Curse of the comeback? Part One of Five: Madhuri Dixit in “Aaja Nachle” (2007)

This is part one of a five part series looking at whether heroine-oriented comebacks are doomed to fail.

The first film looked at is Madhuri Dixit’s return to the big screen in late 2007’s “Aaja Nachle”, her first film since her memorable turn as Chandramukhi in “Devdas”, over five years earlier.

Madhuri Dixit, in fact made two comebacks – a second in 2012 with the film Dedh Ishqiya, which included the song “Hamari Atariya” which made the list of top 10 “anti-item songs” in a previous post, and as mentioned in said post, the film is unusual and provocative in several ways that warrant greater analysis generally outside this theme of “cursed” comebacks.

“Aaja Nachle” is a rather different comeback from “Dedh Ishqiya” as well, as Dixit did not, in fact, move back to India from the US, where she settled after marriage to an American, until late 2011, the same year as she began judging on the TV talent series Jhalak Dikhhla Jaa (the Indian version of Strictly Come Dancing/Dancing with the Stars).

The film was met with some positive, but largely mixed critical response, and disappointed at the box office. Given Madhuri Dixit’s still iconic status and lasting popularity, why this film didn’t succeed warrants analysis to determine if it was as it was a heroine-oriented comeback. This will help to decide whether all such comebacks are “cursed” and doomed to fail commercially.

Once again – here’s the SPOILER alert. Whilst far from a perfect film, watching “Aaja Nachle” is still recommended, and here’s the trailer below:

So, what actually works about “Aaja Nachle”?:

This is a dance film that actually has a plot and a message, and its interesting even if the film itself is not so sure:

The plot of the film sees Madhuri Dixit’s character Dia, return to the dance theatre where she first learnt to dance, to find it laid to waste and she is informed that her instructor has already passed away.

A video make by her teacher Makarand before he passed, specifically with a message for Dia shows him leaving as his final wish that the dance theatre Ajanta, which due to be demolished, is saved from destruction, as the land is due to be redeveloped as a shopping mall.

Dia meets with the local MP, Raja Uday Singh (played by Akshaye Khanna), to advocate in favour of preserving Ajanta, but on first meeting she berates him for keeping her waiting and mistakenly assumes he is too young to be the MP, and that he is rather the MP’s son. He dismisses the Ajanta theatre as ruins, and when Dia disagrees, he asks “you aren’t some activist type, are you?”. Both Dia and Uday emphasise that she is from New York (rather than Shamli).

MP Singh: Many NRIs like you come every other year for some social service and then go back. 

I suggest you do the same.

Dia: So you’re going to knock down our cultural heritage on a whim?

MP Singh: The day the people of Shamli can make a living off cultural heritage I’ll call you. Until then, let me do my job.

Dia: Is making a living all there is to life? Isn’t a little joy important?

She follows by promising to host “India’s biggest show ever” at Ajanta

MP Singh: Once the show’s over you and your team will leave for New York, and Ajanta will just be the way it is. In ruins.

He makes her an offer – if she puts on a show with only actors, singers and dancers from Shamli, he will leave Dia to do with Ajanta as she pleases. She agrees but not enthusiastically, presumably as she is quite aware of the mammoth task she is undertaking. She has two months to put on the show, but shows a greater confidence and fight in declaring she doesn’t need any more time. The stakes are not a particularly subtly flirtatious game.

However there is an argument here – what is the role of NRIs in influencing India? Do they stop caring? What is the meaning of returning and “giving back”? What role do they have to play and is it the right one? Where do the people who stay in (especially) small-town India fit into that? Through the prism of this conversation, and others throughout the movie, this idea is explored and the back on forth on what are the true answers to these difficult questions in a world of migration, of leaving, and of returning.

In the very next scene Dia declares: I’m Shamli’s whether she wants me or not.

Her daughter asks if they are going home to which Dia confirms. They arrive at her parents home and to the confused questions by her daughter she answers “[t]his is home”.

She has a “House That Built Me” moment where the new resident is bothered by her presence, yet the house still retains significant meaning for Dia. Bizarrely, they agree to rent Dia a room in the house.

She corrects her homesick daughter’s broken Hindi, refuses to return to the US (does her kid not have this thing called school?), and remains determined to revitalise Ajanta, as a symbol of her undying commitment to her hometown and home country, irrespective of whether she has established a life in the US or not. She determinedly prepares a poster advertising the show and will not give up despite the locals reaction (Nawazuddin Siddiqui is shown among the locals reacting to the poster), nor that Dia remains notorious in her hometown.

The songs – specifically, the title song “Aaja Nachle”:

“Aaja Nachle” is the best song of the film, and a spectacular performance, but it was unfortunately embroiled in a controversy before the film even released, around a lyric that was perceived to support caste discrimination (and fortunately later changed, but only after UP, Rajasthan and Haryvana announced they were banning the film). This poor PR around the film can’t have helped with creating a buzz around Madhuri’s return to the silver screen that the popularity of this song and her performance could have helped create.

The dance performance understandably goes down a storm with Shamli, but her speech that follows about heritage preservation is less well received. She announces they will put on a show in two months, to the amusement of the audience.

The show-within-the-film “Laila-Manju”, starts around 25 minutes before the end of the film and appears a delight.

These scenes are some of the most compelling in the film – especially captivating is the parts with Madhuri as the play’s narrator. If you have twenty minutes to spare, its well worth a (re)-watch:

Dia’s dynamic with Akshaye Khanna’s character MP Raja Uday Singh, shows they have good chemistry and their conversations lead to some of the most interesting dialogues in the film:

One short interaction between Uday and Dia’s daughter Radha serves a humorous, meta wink at the audience:

Radha: [to her mother, Dia] Can we go back to New York now?

Uday: That is a really good idea.

Radha: Sorry?

Uday: Well, I mean everybody else has gone and maybe so should you.

Radha: Who are you?

Uday: I’m the bad guy.

Dia’s first performance for Shamli since returning, of the title song, is followed by a direct interaction between the two of them. Despite the fight, he can’t help but compliment Madhuri, sorry, Dia, on her dancing skills. She purrs with confidence in response.

Uday: By the way, you dance very well.

Dia: I know.

Whilst the dynamic is left relatively unexplored, other than the aforementioned interactions, there is a truce made between them at the end of the film, which leave the audience to fill in the rest.

