Curse of the comeback? Part Two of Five: Preity Zinta in “Ishkq in Paris” (2013)

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

The second film looked at is 2013’s “Ishkq in Paris” which saw Preity Zinta, a hugely popular actress in her peak with blockbusters such as Veer Zaara, Kal Ho Na Ho, Dil Chahta Hai and Koi Mil Gaya, attempt a comeback following consecutive unsuccessful films, a shift towards non-Hindi and more arthouse projects, and then a five-year hiatus. Notably this break was not due to or corresponding with marriage and/or children (Zinta married rather this year [2016]).

Zinta’s most recent Hindi films, prior to her 2013 comeback in “Ishkq in Paris”, Jaan-E-Mann and Jhoom Barabar Jhoom, were commercially unsuccessful and critically unappreciated, leaving Zinta to explore roles in other languages (including ‘The Last Lear’ and English-language film, and Punjabi and English language film “Heaven On Earth”. This put extra pressure on her return to be a hit, and the large a gap since her last successful Hindi films (2006’s Kabhi Alvida Naa Kehna and 2005’s Salaam Namaste as a lead) meant the film needed a gimmick or something instantly different to attract attention and get people buying tickets.

This didn’t happen. Rather, for “Ishkq in Paris”, which suffered a very poor box office run, there are very identifiable reasons the film was unsuccessful, not exclusively limited to the film itself.

The usual SPOILER alert – and whilst the film is not one that will stay with you forever, it was perhaps unfairly singled out as an example of what not to do. So if  you have some time to spare, check out “Ishkq in Paris”, especially if you are a fan of Zinta’s other work or of the romantic comedy generally. Trailer below:

The missteps of “Ishkq in Paris”, and how they could have been avoided:

A pure romance plot was not in-keeping with contemporary commercial films:

“Ishkq in Paris” missed the fact that sugary romance films are not as popular as they were in the 90s and early 2000s and the highest grossing films now incorporate romance but generally lead with action, comedy or drama as the main genre (e.g. Bajirao Mastani [drama], Chennai Express & PK [comedy], or Dilwale & Ek Tha Tiger [action]).

Profitable films in recent years without the Khans have also typically not been of the sugary romantic genre – this year Neerja [thriller], last year Tanu Weds Manu Returns [comedy], Queen [travel/buddy film], NH10 [thriller], Piku [drama], Ek Villian [thriller] and Pink [drama].

Increasing the comedy element of the film, a natural fit for Zinta, would have been an obvious solution, as an action or thriller element would involve entirely reworking the movie, and added drama would have lost the light and fun feeling the film attempts to leave its viewers with.

A more stereotypically youth-oriented plot unlikely to appeal to those who had grown up watching Preity Zinta:

The most successful recent films which could perhaps be categorised under this genre still had other box office pull such as Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani (popular songs, buddy/travel film element, off-screen gossip around the lead pair), Humpty Sharma Ki Dulhania (youth market, popular songs), 2 States (youth market).

Preity Zinta fans, however, who had idolised her in films such as Kal Ho Naa Ho and Veer Zaara, even the youngest ones who would have been teens at the time, by the release of “Ishkq in Paris” would be 10 years older, having matured into adulthood likely with the responsibilities that come with that.

The Paris setting and Frenchness of the lead character meant the film lacked a desi quality needed to appeal to the Indian audience:

In Ishkq in Paris, Zinta plays a Half-French, Half-Indian character called Ishkq, who meets Akash a ‘Funjabi’ from Delhi, on a train from Rome to Paris. Arriving in Paris he asks her for a no-baggage night out in the city, to which she agrees.

The three aforementioned pure romance/romantic comedy films that were successful in recent years – 2 States, Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani and Humpty Sharma Ki Dulhania were all largely shot in India or promote the importance of home (note Naina wanting to remain in India despite her love for Bunny, and his return for the location wedding in Rajasthan; Kavya choses the local boy Humpty over the NRI Angad; and 2 States is set across Gujarat, Delhi, Maharashtra and the titular “two states” of Tamil Nadu and Punjab.

