Why Bollywood Talk Show Hosts Should Host Less

Recently two celebrity talk shows that once reigned supreme have returned to television in a brand new avatar. Simpering, buttering and at best cajoling their guests into letting go of certain inhibitions to guarantee TRPs.

Lately, Simi Garewal – famous for her Rendezvouz With Simi show, where she played agony aunt to all her celebrity guests – got them to cry on her shoulder, laugh and reminisce all while holding their hands, giving them a chance to open up their lives, loves and unhappiness in front of the entire nation, is back with Simi selects India’s Most Desirable. This time, she uses the show to reestablish her iconic status and that of her guests. She repeats frequently in the show why she considers her guests ‘India’s most desirable.’ I think we would know why a handful of top Bollywood stars are desirable. Do give the audience some credit. She uses the show to suggest how Ranbir Kapoor, whom she is obviously incredibly fond of, possibly even charmed by, is actually really a sweet little Mama’s boy, very acceptably interested in women. What’s amusing is how Ranbir manages to charm her and keep her charmed throughout. And we shouldn't even get to the part where Mama actually comes in with her endearments for Son. Simi’s botoxed and sugar-coated avatar give the audience less of a chance to see the real person, and more of a chance to see the avatar she wishes to – or has promised her guests to – unfold before the audience. Add a reassuring tarot card reader, a live audience that is highly impressionable and possibly enamoured by star power, and you have a celebrity I’m-so-famous-that-it-hurts show.

Karan Johar’s Koffee With Karan was funny, irreverent and iconic in that he managed to make a chat show into a gossip session that allowed his guests a ‘get out of jail free’ card to be as bitchy and frank as they liked when they did their rapid fire round. This time around, KWK is like a badly made cup of weak Koffee – quoted from my earlier post Decaffeinated Koffee With Karan:

“After a long hiatus, Johar is back with season 3 of KWK, and despite being much awaited, it fails to satisfy. It is disappointing, just like his movies: dramatic without meat, one-sided and microcosmic. Where you look for incisive questions, probing analysis and incurable wit, you realize that the show now balances on Johar's relationship with his guests - so he treads on eggshells, pleases them, praises them and it becomes a mutual back-scratching hour. The questions are boring, dull and jaded - do we really care how some actors rate other actors? Do we want to know about only 5 actors - the Khans and Akshay Kumar? With only the bitchiness or sharp wit, straight-faced untruths and simpering (respectively) of Kareena, Saif, Ranbir and Priyanka provide some entertainment or relief, the show falls completely flat for the same reasons his movies fail to excite: they remain relevant to an older time, they assume only 5 people of either sex exist in the industry or Karan's world, the format hasn't got updated with anything but blatant in-show marketing of advertisers and sponsors.”

Note: Deepika comes into Simi’s show advertising blatantly for Neutrogena. She goes to Karan’s show taking Nescafe breaks – another one of her brands. Simi and Karan openly advertise these brands on their show. Maybe the hosts/ channels are afraid they won't make the TRPs or the advertising revenue the normal way, so need to add this extra marketing to the mix?

What is it about these smart, savvy and experienced talk show hosts that they find themselves sinking into mediocre hosting? Pressure from that fact that they are a part of the same industry? Wouldn’t it be far more interesting if an outsider quizzed these people, without having to worry about having to make movies with them in the future? Or to not have to face that odd, cringing feeling when the guests have to choose from a list of tired-and-famous directors, and when the talk show host puts himself on that list. In a spectacular display of self-preoccupation. So the hosts are full of themselves, the guests are full of themselves, the hosts are insisting on the popularity of their guests with audience clips, accolades and praises – and in all of that, the viewer is left feeling…very-taken-for-a-starry-ride-to-nowehere-ish. Oh snap.

 

The Unromance of Realism

With sexting and instant messaging, relationships have become just that – instant and ephemeral. Books and films have emulated these real-life changes with often not-so-interesting results. Has the romance in art – and relationships – died?

