"The thing
about Mumbai is that you go five yards and all of human existence is revealed.
It's an incredible cavalcade of life…"
–Julian Sands
"More dreams
are realized and extinguished in Bombay than any other place in India."
–Gregory David Roberts.
Bombay Talkies was a chance to delve for
a few hours into Mumbai life. By the end of the four short stories, the
dominating feeling I had was one of being overwhelmed, almost exactly how I
feel in the first few moments after getting off at the airport in Mumbai and
seeing the swarms of life rushing in every direction. This overwhelming feeling
doesn't just stem from the crowds but also from the avalanche of human emotions
that comes with every breath and footstep in the huge, noisy, yet glamorous
city that is Mumbai. A mixture of exhilaration and fatigue, a sense of
opportunity at being in the heart of India's film industry, and also the
poignant loneliness that is born from the immense crowds and yellow light of
the setting sun through the polluted atmosphere…the film evokes all this and
more. Mumbai with its arteries of trains, its juxtaposition of poverty and fame,
its cosmopolitan evening air…I felt like I had just visited the living,
breathing city through the film, experienced the threads of stories that make
up its rich tapestry, and seen how the city gives people ways to keep going.
Even though each
short story in the film evokes different emotions, including shock, empathy, unease,
desire, sadness, they are all stitched together by common overarching themes
that stem from Mumbai's identity as a city. We get the sense that these could
be four different storylines coexisting simultaneously in different parts of
the city; the storylines are unified by the overarching presence and flavor of
the setting in Mumbai. The film, then, is as much a tribute to the city as it
is to the cinema. Many of the film's themes are reflective of aspects of
Mumbai's identity as a city and its real-life connections to cinema's place in
our hearts.
Mumbai
is India's City of Dreams, and one common theme in the film is that of dreams. For
example, Zoya Akhtar's Sheila ki Jawaani opens
with shots of children dressed up in costumes of their future careers. The
message of this story is to celebrate individuality, which is a very Western
idea that I feel is sometimes lost in India – life in the West seems to be more
about building a self while life in India seems to follow the goal of thriving within
a web of people. The idea that societal pressures always determine the needed
course of action is demonstrated poignantly in the father's resolve that making
his son "tough" is more important than listening to his wishes or
sending the older daughter on a historical field trip. But although social webs
can be pressurizing, they can also be sources of support, and this is
illustrated by the film's optimistic brother-sister bond. The slow-motion
ending with the backdrop of kites, filtered lights, and windows, is thus fitting
considering the opening scene, since the boy is able to realize his dreams,
even if it is behind the backs of his parents. The composition of the audience
at the end is also interesting; there are many old women (presumably
grandmothers) who bring their children to watch the dance and even the kids who
were mocking at first start clapping along once they see the protagonist's
passion. This humorously shows how songs like "Sheila ki Jawaani" are
(secretly) enjoyed by all age groups in real life as well.
One
aspect of Sheila ki Jawaani that
stands out to me in particular is the background sound – there is lots of
silence in the story, with just distant sounds of Mumbai's street traffic heard
in the background. Combined with poignant scenes in the dark bedroom, this stark
contrast between the bright and noisy daily life in the city demonstrates how
it is possible to find a respite from the everyday chaos of Mumbai – if not in
the real world then perhaps through film. In fact, my favorite line from the
story is when the sister says "I want to be a passenger." This is a
nod to what films do for us – they enable us to experience Mumbai while sitting
in the Silicon Valley, to see the world as passengers in our own ways, and by
presenting on screen a character that acknowledges this, Akhtar adds another
layer of depth to her story.
But the city is
not just characterized through distant noises and glimpses in the film; Murabba shows its unglamorous side as
well in the street pollution and glimpses of the lower class poverty in the
egg-man and Vijay's sleeping conditions. However, there is optimism once again
in that the city rewards those who want to make their dreams come true. For
instance, the guards are surprisingly patient and don't start beating up Vijay
as I half-expected them to after the first thirty seconds of dialogue with him.