The film’s entire setting in Paris (although with some parts filmed allegedly in Lyon and Prague) that there was some interest specifically in shooting in Paris over any emphasis on creating audience interest. The setting lives the film ending up as a strange mix of Aditya Chopra’s upcoming film Befikre, 2014’s Queen – largely set in Paris and Amsterdam, Tamasha – with the first part seeming like an advert for Corsica’s tourist industry, Hum Tum – which involves a lot of scenes in locales in New York and Paris which simply involve Saif and Rani’s characters discussing the relationships between men and women, and perhaps the most obvious influence is the 1995 Hollywood film “Before Sunrise”, which perhaps indicates another reason why the film feels dated.

Failure to acknowledge the space the characters would really be in during their late 30s:

In the film whilst there is a small mention of Akash’s career as an agent, we know very little actually about Ishkq’s life in Paris – her career (if she has avoided long-term relationships, it would be highly possible she could have instead focused on being accomplished in her career), nor do we meet any of her friends (another possible focus of her attention). This film in another mould could have been a desi Bridget Jones’ diary – where Bridget is shown trying to advance in her career and also as having a close knit group of friends, but being “unlucky in love”.

This leaves Ishkq as an unrealistic character to be portrayed by Preity Zinta herself at this stage in her career. Zinta producing the film for Alia Bhatt and Varun Dhawan (a la Humpty Sharma Ki Dulhania) as a modern day Simran and Raj would have had a better chance of succeeding in its current format. A version to relaunch Preity Zinta’s career needed to play down the impact of her parents (would even a Half-Indian woman who has lived her whole life in France still be living with her mother in her late 30s? Unlikely), and perhaps her learnt habits of living life as an independent woman that she might be unwilling to sacrifice. This would have made for a more believable character, script and more relatable film with a greater appeal and chance of success.

The songs were underwhelming – this meant a lack of buzz, and failure to capitalize of the Salman Khan cameo:

Akash leaves for London and we reach the interval. He stalks Ishkq on Facebook and is invited to a friend’s wedding in Paris and stalks her in Paris for real.

He asks Ishkq to do him a favour and be his +1 for the wedding. She agrees and when at the wedding claims she is there rather scouting for cute guys.

At the wedding reception Preity as Ishkq declares “I love Bollywood” in a meta moment when it is announced a major B-Town star is attending. The song breaks and it is indeed a major star – a cameo from Salman Khan no less, who unfortunately for the viewers, has not exactly established his popularity due to smooth dance moves (this is no Hrithik Roshan or Madhuri Dixit video song cameo).

A better soundtrack more generally (the use of some of Hindi film’s most popular playback singers in the likes of Shreya Ghoshal and Sunidhi Chauhan isn’t matched with catchy tunes). They also feel, like the pure romantic comedy genre itself, as not in keeping with the zeitgeist of popular tracks in 2013 when “Ishkq in Paris” was released. This is especially curious but also important as some of the tracks from Zinta’s biggest hit films have had lasting popularity and allow for repeat listens even in 2016 (including the title track to “Kal Ho Na Ho” and “Maahi Ve” from the same film, and the songs “Main Yahan Hoon” and “Tere Liye” from “Veer Zaara”. Such memorable songs in “Ishkq in Paris” would have helped create buzz for the film that would have increased the initial occupancy as the film opened.

So what did work?

Parts of the film are a fun watch – I enjoyed the “rolling of the dice” as a framing device setting up different scenes and locations, and the two of them acting out a “film within a film”:

Akash and Ishkq visit the Eiffel Tower, and after purchasing a “fun dice” from an eccentric Indian street-seller and after rolling “party”, they go to a night club for dancing and obviously the first song of the movie (which in-keeping with the point above, is unfortunately quite generic and forgettable).

They share best pick-up lines and break up lines, and then roll the dice again and land on “dinner”. At dinner they meet a psychic that predicts that Ishkq will marry within a few months and that she will meet her father very soon (the first taken lightly and the latter prediction receiving a much more serious and concerned reaction).

They roll the dice once again to try to cheer up Ishkq and land on “movie”. She remarks its too late in the night to catch a film and he wants roll again, with Akash hoping of course to land on “sex”. Iskhq shuts this down, and proposes instead making their own movie (somewhat of a meta joke given Preity produced and co-wrote the film). They act out their own romantic drama, during which Ishkq berates the improvising Akash for adding that the heroine has waited 8 years for the hero’s return.