This happens, just as Ajanta is saved, when Dia is set to leave (the timing for which seems sudden) and is explained in the conversation below:

Uday: Don’t you think this city needs you?

Dia: This city needs itself. I just needed to come back once. I’ve fulfilled my responsibility.

Uday: I enjoyed fighting you

Dia: Me too

Uday: Don’t you think we should have another round?

Dia: What?

Uday: You liked it. I liked it. There must be something more to it?

Dia: I don’t like fighting without a reason

Radha hands her mother’s New York phone number to Uday (so she obviously approves of this “bad guy” in the end).

Where the film “went wrong” so to speak – and what could have been done to correct its course:

The set up of the film is bloated, detracts from getting into the plot, and wastes time that could be spent on showing Dia’s equations with Shamli’s residents in the current timeline:

Aaja Nachle opens with a dance scene – with Madhuri dancing (initially alone in the first part, and then joined by a class behind her) to a dated-sounding, English-language song (“Dance With Me”). We understand from this scene not only has Madhuri not lost any of her dancing ability, but she is playing a dance instructor in the film, presumably teaching somewhere in the West.

She receives an emergency call from India this is confirmed. Madhuri, as dance instructor Dia, takes the call. She learns her own inspiring dance teacher is dying and flies back to India with her daughter in tow. Her daughter asks her why they are going there when she swore never to go back. We cut to a flashback scene 11 years before in Shamli (cue classical dance steps to a Hindi song).

We are introduced to Steve, a photographer from National American Geographic shooting Indian dancers. They go for food and Dia orders extra spicy pakodas to his surprise in a light-hearted moment. Through a montage we follow their courtship and the disapproval of the locals. Her father slaps her on the way home and he and her mother announce they have arranged her marriage. With the blessing of her dance instructor and life teacher, Makarand, she elopes with Steve, leaving her family and home behind. Her betrothed is jilted and her parents leave town in shame.

It is narrated that Steve and Dia soon divorced, but that she was already pregnant, following which she embraced and found happiness in her role as a single mother.

Her American-born daughter asks: What are those cows doing in the middle of the road?

Madhuri: Welcome to India!

This is all rather cumbersome, and rather it would have been better to start the film with Dia’s return to Shamli, and for the reasons for her departure and the consequences they led to in terms of her reception back home, to be gradually revealed throughout the film.

The over-focus on supporting characters and set up of, essentially, a quite simple plot rather than focusing on Madhuri’s character, Dia, and her arc:

“Aaja Nachle” attempted to make space for character development for each of its key characters. In a film with a large supporting cast such as “Aaja Nachle”, this is beyond ambitious and becomes detrimental to the quality of the film. In a television series where characters each have space and time to develop individual and intertwining arcs over several hours, this is possible. But in a film, even if its a two and a half hour Hindi film, this becomes impossible to do and do with any great depth, meaning or authenticity.

The moments when the film focused on Dia’s character development, specifically her changing thoughts on the meaning of home, were some of the strongest and most engaging in the film, but were all too short, too infrequent and left under-explored. This seemed primarily due to time dedicated to the arcs of Imran, Anokhi, Farooque, Chaudhary, Najma, Mohan and Mr Chojar who all end up at different places than when they started the film. This should be evidence of a well-thought out plot, but in the light of the fact the film is a massy entertainer celebrating the return of Madhuri Dixit and throwing in dance songs for good measure, rather than an epic drama or character study, this distracts rather than attracts.

To compare with “Aaja Nachle” writer and producer Aditya Chopra’s release the following year, “Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi”, similarly a film where dance plays an important role within the plot itself – in RNBDJ, unlike “Aaja Nachle” the focus remains squarely on the lead character, in this case Shah Rukh Khan’s, and carries the audience through his journey and development. His co-star in Anushka Sharma also gets a character arc to play, but beyond this, the focus is on these core characters, at the expense perhaps of supporting roles. It does, however, allow for one of SRK’s most entertaining and compelling performances hidden within a frothy masala film. A similar vehicle for Madhuri Dixit to demonstrate her abilities is lost within this film, peeking out at certain moments but drowning in the multitude of other characters taking attention from hers.

Interestingly, to take the comparison further – the key ingredients RNBDJ also had, beyond SRK’s star wattage, included the launch of a now major star in Anushka Sharma, and notably, the inclusion of a wonderful dance scene – an escapist celebration of Hindi film history, with cameos from five different heroines in Kajol, Preity Zinta, Bipasha Basu, Lara Dutta and Rani Mukherji (with SRK’s “Dil To Pagal Hai” co-star in Madhuri Dixit perhaps the notable omission). Such a scene with Madhuri alongside the three Khans and maybe Anil Kapoor and Akshay Kumar or Ajay Devgan would have likely been received rapturously. Or even shake it up further and have say, Sridevi, Juhi Chawla, Kajol, Karisma Kapoor and Aishwarya Rai?

Similarly, there are a confusing number of male suitors – it would have been more interesting to focus on one or, at most, two, in order to establish a meaningful dynamic with Dia:

It would have been preferable to either understand why marriage to Steve failed (and cast a real actor, not just a random white guy) and solve the bloated set up as a result, or ideally if the whole introductory section would be cut and have the film start with Dia’s return to Shamli after several years, and have her past be revealed as part of the gossip spread by Najma later on, there would be even less focus on the character of Steve who ultimately functions merely as a plot point to move the story along.

Alternatively, Mohan could become the main love interest and be an advert for the small town guy (and Indian) with simple values over the exotic foreigner, with an extra dash of patriotism never going amiss in terms of turning a Hindi film into a success, or alternatively (and preferably) have Mohan’s character merged with the Uday character (that is make Uday the jilted fiancé who has become the politician he has in the meantime), or cut Mohan’s character from the script entirely.

The problematic (if unoriginal) advice Dia gives to Anokhi in order to win over Imran is inconsistent with Dia’s characterisation as independently-minded, empowered woman and that any man in her life would be wanted and want her, rather than needed or require her to change who she is:

Dia gives romantic advice to Anokhi, who proclaims to unrequitedly love Imran, despite him treating her poorly and even threatening her at one point. In this context, the advice to smarten her appearance to impress him and to play hard to get are obvious and not exactly women-empowering.

It would have been better to see Dia advise Anokhi in gaining confidence and self-esteem, achieving in the show for its own merits and it might have been good to show a boy in Shamli with whom she has more in common and treats her better (in your Hollywood romantic comedy this would be the previously unnoticed best friend or older brother of the best friend). Or alternatively Imran could have grown up and apologised to Anokhi. Whilst he does mature later in the film, he rather shares his feelings but there is no real apology for his former behaviour towards her.

