Curse of the comeback? Part four of five: Karisma Kapoor in “Dangerous Ishhq” (2012)

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

Karisma Kapoor’s comeback film, 2012’s “Dangerous Ishhq” is unfortunately considered among the most disastrous in terms of being a box office disappointment and being poorly received by the critics.

“Dangerous Ishhq”, an epic romance with an added fantasy / multi-narrative twist around the theme of reincarnation reminds of one of the most recent box office disappointments, last month’s “Mirzya”. Whilst “Mirzya” saw the debut of two young actors – another star kid from the “other Kapoor family”, Harshvardhan Kapoor, and Tanvi Azmi’s niece Saiyami Kher, “Dangerous Ishhq” marked the return to films of the actress renowned for performances in films such “Raja Hindustani”, “Dil To Pagal Hai”, “Zubeidaa” and “Fiza” after almost ten years away.

Coincidentally, one of Karisma’s films released just prior to her sabbatical from films was the heroine-oriented film “Shakti: The Power”, which whilst commercially unsuccessful, received critical acclaim, was produced by Sridevi, and was originally set to be Sridevi’s comeback vehicle and would have marked a return after a five-year hiatus for the actress. Instead, Sridevi returned 10 years later with 2012’s “English Vinglish”, a choice that proved much more fruitful for Sridevi than Karisma Kapoor’s vehicle released in the same year, “Dangerous Ishhq”.

Here is the usual SPOILER warning – so please watch the movie if you intend to first (there are still enjoyable elements) and come back, or you will be spoiled. The trailer is below:

So what actually works about “Dangerous Ishhq”?:

Karisma still looks stunning on camera, she has not lost her star quality despite years away from movies:

In “Dangerous Ishhq”, Karisma’s character Sanjana is introduced to us as the audience as walking the ramp at a Manish Malhotra fashion show – the epitomy of glamour. We quickly understand she is involved with one of the men watching on the front row, Rohan, and that she is set to go off to Paris for a year as a result of her modelling success.

The premise is actually an interesting one, with huge scope for storytelling:

The concept of a love so epic it is throughout generations of reincarnated souls – allows for an exploration of the meaning of a soulmate, a thoroughly romantic concept, but brings in space for period drama, action (given these romances all face a common foe and end tragically) and spirituality, and allows for costume and set design from a range of different periods and locales.

This, perhaps unsurprisingly, leads to the past life storylines exceeding the present day storyline in terms of their ability to capture the interest and attention of the audience. On the other hand, if one particular storyline doesn’t interest as much an individual viewer, there is soon to be another one. The layers of each storyline demonstrating the inseparability of the two romantic leads also has potential to convince (which unfortunately doesn’t fully deliver), if there are character traits that are seen throughout and that link one lifetime to the next.

The dynamic between Jimmy Shergill’s character (ACP Singh) and Karisma’s (Sanjana in the contemporary timeline) is more interesting than hers with Rohan:

We are first introduced to Jimmy Shergill’s character after Rohan’s been kidnapped, as Sanjana returns to the apartment and meets ACP Singh.

The kidnapper calls and his father answers and asks to speak to Rohan, who briefly comes on the line, who is of course only concerned about Sanjana’s wellbeing. The kidnapper lists his demands, which includes a 50 crore ransom, beyond what the family has to pay. Following this – we hear a scream of “Dad!” and a gunshot, to everyone’s panicked reaction. Sanjana questions the risk associated with ACP Singh’s negotiating tactics. Rohan’s father however is not interested in her input, and dismisses her as unimportant and unsubstantive due to her career as a model. Karisma as Sanjana is convincingly hurt by this, but the background music distracts from this well-played low-key pain.

Sanjana later reports to ACP Singh, claiming she has seen the face of the kidnapper. They draw up a sketch of Arif as the main suspect (did Sanjana not have to give some explanation of where she had seen him?).

The kidnapper rings again and arranges the money drop and exchange.

ACP finally asks Sanjana where she saw Arif’s face (yay!), and he reports no individual has been found in police records worldwide (a dubious claim to be so sure of so quickly, globally, for what is only a sketch). Sanjana flatly explains she “went for a past life regression” and that she only saw him in her past life. He is quite understandably flummoxed.