“This is a rubbish love story” she declares, asking him if he thinks he’s Zinta’s Jaan-E-Mann co-star and friend Salman Khan. Finally, he puts on a more convincing performance, ending with a declaration of love. The Veer Zaara star remarks “[y]ou watch a lot of Yash Chopra romances”.

They spend the rest of the night discussing their fears and emotional baggage (so much for a no baggage night) and roll the dice again landing on coffee as dawn breaks.

That the relationship begins between Akash and Ishkq with a full third of the movie to go is a little less predictable:

We learn Ishkq has never been to India and of her father’s absence in her life since she was 7. They begin a relationship (somewhat less predictable than expected that this happens only two thirds of the way through the film rather than at the end).

There is a strong theme of women’s empowerment in the fact that Ishkq is not a character looking for a man to solve her problems. Rather her relationship with Akash builds on a flirty friendship into something more:

Whilst it is somewhat frustrating that the main obstacle to Ishkq and Akash’s relationship seems to be her “daddy issues” causing a fear of commitment, this short dialogue stood out in particular:

Akash: Don’t want to hear what Ishkq?

The truth that I love you?

That I want to spend my life with you?

And be the one to save you from ever being lonely?

Ishkq: Save me?

Really?

Save me?

I’m very happy the way I am!

And I can look after myself.

I don’t need a goddamn saviour, OK?

That this argument is the obstacle that causes their split is authentic and allows the audience to identify with both sides, to identify with Ishkq’s frustration with his need to “fix” her, but appreciate Akash when returns apologetic with an attempt at reconciling.

Ishkq’s mother Marie tries to help by explaining to Ishkq that in fact she and her father split amicably, and she discouraged her father from remaining in their lives. If this had been kind words from a mother attempting to do what was right for her child’s happiness, rather than the truth, this may have been a more interesting plot point. There is no indication this is the case however.

End scene as a taste of what this film could have been in another guise

A scene that is more reminiscent of Bridget Jones’ Diary and one of several snippets of what this film could have been is the scene at the end where Ishkq is running in a hoodie, jeans and a pair of Uggs to the Gare du Nord train station to catch Akash at the food court where she had highly recommended the laksa.

This is fully within the conventions of the romantic comedy genre, but adds a twist that is softly comical and in-keeping with the character. Preity Zinta has enough personality, film experience and screen presence that a fully fleshed out Ishkq could have become a great film character, but the disconnect between her characterisation as written in the script, and the casting of Preity in the role mean this never manifests.

Zinta as Producer and businesswoman

Preity Zinta has joined a growing club of heroines moving into production with “Ishkq in Paris”. Whilst this will undoubtedly lead to mixed results, Zinta contributed to supporting this trend and creating a role for herself, not relying on opportunities to emerge where there are fewer. The three Khans, Akshay Kumar and Ajay Devgan have all been heavily involved in film production, so it is encouraging to see other heroines also make similar moves, including Anushka Sharma in 2015 with NH10 and next year’s “Phillauri”, Priyanka Chopra supporting regional cinema with her company Purple Pebble Pictures and with Sonam Kapoor rumoured to be joining her Producer sister Rhea (who produced Sonam-starrers “Aisha” and “Khoobsurat”) in the production of the upcoming “Battle for Bittora”.

Perhaps learning from her producer experience, Zinta has now switched her focus to business ventures, notably her involvement as a co-owner of the IPL team Kings XI Punjab, where she has been celebrated for her success as a businesswoman and remains passionate cricket fan.

Conclusion:

“Ishkq in Paris” is a far from perfect film. It was, perhaps even destined to fail from the beginning, given the need for a new angle or gimmick to garner interest, after a significant spell away from Hindi films for the lead actress Preity Zinta.

Both the critical and box office battering it received, are however, unfair. Zinta does a fair job and in fact both leads are likeable and do their best with the format to engage the viewer. A seeming lack of clarity of what the film might be trying to say about relationships, however, is lost in an array of inspiration from romantic comedy films from both India and the West. It leaves the audience feeling that the film is unoriginal in concept and delivery – a likely reason why critics were particularly harsh.

It is worth considering to what extent gender factored in here. The film is produced by a woman, widely known for her independent mind and outspokenness in the industry, playing a Western character (of partial Indian descent), in a Western locale, in Western clothing. She has the guts to be the lead, literally naming the film after her character (or character after the film – its hard to tell), and casts a relative unknown actor alongside her as the male lead.