Murabba lets us feel the joy of a fulfilled
dream through the close-up shot of Amitabh Bachchan's face and teeth marks alternated
with Vijay's adoring face as we watch him eat the murabba. Despite the absurdity
of the premise, despite the naïveté
of the protagonist, we root for him – thus putting us in the vulnerable
position of awe and admiration and conjuring in us traces of our own celebrity
worship. This story was also a nod to the larger-than-life personas of
Bollywood stars and, with references to reality shows like Kaun Banega Crorepati, the idea that Bachchan Sir's on-screen and
off-screen personalities can never be separated. Through close-up shots in Bombay Talkies, we pray to the shrine of
Katrina Kaif and stare in awe at Amitabh Bachchan – letting us feel the dream
and the allure of the city that is their home in its full state of fandom-struck
and simultaneously impoverished millions.
Bombay Talkies, while paying tribute to
the decades past, seemed to blast the message that times are changing; Mumbai
is the heart of modernization in India – a message that is consistently
reinforced by, for example, Karan Johar's penthouse and balcony shots of the
smooth highways and beautiful skyline. But the transition from traditional
conservatism to more liberal Westernization in Mumbai is seen not just in the
architecture, culture, and demographic changes in the city, but also in the
social relationships of its population. In particular, all the stories showed
the tension in relationships between parents and children, showing the growing
challenges and sometimes dysfunctional relations that crop up as old and new
views meet under the same roof. For example, the opening scene of Ajeeb Dastan Hai Yeh shows Sameer
retaliating against the ignorance of his father who does not understand his
sexuality. Later, Hooda explicitly mentions that a problem with the new
generation is "over-familiarity" with elders. In Star, the daughter is dismayed at the lack of attention her parents
are able to pay to her and feels that they love Anjali the emu more. Sheila ki Jawani further shows how
children become estranged for their parents when there is an understanding barrier
that cannot keep up with modern views of individuality. Thus, the film also
shows how family structures change in modern Mumbai and India as a whole.
Living in
Mumbai is also associated with a certain pride and patriotism of its own – an idea
that was also depicted in the film in Dibakar Bannerjee's Star. I really enjoyed the shot that focuses for a few minutes on
Anjali, the emu, who seems to be there just to show that one can find all sorts
of businesses and livelihoods in Mumbai. Staring in our faces is quite
literally a strange bird – of which Mumbai is full. But what catches our eye
besides the black bird is "Jay Maharashtra" written in bold Hindi
script in orange on the peach-colored back wall – all the colors we would see
in a polluted Mumbai sunset. The scene is a tribute to the idea that any
strange bird who finds itself in a middle class Mumbai apartment still has an
overwhelming love at the end of the day for its city.
But life in
Mumbai is also a struggle, an idea that is very simplistically and elegantly
depicted with the shot of the small red toy car in Star trying to hold its own against the autos, bikes, and cars of Mumbai
traffic, which evokes the difficulties faced by a lower-middle class man trying
to carve his own path. The dialogue between the protagonist and the ghost of
his father is also revealing: "You are not dead?"… "Are you
alive?" demonstrates the mechanical feeling that life in a big city takes
on with the struggle to make ends meet every day. The father explains that in
order to be considered worthwhile, you must risk everything and delve into an
industry instead of waiting for gifts and freebies; it is the way of the city
to help those who take risks, who leave everything at the drop of a hat and,
armed with a bottle of murabba, dream of meeting Amitabh Bachchan.
Apart
from the day to day challenges, another aspect of Mumbai's identity is unmistakably
one of cinema; Bombay and Bollywood are inextricably linked. The film
celebrates this in two key ways: by foreshadowing the transitions that Bollywood
will make in the next few decades, and also by self-referencing the actual film
industry. One way the film marks transitions in Bollywood is by giving children
key roles, symbolizing the upcoming role of the next generation. In particular,
the girl singing Lag Ja Gale in Ajeeb Dastan Hai Yeh stands out because
she is a vehicle for a musical transition as well. Many of the old film songs
used in the movie were re-recorded with modern high-quality recording
technology in a child's voice, which created overlapping feelings of nostalgia
at the melodies and newness in the sound. This also marks the way we continue
to reclaim and redefine old film classics in the modern era, especially
considering the way that the two men conversing in Ajeeb Dastan Hai Yah indirectly discussed questions of gender
identity by quoting song lyrics like "Tum itna jo muskura rahe ho, kya
gham hai jisko chhupa rahe ho?" As Hooda states, "music changes the
way you think" and by reclaiming classic film songs that have become legendary
anthems of love and relationships and rebranding them in terms of modern
relationships, he shows how we continue to cherish our old music by bringing it
with us into the new age.