This is scene between Dia and Anokhi followed by Irrfan Khan’s character Farooque confirming himself as our bad guy as he attempts to scupper the attempts to put on the show, by attempting to influence Uday and then yells at his wife, Dia’s old friend Najma, about how his business interests may be hampered if Ajanta is saved. Her asks her to spread gossip in the town about Dia to increase the chances that the show is a failure.

Farooque: Artists are free spirited but she’s too free.

First there was that American.

Then she left her parents.

This presents a strange (if perhaps, human) contradiction between Dia’s free spiritedness and self-confidence in the face of social pressure and judgement of others, and the advice she gives to Anokhi.

Mohan, who continues to have unrequited feelings for Dia, meanwhile, speaks to Imran and tells him to confess his feelings to Anokhi before time runs out, with the obvious sub-text of his own feelings for Dia.

Farooque manages to bribe Chaudhary to switch his allegiances back from Ajanta and Dia. Chaudhary is confronted by Imran who stands up for Ajanta and says he has finally come to his senses. Anokhi fights to defend him from the attacks that follow. This is a turning point for Imran when he realises he prefers Anokhi’s good character to the strong men types he has followed before, and that he cares for her more than he had realised.

Nawazuddin Siddiqui’s bit-part character gets to reveal to the remainder of the cast and Dia that Farooque bribed Chaudhary to oppose Ajanta again, and that Najma was speaking ill or Dia, to her and Mohan’s shock and disbelief.

Dia: You were right. Who was I to be a martyr to this city’s cause?

When people said I’d leave for America after this show, they were right.

It’s unfair of me to leave you with this mess. If you stand by me Shamli will make life difficult for you. So whoever wants to can leave, I won’t hold it against you.

Her daughter is first to respond: I’m not leaving.

None of the cast choose to leave and in fact Najma arrives to apologise and step in in the role of Laila’s mother.

Dia’s return to Shamli is shown to have ultimately inspired her friend Najma to stand up to her husband and refuse to support gossip and social shaming:

Dia: You’ve always been fearless Dia, and I, afraid.

I spent my life married to a man who was married to his business.

But Dia, when I realised that, my fear vanished.

It’s been years since I danced. Or lived. Teach me to dance once again Dia. To live.

Madhuri’s reaction to the whole town turning out for the show is a delight. She is genuinely relieved. This moment where we see she does care about what the town thinks is well sold, but would have been more interested if not for this lapse earlier in her advice to Anokhi.

Spending more time on establishing truly what Dia’s principles were around needing (or not) the approval of others and reflecting this consistently, including in the advice given to Anokhi, and her relationship with Najma, would have strengthened the authenticity of the characters in the film and the audience identification with them.

The lack of youth icon factor for what is, essentially, a dance film a la ABCD 2 or Madhuri Dixit’s own “Dil To Pagal Hai”:

“Aaja Nachle” could have cast two youth icons as the characters of Imran and Anokhi, who then play the lead roles of Manju and Laila in the show performed by the residents of Shamli. Interestingly, looking at today’s cohort of big stars outside the Khans, three current big stars in Ranbir Kapoor, Sonam Kapoor and Deepika Padukone debuted in Hindi cinema just three weeks before “Aaja Nachle” released.

Another, Anushka Sharma, debuted a year later in another YRF production, and in 2007, the likes of Kareena Kapoor, Shahid Kapoor and Priyanka Chopra were starting in their careers and have since proved themselves more than capable of both the acting and dancing sides of being a Hindi film hero or heroine.

The dance film – the 90s hit “Dil To Pagal Hai” with Madhuri alongside Shah Rukh Khan and Karisma Kapoor, still retains a youthful energy and excitement even as it has dated with the passing of time and our three leads are no longer believable as characters within the same moment in life as Pooja, Rahul and Nisha.

A more recent dance film that exploded at the box office was the Shraddha Kapoor and Varun Dhawan starrer, last year’s “ABCD 2” (or “Anybody Can Dance 2”), did much to further cement both Shraddha and Varun’s status as among the youth icons of Hindi film today.

Lack of casting of top dancers alongside Madhuri:

Two of Madhuri’s most popular dance tracks in the last 15-20 years have been “Ghagra”, alongside Ranbir Kapoor in his 2013 hit film “Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani”, and “Dola Re Dola” in “Devdas” alongside Aishwarya Rai.

Part of the reason Madhuri’s cameo in the song “Ghagra” and her performance in “Dola Re Dola” were so celebrated was not just the wonderful choreography for either song, but that audiences got to see Dixit dance with a younger icon celebrated for their dance skills.

This further proves that by focusing on the authenticity of the supporting characters’ journeys as amateur dancers from beginners to performers, and casting accordingly, the opportunity to see Madhuri Dixit dance alongside a Shahid Kapoor or a Deepika Padukone was lost. These would have been sure to on-screen magic and meant that the film failed to capitalise on the combination of nostalgia for the grace, elegance and execution of Dixit in video songs from “Ek To Deen” right up to0 “Maar Dala” and their enthusiasm for new stars (such as for Kareena and Shahid in “Yeh Ishq Hai” and “Mauja Hi Mauja” from the (then) recently released hit, “Jab We Met”.

This is potent combination something that was either released later and contributed to the success of her stint on the small screen dancing show “Jhalak Dikhhla Jhaa”, or ended up as a retrospective proof of the potential success of this formula (only took a few years).

A failure to make full and appropriate use of a number of wonderful actors:

In addition to Madhuri herself, who acts with ease when she is given any meaty emotion to deal with in this film, Aaja Nachle discretely has some of India’s most acclaimed actors among the supporting cast – three National Award winners in fact in Nawazuddin Siddiqui, Irrfan Khan and Konkona Sen Sharma.

Konkona, however, has never been a youth icon in the mould as described above, and could have been better cast however as say a reworked version of Najma as Dia’s younger sister married to an older man and Dia’s last family connection in Shamli. Konkona Sen Sharma’s award-winning acting skills alongside Irrfan Khan would have been a more interesting pairing and the gaining of confidence and reconciliation between Najma and Dia could have carried more weight.