Sanjana joins ACP Singh who is following a lead on Rohan’s whereabouts. The lead eventually turns out to be a trap. Even when this is clear – our slow-on-the-uptake Sanjana runs INTO the building, and ignores pleas to leave and that it’s a trap.

The movie gets better as we have the first real twist and also sign of Sanjana’s smarts. She works with ACP Singh and manages to trick Rohan’s brother Rahul into thinking he’s speaking with the kidnapper on the phone about the drop-off, and we see her walk out at the drop-off point playing a recording of the conversation.

Whilst Rahul is denounced for his involvement in the kidnapping, his reaction is to insist ACP Singh can’t prove anything. Sanjana attacks him and demands answers – but this quickly becomes a useless endeavour as she is distraught rather than demanding. She simply wants to know his location (and not why his brother would do this, who the kidnapper is etc.). Her impassioned plea does lead to Rahul revealing he doesn’t know Rohan’s location, but that “Mittal” does.

They visit the company of M.M. Mittal. Mittal explains he was propositioned by another man to conspire in kidnapping Rohan and calls the number the man gave him. We cut to a song, which seems oddly positioned here, supposedly as they are entering a club with a singer performing there, but the track and picturization is relatively enjoyable (the miming back-up dancers add a peculiarity that it would have been good to see more throughout the film):

The rouse attempted by Mittal meeting with the kidnapper to try to ascertain Rohan’s location fails, and a shoot-out begins. Sanjana is just shown sitting and reacting to this. Her character’s passivity almost reaches another level here until she finally decides to drive the car off, and then knock over the kidnapper. They are given a destination after ACP Singh shoots him in the foot, and threatens to shoot him again.

As they go to the site, we see Sanjana with gun in hand but she remains passive and does nothing with it. We first see Rohan again strapped to a bomb, with just over a minute left. Again she just pleads to ACP Singh to diffuse the bomb. Is he a bomb diffusal expert now? Where’s SRK when you need him?

ACP Singh pulls away Sanjana at the last moment on Rohan’s request after he says the bomb can’t be diffused. The bomb goes off and Sanjana grieves.

The second half of the film is better than the first, and the ending more or less delivers:

Sanjana has a final past life regression as she hears someone calling “Paro”:

Love and reunification are not related to life and death

And not to the body

Open the door, Paro.

You’re listening to your mind but not your conscience

Her final past life regression is to Chittorgarh, Rajasthan in 1535. The Rajput military commander Durgam wants to make Karisma’s Paro his wife, but she is underinterested. He remains persistent and put this down to his “stubbornness”. Paro pull out a dagger and threatens him in return:

Paro: If it’s stubbornness, Durgam

Then you better understand one thing

This maid’s loyalty lies with the kingdom of Chittaur

I swear on my motherland

[puts the knife to her vein]

Paro can cut off her hand and give it to you.

But you can never have her.

Where is this spunk in her later incarnation as Sanjana?

Durgam seeks the help of a medium called Mantra, and Paro tries to stop her love Raj Dutt, from seeking to protect her from Durgam, putting himself in danger in the process. Raj Dutt proposes to Paro and she accepts.

Durgam learns of this and has Raj Dutt captured. Paro pleads to Durgam to free Raj Dutt and settle his enmity with her, rather than her love. Durgam says he will free Raj Dutt if she succumbs to him, and soon we see Paro arrive at his chamber as ordered.

Paro: You don’t have the power to bind anyone

I’ve set myself free from this life

From this body

Her nose begins to bleed and Durgam rushes towards her, shouting her name. She continues:

You were adamant on having this body

And I was adamant on saving this soul.

I swallowed poison to save myself from being tainted

Durgam: What have you done?

What have you done?

Paro: I could’ve died far away from here

But the satisfaction of seeing defeat in your eyes

I wouldn’t have witnessed that

I’m leaving, Durgam

And your defeat will make you restless all your life

Durgam brings Paro’s body to Mantra, who is scared of the consequences as we see a scene between Paro and Krishna devotee Meera, who advises Paro to go through with the suicide, as she and Raj Dutt will have a chance at happiness in a future incarnation if they are truly soulmates.  Meera promises to pray that Paro and Raj Dutt will be born again in the same lifetimes, and equally, when one dies, so will the other.

