Abhishek Kapoor's Kai Po Che is a lovely film. This slice from the life of three young men in Ahmedabad makes you smile, laugh and cry. The Bhuj earthquake of 2001, together with the burning of the Sabarmati Express and the subsequent riots in Gujarat in 2002, forms the backdrop of a story about friendship and coming of age. Kai Po Che is doing exceptionally well at the box office.
In the 100th year of Indian cinema, it also offers a good example of all that is going right with the Rs 15,000-crore Indian film industry. The first thing that hits you while you watch the film is that you have never seen these guys before. Where were these people earlier? Why is there so much talent coming out of the woodwork now? Kai Po Che is by no means the first film to use an unknown star cast and crew. It is, in fact, one of a rising number of films that tell a story without relying on stars for direction or for acting. Vicky Donor, Johnny Gaddar and Oh My God! are among dozens of other films in which a new director, storyteller and actor have been showcased successfully.
It is not as though it has not been attempted earlier. In the 1980s, an unknown Shekhar Kapur made the very beautiful Masoom. Another unknown, Mahesh Bhatt, kept breaking the mould with Saaransh, Arth and other films. But they had a tough time getting money, backing or distribution for their films. The big difference now is that studios such as Eros, UTV, Yash Raj and Reliance are pushing these new stories and talent forward with a marketing and promotion budget that brings the film to your notice. They then back it up with distribution muscle.
What changed? After the granting of industry status to films in 1998, capital started flowing in. It first came into organised multiplex chains and digital screens. This consolidated a fragmented theatrical business and brought money back to the system. As a result, the film industry has grown to over five times its size in 2000.
This money was combined with the ability to segment the market profitably. From one-size-fits-all, 1,000 seaters, theatres moved to four or five screens with different seating capacities. This allowed them to mix prices, films, show timings and other things to maximise revenues. So a Dabangg could run in three screens in a multiplex, while a Vicky Donor could experiment with one small-capacity screen. When it started doing well, it could go up to more screens. This flexibility, combined with better ticket prices, gave studios the ability to invest smaller amounts in creative experiments, which would not leave the studio bankrupt even if they failed.
There is one more thing. Most of the studios are now run by either the second generation or young professional managers. For instance, the late Yash Chopra's son Aditya Chopra runs the show at Yash Raj Films, while Siddharth Roy-Kapur does so at UTV. So the drive and ambition are different. To build scale and balance their portfolio, studios want to do enough experimental and mid-budget films mixed with the star-studded ones. So they are very happy to invest in new talent. This explains the plethora of new directors, such as Gauri Shinde (English Vinglish), Shoojit Sircar (Vicky Donor) and Sujoy Ghosh (Kahaani), who keep getting a break.
The second, more textural point highlighted by films such as Kai Po Che is how openly we discuss our prejudices, bigotry or other warts. In 1998, Sarfarosh was arguably one of the first Hindi films to talk about Pakistan and its issues with India. Till then all films had referred to Pakistanis as "sarhad paar ke log" (those people beyond the boundaries). It's not just Pakistan; new Indian films discuss, include or refer to everything from homosexuality, sperm donors, surrogate motherhood to communal hatred rather matter-of-factly. When a classmate tells Sridevi that their gay professor's break-up is inconsequential because he is gay, Sridevi, a middle-class housewife, disagrees. "A breaking heart is a breaking heart," she says. Everyone sighs.
This creative unleashing that mirrors India and its warts speaks of a country that seems to be finding the courage to talk to itself. For a loud, boisterous nation it is amazing how little we do it. After the Holocaust, Europe mourned for years through books, cinema and popular culture. It still does. We had the odd Garam Hawa or Saadat Hasan Manto after Partition, but nothing much beyond that. This allowed negative feelings about Partition to fester over generations. The new generation, part of the creative unleashing in Mumbai, Chennai and other film-producing cities, clearly believes in letting it all hang out - albeit within the boundaries of popular culture.
You could argue that this openness seems at odds with the current tendency to generally suppress anything or anyone whose opinions we don't want to hear. We want to ban books, file public interest litigation against almost every second film, kill girls who form rock bands and so on. That is true.
But then that is India for you. And films are now reflecting it more accurately than before.
http://twitter.com/vanitakohlik
Disclaimer: These are personal views of the writer. They do not necessarily reflect the opinion of www.business-standard.com or the Business Standard newspaper