As mentioned above, the film could have rather launched or promoted two youth icons as Laila and Manju (any from among star kids Ranbir Kapoor, Sonam Kapoor, Deepika Padukone, Anushka Sharma, Imran Khan, who were all launched in 2007-2008, or newly established stars such as Shahid Kapoor, Kareena Kapoor, Katrina Kaif and Priyanka Chopra).

It would also work better to recast Nawazuddin Siddiqui (admittedly at the time, he was not as celebrated an actor as he has become) as the rival politican to Akshaye Khanna’s MP Raja Uday Singh. Siddiqui would have made a lot of a role as the opportunistic and morally and ethically dubious Chaudhary Om Singh and it would have been great to see Madhuri Dixit interact with him more. The plot could have played up the rivalries between these two politicians further and swing back and forth on who both the audience and Dia identify with, and with Irrfan Khan’s character kept as the out and out bad guy (though redeemed at the end).

Conclusion:

Ultimately the film is far from a bad one. Actually, its enjoyable, entertaining fair, that has a feel-good, uplifting ending. It weaves in authentic messages and arguments about the meaning of home, community and tradition without, for the most part, contradicting a strong theme of women’s empowerment and supporting a woman’s right to make her own decisions and not to be judged for them as a man wouldn’t be.

Madhuri Dixit lights up the screen and continues to possess that movie star charisma – her years away from films seem to have done nothing to diminish that. Her dancing continues to be (even now, nine years after this was released), unparalleled in how much it is celebrated (justifiably). This film adds to Dixit’s canon that prove her ability and will sit among her legacy in cinema.

However, the film is not without flaws, and these largely contributed to the film’s underwhelming performance at the box office. The film focused far too much on making time for a large supporting cast, who, whilst containing a number of supremely talented actors, could have been more appropriately cast.

Despite Dixit’s dancing ability, an opportunity was missed to cast alongside her a number of young, popular actors, highly-skilled and celebrated for their dancing to satisfy audience curiosity of how they “match up” against her. That her most popular dance songs in recent years follow this pattern is not a coincidence.

The premise of “Aaja Nachle” in principle works. It had huge potential to work as a vehicle to relaunch Madhuri Dixit in Hindi cinema. Its failure to do so as much as it perhaps should however, therefore lie at the feet of the, at times, inappropriate use of the supporting cast, missed opportunities with the video songs, and particularly, too much distraction away from a focus on Madhuri Dixit’s character, and her own character’s development. If these key points had been addressed, there is no reason to believe “Aaja Nachle” couldn’t have been a hit.

Verdict: “Aaja Nachle” has enough going for it, and identifiable missteps that prove this film was NOT cursed, or destined to fail just because it happened to be heroine-oriented. Any such “curse” is not proven by “Aaja Nachle”.

Found this interesting?:

Diwali 5-part special: “The Curse of the Comeback”

This Diwali “Women in Bollywood” celebrates with a five-part special, discussing the subject of heroine-oriented comebacks, that is, after actresses have taken some time away from the big screen and attempt a successful return.

As these breaks have typically, although not exclusively, coincided with developments in the personal lives of the heroines in question, the success or failure of these films have a wider implication in terms of a popular culture representation of changing societal expectations and acceptance of a woman’s continued career ambitions after marriage and childbirth, as well as opinions (changing or otherwise) on the compatibility of a maturing woman and the escapist glamour of commercial cinema.

That many of the films that witness an actress’ return to cinema after a multi-year break are heroine-oriented, this adds an extra level of relevance within the scope of this blog.

Notably, the actress Kajol’s two “comebacks” saw her star alongside  Aamir Khan in 2006’s “Fanaa”, and her long-term co-star Shah Rukh Khan in 2015’s “Dilwale”. Her roles were prominent but responsibility for the box office draw was shared with a major hero who had led a recent blockbuster hit.

This 5-part series will look rather at cases where the box office draw was left in the hands of a heroine absent from Hindi films for several years, and will discuss in each case – what worked, what didn’t and what could have been changed in terms of increasing the film’s success and positive reception.

Through these 5 films, released all in the last 10 years and showcasing a major heroine, a verdict will be reached on the premise of whether a heroine-oriented comeback is “cursed” or doomed to fail.

Curious?:

Vidya Balan in ‘The Dirty Picture’ (2011): the ultimate powerhouse performance

What defines a performance as “powerhouse”? I will define this through an exemplary powerhouse performance by Vidya Balan, in 2011’s “The Dirty Picture”.

Many women-centric films, defined simply by having a female protagonist, enable Hindi film actresses whether among the A-list heroines or indie stars to show off their acting prowess in ways not seen before. The possibility to add greater complexity in writing, direction and acting of character that is the lead, and the subject of the action rather than an object of the hero’s storyline, has seen career-best performances from several leading actresses. Three such performances have been discussed so far on Women in Bollywood in Sonam Kapoor in ‘Neerja’, Kangana Ranaut in ‘Queen’ and Deepika Padukone in ‘Piku’, and there a number of other examples.

Specifically, in 2011’s ‘The Dirty Picture’, Vidya Balan encapsulates some of the key elements of a powerhouse performance, where she plays a small-town girl Reshma who becomes South Indian film heroine ‘Silk’ famed for raunchy dance numbers. The key elements of her performance are explained below.

The usual SPOILER ALERT first – if you haven’t seen this film, and are interested in Hindi cinema, or women in cinema at all, please go watch the film and come back. The trailer is below:

  1. Vidya Balan’s complete lack of inhibitions

‘The Dirty Picture’, even thinking solely of its risqué name itself, was a bold and brave choice of a film. The lead role was notably turned down by now superstar heroine, Kangana Ranaut, who is not known for making ‘safe’ film choices premised on commercial appeal alone. Ranaut has since claimed this was due to worrying about the risk of stereotyping herself as an actress (an issue I touch on in my post on “Queen”). It is interesting to note what Ranaut said in a 2013 interview with critic Rajeev Masand:

Ranaut: And honestly, if I would have done the film I’m sure it would have not been such a big success, like when Vidya did it,

Masand: Really?

Ranaut: I think every actor brings their own personality to the film. When Vidya did it, it became a lot about the acting part, you know like, the actress is so talented. But you know, if I would have done it, I would have looked very sleazy doing those things. 

This shows that the role required a total lack of inhibitions around the erotic persona of Silk required to be portrayed for the role, and that whilst Ranaut was too concerned about this in the context of how she was viewed in the industry (rightly or wrongly), if Balan had any such concerns she was able to overcome them and create a narrative where her acting rather became what people want to talk about.

