Friday, March 14, 2008

GIVING ACTORS THEIR DUE? YOU MUST BE KIDDING!


BISWADEEP GHOSH

In a website poll on underrated actors in India, I came across a lot of names. There was Pankaj Kapoor who I think is extraordinary; Irrfan Khan who can be brilliant when he is not repeating itself in the trying-hard-to-make-you-laugh roles; and Ranvir Sheorey who promises to grow into an even better actor with time.

Seldom do I post my views in such polls, one reason being that several faceless intruders who have just one thing to do – nothing – write absolute gibberish whose dominant presence eclipses the odd strand of serious thought. But, this time round, I did, choosing to talk about just one actor who could have done so much if the affluent fiefdoms of the industry hadn’t overlooked his presence. When he played the wicked and impulsive elder brother in Sarkar, he actually matched the Big B’s magisterial presence in every single frame. In Honeymoon Travels, he was a parochial Bengali guy married to a freedom-loving girl; in Black Friday, the cop Rakesh Maria who had investigated the roots of the 1993 Mumbai blasts; and in Life in a…Metro, a selfish husband in a selfish extra-marital affair. Kay Kay Menon. You know he is the guy I am talking about.

Yes, you know Kay Kay. That’s why he and other guys like him should consider themselves lucky. In a superstars-and-megabucks-driven industry such as ours, these actors cannot get any more attention even if they deserve it. It doesn’t matter if a Pankaj Kapoor can pull off an Al Pacino act as the protagonist. That Kay Kay can step into the shoes of a character played by someone like Russell Crowe – or Kurt Russell – in a big-budget film is of no significance at all. For, such actors will never ever get the opportunity to bat ahead of big stars and score more runs than the latter can. A few such success stories can demolish fiefdoms, create new equations in which power will be decentralised, and even decant the so-called big stars into the zone of no return. Secure in their systems, loaded with cash, blessed with the loyalty of big stars, which big producer wants a change in which rules can be rewritten beyond recognition?

Not that the story ends there. Such is our industry that actors who aren’t stars are caught in an image trap. They are termed ‘character actors’ – which possibly implies that the stars play themselves while the others don’t! But, seriously speaking, the label of a ‘character actor’ is a curse whose power no spell on earth can diminish. What it essentially implies is that the victims of the branding do all the hard work to make a film work in its totality. But, the person who hijacks the promos, sings all the songs, get most solo frames, and the maximum amount of money is the star. He is the one who makes the film work. At the end of the day, the character actors are minor support systems who help the star because the latter is infinitely more talented and works the hardest of course!

Many viewers who have matured considerably are keen to see a systemic change. They will be happy to see many films in which the so-called character actors step into central roles. As of now, however, no one can see it happening. I am in that list.

What about you?

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

EXTRA, AND NOTHING

BISWADEEP GHOSH

A friend’s friend asked me the other day, “Wow! So you have written a book on SRK? How big are you?” I stared at the window in front of me, looked at my reflection, and replied, “I am not big. SRK is.” While I had stated a fact, what is also true is that I had enjoyed some adulation for a while when I had written the Hall of Fame book on Shah Rukh. People who knew me told me, often excitedly, that the mere act of keying in my name could lead to more than 1,000 references on any search engine. Acutely aware that I had nothing to deserve so many links, I used to keep shut. I still do, most uneasily.

SRK’s stardom – or, for that matter, that of Salman and Hrithik and Aishwarya, my other subjects – gave me the opportunity to write four biographies. But the most revealing episode, one that summarised the story of actual Bollywood, took place when I had gone to meet Manoj Bajpai. After speaking to Manoj, who was fresh from his exploits in Satya and Shool, I stepped out of the trailer van.

Suddenly, a tall and well-built man stopped me and said, “Hello, why don’t you publish my interview as well?"

Although I was familiar with all the famous and not-so-famous faces of Bollywood, here was a guy I couldn’t recognise. Inwardly cursing my own self for not knowing who he was, I asked, “Can you tell me about your latest film?”

“What? You haven’t seen me ever, is it?” he asked in a tone of dismay.

“No,” I stammered. By that time, I had realised that the fellow was wearing a wig and had several false teeth. From a distance, he had looked like a 35-year-old guy. But actually, he couldn’t have been less than 50.

“I have acted in more than 200 films. You will also see me in Dil Pe Mat Le Yaar in which Manojji is acting,” he said, adding, “I am there in one scene.”

“One scene?”

“Yes,” he said, adding in an accusatory manner, “That is since journalists don’t write about me. When you see the scene, you will realise that I am a fine actor.”

Unable to react, I sat down. He stood next to me and spoke to me for an hour, telling me all kinds of stories about the opportunities he had missed, the odd film which never got released. Several such stories, one after the other. “But, I am sure I will get a fine role some day. Don’t you think so?” he said.