Most potently, the subject matter is romance and the genre is a light romantic comedy – considered particularly to appeal to female audiences rather than male ones. It could quite easily fit in the genre I’ve coined “lipstick cinema” – with upcoming films such as Sonakshi Sinha’s “Noor” and the Kareena Kapoor/Sonam Kapoor film “Veere Di Wedding” seemingly fitting into this genre.

It will be interesting to see what reception they receive by audiences and critics, and how they manage marketing in advance. Films which appear to directly market to women are considered as less serious, of lesser quality and are charged often even in advance of watching, as not worthy of even viewing.

Verdict: This film does suggest that heroine-oriented comebacks are held to a higher standard. “Timepass” films which engage the viewer’s attention for a couple of hours and end with a feel good conclusion are many in number, but few find themselves in front of either commercial or critical obstacles such as faced by “Ishkq in Paris”.

Whilst there are evident flaws in the premise and delivery detailed above, whether these would have truly lead to an acceptance of Zinta’s return to movies remains a question.

“Content is king” is a common phrase these days and holds true – but if there is an audience that watches the content in the first place. A disastrous first day collection set the course for “Ishkq in Paris” as a box office flop that was always going to be impossible to overcome. The film’s flaws largely lie within the context of the challenges associated with a film return when trends, style and execution have all changed in the meantime. The other main barrier deals with a catch-22 of a perceived in-authenticity for women over 35 to portray stories that suggest the youthful escapism cinema is selling to its audiences (this does not in the slightest apply to our male heroes), and a general lack of interest in stories that actually reflect the lives of women over 35.

As such “Ishkq in Paris” is the first piece of evidence to suggest perhaps there is a “curse” against heroine-oriented comebacks – sometimes there is a double standard, and sometimes the obstacles are too hard to overcome.

Found this interesting?:

 

 

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?:

Queen (2014)

Kangana Ranaut’s 2014 superhit “Queen” is a film that subverts expectations in a number of ways, changing the attitudes of audiences through the eyes of its protagonist.

On starting this blog, I knew I had to discuss this film as early on as possible. But why? Why is this film important? The context of lead actress Kangana Ranaut’s career path, and film conventions are crucial to understand to grasp why this film is so groundbreaking.

It is worth noting that, indeed, Kangana Ranaut was already more than a jobbing actress in Bollywood before Queen – notably she had won a National Award for her turn in 2008’s “Fashion”, at a time in which women-orientated movies were so infrequent that this film’s success stood out in particular. The film won both critical acclaim and drew in large audiences male and female alike, with India’s now international superstar Priyanka Chopra also seeing herself awarded with a National Award for the very same film.

However, whilst Kangana’s performance was appreciated and the positive reception towards her performance was merited, this film embodies how she was then pigeon-holed as an actress for years going forward. That is, she was seen as a supporting actress rather than a lead, great for grim, female-orientated movies chronicling poor treatment, and perfect at embodying “damaged women”.

Somewhat bizarrely, 2014’s “Queen” changed that narrative. Why is this bizarre? Well the film sees Kangana portray Rani, a young woman jilted by her fiancé just a day before their wedding, and is left to honeymoon in Europe alone whilst still heartbroken and devastated at how she’s been treated. Whilst it’s certainly a lead role, it was by no means a major blockbuster release (a la “Krrish 3”, her release that directly preceded “Queen”) and certainly Rani has been poorly treated, and initially looks like she could spiral into a caricature of such “damaged women” at the start of “Queen”. Being left travelling alone in Europe as a naïve, inexperienced young woman could have seen Rani embody this archetype. For those of you who’ve seen this film, you will know already this is not exactly the direction chosen.

Therefore, it is easy to view the casting of Kangana then in this role as only the first of many ways that “Queen” subverts the expectations of the casual or seasoned Bollywood viewer. I have picked out and explained 5 others below.

The usual SPOILER alert for the below – again, if you haven’t seen “Queen”, it comes highly recommended and not just by me, so go watch and come back!

Trailer is below:

Act of subversion number 1 – re: the wedding party dance number over the end credits of the movie

In Queen, we get the dance number over the credits is the opening credits! Enjoy “London Thumakda” below:

There are different dance scenes throughout the movie that either allude to, or directly reference this scene. This is somewhat unusual nevertheless as the wedding party dance number itself therefore becomes an important theme and drives Rani’s character development, which ultimately is the entire plot and focus of the film.