In Vidya’s very first scene in ‘The Dirty Picture’ in fact, we see her imitating the sounds of sexual pleasure. Whilst as the audience we are aware this is just an act, her neighbours who only hear her through the wall, are fully convinced it is the real deal, and are perplexed why she is able to achieve greater levels of passion.

Vidya is both able to convince the audience she is doing a believable impression, and to show the mischievous joy she experiences through this deception in her facial expressions alone. When it is revealed she was doing this in order to get the couple to stop making noise, we feel her frustration as they snore instead.

  1. Balan’s multi-layered performance

Throughout the film, Balan’s facial expressions, body language and dialogue delivery are as thought-through yet seemingly effortless enough to enable the audience to read multiple emotions and feelings as evident in the same scene or even same moment, creating a complex, multi-layered and believable character in Silk.

To imitate the mantra of Silk herself, perhaps a performance needs three things to be truly powerhouse: layers, layers, layers. And Vidya shows these layers.

What are some of these layers we see if we peel back one aspect after another of Vidya’s performance?

2.a. Reshma is shown as already understanding the power of her sexuality, even before she becomes Silk

Reshma: I have what boys desire. So who is better – me or a boy?

She flirts with the local men, and even teases her posters of her favourite heroes whilst bathing. However, at this stage of the movie Vidya acts her in a style that seems younger, more energetic, and places her as a flirt rather than a fully-fledged vamp.

2.b. We see a range of emotions that Reshma/Silk is feeling, often in the same scene or the same time

Later, as she is about to be cast as the lead item girl in film for the first time, she receives her glamorous makeover and with a dainty but excited smile, she is our heroine, Silk!

Her overnight success and hot property status means she is already starring alongside her hero she had a poster of just minutes earlier in the film. We see Silk’s nervousness and trepidation before the scene to come where they must take multiple shots, to the annoyance of the hero.

She is fiddling, biting on her lip, lost in thoughts and distracted.

Rather than her exaggerated steps from the breakthrough dance performance that garnered attention, she is seen to be lightly going through the motions. She doesn’t seem the sultry vixen she will later become.

She plays bashful when Suryakanth the hero calls her over. Her asks her name, to which she is not yet accustomed to the name Silk, and first answers Reshma before correcting herself. He reminds her how unimportant she is to the film and to him. She corrects him and he storms off following which she is fired.

Silk however has found her drive once again this is where the “heat” comes from. She uses this despite her axing from the film to seduce Suryakanth, giving her bargaining power over him – he can and does reinstate her into the film once again. Her seduction technique is to play an innocent and naïve girl in awe of her idol, but despite these dialogues, Vidya’s delivery is such is that we know Vidya is acting as Reshma acting as her new persona, Silk. Silk kicks in and she plays to his ego to place her not as one of 500 girls, but as the one girl he will be seduced by 500 times.

Later, when Silk moves into her new home fitting of a movie star, she briefly discusses with Rathnamma her relationship with Suryakanth. Whilst she is aware his married status is unlikely to change, and has some grounding in the reality of the situation she still appears as a typical young woman in love. Once again Vidya’s performance allows for a further sub-text – we can see she knows there is a level of self-delusion in this also.

2.c. Strength and vulnerability in one character

Vidya portrays Silk as both the strong, independent and resourceful siren who can manipulate men using her sexuality, and as a vulnerable individual restricted by her circumstances, demonised by society and victimised by certain men in particular.

We see both these sides to her character for example in the day at the races, when Surya cannot be seen with her publicly and the local women disparage her as too vulgar to fit in to such society. Her aggressive push back on the lack of a welcome for her shows her strength and ire, but she softens when she encounters a fan (later to be introduced as Suryakanth’s brother, Ramakanth).

We start to see that despite her insistence that she understands their equation, her growing possessiveness of, and jealously about, Suryakanth. Silk is left speechless and clueless of what to do on a rare occasion as Suryakanth’s wife Radhika returns to the house and calls after him whilst the two of them are in bed. She is angry with Suryakanth’s reaction to this situation and scared at the same time. On the bathroom floor, peeking through the keyhole, do we see Silk finally realise that Suryakanth is married and what this means in terms of their relationship.

In the escape scene we are shown Silk meeting with Ramakanth who drives her home. In this discussion we already see a more cynical and jaded Silk. She knows she can’t rely on others, not to be too idealistic and has found her role:

Silk: Hero and villain don’t matter because I’m the vamp in every story

This is a fierce declaration of strength and power.

Nevertheless, in the same scene she equally longs for the feeling of home, of belonging, and returns to her family home and sees her mother. For a second she is hopeful of a reconciliation before this hope is yet another one dashed as the door is shut on her in disgust.

  1. Acting as a character acting (Vidya acting as Reshma acting as Silk)

One of the ways Balan creates this multi-layered performance is by understanding the character of Silk as not only a character within the film but a persona that the real character Reshma attempts to put on, plays, and a persona that eventually engrosses her life enough to see the boundaries between Reshma and Silk not just blur, but Reshma fully become her Silk persona in a pseudo self-fulfilling prophecy.

The path is set already early on in the film, when after being rejected by a casting director, Reshma escapes by watching a film at the local cinema. On the walk out of the theatre the voice-over of the casting director is accompanied by a realisation by Reshma. She is not giving up yet.

She goes back to the set and gets her chance for two reasons – she is in the right place at the right time, and she is prepared to accept conditions the other women will not. In this case, literally being whipped for the purpose of the male gaze.

Her act when she gets this opportunity is to turn up the level of sexuality beyond the usual level of item songs, and gets the instant attention of the cameraman. This is emphasised by the clear contrast between the dancing girls behind her and the highly sexualised moves Vidya does in the name of Reshma before she is renamed as Silk. It is not just Vidya’s great acting we see here – but her acting is so good we also see and understand Reshma’s as well. She is not just a good dancer like other item girls, she can be a great item girl because she is using those acting skills she was so keen to show off.

Another plot point where we see this is following a scene where (already dressed in the height of late 70s fashion, fully engrossed in her Silk persona), the old Reshma seeps through in her glee that a magazine has singled her out as a star to be included in a feature on “how the stars live”. However, given she doesn’t live a glamorous lifestyle (yet) to match her onscreen persona, she adopts the same tactic of using her sexuality.