Durgam refuses to accept defeat – he promises that if both Paro and Raj Dutt are reborn in the same lifetimes, so must he. He pleads for the strength to separate them from one lifetime to the next. He asks Mantra to ensure he is able to remember his past lives in future incarnations so he can carry out this task to ensure they never have a happy ending, and that his face changes with each life.

I would have perhaps started the film with this past life – and framed the plot as to see Sanjana running against time to defeat Durgam’s present day incarnation.

At this point, Paro has awoke to witness this, although we are to learn this is actually Sanjana as Paro, as we return to the present day. Sanjana has understood all of the reasons behind her loss, and we see her return to the hospital where she declares to Neetu that Rohan must be alive, as she still is.

She tries to explain the same to ACP Singh and they return to the bomb site to find Rohan. Inside, we see Sanjana being shot,

ACP Singh is shown shooting in response as Neetu rushes towards an injured Sanjana. Two individuals are shown in the distance, but the pair decide instead to take Sanjana to hospital. She dies in surgery after conceding defeat once again in this lifetime.

We next see Rohan still alive, but to be “left to his fate”, as a voice says that as Sanjana is dead, he is doomed to die also.

Sanjana’s voice is heard as the modern day incarnation of Durgam is revealed.

Sanjana: You are wrong ACP Singh.

Paro is absolutely fine.

And she won’t let anything happen to Raj Dutt.

We are shown proof that ACP Singh is Durgam and his other interfering incarnations as the mark left by Mantra remains despite a new face each time. The scene in which Rohan’s death was faked is also shown in a flashback scene.

ACP Singh wrestles the gun from the police officer, and points it at Sanjana’s face, insisting he has the upper hand as unlike her, he will remember all this in the next lifetime. He is about to shoot Rohan and he is shot in the back. As he falls, we see it is Sanjana who shot him (!). She shoots him again, and again, and again, and again, as we see flashbacks to their deaths in each past life.

We then see the condition to the curse – if Durgam dies before Paro and Raj Dutt, the curse is over.

Sanjana rushes towards Rohan and releases him – and the camera is on Karisma’s face as she embraces Rohan and tears roll down her face. End film.

What doesn’t work – and should have been done differently:

Sanjana and Rohan’s romance gives an air of immaturity – and as such superficiality. Whilst this might be believable for teens, it seems dubious for accomplished professional adults without any background to justify this interdependency between the two of them:

Right at the beginning of the film, Rohan is aggrieved Sanjana is taking the overseas career opportunity she has been given and accuses her of “forgetting” him as she discusses the practicalities of getting to Paris. Instead they decide to pretend as though it’s a normal day and she isn’t leaving at all. This relationship rubs off as sickly sweet, and hardly seems believable.

Given their relationship, Sanjana decides not to go to Paris after all (given the wealth we are shown they possess, is it inconceivable that he could join her in Paris, if they are so inseparable?). The whole thing seems superbly dramatic very quickly, with the foundations for this epic romance not yet established.

They decide to get married and we learn that Sajana and her mother are estranged (something which is a total red herring and never followed up on).

The drama of the break in and kidnapping comes too early in the film, with no real set up. This fails to shock, and instead seems out of place and ill-fitting with what has proceeded:

Their relationship bliss discussing how they will raise their future children is broken as strange men enter their home and start shooting. They target Rohan and manage to kidnap him, despite a gallant effort trying to fight off multiple men (who are, as already mentioned, armed). Sanjana just stands there in shock, eventually screaming and trying to pull them away from him with little success. A smarter and more resourceful Sajana would be more appealing here, for example looking for a makeshift weapon and trying to attack one of the men with this. Instead she hits her head and falls to the floor, losing consciousness.

As she comes to, she’s already in hospital. Exploring the empty hospital, she hears someone calling out for “Gita”. She sees it’s a bearded and badly injured Rohan who repeats “they’re going to kill us”, after which she sees a raging, armed mob. She hides them both from the mob.