What defines society today is words and connections. What separates this generation from the ones before is the power of the spoken word. We think that technology is what has changed us, made us the people that move faster, think faster and behave fast. While that may be true in some part, what has empowered technology has been content – online jargon for words. Thoughts, bubbles, discussions, emoticons, replies, retorts, criticism, feedback, conversations, investigations, observations, retweets, status updates…the list goes on.  This generation has increased communication by communicating less and with fewer words. It faces the task of dealing with information overload while constantly putting out more information. The oxymorons define the mindset of today – a generation that wants everything, wants everything super quick and instantly accessible, and doesn’t really have the time or the patience to sift, read, ponder. That is where texts, BlackBerry messages, tweets and status updates are the de facto means of communication. It is rare for anyone to pick up the phone and have a good old-fashioned chat, in the generation that prefers to stick to a far more impersonal, but rapid form of communication. It has it’s own personal vocabulary: insistent abbreviations – often indecipherable to the uninitiated – and instant communication. You find people with heads bent, eyes darting and fingers moving rapidly in practiced synchronisation: rarely able to maintain eye-contact for more than a couple of minutes, rarely can a conversation run it’s natural old-fashioned course without interruption, as we move into an era of distracted and continuous communication and therefore, erratic and easily dismissed short-lived relationships.

Popular culture represents the dialogue and relationships of today: faster, more impatient and often meaningless. Younger film-makers have updated their scripts to emulate real life. While underworld films picked up the nuances of the underbelly through actions and dialogue, romance in the arts has been for the longest time linked to a larger-than-life drama. Case in point: the cinema of Karan Johar or Sooraj Barjaytya. Where they update the clothes and the music, the dialogue often remains over-dramatised and pedantic. While some may argue that romance needs the dramatisation, a striking example to contest the argument is that of Saathiya – where the dialogue is rapid, off-the-street and yet, is a powerful story. There is a strong resonation with the viewer, an easy relatibility, which carries the film from run-of-the-mill to sensitive and meaningful. Farhan Akhtar’s Dil Chahta Hai made the trend a popular one, taken up by film-makers like Kunal Kohli (Hum Tum) and Imtiaz Ali (Jab We Met and Love Aaj Kal).

It is the language of frankspeak  or straightspeak. Where once “You complete me” was the sigh-generating dictum, now, “I need a break” is easily said, without much angst, furor or thought. Quick answers, rapid and sometimes thoughtless decisions and a sense of bubbling impatience mark the dialogues that often don’t lead anywhere special. This is the nature of relationships of today and the conversations emulate them. Easily said, easy to bed and quick to leave – all takes place faster than a thought, and what is left are non-events. How does this make and fill the artistic and aesthetic space of a film? While Kohli-directed Hum Tum talks about a meandering relationship, When-Harry-Met-Sally-style, he pumps the story with events – which hold the weight of the relationship between the protagonists that appears to be going nowhere. In an attempt to emulate real life and their easy-come-easy-go relationships, Kohli’s recent production Break Ke Baad, directed by Danish Aslam, is a slick film that lacks a meaty story, full of 'non-happenings'. Conversations, while witty and fresh, would make a better radio play than a long commercial movie. While this may be a comment on relationships today, the art demands a certain balance between real life and cinematic license – it demands that elements, moments and events become at the very least marginally larger than life, to create entertainment, to be watchable. Ali’s Love Aaj Kal nearly crossed the line to become over-ripe with conversations, in the same quest to describe modern-day relationships. Where LAK teetered dangerously, Jab We Met remained fresh in it’s cinematic experience, particularly through the crispness of dialogue and emotion.

Deepika Padukone’s character, Aaliya, in Break Ke Baad is not lovable in the traditional sense – much like Sonam Kapoor’s Aisha, she is unintentionally selfish and possibly doesn’t deserve the good guy. The industry buzz has it that Zoya Akhtar’s debut film Luck By Chance missed it’s calling because the protagonist, Vikram, was not a nice guy. We don’t feel empathy for the characters and don’t wish them to reach a happy ending. And that is dangerous ground for a film to enter in the romance genre. And it is also rather disturbing seeing that these characters have been picked from real life. Is it true, then, that we prefer the traditional romantic notion of characters that may be slightly misguided, but are nice? Even if that is not real life? So as dialogues get updated, people shouldn’t?