In this case, in order to distract the magazine journalist/photographer from her normal dwellings and the lack of allure in her daily life, she has him enter whilst she is in the middle of bathing and encourage him to interview and photograph her. He is so uncomfortable and drawn to her that there is no interest in the normality of the rest of her life.

We understand again that this is Reshma asking as Silk, through the layers of Vidya’s performance that include the seductress the journalist sees, the rouse Rathnamma sees and the underlying anxiety that she will be caught out, coexisting with a confidence that she will “get away with it” given the power of the “heat” she can bring.

4. Vidya’s use of humour in what is in theory, a tragedy

In a dramatic film which is at its heart, a tragedy which could almost be of the Greek, Shakespearean or operatic variety if made at a different time and place, it is notable that Balan gifts Silk a real sense of humour and wittiness. The dialogue helps with this but each comical line or moment is acted with such joy and genuine laughter that this becomes a thread throughout her character development as her sense of humour becomes increasingly dark and cynical in nature.

One of the most humorous parts of the film is the song “Ooh La La Tu Hai Meri Fantasy”, a wonderful spoof of item songs in general, where Vidya goes all out in her pastiche performance, with great accompaniment by Naseeruddin Shah. I have shared once again below:

Another funny moment is when it appears that Silk is attempting to seduce Ramakanth for the first time, and the following scene of only their faces initially appears to be an intimate encounter. It is quickly revealed that Ramakanth is in fact teaching Silk to drive, and the two scenes are rather Vidya as Silk flirting with the audience.

5. Balan lays out a clear character arc through not just the writing and direction of the film, but also through her performance

The growth is believable based on experiences, but shown as gradual. The ease with which Reshma is shown to be acting as her Silk persona increases over time, but ever decreasing snippets of her earlier personality are shown consistently underneath outward changes. The audience accompanies Reshma/Silk on her journey which is a believable arc despite significant character development due to Balan’s underlying understanding of who the character is and holding true to this throughout.

5.a. We see how dismissal of Reshma’s importance by men becomes a motivating factor for her transformation into Silk

During the casting when Reshma is turned away as not glamorous enough, this fits the audience perception of Vidya to date, as serious actress rather than a sex symbol, and so this holds as believable.

Despite this, we are shown how her bold personality approaches the casting director anyway, although we understand her initial motivations align with expectations in fact as she says, she doesn’t want to dance, she wants to act:

Casting director: Neither do you have the seductive charm of a lover nor the grace of a wife. You are very dull.

Reshma: I’ve been living on sugar for two days. So how can I look spicy?

She is shown as bold and spunky in this dialogue but Vidya’s facial expressions and body language also reveal her dejection and disappointment. The determination that follows is a continuation of the scene where she escapes her wedding at the very opening of the film, and marks a consistent character trait that Reshma/Silk is independently minded and resourceful, despite her circumstances.

5.b. We see how Reshma retains disgust at her sexual objectification but changes her response to it, trying to harness this external factor which she cannot control, for her own benefit by focusing on what she can

Reshma spends the money he gives her in pity for food on a ticket to watch her favourite hero, Suryakanth (played by Naseruddin Shah) in “Ranga Cowboy”.

A cinema-goer starts to rub Reshma on her leg and then propositions her – we understand her to be both shocked and horrified – just from Vidya’s facial reaction and body language. She enquires as to how much, and then questions the value as it is very little “I’m only worth 20 rupees?” This is revealing to her and her reaction is to responding violently – hitting him and loudly shouting at him. She storms out of the theatre in disgust.

This is a different position towards objectification and the male gaze that she takes later in the film.

The dancing scene is later added back into the film for its commercial potential – and indeed it brings in the crowds (of whistling men and photographers).

She is once again propositioned – this time by an adoring fan. As she doesn’t know the scene has been re-included in the film, she rejects him aggressively, denying she has ever acted in a film at all. We can understand this anger is different than before – as the rage draws on her earlier pain, confusion and she wonders if she can dare to dream of superstardom yet again.

She goes to watch her next film in what appears to be an almost empty cinema – only to see the crowds poor in as her song begins. They are there for her. She loves the adulation and we see both Silk on screen and Reshma watching in the audience – the crowd doesn’t recognise nor pay any attention to her at all. Reshma/Silk sees the power inherent in this persona and it thrills her.

5.c. The relationships with the three men in her life – Suryakanth, Ramakanth and Abraham show an evolution of her position in the relationship that mirrors her character development

With Suryakanth, she is much younger, and naïve in how she falls for him despite her protestations that she is aware of the dynamic of their relationship. When the reality hits of his commitment to his wife and she is merely the “other woman” to him, she is hurt and rejected. We see her mixed feelings of pain and anger, her vulnerability and her sense of injustice.

With Ramakanth rather, she has become by this point the experienced lover, and seductively questions him “how long a celibate ascetic like you can resist the charms of a single woman”, leaving him ecstatic with a simple kiss on the cheek. Ramakanth has the posters and magazines of Silk, much as Reshma had of Suryakanth before becoming Silk.

We see Silk’s joy and genuine laughter at being both in control of the relationship, and being adored and idolised by Ramakanth at the beginning of their relationship. She has clearly taken on the Silk persona by this point beyond when she is on camera, but the youthful energy and happiness is reminiscent of Reshma’s joy and wonder at her early opportunities. The energy is not merely coyness for the sake of seduction, but also a consistent character trait at the times when Silk is content within the film. This includes the youthful playfulness of the scene in which Silk and Ramakanth play with cake icing.

When the gossip piece is written on her relationship with Ramakanth, this initially doesn’t bother Silk as she is focused on the attention in of itself. Ramakanth is insistent however that this is concerning, and this causes Silk to go through magazine clippings and ultimately in an act of rebellion set a number of them on fire. The concern on Vidya’s face rather shows Silk’s nervousness but also indicates foreboding typical of the tragedy genre to the film’s audience. This act of rebellion becomes more public when she creates a scene outside Naila’s house where she is holding party to which all of the industry has seemingly been invited with the exception of Silk. At this point, however, the rebellion seems to be tipping into the path of self-destruction.

This leads to a stage in her career where despite her popularity, a new girl is emerging in the industry as competition, Shakeela, and Silk’s directors are bemoaning her off-screen drama and drinking habit. She is warned about the impact of walking out on the film in protest on her career, but has already become her on-screen persona Silk entirely, that she is unable to see the trees from the forest:

Silk: I am Silk. Silk. Don’t forget I’m a star.