Act of subversion number 2 – re: Europe as a romantic location – where a girl falls in love with a boy!

The Hindi film lover knows that foreign locales, and particularly European settings are where young couples fall in love. This is embodied best, of course, in Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge.

Not so in “Queen”. Rather, Vijay and Rani’s romance plays out in middle-class India – and it is the exotic locales of London, Paris and Amsterdam which firstly convince Vijay to call of the wedding, and in Rani’s case, allow her to move on from her relationship with Vijay. This inherently posits overseas locations as “anti-romantic” – it is where first Vijay and then Rani fall OUT of love.

The Eiffel Tower, almost certainly the most famous image of any spot in Europe, haunts Rani in a comical scene where she tries to run away from the tower and the memory she associates with it of Vijay, to little avail.

European travel is rather presented as a way of making friends rather than falling in love – and we see this initially in Paris with Rani and Vijaylaxmi.

Later, after a big night out in Paris, Rani and Vijaylaxmi go clothes shopping, with Rani picking out comicly bad outfits, to the disapproval of Vijaylaxmi, who in frustration chooses out an item for Rani and takes away her other clothes so she can’t change back. An uncomfortable Rani takes a photo of herself in the outfit instead of leaving the changing cubicle and attempts to send it to Vijaylaxmi. Given this is a movie – the text goes to Vijay instead (try sending a text from Paris to Delhi in real life and see how easy it is to do that accidently). This revives Vijay’s interest in Rani.

When Vijay travels to Paris to reconcile, Rani is already on the train leaving for Amsterdam, she cannot, and more significantly, will not catch him jumping onto the train (or more appropriately – be caught jumping if she is the typical heroine). Rather as he rings her to announce his arrival in the French capital, an angry and upset Rani declares “Rani is dead” and hangs up.

Almost at the end of the film, during her final day in Amsterdam, when meeting with a Vijay pleading with her for forgiveness, ultimately she realises she prefers instead to be with her friends and leaves to go the rock show. Friendship trumps romance.

Act of subversion number 3 – re: the sexually-active woman as a cautionary tale

“Fashion”, Kangana’s heroine-oriented feature that predated “Queen” as referenced above, was a positive step for women due its meaty roles offered to Hindi film actresses, its success at the box office and its critical acclaim, but the film itself has a number of issues worth discussing in another post. Relevant here is the fall of both Kangana and Priyanka’s characters through which they are treated as cautionary tales – i.e. “this is what happens to women when they make the wrong choices”. Whilst Kangana’s character meets a tragic fate and becomes the ultimate cautionary tale, Priyanka’s character also sees her very lowest point represented when she has casual sex with a foreign (and curiously, also black) man. Madhur Bhandarkar’s “Heroine” also follows similar problematic storylines with Kareena’s character whose low point is marked prominently as a lesbian affair.

Rather in “Queen”, the main character seen as sexually active is the character Vijaylaxmi, played by Lisa Haydon, a firengi woman we are first introduced as Rani suffers the displeasure of overhearing Vijaylaxmi’s noisy sex with on-off-boyfriend. The scene, played for humour, is shocking to the virginal Rani, but in literally her honeymoon suite (with no irony lost), also quite clearly piques her sexual curiosity.

We meet Vijaylaxmi face to face for the first time as she smokes on the balcony in a shirt and underwear, cursing aggressively and speaking crudely and explicitly about her lover’s [lack of] manhood. She is painted fully as a glamorous supermodel-type and acting as the ultimate anti-Rani.

We later learn that Vijaylaxmi is also an unmarried mother, and that her sexually liberated attitude cannot be put down fully to her Frenchness or Western moralities – she is, as her name is chosen to emphasise, also half-Indian, the offspring of a passionate affair between her Spanish-French mother and Indian father in India’s city of sin, Goa.

Furthermore, rather than any male saviour, if Rani relies on any other individual during her time in Paris, it is her new found sister Vijaylaxmi – who retrieves her passport from the police and consoles her as Rani wails and bemoans her current status and joins her on the bar top in a first real glimpse of a free and happy Rani since being jilted by Vijay.