Two recent books speak a local language, but in entirely different ways. Anuja Chauhan’s Battle For Bittora speaks real politik – the language of local and honest-to-good (sense the irony) politics, seen through the eyes of a girl of this generation. There is amusement, cynicism and wonder. While the romance remains honest to chick lit, and the dialogues are basic, matter-of-fact and emulating real life, it is the clever writing and story that lifts this novel from being mundane to a page-turner. Where Chauhan’s effortless writing excites, first-time writer, Rhea Saran’s Girl Plus One is trying too hard, as are her heroines, to become a desi Sex and the City. Saran is not wrong in suggesting, rather obviously, the fact that Indian girls today are openly emulating Manhattan’s popular TV series; however, Saran misses Candace Bushnell’s witticisms that make all the difference between real life and drama. Would a real-life Carrie really talk in continuous innuendoes? No. She simply finds a corelation between her column and her life.

However art is updated to make it believable and real, it is obvious that the artistic license must be used to lift the dullness of real life to a heightened sense of real-life drama. In creating a believable sense of inclusion in a person’s daily, often mundane life, while bringing art into our homes, drawing rooms and bedrooms, we need to maintain a certain distance that allows us to appreciate the nuances of every character, story and relationship. These elements need to interesting and memorable, and often, real life is not. That doesn’t mean we need to regress and run around trees dancing amid roses, but it does mean that we need to assess the dramatic intent of the medium: does the film justify being larger-than-life? Does the book deserve to be printed and propped up on the ‘New Arrivals’ bookshelf rather than be a basic online blog? All in all, while pointing out the casual and matter-of-fact manner of everyday relationships, are we missing the romance in the written word and the spoken dialogue? And are we losing the romance in relationships?

And that leads me to question - do we want the old-fashioned nature of romance, or does that not matter to us anymore? Does a quick sext or a couriered designer bag charm us more than an old-fashioned hand-written note with a love song? Are we so accustomed to sentimentalising love and romance that we are unable to accept it in it's matter-of-fact form anymore? If the written word stands for the way we think, then are we changing so dramatically that we question and often thwart sentimentality in its old-fashioned sense? Do we love, or do we 'like'? Or are we confused because it is 'too complicated'?

Decaffienated Koffee With Karan

After a long hiatus, Johar is back with season 3 of KWK, and despite being much awaited, it fails to satisfy. It is disappointing, just like his movies: dramatic without meat, one-sided and microcosmic. Where you look for incisive questions, probing analysis and incurable wit, you realize that the show now balances on Johar's relationship with his guests - so he treads on eggshells, pleases them, praises them and it becomes a mutual back-scratching hour. The questions are boring, dull and jaded - do we really care how some actors rate other actors? Do we want to know about only 5 actors - the Khans and Akshay Kumar? With only the bitchiness or sharp wit, straight-faced untruths and simpering (respectively) of Kareena, Saif, Ranbir and Priyanka provide some entertainment or relief, the show falls completely flat for the same reasons his movies fail to excite: they remain relevant to an older time, they assume only 5 people of either sex exist in the industry or Karan's world, the format hasn't got updated with anything but blatant in-show marketing of advertisers and sponsors. Tsk, I'd rather watch KBC or Masterchef than my old favourite KWK. Koffee makes me yawn.

Cinema in Transition - Dinosaurs in the Park

I told myself that another review would be pointless, especially after I'd seen the movie so late. After all, I'm not surprised that I am disappointed with the film. Inauthenticity (especially to the syndrome), over-the-top performances, over-dramatization, continuity errors and inconsistency are all a part of this so-called "Bollywood cinema" that we make exceptions for. We make those exceptions because they entertain us, because they star the larger-than-life actors and because they work so marvelously with cinematography, locations and dream-scapes, that we succumb to them. All along understanding that nothing can be 100%, nothing can be perfect. Nothing that is real will translate well on screen and will make us feel good about oursleves, or send us back truly entertained. That's because 'realistic' cinema at a point of time was grimy, gritty and dark. Barjatya, Johar and others of their ilk brought a slice-of-life drama from an ordinary life and made it extraordinary with heightened emotions and colourful scapes. And there was a time when this really worked. I've seen Hum Aapke Hain Kaun, Dilwale Dulhaniya..., Kuch Kuch Hota Hai etc an umpteen number of times. Barjatya slowly realised that his kind of cinema had become a dinosaur - it was too sweet to digest, and in its inherent unreality (there may be very few families actually like the ones he portrayed), in his inherent moralising and ethical trip, he was alienting an audience that once loved him. That's because too much of a good thing can be bad, especially if your pulse remains on what you want to say, and not on what your audience wants to hear. Karan Johar brought a younger sensibility to Barjatya's cinema - a youthful exuberance, the pain of love all candy-flossed into "happy times". And he succeeded - his movies evolving with his own evolving thoughts and sensibilities, and his courage to be bolder with his themes on screen. But while his themes are generally relevant to the time and often have an important message to deliver, his films are still packaged in unreality.