She then seems to return the normal reality we had established earlier – the mob and the injured Rohan are gone, and she sounds and seems delusional. She is brought back to her senses when she is told that Rohan has been kidnapped.

The background music in “Dangerous Ishhq” is distracting, and doesn’t allow for layered acting performances:

Many a film can tend to overuse music in order to signal to the audience how it is supposed feel in a certain scene, without needing to rely on the script and performances.

This technique was adopted in many a 90s Hindi film – notably when Karisma made herself a star. Arguably this trend has reduced in more recent films, with some notable exceptions. This makes the film seem dated as a result, and doesn’t help Karisma or any of the cast in fact in terms of allowing them bring the audience with them through their acting, and forces a certain mood or ambience onto a particular scene, with limited scope for layered performances.

The film’s supernatural elements are played very matter of fact in almost all parts of the film, and could have been built on further and seen the film adopt a more parallel cinema style or approach:

As Sanjana experiences her first past life regression, she hears someone calling “Gita” and opens the door to find another time and place on the other side. In this fantasy world, Sanjana as Gita is able to read Urdu.

Back in the modern day, her friend Neetu calls her to and we see her crouched in the hallway outside her apartment, and the newspaper she was holding and reading from is thin air. She tells Neetu she can read Urdu, and Neetu sets out a scenario to prove it by googling for an Urdu website.

Obviously the first thing she lands on in a patriotic Indian film needs to be a terrorist website (some nice Urdu poetry might have been better, or even just a news article?). This initial revelation of her new-found linguistic skills could have been presented in a more hyper-real way, rather than a matter-of-fact “I know Urdu now! Isn’t that weird?”, potentially starting a more artistic portrayal of the past life regression concept.

In fact, the portrayal is so matter of fact that Sanjana’s friend Neetu as she is a doctor seeks a rational reason why Sanjana might suddenly know Urdu, and takes her to see a psychiatrist. Whilst this is indeed plausible for both characters and the plot, it is then contradicted by what follows.

The psychiatrist, Nandita, relates cases where other people spontaneously understood other languages / information (such as an American who suddenly knew Russian, a Frenchwoman who suddenly could map out Istanbul, and a similar case in Indian Punjab). Nandita explains this is signs of a past life (do psychiatrists commonly mix in religion?).

Nandita: Those who’ve practiced spirituality have always believed in it,

And nowadays modern psychiatrists have accepted reincarnation

She explains that whilst the mind stores memories from this life only, the soul stores memories from all past lives.

She offers the chance to figure out what this all means if she is allowed to help Sanjana regress into her past life. The next part of the scene offers a glimpse into the style of filmmaking “Dangerous Ishhq” could have adopted in another guise.

The scene showing her taking her mind back into her past life is cleverly done – with a version of Sanjana in her head going down in a “lift” to a past life. The lift passes through different colours for different levels as she “lands” in her past life. If this had been adopted more throughout the film, it would have added a level of originality and even dark humour that could have been celebrated, rather than the melodrama that was criticised instead.

Sanjana explains what she sees – she knows this is her house, she knows the bodies lying there is her dead mother and father, and that she’s scared. Karisma plays this past life already with a sense of a younger character than Sanjana.

You can watch this scene play out in a clip here:

The past life stories are too brief, and sacrificed at the expense of the contemporary timeline, despite the characters involved and stakes at play being less believe and less interesting in the modern day, especially in the first half of the film. Given how rushed some of these storylines are however, the audience is left indifferent about the couple’s potential separation:

Sanjana, in her past life regression as Gita, meets with her sister – also played by Divya Dutta who plays Neetu in the contemporary timelife. Her sister explains that their Uncle Shamshul and his men have left and that they’re safe for now, and that she witnessed him murder their parents in a revenge killing – not wanting to “spare anyone from Pakistan” as we understand it is the time of Partition (a hugely rich setting for dramatic storytelling, and much more so than the angst of a career driven separation between a supermodel and her super rich boyfriend).