This scene has parallels with the scene at the beginning where Rani joins in the dancing to “London Thumakda” along with her grandma and all the aunties. We then cut to a flashback scene of Vijay berating Rani for dancing “inappropriately” raising concerns over the impact on his own image and reputation. In terms of enabling an environment where Rani is free to express herself and be happy – Vijaylaxmi, despite her sexually liberated ideas and lifestyle, is a better ally than Vijay.

In the taxi back to the hotel – the nauseous Rani and Vijaylaxmi discuss burping, and this short but fascinating scene encapsulates much of the whole of “Queen” and the message it contains. The dialogue, whilst seemingly trivial, addresses the concept of social permissiveness by admitting there may also be some positive aspects to liberal attitudes, without denying there may also be downsides or that other choices may be legitimate. Part of the dialogue I include below (in the film this is mostly in Hindi, but below is purely in English):

Rani: in India girls aren’t allowed to burp

Vijaylaxmi: everything is allowed here

Rani: But then in Rajori girls aren’t allowed to do much

Rani: Lets both burp today

           [burps]

Vijaylaxmi: “You’re quite good at it”

Rani: [burps again]

          “you also burp”

           [they both burp]

The Hindi film character Vijaylaxmi has some obvious parallels with is Deepika Padukone’s Veronica from the movie “Cocktail” (conveniently a film Rani, the aunties and even her grandma all reference fondly at the beginning of “Queen”). Both Veronica and Vijaylaxmi are shown as alcohol drinking, party loving and engage in casual sex but remain characters the audience finds likeable and can identify with. There are some key differences between the two worth noting however. Veronica is shown as sad and lonely, and using her hedonism as a form of escape, when she deep down desires a more conventional life. She is also too liberal to be the object of the hero’s affection at the end of the film, and she sacrifices her happiness on his behalf in favour of the innocent and virginal Meera. Vijaylaxmi, rather, is shown to be happy with her life, enjoying her freedom, and does not appear to look for validation from men. The most important man in her life who makes her happy seems to be her young son, and she enjoys the role of a mother. Conventional desires such as motherhood are shown to co-exist with a free spirited nature and progressive lifestyle.

Beyond Vijaylaxmi, whose free spirited nature is now somewhat accepted as she has proved herself a good friend to Rani, the audience is pushed further as Rani and her hostel roommates visit the red light district of Amsterdam to deliver a gift from Vijaylaxmi to her friend Roxette. Roxette is a working girl in the euphemistic meaning – i.e. a prostitute, who initially mistakes Rani for a paying customer.

Once she realises who Rani is, we immediately see a different dimension to her as a character. The oldest of seven daughters, as she explains to Rani, she started working in the sex industry despite her degree in commerce due to the difficulties she faced finding other employment and financial responsibility she faced after the passing of her father (literally calling herself the “beta” of the house). Roxette (or Rukshar), mentions the legality of prostitution in the Netherlands, the earnings she can make and that the work comes with government benefits.

Rani asks if she couldn’t do another job as working as a prostitute is a “very difficult job” and the profession is not treated entirely without stigma – Rani’s reason for being there as it is a parcel from Rukshar’s mother who has Vijaylaxmi’s address instead to avoid discovering her daughter’s line of work is a dose of the reality around sex work that despite Rukshar paying for two of her sisters to go to university and for the wedding of another, her life is hidden from her family.

This storytelling goes to explain Rukshar and her life choices to allow for a level of acceptance of her both by Rani and the audience. Whether they agree with them or not becomes irrelevant, the audience through Rani understands the factors that have led to making them. Rukshar adds Rani as a Facebook friend and ultimately they have a fun night dancing echoing back to Rani’s night out in Paris earlier in the film. They part with Rani complimenting Rukshar’s dancing and offering an invite to Delhi.

Act of subversion number 4 – re: female-male friendship as ultimately merely a precursor for romance

Kuch Kuch Hota Hai, Hum Tum, Kal Ho Na Ho, Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani, Wake Up Sid, Band Baaja Baaraat, Anjaana Anjaani, ABCD 2 or a multitude of other films would teach any Bollywood viewer to expect male-female friendships to evolve into romantic feelings and relationships. In portraying travel as an avenue to develop and cement friendships however, including between men and women, “Queen” subverts this common convention of in particular Hindi films, but also cinema in general. The viewer accompanies Rani on making this discovery.