I got up, murmured a diffident ‘yes’, patted his shoulder and walked off. I had taken down notes that I did not use. Being a professional journalist, I knew that few will be interested in reading his story in an entertainment magazine. So, here I am, talking about a guy who has acted in 200 films. I must have seen him in a few films ever since I had conducted a false interview with him. But, how could I have identified him, lost as he would have been in a big, big crowd of extras?

Monday, March 10, 2008

SHAKESPEARE UNDER SIEGE

BISWADEEP GHOSH

I am not someone who loves quoting others for the heck of it; simply because I believe that we shouldn’t say what we cannot because of someone else. Such an indulgence is not a great thing, is it? But, as a writer who has been struggling to transcend prosaic mediocrity for a while – occasionally succeeding, but mostly not – there are times when the thought of a great writer needs to be borrowed. Hence, a quote becomes necessary. Can the situation be evaded? Certainly yes, if one were to plagiarise the essence of the thought, rephrase it with badly used words, and make it sound like one’s own. Does that happen? It does, which is why the average muggle googles away, searching for extraordinary phrases of extraordinary mortals.

Lately, however, a couple of aspiring writers have touched new lows. (You want names? That’s easy. Read everything published everywhere every day). They have been whacking lines – from one of the countless quotable quote sites – and using them in their articles shamelessly, stupidly. The obvious assumption is that they are addressing millions of morons who don’t own a single book with broken spines. So, Chesterton enters the article; Bernard Shaw intrudes after a few more; and suddenly, out of nowhere, a phrase from Freud leaps towards the unsuspecting reader, says a quick ‘hello’ and pretends to be a part of the article a second thereafter. Not a single word is changed and the sentence sparkles, sticking out as an oddity. For some inexplicable reason, such guys seem secure in the knowledge that no one will catch them. Besides, as long as they are lifting from writers who are no longer alive, the act doesn’t bother them. After all, dead people do not sue.

The situation is reminiscent of the era when a book reviews page was mandatory in every newspaper. People used to read then. Today, they watch the TV. That is why. However, some small regional newspapers sought to emulate their bigger counterparts by keeping non-specialist books editors for handling books pages. The result: the pages got manhandled. Just about anyone wrote reviews, and murder the writers without understanding a word of what the latter said.

With writers who cut and paste because they are incapable of piloting an article with their own phrases and thoughts, things are very, very similar. How one wishes someone told them not to look like fools on a regular basis? On second thoughts, even if someone actually did, will they understand and change? Unlikely. Only, they might stop whacking from Shakespeare because of whom they might have been caught, and lift from Ogden Nash instead. Which writer they maul doesn’t matter, as long they live to see another day, and write another article!

Saturday, March 08, 2008

DO WE NEED A WOMAN’S DAY?

BISWADEEP GHOSH

Hello, weak and powerless women, it is time to declare from the rooftops what you don’t have but deserve. That sounds so utterly, gutterly stupid. But, who listens, who bothers, who cares? As the world comes together to celebrate womanhood today, what we choose to ignore is that, in modern times, most urban women do get what they want. They have good jobs, social standing, equality with men in the domestic sphere and so on. So, is there a genuine need for a Woman’s Day in urban societies that supposedly reminds women of their power, their privileges, their status in the society? When we celebrate the day, don’t we, in certain unstated ways, affirm that the society is divided into two classes: that of the Fair Sex and the Unfair Sex?

Someone who wishes to view the situation in a lighter vein may exclaim: ‘Men of the world unite. You have nothing to lose but your gender.’ But seriously, what the celebrations suggest isn’t funny. For one, we choose to honour genuine women achievers not because of what they have achieved but since they ‘are’ women who have ‘managed’ to script success stories. What we forget is that such success stories have been, and will be, there. There is no need to under-rate them with the eulogies in a limiting day-and-gender-specific context.

The implication, however, is not that women’s rights don’t need to be articulated. In uncivil societies where a woman’s birthrights are denial and oppression, voices need to be raised against man’s sexist dictatorship both within the house and outside. Without indulging in armchair theorising to discuss the Susani Faludis of the world, it is important to check out the state of affairs and contribute in one’s small way. Strangely enough, this is where most surrender without a fight.

Such individuals are convinced that if one attempts to change the society, the society changes him/her. But they go on and on about Woman’s Day on Woman’s Day as if there is nothing more important, nothing more meaningful. Their approach is so utterly credible since few twitch their eyebrows in discomfort because of two obvious reasons. For many men who believe that the society must not change, the day epitomizes all the dubious connotations of the tired cliché ‘man’s world’. For others, and that includes women too, the day is all about taking the shortest escape route to make a pompous statement of gender equality. A few are genuine. But then, they would always be that way, with or without a Woman’s Day.

Woman’s Day ought to disappear from our list of annual celebrations. In fact, it must. However, the desire is nothing more than demential optimism, guided as we all are by Mesozoic social norms. The celebration of ‘triumphs against adversities’ – whether or not they exist in all those cases – does nothing beyond reminding of the power of the man. But, who gives a damn anyway?