Once again we see another mob, and our past life version of Rohan – Iqbal, comes to save the pair (it’s all very damsel-in-distress). Her sister Chanda – seemingly the more heroic of the two, holds the door a la Hodor, sacrificing herself (though not without a bit of a fight at least) in order to save Bran, err, sorry, Gita/Sanjana (errm Karisma might be easiest).

Iqbal’s friend Arif indirectly reveals his disapproval of the relationship between Gita and Iqbal, preferring to send her away from Pakistan to a “safe place” – of course this safe place for an orphaned Hindu girl at time of partition is India. Gita expresses that she doesn’t want to leave either Iqbal or her country Pakistan. Arif’s argument is this is the only way to save Gita’s life, and therefore is able to persuade Iqbal to let her go.

Gita lies among a truck full of dead bodies as passage over the border – this, given the weight of the historical content, and the personal touch through Gita’s eyes, is for a second quite impactful, a close up of Karisma’s face lay parrellel in the truck as a song plays in the background however is unfortunately cut short, as she climbs off the truck quickly and insists on seeing Iqbal. She is more overtly faced with the ongoing death and destruction, but having her merely lying among the bodies could have shown this with greater subtlely on the one hand and on the other – arguably more meaning. We could have had the truck pass by such destruction in a wide shot or two.

Instead she manages to meet up with Iqbal, and they decide to marry. Arif at this point outwardly expresses his disagreement with them marrying due to their different religions. He tries to reignite the plan to take her over the border, and through a slip of the tongue – mentions the destination is Ludhiana rather than Amristar. Iqbal accuses Arif and they fight. Gita watches. Again. Oh and Iqbal is killed and Sanjana is pulled out of her past life and into the present.

The Gita/Iqbal Jodi therefore – is yet another one we are only reduced to understanding it as it is threatened and when they are already extremely committed to one another. It all feels rushed. To feel the weight of Iqbal’s decision to send Gita away – we need to understand how much this would actually pain him to do so. To understand why she runs back to him despite the danger – we have to understand his pull for her.

The melodramatic hits of the 90s such as Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam, DDLJ, and Karisma Kapoor starrers such as Raja Hindustani and Dil To Pagal Hai all had moments of lightness when were endeared to the characters and understood their dynamic with one another – before their relationship faced peril or heartbreak. In such cases the declarative speeches about the meaning of love and preferring to die than separate and the like all have a context in which we can understand how they may really be inseparable jodis.

We’re then taken to another past life, much further back, in 1658, this time in Daulatabad with no warning or context on how we are here beyond being shown this. She is now Salma, betrothed to a soldier being sent off to battle for the son of the Mughal emperor Shah Jahn, in a dispute about succession. He leaves her with 100 love letters.

We then cut to a sweet scene when Karisma as Salma reacts to news the soldiers are coming back from battle. She dresses and grooms as a romantic song plays, and then runs to meet Ali, reminiscing about their courtship shown in a montage as she runs. She spots Ali’s friend Rashid and asks him for Ali’s whereabouts – only to learn he died in battle. Karisma’s reaction is one of disbelief that is convinces and is neither overstated nor wooden.

Her gaze is held for exactly long enough and we can see the pain in her eyes. This is one of the moments in the plot as the film is crafted where Karisma actually gets to show her ability. She eventually collapses to the ground but this is also not overdramatic. The wide shot of her crying and struggling to breathe, and having fallen as she could no longer stand, is also a wise choice as we the soldiers walk past her.

Salma is shown in mourning as Rashid explains how Ali died. Rashid offers to marry her in Ali’s place giving the rationale that this will protect her honour and out of loyalty to his dead friend. A prostitute (Divya Dutta again) visits Salma. She reveals Rashid’s plan to separate Salma and Ali and claim Salma for himself. She tells her Ali is alive. Salma intervenes after overhearing his kidnappers discuss Ali’s soon to be demise. It seems Salma has more spunk than either Sanjana or Gita. Through this intervention we (and Sanjana) learn that Rohan’s younger brother is one such enemy -and has an involvement in his kidnapping. She reveals this to ACP Singh.

This is the shortest – but actually the most interesting romance so far.

