Thursday, January 27, 2011
HOLY WOOD! BOLEY WOOD
I am bad at telling jokes; far worse at remembering them. But that doesn’t stop me from getting my daily dose of laughter. All I have to do is switch on the television or go to the nearest PVR. It makes me laugh at its stupidity. But when I’m done laughing I feel angry. Angry that some guy out there thinks I’m stupid and that any kind of fare can be dished out to me and I will have it gladly. I will have it for want of better things but you bet I won’t leave you a tip and I won’t visit you again.
But in case you were wondering that the people responsible for entertaining us are bleak minded phonies you are wrong. They insist that the fault is with the people of India. They don’t understand the good stuff.
I would politely refute that, though in reality I would love to stick my steel-toe boots up where the sun doesn’t shine to draw attention to my point.
Band Baja Baraat was a good movie. The common man, the uncommon man, their women and children all loved it. It was well made. It used the same ingredients that bollywood movies have always used; there was a hero, heroine, a few songs, weddings, love et al. But it used them creatively and more importantly it did not assume that people are inherently daft. In contrast when I saw Tees Maar Khan I could not help but notice the highlight of its intended comic appeal; the use of those three words (which feature in the title) in every dialogue of the movie. I would be a hypocrite for commenting more on the content of the movie so I’ll just put it this way. Moments where I was awake I found it a more interesting exercise to just pick my nails.
But Tees Maar Khan was miles ahead in entertainment value when you go by last year’s slated box office super hit. Papa Roshan’s silverspoonful of bullshit for little Guddu; Kites. Despite the fact that I pride myself on being able to judge a movie by escaping the sweet offerings of a well made trailer, I fell for this one. What I realized after watching it was that Barbara Mori had some goods and these fellows just wrote a script around them. Amazing how little baby Guddu jeopardized his wedding for it. The box office collections coupled with an angry wife is what I call a double jeopardy.
The only people whose task becomes easier (also assuming a sudden spurt in the weight of their pockets) are people who judge these films for awards. Two good movies are made in a year. One of them takes all the awards.
Allow me to gently meander through the narrow streets of television. But fear not! I will not linger there long for the one most obvious reason. There is nothing much to see there.
I will however briefly comment on how an affinity for the assumption that Indian people are stupid is brewing behind the tube. My kind attention was brought to Emotional Atyachaar on UTV Bindaas. I saw a couple of episodes. I agree they would appeal immensely to the Sunday night yobs at theatres but it set me thinking. Where in the hell do they find cheaters every damn day? Is there not one single day when nobody can be found to accuse another of promiscuity? Going by the amount of time required to film, edit and broadcast a single show and then instantly find the next cheater and go into the filming, editing, broadcasting regime all over again and find the next one for the unending circle in such perfect rhythmic harmony maybe doesn’t ring a bell in someone’s head. In mine it does. In my head it says you are being conned into watching stuff cooked up by some incompetent jerk who stole an idea from Reality TV.
Guys in Bollywood (it’s only here that wood has something to do with an actor’s face) have nothing to give except two movies a year which seem so good because they help escape bad memories of what went before them and the awaited horrors of that which is yet to come.
To vindicate my stand all I will tell you is go watch a decent Hollywood movie if you want real entertainment or stream some shows of the net because personally I’m done feeling stupid. I am contrite for the use of that word over and over but when I pay Rs 330*2+180*2+infinite taxes= my pops hard labor, the damn movie better be good coz when it’s not I feel STUPID.