Flexing filmy muscles

Bollywood Boom 

India’s Rising Soft Power 

Roopa Swaminathan 

Penguin

221 pages; Rs 399

In May, Aamir Khan-starrer Dangal  became the highest-grossing film in China this year, earning $60.27 million, or Rs 386 crore, within 10 days of its release. It is the highest-grossing Indian film ever, having already earned about Rs 1,700 crore, of which nearly half came from overseas markets. One of its producers, Disney, had announced that it would close India operations, but might well reconsider its decision now. It has another film, Jagga Jasoos lined up for release later this year. A week before, Bahubali 2: The Conclusion, the second part of the Telugu historical epic, also made a splash across box offices globally, announcing in no uncertain terms that Indian cinema was all ready to take on its bigger cousin, Hollywood. 

Film-maker and scholar Roopa Swaminathan describes this growing influence as India’s rising soft power in her new book: Bollywood Boom. Divided neatly into six chapters, an introduction and conclusion, it analyses not only the current far reach of Indian films, but also its historical context. 

In the Introduction, Ms Swaminathan attributes Bollywood’s success to a business model that’s similar to that of Southwest Airlines. “At a time when major airlines such as Pan Am, United and US Airways... were bigger, bulkier and more expensive, the Southwest model swooped in and changed the course of the airline business by being more focussed, streamlines and much, much cheaper.” Like the airlines and unlike Hollywood, claims Ms Swaminathan, the Indian film industry works on a relatively lower budget, exploits the inherent linguistic and cultural diversity of the country and targets an ever increasing audience. As a result, it can now take on even Hollywood blockbusters, at least at its home turf. Ms Swaminathan provides the example of Tom Hanks-starrer Inferno, which brought forward its release date so as to not clash with big Bollywood film such as Ae Dil Hai Mushkil and Shivaay. 

Ms Swaminathan goes to considerable pains to explain her concept of “soft power”. For this, she draws on theories of American political thinker Joseph Nye, especially two of his books — Bound to Lead (1990) and Soft Power: The Means to Success in World Politics (2004). In the second book, Mr Nye writes — and Ms Swaminathan quotes — “Soft power eschews the traditional foreign policy implements of carrot and stick, relying instead on the attractiveness of a nation’s institutions, cultural, politics and foreign policy to shape the preferences of others.” Mr Nye’s theories are primarily concerned with the influence of the US’ cultural, social and political institutions, so much so that even in a country as alienated from it as Iran, protestors outside its embassy often cry: “Go home Yankees... But take me with you”. 

This “soft power” apparently works in tandem with “hard power” — military might — and often beyond it. In a bid to show how far the “soft power” of Indian films has reached, Ms Swaminathan draws on a 2013 WikiLeaks report, according to which, “US officials wanted India to help America with the war in Afghanistan by sending Bollywood stars to the war-torn region”. Why? “American soldiers reported back on the high level of popularity of Bollywood films and Indian television shows” there. Ms Swaminathan argues that this is a prime example of how essential Indian “soft power” had become in the global scene. 

Ms Swaminathan’s greatest strength is the lucidity of her language — it is not cluttered with academic jargon, nor, as we have already seen, is it hesitant to engage with complicated ideas. In fact, it has a journalistic robustness that makes it immensely readable. She also punctuates her narrative with personal experiences that add colour to the theories. One of the most interesting of these vignettes is in Chapter 2, which deals with the presence of Bollywood in Africa and Russia. Ms Swaminathan recollects meeting one Jimmy at a dinner in the US, who surprises her by singing “Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy” from the 1982 Mithun Chakraborty blockbuster Disco Dancer. As it turns out, Jimmy, ex-US Army, is not of American origin at all, but an émigré from Ghana, who grew up watching Bollywood films. 

Unfortunately, this otherwise erudite book is full of factual errors. For instance, in Chapter 5, she writes: “Films like Dil Se and Jodhaa Akbar, basically love stories between Hindus and Muslims...” While Jodhaa Akbar fits this classification, Dil Se does not. Neither Shah Rukh Khan’s character (Amarkant Varma), nor Manisha Koirala’s (Meghna/Moina) are Muslim. Instead, a more important theme of the film, as interpreted by Elleke Boehmer and Stephen Morton in their book, Terror and the Postcolonial (2009), is the impossible love between a man from mainland India and a separatist from the Northeast. 

But even worse is the botched-up plot summary of Raj Kapoor’s cult classic Mera Naam Joker. Ms Swaminathan writes, “Kapoor pays homage to Russia by having the protagonist of the first chapter — a young Raj Kapoor played by his real life son Rishi Kapoor — fall madly in love with an older Russian ballerina.” In the first chapter, Rishi Kapoor’s character — the adolescent Raju — falls in love with his teacher Mary (Simi Garewal). It is in fact in the second chapter that Raj Kapoor’s older Raju falls in love with Marina, who is — not a ballerina — but a trapeze artiste. (Kseniya Ryabinkina, who played Marina, was a ballet dancer in the USSR). 

It’s a shame that a book with such potential did not benefit from more rigorous fact checking.