The film in general focuses too much on the pure romance part – the mystery/supernatural thriller/dark part of the plot could be drawn out more and give a wider appeal as a result:

With around forty minutes of the film remaining, as the audience we understand that Rohan has died, and Sanjana is shown mouring and attending his funeral rites with Rohan’s family. This lifts some of the weight off the film as it now shifts more into the mystery aspect.

Sanjana is shown watching the kidnapper being interviewed by the press on TV after he is being taken off by the police. He claims he was only involved for the money and is being used as a scapegoat – the real instigator and brain behind the kidnapping and murder is still at loose.

The narrative driving the plot at this point becomes who is behind Rohan’s kidnapping, and what is their intention. This leads to the most engaging part of the film, and it is disappointing this comes so late on, when most of the audience is already hard to win over, and disappointed by the melodrama, distracted by the background music and failed to care about Rohan and Sanjana as a pair. If the film had been set up as a mystery from the beginning – with the epic nature of the romance emerging throughout, rather than insisted upon from the start, this film could have been much stronger and less held back by its other flaws.

Conclusion:

Made on a larger budget than the likes of Preity Zinta’s return the following year in “Ishkq in Paris”, “Dangerous Ishhq” always had a greater propensity to fail. Karisma’s significant gap from screens added to the pressure to deliver a hit in order to relaunch her career, and given its commercial and critical failure its unsurprising to see that she has yet to follow it up with another film and there is no talk of any in the pipeline.

Given Karisma’s filmy lineage, and that whilst she was not established as top box office draw in 2012 as she might have been 15 years earlier, she did have two close relatives that were, in her sister Kareena (who had starred in hits “Ra.One” and “Bodyguard” only the year before, and in 2012 released “Talaash” and had the lead role in “Heroine” – which opened with over 7 crore, then a record for a women-centric film), and cousin Ranbir (“Rockstar” released in 2011 and “Barfi!” in 2012). A cameo or supporting role from either would have increased interest in the film, and Kareena could have worked well in the Neetu role and Ranbir as Rahul, for example.

Even without gimmicks such as Kapoor clan cameos, “Dangerous Ishhq” might have worked if it had gotten a good word of mouth from a strong critical response. For this to happen however, the film had to follow the aesthetics, directing and acting style of 2012, rather than the 90s films through which Karisma earned her fame. The premise held promise but failed to deliver, restricted by dated and soapy storytelling approaches. This saw Karisma remain a movie star in the film and fail to transform into the actress she can be. Throughout the film her character is too passive, and it leaves Karisma with not enough to do. At the points when this isn’t so (during some interactions with ACP Singh, and in particular, at the end of the film) this not so coincidentally leads to more engaging storytelling and the stronger parts of the movie.

The premise of the film allowed however for a combination of romance, thriller, mystery and action with a touch of the spiritual and the supernatural thrown in. However the romance fails to convince, the thriller is inconsistent, the mystery only emerges later on, and the spiritual and supernatural is only played up during certain parts of the film. The action, even more unforgivably, is left largely to the men, which seems extra strange in a heroine-oriented film, and leaves Karisma’s character appearing as a passive spectator for far too much of “Dangerous Ishhq”.

Verdict:

Given the significant time lapse between Karisma’s previous releases and “Dangerous Ishhq”, a commerically successful release was always going to be an uphill battle. Karisma was also stuck in a bind of the type of films, and filmmaking she had been releasing prior to her return having largely moved on.

Aamir, Shah Rukh and Salman, for better or worse, were not making the same kind of films in 2012 as they were in the 90s, and have maintained popularity by moving with the times and styles as they have changed. A female actor in a heroine-oriented film is going to be given even less slack for this, despite a perhaps inevitability about returning to familiar ground.

Perhaps this means the barriers to both commercial and critical success were too high for “Dangerous Ishhq” to overcome, and suggests that this film also supports the hypothesis that heroine-oriented comebacks are “cursed” and doomed to fail. The score stands at 2-2.

Found this interesting?:

Part five is to follow shortly – and will look at whether the film that broke the “curse” is evidence its only a myth, or whether it is the exception that proves the rule. What film could this possibly be?

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.