Another
moment of transition in the film struck me when I saw Shah Rukh Khan in the
closing song. Time seemed to slow down as the king of modern Bollywood stepped
on the screen to the instrumental beginning of "Tujhe Dekha To Yeh Jaana
Sanam" – reminding us that in its essence, Bollywood is about love.
However, thinking back across the stories, love is presented in refreshing ways
and is definitely not the typical "boy chases girl" story. In Ajeeb Dastan Hai Yeh, the love is
between two men, and there is friendship between a man and a woman without
romance coming from it. We also see the love between a sister and brother in Sheila ki Jawaani, especially when she
reaches out her hand to comfort him at night when he asks "what is so bad
about being a girl?", between a father and his daughter in Star, and the love that a son has for
his father in Murabba. Perhaps this
indicates that Bollywood is moving away from typical romantic plots and
exploring different shades of love.
The title
credits and the ending song were very exciting ways of self-referencing the
film industry to celebrate cinema! In the opening credits, the colors fading
through filters and lines extending horizontally and vertically across the
screen bring to mind the long chains of history that have led up to this film,
and the flashing bright pinks, red, yellows, and the juxtaposition of old and
new film posters like Deewar and Three Idiots seem to sparkle with masala. Although
the ending musical number was called "tacky" and a waste of manpower
by some reviews I read, I am a fan of such songs featuring many film stars, such
as the Om Shanti Om song "Deewanagi
Deewanagi." Seeing our modern actors after the clips from movies from the
past century establishes a clear, linear continuity. The costumes in this scene
are also simple but grand; the background dancers all wear white with colored
scarves and handkerchiefs to show how Bollywood movies have added bright splotches
of color to our lives. The lyrics of the closing song describe Bollywood films
as "our culture and heritage," "our identity," and
"every heart's heartbeat" which is very fitting and very true. Seeing
all the actors together on the red carpet outside was an immensely happy moment
for me!
Another
particularly enjoyable "meta" allusion to film within the film is to
the difficulty of film shooting in Star. Farah
Khan's voice yelling in the background and the hours it takes to shoot a
two-second clip create a small tribute to production assistants and how they hold
everything together – as the man in charge of crowd control says:
"everyone has a role." The film also gives us the experience of an Indian
movie theater with whistles and noise as we watch Katrina Kaif on a screen
within our television screens. In addition, the film alludes to tabloid
reporting about Bollywood. Perhaps this is where the repeated message "it
is bad to lie" and the idea that we should "never put murabba in an
achar bottle" comes in. It addresses the responsibility that comes with
making a film and also of the role that popular media should play in terms of
valuing truth.
My
moment of the entire movie occurs in final few scenes of Star. As we zoom out to
the larger view of a small flat in Mumbai, we see each little house and family like
a cell, a microcosm of the entire city – exposed and vulnerable but heartfelt
in the dusk lighting. Star ends by
circling back to its opening scene, with the shot of the father's eyes against
the yellow light; however, the scene feels different upon seeing it at the end.
While the father seems nervous and strained at the beginning of the film, we
get the sense that he is being kept awake at the end by the possibilities and
dreams that lie before him, not the worries – this reminds me of the amazing
feeling when a film or a performance keeps you up a little later at night out
of sheer excitement – a very heartfelt depiction of the wonder that Bollywood
can create.
As Karan
Johar's screenplay proclaims, "There's an answer to everything in
Bollywood."
If the city of Mumbai
is the question, then I think Bollywood just might be the answer.
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