An outraged Silk is shown panickedly drinking excessively, and calls to Ramakanth but is unable to get through as he is doing a pooja (the ultimate contrast in Hindi film of destructive and constructive behaviours). She insists on him being given the phone, as though he can somehow save her from her own destruction. His priorities however are different – he prefers to replace her in the film and place her instead in the role of a subservient, doting wife.

Her anger only increases in a car scene as they escape her having ‘made a scene’ in front of his parents:

Silk: Would your parents think I’m a decent girl? What is their impression now?

Ramakanth: They think you’re a lewd and disgusting girl.

Silk: Well, you’re in love with a girl like that. That’s my character on screen. I’m not like that in real life.

Ramakanth: That means you’ll stay this your entire life? Lewd and disgusting?

Silk: The thing that made me Silk. How can I let it go?

Ramakanth: Surya was right, women like Silk don’t belong at home

Silk: [looks right at Ramakanth]

[angrily] Of course, a bed is where she belongs isn’t it?!

[pulls the emergency break of the car and gets out]

Silk’s noose is ready for both of you.

[picks up a stone and throws it at the car, smashing the back window]

You can call me lewd and disgusting, see how I ruin you!

Silk’s return to films is then marked by her starring in a “triple role” film as a mother and two daughters (three times the Silk!) but this gimmick is also being adopted at the same time by the director Abraham who sought to scupper her career from the beginning. When his triple role film (which looks at least equally terrible, suggesting some double standards at play) receives applause and acclaim, and Silk’s film is panned, we see Vidya as Silk’s increasing nervousness as she watches the audience reaction. Her anxiety is so convincingly portrayed with a dash of surprise given her previous ability to enthral audiences if not critics, that it is clear this is not a temporary career concern, but part of Silk’s wider fall from success.

Abraham celebrates his success on the beach, where Silk is shown almost having reached a level of acceptance about her failure.

He tells her “you’re back to where you started from”

She responds “well, even you’ve come to me. You can’t live without me. My biggest fan”. The scene continues:

Abraham: I’m here to celebrate your defeat

Silk: Why? Don’t you have anyone to celebrate your success with?

Abraham: I had told you. You can’t defeat me.

Silk: But the fight was a pleasure. Silk is born to give pleasure. To her well-wishers and her opponents. And you are extra special.

Abraham: That’s what the papers say

Silk: But there’s still something you haven’t revealed. The fact that you like me. [Laughs]

This jaded Silk finds her last power in the hold she seems to have on Abraham. At a point when the industry, audiences and her past lovers in Suryakanth and Ramakanth have all lost interest in Silk, his passionate and conflicted feelings towards her do mean she holds his interest. Her emotional exhaustion as such seems to be temporarily relieved in his presence as she realises this as we see traits of the witty and flirtatious Silk from earlier in the film.

However, he is an inherently critical character, and critical of nothing and no-one more than he is of Silk. At a point when Silk is drowning in self-hatred and regret, this is the most unhealthy relationship she could choose to get into. Yet given her career and romantic failings, estrangement from her family and lack of friends within the industry or out, she has no real choice but to fall into this relationship.

Silk also talks about posing as her own mother in an interview with Naila, the photo from which Abraham also mistakes for her mother. It proves Silk was a shell that she was able shed with a simple make-under, traditional dress and demure body language.

He asks her if she has ever been in love and we see the inexperienced and almost naïve Reshma of old, when she says “love that takes your breath away? No”.

“Many have touched me, but none have touched my heart” places her almost as item girl version of the Chandramukhi vein, she is no longer the man eating movie star but rather possessing a pureness of heart.

6. Balan, against the odds, is able to create a sympathetic character out of a flawed woman who makes some arguably, poor choices and is left of the worse for it

There undoubtedly remains a double standard in the portrayal of complex and highly flawed male and female characters in popular culture (film, television, literature), not merely limited to Bollywood or Indian entertainment at all, but as a global double standard. This includes how the anti-hero phenomenon has struggled to include a significant number of similar anti-heroines for the reason that audiences hold higher standards of morality and ethical conduct for being able to relate to and emphasise with female characters than they do with male ones.

In the context of heroine-oriented Hindi films, this dilemma can be avoided by portraying inspiring heroines such Neerja Bhanot (done admirably well in this year’s “Neerja” however, where the character is far from a cliché), or entirely wronged by their situation through no fault of their own (perhaps beyond naivety), such as the jilted bride Rani in “Queen”. Other examples in the first category could be police officer Shivani Shivaji Roy in Rani Mukherji’s “Mardaani”, or Priyanka Chopra as the Olympic medallist from Manipur in “Mary Kom”. In the latter category we also have Sridevi as underappreciated wife and mother Shashi in “English Vinglish”, or the more violently-wronged Meera in NH10 essayed by Anushka Sharma.

With Reshma/Silk however, the lead is a challenging character in many ways for audiences to relate to. The Bollywood viewer remains conservative in comparison to Western standards at least, and individually would be very unlikely to either be personally comfortable, or comfortable for a close one, to imitate or look up to a real-life Silk. This separates the character’s reality from the audience. However, it is through relatable rationale for choosing the take the decisions she does; through an understanding of the circumstances around her she is unable to control; and through a convincingly but organically delivered critique of the audience and the industry that supports the item girl, that Balan brings her character to a level on which the average viewer can understand and emphasise with.

This does not mean her choices are fully supported or encouraged, but are provided with context so as to create a more meaningful and engaging story.

6.a. Reshma’s reasons for her decisions, even if unwise, are made clear and convince as genuine, and as such, are relatable to anyone who had a dream, fell in love or wanted to escape poverty or even just the ordinariness of life

We understand Reshma’s reasoning for transforming into Silk such as being able to realise her dreams of becoming a heroine; star alongside her icon, later her love and lastly her ex, film hero Suryakanth; and to escape poverty and the mundane routine of ordinary life:

For example, even after we are already introduced to the Silk persona we see Reshma’s more innocent side in her excitement to watch the film as it releases with Rathnamma (or “Amma”). She is on her way to becoming a star and there is a girlish enthusiasm in her laughter and gait.

She states with an almost convinced glee: Mark my words, now all my problems will go away.

Her increasing worry is also clear in her reduced excitement as each song arrives and finishes in the film, with a stark contrast between her mood and that of Rathnamma, as she has realised she has been cut from the film but also retains a small dash of hope that it is still somehow going to follow shortly and she will be on track to be the heroine she has dreamed of. Her watery eyes and look of utter disbelief are mixed with a pain of crushed innocent hopes. We don’t need Silk to utter a single word to understand her emotional state.