On arrival in Amsterdam, Rani discovers that her hostel room involves her sharing with three guys (Tim, Taka and Aleksander) – a concept that is completely unfathomable to Rani and her views on appropriate male-female interaction.

She initially insists on another room, but after being informed none are available, sheepishly enters and shortly after makes a fake call to Vijay so that her roommate can understand there may be a man arriving at any point, as a form of protection. This is another example of her resourcefulness at pressure points.

She also reopens the door despite a brief argument immediately prior between Aleksander and Taka. She finally resorts to sleeping in the hall, when she is woken from her Vijay-related nightmares by Tim, to which Rani screams in fear, once again screaming “Mummy, Mummy”. Her screams wake up the other two roommates who join them in the hall and the three ultimately convince her to sleep inside the room and they will sleep out in the hall instead.

The next morning Rani makes breakfast in the hostel kitchen for her three roommates as a pseudo-peace offering.

Later Taka enters the room whilst Rani is skype-ing with her family and she instantly asks him not to making himself known, given her family’s likely disapproval.

The same day, Rani is showering when the guys return from a day out in Amsterdam, and Kangana shows Rani’s panic in her face before she is shown checking the lock.

Soon after however, she starts screaming and the guys look to help her, but obviously the door is locked. Seconds later, Rani runs out of the bathroom and the guys enter to see what happened, only to (humorously) also start screaming, run out and join Rani on the top bunk of the bed furthest from the bathroom.

We then learn it is only a lizard (how many lizards are there in Amsterdam?) and Rani takes comfort in the fact they were all scared through this these three young, foreign men are brought to her level of vulnerability – she no longer sees them as a sexual or physical threat, but rather

Rani approves the three guys sleeping in the same room as her and at this moment their friendship truly can begin. She is invited to hang out with them the following day, and later when she rings her friend back in India, who asks her if she has met any hot guys, her response is she has met some guys, but it is clear she does not seem them romantically.

Her new found friends are seen as encouraging and supportive, unlike her romantic interest in Vijay. We see this when Aleksander, the Russian painter, encourages Rani when she asks him about his artwork and says she also “wants to do something”. His response of “who is stopping you?” cuts to a scene of her and Vijay. Taka later encourages her also when the opportunity arises for her to work by showing off her culinary skills in a competition.

It is later revealed that Taka has lost his family, along with his job and his home in the 2011 Tsunami and Rani’s reaction that “[he] is alone?” is important for its response from Aleksander “[n]o, he has us”. This firmly establishes the friendship group as a makeshift family – and if men and women are like family this creates an alternative paradigm through which to see male-female friendship. Through this lens, it can be as platonic as family members, and does not need to develop into a romantic entanglement.

At the end of Rani’s time in Amsterdam you can imagine her placing a Rakhi not just on Chintu but also Aleksander, Tim and Taka – they have become like her brothers. This includes when they intervene in Vijay attempting to pull Rani away with him and she resists, but also stepping back when she asks.

Ultimately, spending time with her three friends and makeshift brothers becomes preferable to what she thought she wanted at the beginning of the movie – that is, time with Vijay, even if Vijay does not approve of her being friends with, and certainly not sharing accommodation with, three young men. Rani has by this point realised this opinion is foolish and doesn’t care, and by this point too, neither does the audience.

Act of subversion number 5 – re: the conservative to socially liberal transformation turning a woman into a desirable commodity, and the reconciliation of hero and heroine as a result

Rani’s social conservatism and general innocence is emphasised throughout the early part of the film that documents Vijay and Rani’s courtship. In fact, it is this innocence and conservatism that is Vijay’s reason for cancelling the wedding, as he considers himself more worldly in comparison following a stint in the US. Whilst we don’t see this period in Vijay’s life, as the focus is on Rani’s perspective, we get hints of this chasm between the two of them, as well as an emphasis on her sweetness (literally from a family with a sweet shop).

Vijay introduces himself as an engineering student, whilst Rani is “only” studying “home science” in a small, girls’ college she struggles to describe clearly in a humorous moment. Vijay even calls Rani “home science” which soon switches to “my queen” as he pursues her intensely a la SRK.