But Johar remained true to what he wanted to say - that one man can be larger than life. And that man, for most part was Shah Rukh Khan. What  makes it difficult, is that Shah Rukh, himself, is larger-than-life as a person and an actor. When he begins to play a character that demands that, he cannot - shouldn't - act it out - he's being himself, with some character trait variations. And if he tries to act in these situations, which he often does, he tends to go over-the-top. Both Johar and Khan then fall prey to insulting the intelligence of the audience who have now been trained to understand and accept subtle nuances and acting. Can you identify with Khan? Or do you watch him because after all these years, Shah Rukh remains emminently watchable? Does the character come alive, or does one recall Shah Rukh as Rizwan Khan? The correct role for Shah Rukh is that of underplayed emotions - that in Swades and Chak De: the kind that make you wonder what he's thinking, that make you stretch your mind to understand him; not one that is blatant and obvious. Om Shanti Om was a travesty (albeit a successful one), and unfortunately Shah Rukh associates himself with the kind of cinema that leaves his potential unexplored.

Farhan Akhtar changed everything. I would blame him for the fall of unreality and the rise of realistic candyfloss. The moment Dil Chahta Hai hit the screens - a film still considered seminal in many ways - he changed the notion of what people expected from Hindi cinema. He gave them real life, real dialogues, real people, real emotions, real insecurities, actual incidents picked up from real life and then blended with just enough glamour and colour to become believable and likeable all at the same time. He still admits using everyday dialogues, often arguing with lyricist-father Javed Akhtar over using everyday language in his works. Akhtar just realised that it is important to connect with the film, and the youth that he represented would expect this, having been exposed to international (not just hollywood) cinema that creates easily-identifiable characters. Maybe that's why he wanted to recreate Don for today, and maybe that's why that is one of his most melodramatic films to date. In much the same manner, Imtiaz Ali brought a freshness to the characters and dialogues, because he picked them up from real life. Jab We Met was not larger-than-life - it was life-sized. Zoya Akhtar exorcised a ghost with her first film - the desire to spoof this very sort of over-the-top Bollywood and its myriad idiosyncrasies. Dibakar Banerjee, Vishal Bharadwaj, Anurag Kashyap, Abhishek Kapoor, Shimit Amin, Ayan Mukherjee... are all the new breed: they pick up real life and make it real on screen, even if with their own brand of cinematic overtures. Maybe, that's why an older audience still remains faithful to 'Bollywood' cinema, and in the younger audience lies the huge fan-following of this new breed of cinema-makers.

After all, if you want to make epics, you do it with epic characters like the way Ashutosh Gowarikar would, or in some ways Sanjay Bhansali would; not making real people epic-sized. Even when Bhansali tried to make real people larger-than-life, it didn't work. The audience must be given some credit - they don't need things hammered into their head, they do generally, get it; and they don't identify with emotions worn on the sleeve at all times. While Johar's themes work, messages are important and cinema continues to have an audience; if he chooses to have critical acclaim rather than the loyal-popular vote and choose not to go the way of Barjatya, he must reinvent his own cinema, tone down his own emotions and learn the art of underplaying with subtlety, rather than overplaying with blatancy.

Tarun Mansukhani: Picture Perfect

Published: Verve Magazine, Features, October 2008
Photograph by RItam Banerjee

After assisting with six films, and 10 years in the industry, Tarun Mansukhani debuts as a director with Dostana, releasing next month under the Dharma Productions banner. Sitanshi Talati-Parikh finds him full of steely determination, anticipation and solid allegiance to his mentor, Karan Johar

Director
The sharp, dapper man, just a shade over 30, seems more suited to the corporate world than Bollywood. With crispness of speech and meticulous attention to time, Tarun Mansukhani appears like a tightly wound elastic band – afraid to let go. It makes me ask him a number of times if he is nervous about his big release. “I haven’t thought about it, because I would’ve crumbled under that pressure. It is easier to think of it as just another film.”

