Hungama Ho Gaya

Queen starts off with a scene that is rarely seen in Hindi cinemas these days. Rani (Queen), the protagonist, is dumped by her fiancé a mere two days before the wedding, that too at a coffee shop which advertises, “A lot can happen over coffee.” A lot does happen indeed, but not the way we expect – a tight slap on the guy’s smug face or with the girl walking off in a huff with the guilty guy walking behind her. Firstly, the guy is not smug; he is matter-of-fact and serious. Secondly, the girl is not the kind to slap people and make a scene. If anything, she is polite to a fault. Initially, Rani dismisses his words with an indulgent and shy smile; she thinks he is teasing her. But when she realizes that he is serious, we see how the news affects her.

The camera lingers on Rani, on her pain and indecision, on her helplessness and probably having the black mark of a cancelled wedding. It’s all there on her face. There is no quick cut to the future, no background score to add weight to the scene, no trivializing the moment – no, nothing. There’s only plain emotions. And in that moment we cease to view her as an actor and more an individual like you or me who is deeply affected by something she perceives as important.

A still from 'Highway'

This is what, I feel, is missing in many movies these days. There’s not much time given for things to happen - to feel the grass beneath the feet, to realize love, to enjoy a genuine laugh. A lot about mainstream cinema has become buffoonery and exhibitionism. Love happens through a series of jokes, rebuttals and sometimes through feverishly choreographed songs. Though this treatment ensures entertainment and excellent box office collection, one sometimes feels the need for a realistic portrayal of events. Highway did this in the recent past – the part where Alia Bhatt stares at the icy, bubbling stream kissing her feet and simply enjoys nature is priceless.

Earlier, showcasing such kind of ‘stillness’ in movies was enough for them to be labeled as ‘art’ and later as ‘parallel cinema,’ but now I am glad that these (two) mainstream movies have decided to do away with ‘masala’ moments and stick as much as possible to a realistic portrayal of the protagonist’s life. There were glimpses of such natural moments in Hasee Toh Phasee, Gori Tere Pyar Mein, Yeh Jawaani Yeh Diwaani and to some extent in Shuddh Desi Romance, but I felt these movies couldn't make up their minds about pleasing the masses or sticking to its central idea. And so there were mixed responses from the public in general.

I speak elaborately about Queen because Rani’s story resonated with me. As a corporate trainer I come across similar competent yet shy girls from other parts of Tamil Nadu who know nothing beyond their parents’ wishes and dreams and in return they are loved and pampered by the elders. After stepping in to the big city they face challenges which are no different from what Rani faces when she sets off to Paris and Amsterdam on her own for her honeymoon. These girls too are suddenly thrust in to a frenzy of activity – setting up bank accounts, filling up forms after forms, finding a place to stay, managing resources, brushing shoulders with young guys, matching the city’s culture and attitude…the list is endless. This could be any Indian girl’s coming-of-age story.

Kangana Ranaut as Rani (Queen) is exceptional and brings out the angst of a middle class girl whose bigger concern is that daddy might die if he hears of the breakup. How will she tell him to cancel the wedding, she wonders tearfully? I mean does anyone even say that anymore? “What will daddy think?” The fear of being ridiculed by counterparts makes youngsters these days deny the part parents play in their life. Many find it ‘uncool’ to follow their advice and sometimes rebel against the values or principles set by their parents. It does not help that some parents do impose unreasonable rules over their wards in the name of value and customs, and expect them to fall in line.

In this movie too parental involvement is relegated to the background once Rani is off on her solitary honeymoon, but there is always a link maintained. Like when she is on Skype with her family, back in India, complete with her protective younger brother who soon gets an incentive to sit through the boring call with his sister (the humor is unintentional and is derived from the situation). On moving to Amsterdam and sharing the room with three other guys, she positions the laptop in such a way that the room is largely concealed or requests silence from the guys till she finishes her call. She thinks they might be appalled; which they might have been.

The movie also busted a lot of clichés associated with our movies. I can’t get over the scene where when in Paris, her favorite city, she holds on to her bag which has her passport, as a thief tries to steal it. She falls on the ground, shouts “Mummy!” many times - asserting the fact that in hopeless instances she seems to invoke her mother like people do of God, but holds on to that bag like dear life. We expect the thief to succeed, but that never happens. In another scene, we see Rani removing her sweater and whirling it over her head excitedly as many others in the dance club do. Just as we expect her to let it go with a ‘I’m-enjoying-too-much-to-care’ whoop, she doesn’t. After the whirl, she dutifully folds it and slips it into her bag. Another cliché busted. In the end, she calls on Vijay at his home in Delhi. His mother thinks she has come back to him and carries on as if the wedding would again take place, but Rani and us viewers know that it is not what’s going to be. She meets him with a smile and very politely returns his engagement ring. She is not awkward or hesitant and she does not bear a grudge with him. There is also no big suspense here as in the latter half we know that she is not going to settle down with him. He has changed, yes, but perhaps even she has changed.

I am glad this movie and ‘Highway’ came on the heels of The International Women’s Day. These two movies, I can safely say, didn’t hesitate to portray women the way they are. Rani is polite and innocent, almost like a village bumpkin while Veera (Alia Bhatt) in Highway is confident and bored with her life. There is no miraculous transformation in to a strong, powerful woman at the end of the movie instead these movies trace the heroine’s journey of self realization. Queen felt compelled to show and tell at the end where Rani wins a prize for making gol gappas (a spicy, tangy snack) at a local Italian restaurant. She is a Home Science student back home and it felt like she had to prove her mettle here in foreign soils for her transformation to be validated. We have seen this in English Vinglish (Sashi’s speech in English at her niece’s wedding)too and also in Highway (the film ends with a shot of Veera working and living in a hillstation).  Perhaps there’s still a lingering compulsion among our film makers to show such concepts in an over-the-top manner for it to justify being screened in a multiplex, perhaps it’s early days and fine tuning needs to be done.

Whatever the excuses and faults, I for one am happy that slowly but surely by making movies like Queen, Highway, Hasee toh Phasee or Gulaab Gang, a hungama (ruckus or melee) of sorts is being created in Bollywood. And like, in a favorite scene of mine, Kangana or Rani tries to dance to the tune of Hungama Ho Gaya song playing in the background, I think we the viewers can match our steps to such genre and hopefully have a riveting, if not delightful time at the movies.