Whilst her friend encourages the romance as he “looks like Shah Rukh Khan to [her]”, Rani interjects that it is a known fact she wants an arranged marriage. Their differing attitudes to relationships and Vijay’s characterisation as a Rajori version of the ultimate superstar among the Indian diaspora foreshadows the demise of the relationship that the audience already know to be the case. Rani’s version of romance is as she has seen in cinema halls – she calls Vijay out on the “shelves in a library trick” stating she’s “seen at least 10 films where heroes have tried this”.

Even this young and innocent Rani is not as two-dimensional as she could have been portrayed in a lesser film however. We see evidence of her pragmatism and resourcefulness even when under pressure or out of her comfort zone from early on in “Queen”. This includes Rani’s reaction to Vijay telling her he no longer wants to go ahead with the wedding. Whilst personally distraught, her instant response is around the face-saving practical concerns of having to tell her family the news and her response to Vijay is that as this is his decision, it is his responsibility to do so. She literally begs Vijay to marry her to avoid causing such pain to her loved ones, rather than being more self-centred or personally offended.

Her decision to go on her honeymoon alone (setting the plot in motion) is also further evidence of her independent streak and willingness to make the best out of bad situations.

During her early time in Paris where she is struggling to adapt, she is targeted by a mugger, and the child-like Rani literally screams “Mummy, Mummy!” almost resorting to the innocent and dependent girl she could have been characterised as.

Rather we are also shown that she quickly realises the valuable item inside (her passport) and clings on to her bag for dear life, getting into a perhaps unwise fight with a thief in a quiet corner of a foreign city at night. Here she should be saved by gallant young man to be introduced as her new love interest – but instead Rani’s persistence draws the attention of someone in the neighbourhood and the thief is scared off.

Rani’s response to this attack is to take a taxi (one of a several shots or short scenes where Ranaut’s acting leaves no needs for words) to meet up with Vijaylaxmi in a Paris nightclub. This is the ultimate fish out of water scene, where the hedonistic partying inside is neither demonised nor celebrated, it is there purely to put Rani out of her comfort zone. The following scene is played for laughs with the young Rani getting drunk and preaching to French partygoers and later Vijaylaxmi.

The most obvious embodiment of Rani’s naivety and innocence, played for laughs, with Kangana an uninhibited good sport in filming this with a straight face, is the scene later on in “Queen” in the Amsterdam sex shop, where Rani is racking up gifts for her family without realising their sexual nature or usage. Her roommates cannot contain their laughter and tease her unashamedly. The audience’s view of her as a sweet and innocent young girl is as such represented through them (arguably this happens on a couple of other occasions with Vijaylaxmi also).

Towards the end of the movie, after Rani has visited the red light district and made friends with Roxette, gained perspective on Vijay’s betrayal through admiring Taka’s joie-de-vivre even in the face of tragedy, and is embarking on working by making and selling golgappas (a.k.a. pani puri and a number of other things!), she is also more confident about her own desires. She admits her crush on Marcello (as well as on Salman Khan!) and when she is challenged by Marcello that Indians are not only best at cooking but also best at kissing, she not only cites all Emraan Hashmi films in defence but, despite her initial nervousness plonks on one him!

When she sees Vijay for the first time in Amsterdam, who had revived his interest in her due to her modern attire and travelling in Europe, he is nevertheless not approving of all her changes – that she has been drinking champagne, that she has made friends with Tim, Taka and Aleksander. When he discovers they are her roommates he threatens to tell her family and worries once again about his own reputation, but Rani has ceased to care.

Back in Delhi she visits Vijay and speaks with his mother beforehand. This scene gives the audience a glimpse of what life would be like for Rani to be married to Vijay, and whilst his mother is keen for a companion, it is described as a very limiting lifestyle and what Rani wants, having come back from her adventures in Paris and Amsterdam, has evidently either changed, or she has realised was always different.

On seeing Rani – dressed in a lower cut outfit and with her hair straightened and make up on fleek, Vijay smiles from ear to ear and hugs her as he assumes she is there to reconcile. Instead, she places her engagement ring in his hand and hugs him goodbye, accompanied by an admirably mature “[t]hank you!”. Rani’s growth is complete, and as her path forward does not include Vijay, there is no reconciliation between the “hero” and heroine. It’s a heroine-oriented film in the deepest sense of the word, Rani is our heroine, but Vijay is not our hero.

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