6.b. Vidya slays in her delivery of a monologue denouncing double standards of critiques of Silk not being matched with those of her audiences or the industry

At an awards ceremony, Suryakanth presents Silk with an award and he taunts her – with one particular critique breaking through her thick protective wall and the bluntness of his contempt for her is both shocking to her and still able to cause her pain. There is a vulnerability evident here that is soon pushed away in favour of power after she realises the audience is eagerly waiting for her to make her acceptance speech and this gives her a platform to say whatever she wants and be heard.

She acknowledges her infamy and that she is labelled as “vulgar, disgusting, sexy, dirty”. She blames this on the audience for ultimately objectifying her, noting even a sexualised version of her still had layers of authenticity and hard work that could have been emphasised instead, or even merely acknowledged. She calls them out on their hypocrisy, and that she is not the only “dishonourable” attendee (cut to a shot of a sheepish Suryakanth). She commands the centre of the stage, throws her cigarette on the ground in protest and proclaims that if people make, sell and watch films about sex, and even give awards for them, they are no more honourable than the item girl in these films. This is the truth-telling, hell-to-the-consequences version of Silk and gives Vidya the opportunity to deliver scathing dialogues in an impassioned monologue. That she does so convincingly after scenes where she is rejected by her lover in Suryakanth, and by her mother on what should have been her glorious return home, is all the more impressive. This monologue is given as driven by rage emerging from these rejections. She insists she will never change.

Whilst fully fitting within the plot of the film, this monologue has a dual audience – the audience at the awards ceremony, within the film, and the Indian film audience more widely. When Sunny Leone has turned herself into a major star in Hindi cinema single-handling fronting multiple box office successes despite limited acting or Hindi language skills, this speech remains highly relevant, notwithstanding the ability of an item song to transform the hype around an upcoming release.

Without the audiences these films, heroines and songs are not successes, and this is not an unfamiliar reality to the overwhelming majority of Hindi film aficionados. Therefore, it is at least expected within the boundaries of ‘The Dirty Picture’ that if the audience is to judge Silk for her sexualised roles and performances, it should also logically support judging the audiences spending their money and judging the industry making a profit.

6.c. The audience is helped to understand how Silk tries to turn the odds in her favour, but that in a male-dominated industry these remain against her

Early on in the film, Silk’s happiness at the time of her new found success should be short-lived as Suryakanth introduces Silk to the world of film criticism – and specifically to the gossip queen and film critic, Naila, that he has just spoken to candidly about his equation with Silk, to which she responds:

Naila: To portray men as saints, women have to be depicted as demons.

This follows a scene where Surya’s last heroine is shown to be playing his mother – and where the double standards faced by heroes and heroines in the industry. It is through this context we are to understand Silk and her choices, even if Silk doesn’t understand this yet.

Suryakanth’s attempt to emphasise she is only “dirt” to ensure Silk doesn’t get either too content or too ambitious is unsuccessful as she excited to see her photo in a magazine and that she is being talked about. Her happiness is finally over when Emran Hashmi’s character Abraham arrives and denounces Silk and her act and insists she cannot feature in his next film with Surya.

Selva replaces Abraham as the director upon Surya’s insistence when he refuses to consider Silk’s commercial appeal.

Silk is shown as curious about Abraham and what his “problem” with her is. He is of interest to her as he is the only man she has not yet been able to manipulate with her sexuality. She confidently informs him of her mantra:

Silk: Films need three things to sell: entertainment, entertainment, entertainment.

[winks]

And I am entertainment

Her eyes and smile show she enjoys the upper hand she has on him and the game they are playing, but also play to the audience directly in light of the previous point – the argument is that Silk is just providing what the audience deems to be entertainment from a woman in film. This act is based on making the best out of her options as a woman in a male-dominated industry, or taking lemons and making lemonade as the cliché goes.

6.d. Her fall from grace is shown dramatically, with her mistakes and flaws not left unhidden, but acted with an empathy for the character that reaches the viewer

A montage scene shows how Silk has spiralled into self-pity and despair, angry at small things, and dependent on alcohol and cigarettes. The wordless montage shows a frantic and anxious Silk, and her pain is clear. Her tearful, distraught screaming that follows as she looks for someone to blame and focus her anger at, shows her as highly vulnerable, lonely, and wanting to try to avoid feelings of self-hatred and shame. This is the appropriate moment for Silk’s breakdown.

During a scene where Silk goes to a director looking for work, he turns her down and asks if she needs money. She asks for 5 rupees only to his great surprise. This draws Reshma/Silk’s arc full circle as she reminisces about the 5 rupees from the casting director that rejected her that “brought her luck”. Given how jaded and worn out Silk seems at this point, this is hard to believe and Vidya’s breathy delivery is such to allow the viewer to understand that Silk isn’t even sure of this either, but is just longing for simpler times.

Her lowest point is shown when she is out of money, with no film offers, and she remembers a small-time director who offered her a part during more successful times. She gets in touch and arrives to start shooting, when she realises he is an adult film director. Vidya shows Silk as horrified, shocked and confused in one. She is immensely vulnerable in this moment, out of options but unwilling to work in adult films. Her dazed look takes a deep and long stare at the pile of hard cash he places in her hands whilst trying to convince her to go ahead with the film. She tries to drink her way into feeling comfortable, but her previous love of alcohol seems lost in this moment and she winces as she slugs the drink down quickly.

Thrown onto the bed and about the shoot the scene, a dazed and confused Silk is unable to muster the “heat” she turned on so comfortably given the nature of the film, when the studio is raided and she rushes to escape, nearly trampled on the way. She makes her way home but her despair is such that it leads to her tragic demise.

Throughout the film the audience is left with the feeling that Vidya has fully immersed herself in this character and has understood fully the mindset and circumstances that led to her tragic ending. By having a deep and genuine empathy for the character herself, combined with her ability to portray multiple emotions and establish the complexity of her character on screen, this empathy can easily be picked up and embraced by among the least astute of viewers of ‘The Dirty Picture’.

By sharing her understanding of her character with the audience, where she has slot her performance into an extensively envisioned world, Balan gifts cinema a truly powerhouse performance, entirely worthy of the acclaim it received. It is not only the film’s box office success that was game changing, but the lead acting performance within the film itself.