Experience has made Mansukhani smarter. He quips, “I tell all my assistant directors that they can’t lie to me – I know all the tricks of the trade, I’ve played them all with Karan!” Waxing eloquent on a superb equation he shares with Karan Johar, the debut director paints a rosy picture. “Karan is the only producer in the world, who when you are hitting a deadline, tells you to relax and take your time. When you go over budget, he asks if it is justified, and if so, says, ‘No problem!’ It makes me want to ask him, ‘Are you sure?’”

Dostana, a romantic love triangle, starring Abhishek Bachchan, John Abraham and Priyanka Chopra, has been shot in Miami. During the shoot, Mansukhani recounts, Johar came to Miami for two weeks, and finally announced, ‘Look, I am really unemployed – I come, I shop and I eat. So I am going back to Mumbai to do more constructive work.’ And he left, not returning until the end of the film. The creative freedom, faith and trust provided by Johar, leaves the former singing praises of a perfect boss and perfect job. And yet, says Mansukhani, “I do not try to stay within Karan’s auteur. In fact, my deliberate decision is to combat what I have learnt – to break the school that we have developed for ourselves.”

While working on the story he has made a conscious effort to use everyday language, even if it is pedestrian language or Hinglish. While the film is youth-centric, it is not just the youth they want to appeal to. “There is an emotion that appeals to all age groups. It is not in its film-making or in its technicality or dialogues. We all have friends, our parents have had friends and our kids have friends. It may not be the dialogue that they might have spoken, or the language; but what is important is that they remember those friendships.”

Dostana is predominantly about the bond of friendship. Mansukhani, who studied in a boarding school, experienced deep friendships, giving him the idea for his first film. He brought in the premise of two men pretending to be gay to stay in an apartment, to make the story interesting. “It was a very conscious effort to not make fun of the gay community. You are not ribbing jokes about them or using them as a ploy.” A mother, who very subtly and with humour shows her acceptance of their sexual preference, adds a progressive element. So, another masala film with a social message? “We can all make art films at the end of the day, but there is a certain reach. Today this is what I would like to make. In the future, I may want to make an extremely gritty film, like Black Friday for instance.”

Talking about friendships, Johar and Mansukhani go back a long way. Johar went to school with Mansukhani’s sister, and when he was looking for an assistant for Kuch Kuch Hota Hai, he thought of him, who at the time was assisting television producer Anand Mahendroo. Mansukhani was not certain he wanted to be a part of commercial cinema – “I was just a Breach Candy boy who didn’t understand Shah Rukh and Kajol. Dilwale Dulhaniyan Le Jayenge was just another film for me.” When he took the FTII exam, confronted by questions on the direction of Swami Vivekanda Part II, he decided to work for Johar instead. The rest is history. The young director sees the future as very promising – making more films for Dharma, and eventually becoming a producer, financed by Dharma. “I don’t see myself breaking away from this family in any form. It is the only family I have known.”

Contrary to expectations, Mansukhani is not a die-hard cinema fan. Having studiously managed to avoid the classics, despite Johar’s repeated suggestions, he remarks unselfconsciously, “I stand clueless at a party when someone talks of classics like Guru Dutt and Satyajit Ray, and glibly put in my two bits, without knowing what they are talking about!” He prefers Sholay, Gadar or the more recent – admittedly candyfloss – films like Dilwale Dulhaniyan Le Jayenge and Kuch Kuch Hota Hai. Quick to laugh at himself, he confides, “The only reason I go to the cinema is because my wife wants to watch a film. While I critique every other film aloud, I am silently taking notes – though no one knows that!”

The resilient director doesn’t give himself even a moment to take a break. Starting work soon with Johar on My Name Is Khan, due for release next year, he is matter of fact about his breakneck schedule. “We are addicted to films – we are not good at anything else. This is our only world.”

And juggling that attitude with a family life? He is quick to compliment his spouse – with whom he has been in a relationship for 12 years and married for three – on being the most understanding person in the world, especially after admitting he hasn’t been to family dinners, and hasn’t met most of her family! He even missed his sister’s wedding when he was busy with a shoot. “I hope that these sacrifices made will accomplish something – at the end of the day, these opportunities may not come to me later. This is what I need to do to make life happen.”

Tags
Contributors