for the way they manage to integrate product features with a story. I caught something peculiar about one of them yesterday. Remember the ad where Vidya is on her way home and she asks Madhavan to organise things because guests are arriving? No? Well, you can watch it at the Airtel site here.

Somehow, I saw this ad in both Hindi and Tamizh yesterday. It’s interesting that in the Hindi ad, Vidya tells Madhavan, “Salad bana doge?” The unsaid pronoun of course is “tum”, the “you” used for equals/peers. But, in the Tamizh version, the unsaid pronoun used (across a few sentences), is “neenga”, the ”you” used for elders, in formal situations, to convey respect and of course the you normally prescribed for women to use with their husbands. Interesting, is it not? I thought of a couple of options.

One, Tamizh women indeed have a greater preference for addressing their husbands using the formal pronoun, as compared to North Indian women who have shifted to using the casual one. Two, marketers think that Tamizh women are likely to continue using the formal pronoun, whereas North Indian relationships have all become more egalitarian. Which of these two is correct? Or is it neither, and the advertising agency just thought of ‘North’ with hip South Delhi and ‘South’ as conservative and unchanging?

English of course doesn’t allow for these subtleties; a you is a you is a you. But how about other European languages? French for instance does have it’s “tu” and “vous.” In medieval France, did women address their husbands as “vous”? In India, I feel this may have originated because earlier, it was quite common for a man to be much older than his wife, and of course we are taught to speak to elders respectfully. Today, however, with the age gap narrowing down, I don’t think it will continue beyond another generation, though I do see parents who feel “so hurt” if their darling son is addressed without an “aap”. (Those who want to rush in and tell me that there is nothing wrong with addressing people respectfully, please save your breath; I have no issues with it, except that such respect is usually reserved for the male of the pair.)

p.s While the ad shows Vidya requesting her husband to help with a bunch of small chores at home, there is a mild hesitation in her smile and tone, as though she is aware of the “favor” she is asking. I thought that was actually done fairly realistically, but it does say something, doesn’t it!

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I recently watched ‘Horton hears a Who’, the new movie adapation of Dr. Seuss’ 1954 classic. The movie is delightful. Along with ‘Ratatouille’, this is one of the few animation movies I’ve seen recently, that focuses on the story and characters, without getting lost in fancy animation techniques.

(Pic courtesy www.smh.com.au)

It has a moral without being preachy, the characters seem so real, and the landscape looks amazing without seeming enchanted or fairy-tale-like. The dialogue is lovely too; it doesn’t rhyme all the way but retains the rhythmic quality of the book.

My only hitch - (without giving away too much of the plot), when the Mayor of Whoville has 98 daughters, why is he constantly wishing for the uninterested son to follow him as mayor ? Even if we accept that it is a role that passes from father to child, weren’t any of the 98 girls interested? I thought it sends across a poor message to kids, that it is boys who get to do all the important stuff; the father’s focus on the son was just that blatant. I can’t remember if this is the same as the book, which was after all, written in 1954…

I could even understand if the Mayor just had the one son and wanted him to do great things, but to have 98 other kids, and none of them even considered as worthy of ‘doing’ anything.

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